Sansa Stark E Ivar Ragnarsson Sugiram Como Casal Em Uma Fanfic Estrangeira Que Eu Simplesmente Me Apaixonei

I llove this story is incredible and very interesting, I really liked it and i need more chapters. Pleaseeeeeee continue

Gentle Love

Tommy Shelby x wife!Reader

Summary - A loving husband, a new house and the impending birth of your first child. Your life had everything one could ask for, but what happens when the shadow of your husband’s past love comes back to darken your future?

warnings - language, fluff (Also Tommy calls himself a Gypsy which I guess was normal in 1920s, so beware)

continuation of Tommy’s Domestic Wife but can be read as a stand alone.

A/n - this one got leaked in its unedited glory. Title is about how gentle Tommy is with the reader (which I know is OOC but okay)

***

“(Y/n)?” Your husband’s voice asked for you in part anxiety and part order.

“In the bathroom!” You called out as you patted your face dry in front of the mirror.

Yes, bathroom, because you no longer lived in Small Heath, and because after three months, you and Tommy were going to be parents for the first time.

Watery Lane was already a bit cramped, and with the baby coming, you and Tommy had decided to shift a bigger house in Harborne, home to one of your husband’s many properties.

This is so beautiful, you had gushed when you saw the house, so cozy and spacious, so unlike Small Heath but still homely.

Temporary, Tommy had murmured as he took in your glowing face with a smile. Until we go to Warwick.

Yeah. Warwickshire, where Arrow House was being renovated. Where you and Tommy would live for the rest of your lives. You were partly convinced that the mansion was haunted but Tommy wasn’t being dissuaded. No, not this time.

He was in the process of taking off his shoes when you materialised outside in your cotton nightgown.

You were in your sixth month now, and a definite roundness curved your belly. Your face had a fresh glow to it, and you had to admit to yourself that despite the cramps and morning sickness, pregnancy did look good on you.

His gaze stopped on you and heat spread on your cheeks (Still, (Y/n)? This man has been to places no man ever will) as he took in your pregnant form with hungry eyes.

“It’s the only one that fits me now.” You said about the gown as you joined him on the bed.

“Then get a new one.” He stated as he leaned closer, his chin resting on your shoulder.

You made a face at him. “I won’t be pregnant forever.”

“That, is something I can work on.” He said gruffly as he pressed a kiss on your exposed shoulder.

“Tommy!” You chided while giggling a little and leaned back until you were sitting between his legs, head resting on his strong chest.

“Have you thought of a name yet?” He said as he traced circles on your arm.

“No. I…I think I’ll know when we see her.”

“Her?”

“Or him. What do you want?”

“It’s a boy. I know.” I hope. This was the part he didn’t say out loud.

“How?”

“Just a Gypsy thing.”

“A boy, huh? Who would’ve thought that I would give birth to the heir of Thomas Shelby?”

He gently stroked your hair, but didn’t say anything.

“What are you thinking, Mr. Shelby?” You turned to look at him.

He sighed. “Nothing. Just nothing.”

***

It didn’t take long for you to find out what. A few extra drinks at the Garrison one night and Arthur was very casually revealing that Tommy’s London trip had nothing to do with Alfie Solomons and everything to do with a certain person visiting from New York.

There had been pain in your chest, which had nothing to do with the pregnancy heartburn.

Tommy was still…How could he? Even with the baby…

To distract yourself, you picked up the forbidden task of washing the dishes until Tommy came back from Small Heath.

You were wiping the plates when he found you.

“What are you doing?”

You jumped at the sound of his annoyed voice.

“You’re early.” You said with mild irritation as you continued setting the dishes.

“Yeah. Come out of the kitchen, will you?” His tone held a hint of order and you wanted to defy him with passion at that moment.

“Just a second.”

“How was your trip with Ada? Did you go to Warwick?” He asked as he shrugged out of his coat before settling down on the sofa outside the kitchen.

“Hmm.”

The glasses made a loud clanking noise as you rearranged them.

“What did you think about it?” He asked from outside.

“It’s nice.” You replied, not bothering to raise your voice.

“Yeah? Select a room for the baby?” He asked in a louder voice, annoyance creeping into his words.

“No.” This you said testily as you slammed the kettle down with undue force.

“Keep that down, will you?” This time he wasn’t so polite.

“There’s only a few left.” You offered.

But he was already inside and forcing the plate out of your tight grip.

“What did I tell you about working, eh?” His eyes were dark with muted anger and you felt a little scared of him.

“I’m sorry.” You said, not meeting his eyes.

“(Y/n).” He tried to reach for you, but you escaped before he could touch you.

“I’m going to bed. Will you turn off the lights?” You left without waiting for his answer, leaving him baffled and a bit worried.

The whole night, you pretended to be asleep.

You couldn’t believe that a woman you had never met could have so much control over your thoughts, whose mere existence was causing so much trouble in your happy married life.

