• TOMMY SHELBY IMAGINES •

giving him a haircut

"That's an order."  clear his throat, shutting you up, putting his hands into his pockets. He leans back against the wall, studying you.

Fuck, its been so long. I'll definitely cut him. Fuck.

You stare into his devilish eyes, mentally preparing yourself for what he's instructed you to do.

"O-okay."

You move to the bathroom, where you quickly clean up the towels on the floor. You grab your haircutting kit from under the sink, the same one you stole from your previous workplace, before placing it on top of the counter. You find your eyes in the mirror and nearly cringe at how exhausted you look.

You roll your eyes at yourself, annoyed by life and turn back to your bedroom.

"Alright, you can come in." You lick your lips, turning around once more to make sure everything's at least a little sorted out. But that's when you see a pair of pink knickers. You run towards it in a shriek and quickly lean over to pick it up.

You can hear his footsteps against your floor and, without knowing what else to do, you shove it down your dress, feeling the lace between your breasts. You recollect yourself and breathe, watching as he towers over you. He smells of whiskey and cleanliness, the smell coming off of his suit is incredibly delicious.

But you mention the coat he wears, "You can take that off. I don't want to get it wet."

He does so, rolling his shoulders back before its in his arms. He hands you the coat, and you scoff seeing the blazer he's got on under.

"This too?" He cocks an eyebrow. Looking very boyish and cheeky.

"Yes." You laugh lightly, moving around him to rest his coat on the foot of your bed. Your heart is pounding, your mouth dry, palms sweaty. Why didn't he ask Polly to cut his damn hair?

And then, when you're back he's got his blazer resting on the bathroom counter. His sleeves rolled up as he mentions your tool kit. "Ada told me it was on your resume, but I didn't know."

Of course you didn't. You didn't interview me for the job.

"I cut hair for the boys who were going off to France, mainly buzzcuts, really." You rub your hands together, "And then I did more complex cuts for me little nephews. Got really good at it until Harolds hired me."

"Harolds." He nods. "They shut down a year ago."

"Yep." You pop the p, "Why don't you have a seat by the tub, I'll run some water over your head, wash and dry your hair?"

"Right." Thomas follows, sitting down on a stool as you begin the bath.

You grab your cup that you usually use to wash out your mouth out before bed and wait until the water warms. He looks so small as you stand over him, you note the way he relaxes, breathing through his nose. He looks beautiful. As he shuts his eyes, you can't help but allow the time to examine his face, memorizing his features that you usually only get to see from a far.

"So," You shift, watching him open an eye. "You just want me to trim the back?"

"Just a trim." He sighs, relaxing his shoulders again. How is he so confident? Jesus.

"'Kay." You look around, hands on your hips before sighing. The cup is filled with the warmest water, that you have checked to see that it is at an acceptable temperature twice now. You pull back from touching Thomas, because this is far too strange, before toughing up and running your fingers through his hair.

Surprisingly soft, you pout, before pouring the water over his scalp. Silky indeed, Thomas does not comment on your hair-washing skills. You tell yourself to calm down, feeling your chest pound.

You reach over him, grabbing the shampoo bottle from beside him and feel his eyes linger as your chest is obviously in his face. You pull back and make your way around, murmuring a, "Hang on," Before coming back with a dollop of soap. You rinse his hair out with it, massaging his scalp somehow calms you down the way it would when you were working at Harolds. He makes a low humming sound.

"You're quite good at this." He swallows, and as you pull back to look at him, he smiles which only makes you smile.

"Thanks." You blush, feeling the little dent in the back of his head, which only makes you still.

"Got it in France, a graze from a bullet." He says, which only makes your heart hurt. Swallowing, you continue doing your job, leaning over him to get the little bit of shampoo out of his hair before curling your finger around the ends to dry it.

You reach for the towel behind you and come back to see him opening an eye up for you again, which only makes you smile.

"Lean forward, please." You order, Thomas complies.

As he does so, you quickly put the towel over his head before a drop of water hits the floor, you grab his hand and place it over top of the towel. "Hold still." You whisper, shutting off the tap.

"Lean back." You instruct, he follows by listening and you massage the water out of his hair with your towel. He tips his head back, keeping his eyes open. Noting that is smells of your body wash, he's got this smile on his face that makes you wonder if he's making fun of you, or actually thoroughly enjoying this.

"So." He says now, which makes you blush. He looks vulnerable, like a child. His eyes look very blue, "Do you have someone you do this for?"

"Like a lad of my own?" Chewing on your bottom lip, you shake your head. "No."

""Hmmm." He murmurs. "Why? You're a pretty young lady. Educated. You've got a good job."

"I guess I'm not interested right now." You smile ruffling up the towel through his hair, he chuckles, grabbing your wrists to stop you. "There."

Once he's nice and dried to your standards do you get him turn around, you move him to sit down in the middle of the bathroom. You take your razor from the kit, noticing how sharp the blade is before taking some powder out to prepare for the shaving cream. You do as you usually did, adding water to the powder to make a foam for the back of his head.

You can see him watching you through his long lashes as you make your concoction. You turn your head to him, getting lost in stirring before you feel his fingers around your waist, the towel falls off of his shoulders.

You gasp with surprise feeling his lips against your neck.

His hands move from your waist to your hips as he stares at you through the mirror. "What are you interested in?"

Your fingers curl around his hair, small drops of water falling against your arms. He turns you slowly, moving his lips to yours, his tongue is hot and hard in your mouth. Its you and him in that moment, as he deepens the kiss, which drives you insane.

But the fun stops there when he pulls away. "Tell me to stop, and I'll stop." He breathes heavily, staring into your eyes. He's so close to you. He runs his fingers down your face.

But you get on your toes and wrap your hands around his neck, kissing him to shut him up. You curl your hand behind his head to kiss him more. "Don't stop."

Your lips are against his as he lifts you and places you on the counter. You laugh into his mouth, hearing him pull at his pants as you quickly try to scoot your dress up to your hips. But the moment you do so, Thomas drops your bowl of shaving cream, the glass breaks into pieces and you wince.

"Y/N! Everything alright?!" Your mother calls, you can hear the panic in her voice. Your mum doesn't know anything about your sex life, so she probably thinks Thomas is harming you.

He kisses your jaw, neck. "Fuck, this is why you need your own flat." He hisses, biting on your bottom lip.

"Yea mum!" You respond in a carried away voice. You squeeze your eyes shut feeling his fingers find their between your legs. "You've got to-" A moan comes out of your mouth, watching as he smirks at you. "You've got to make as little noise as possible."

"And hurry." I add, careful to not moan again.

Thomas's eyebrows furrow, "But I want to enjoy you."

You roll your eyes, kissing him. Your fingers make their way to undo his pants, as you two get lost in each other.