𝒔𝒊𝒙𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏 - violent delights

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A rough plan formed in Iris' head as she made her way briskly through the streets of Small Heath. If she could keep Ivan alive but scare him off enough, she might be able to get her life back. She'd hold a gun to his head when he returned and demand that he stay away from her. If he threatened to call his brother, she'd threaten him back. Iris couldn't afford to be scared of him anymore, there was too much at stake.

She found herself on Watery Lane, knocking on the Shelbys' door.

Polly answered with a hardened look on her face. "Didn't Tommy just go to see you?" She asked.

"Yes," Iris said. "I'm feeling better."

"You're not well?" Polly raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, I thought he would've told you," Iris said a little frantically. "Never mind. Is he here?"

"He went to see you," Polly said. "He hasn't got back yet."

"Can I wait here?" Iris asked.

Polly nodded, her lips pursed. Iris stepped up into the house and walked through to the kitchen, where Ada was reading a book at the table and Finn was whittling a stick with the penknife Tommy had bought him for Christmas.

"Finn, what have I told you about getting wood shavings on the dinner table?" Polly scolded, giving him a light slap on the back of the head.

"What does it matter, the table's made of wood anyway," he protested.

"Go and do it outside," Polly chided, sweeping the wood off the table.

Finn hopped off his chair, running out of the back door.

"You didn't think to stop him, Ada?"

"Didn't notice," she said, turning the page of her book.

Iris sat down, biting the inside of her lip nervously. Her heart was still pounding from the shock of what she'd just done.

"There are some things I want to ask you," Polly said gravely, taking a seat. "But I won't ask them. I think Tommy should do that."

Iris gulped. She could come up with a story once she'd dealt with Ivan later. For now she just needed to see Tommy.

She heard the front door open and shut and then Tommy walked in. Iris stood up quickly, meeting his eye.

"Feeling better, eh?" He said a little sarcastically as he took off his coat.

"I need to talk to you," she said.

Tommy nodded, his face showing no emotion. "Come with me," he said, and she followed as he walked her upstairs.

Tommy shut the door to his bedroom behind them. Iris swallowed nervously, realising she hadn't actually decided what she wanted to say.

"Polly says there are things you should ask me," she finally said. "I know you have questions."

"It's fine," Tommy sighed, looking away. "Polly shouldn't have—"

"I want you to trust me," Iris said. "I mean I don't want to ruin this."

"But you don't trust me," he said.

"I do," she said quietly. "I want to, it's just—"

"It's fine." He said.

"No, you don't understand," Iris said. "There are just things I can't... I dont want you to..." she sighed, there was no good way to say this.

"You don't want me to do what?" He demanded.

"I don't want you to think I don't love you," Iris blurted out.

They stood in silence for a long moment. Iris gulped, her eyes welling up with tears.

"Because I do," she whispered, her bottom lip quivering. "I do love you."

Tommy watched her for a second, scanning her face.

"Tom—" she began, but he cut her off with a kiss. The pull was so strong this time, like a tidal wave.

He pulled back for a second but their faces stayed touching, nose to nose, forehead to forehead. Their lips brushed against each other.

"Iris Hancock," he whispered. "I love you."

They kissed again, her eyes welling up with a mass of tears. In that moment she forgot that her problems were far from gone, and all that mattered was that she loved Tommy Shelby and he loved her.

It was around three in the morning when Iris woke up in Tommy's bed. She rolled over to his sleeping face and smiled to herself as she traced his cheek with her fingertips. Suddenly, the light in her heart turned cold as she remembered what she'd done. She'd been so caught up in the moment that she'd forgotten that Ivan was locked away in her flat. He would have woken up by now.

"Fuck," she whispered to herself, sitting up. She sprung out of bed, dressing herself frantically. "Shit."

Slipping her feet into her shoes, Iris allowed herself one last glance at Tommy.

"I love you," she said into the dark, before slipping out through the door.

An overwhelming sense of dread clouded over Iris as she made her way down Watery Lane, teeth chattering. The streets were fairly deserted, and Iris decided to take a shortcut to her flat in the hopes that she could intercept Ivan while he might still be knocked out.

She crossed the road and turned down an alleyway when a hand gripped her wrist.

Her heart dropped. Ivan stood before her, dried blood caked down one side of his face and a look of fury in his eyes. He held a kitchen knife in one hand and gripped her wrist in the other.

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