Unconsciously, you found yourself comparing herself with the former (?) love of Tommy Shelby.

You could use a gun. But so could Grace, and she had killed a man. In front of Tommy. The closest thing you had ever done to a murder was laying out rat traps in the pantry.

Why am I so boring? You groaned a little and each one of your shortcomings came crashing down in a domino effect.

Barely literate, awkward, cannot sing, cannot dance, and never killed a man.

Such a failure.

You huddled deeper into the covers, finding the bed sheet dampened by tears which had slipped without you noticing.

***

Arrow House, was not a house, rather a mansion. It was colossal, luxurious and so unlike you. Or Tommy. But he was a lot better at fitting in than you were. Also, he had the sophistication that even some men from the aristocracy craved.

Maybe that’s why he and Grace were so perfect together.

He was showing you the house, an almost unfamiliar excitement lighting up his face as he led you from one room to another. And you hated yourself for barely showing interest. It was not because you didn’t like the house, but because you worried that a part of him still wanted Grace in this house instead of you.

Your eyes stopped on a small undecorated room facing the fields, which housed a forlorn crib at its centre.

“Had it made yesterday. We’ll need that when the baby comes.” He said quietly.

You knew he had sensed your reticence in the past few days, but barring the occasional polite questions and concerned looks, hadn’t pushed a confession out of you.

You wanted to console yourself that even though he loved someone else, he was still trying his best to be a good husband and father. But that just wasn’t enough when he was the only man you had ever loved, and that too with all your life.

You tried to murmur your agreement at his words, but it came out as a pathetic squawk.

“All right. What’s wrong?” He all but demanded, his hands splayed in exasperation.

Sudden tears pricked your eyes then. Certainly Grace didn’t cry at the drop of a hat like you.

“Nothing. Just..nothing.” You sniffled.

He was in front of you in a moment.

“Tell me.” He prodded, the callouses of his thumb rubbing your cheeks.

You loved him so much then, and wished he would stop being so tender with you. Or treating you like you were fragile.

“I’m scared.” You let out a sob.

“Of what? The baby?” He asked, his irritation disappearing immediately.

“That and…”

“If it’s about London, you don’t have to worry about anything. I’ve got it handled.” He reassured.

It was then that you looked into his eyes and admitted, “I’m scared you’ll leave me.”

He smiled. “And why would I do that, eh?”

You gestured at your bloated body in frustration. “Because look at me. I am so…hideous.”

His eyebrows lowered in mock disappointment. “That’s my wife you’re talking about. And my boy.”

You knew you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“I know Grace called you, and I know you met her in London.”

His face paled a little, and it was while before he said in a low voice, “It’s not what you think.”

“Then explain it to me.” You shouted, surprised of this newfound bravery.

Albeit the slightly raised eyebrows, he stayed calm. “She an’ her husband were there to see a doctor, and I just happened to see ‘er. That’s all.”

You raised an eyebrow, just like he did when he found you smoking one of his cigarettes.

“You didn’t talk? At all?” You sneered.

He let out a tired sigh. “Can’t believe we’re still having this stupid discussion.”

Then in a louder voice, he continued, “Look, (Y/n), you are my fuckin’ wife and it’s all that matters. You and baby, I need to keep you safe. No one is more important than you both.”

Safe. As if you were a responsibility.

“But you talked to her and kept it from me.”

“Yeah, I did. I talked to 'er like I would’ve talked to any other woman who wasn’t my wife. And I didn’t tell you because it meant nothing.”

“Or maybe everything.” You retorted.

His face contorted with rage, and if there was any furniture in the house, it might have been demolished by his wrath.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? I don’t love 'er, I love you. Why can’t you fuckin’ understand?” He shouted, then swore under his breath at the realisation that he had shouted at the most delicate human being on the planet.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered, running a shaky hand through his hair.

“You love me?” You asked quietly.

He flushed, and tried to dismiss it by checking his pocket watch and muttering, “Didn’t I ever say it before?”

You shook your head.

“But you knew.” He reasoned.

You gave a noncommittal shrug.

“Well, you know now.” He exhaled, then moved to wrap his arms around your waist.

Looking at his skewed dark blue tie, you said, “Tommy, I can’t control it. I told you I was so different and I…” You finished with a frustrated sigh.

“I like different. I love it.” He added for good measure.

“But…”

“I just happened to see 'er there. And she called because…well she didn’t know I was married.”

“Why is she 'ere?” You narrowed your eyes.

“Why does it matter? She isn’t a part of my life, and I don’t like talking about people who make my wife sad.”

“Well said, Tommy Shelby.” You gave an impressed smile.

Touching your cheek, he asked, “And where did you learn to shout like that, eh?”

“From my very annoying but extremely handsome husband.” You said as you straightened his tie.

“Is that so, Mrs. Shelby?” He drawled.

Your cheeks heated and you found yourself smiling shyly.

“Still?” He teased but there was a smile on his face as he bent to press a kiss full of love and promise on your lips.

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