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deepdonutkid · 3 years

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Gambling man

Warnings: swearing, smoking, drinking, dirty talk (starting soft here)

A/N: This is the first chapter of my newest series: Do you wanna touch ! There is also the summary of the story and the masterlist and the warning for the story as a whole. Have fun reading it and I hope you leave some love here!

There were no words to describe how annoyed he was. Why should he do something for Tommy after the regular work in the betting shop? John was tired and this was an understatement. He was nearly constantly yawning, rubbing his eyes and his head was aching. The kids kept him up all night. One wet the bed. This woke up the others. They wouldn’t go back to sleep that easily, of course and John was already half-dead when he arrived at work. And now he had to go to a swanky bar called “The mockingbird” to pick something up for this brother.

He didn’t even know what it was, but apparently it was expensive. Tommy was god-knows-where and John was sick of being his clown. It was always the same. ‘John do this’ or ‘John do that’ and he couldn’t escape it. Of course he tried, like a million times already. It has been like this since they were kids and even nowadays he couldn’t say no to his family.

After all, family was the most important thing in his life, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t complain while doing the dirty work again. At least he didn’t have to care about his kids for the rest of the night. Polly was watching them. He agreed with Tommy about that. It was his only condition. When the job was said and done, he wanted a good night sleep. John couldn’t remember his last peaceful night, maybe before the war or even before his wedding. He was still a child back then, but he doesn’t really miss this part of his life.

Back then they were poor kids with some knives, robbing some fellows to get some coins. When he was hungry he had to steal, because begging never has been his thing. Looking back wasn’t glorious. It was just sad and nothing more. Now he has the money for food, but nobody will cook for him. Martha died during the war, so when he finally came home, broken and shattered; he was all alone with no one to comfort him. Well, he had the kids, but they behaved just as bad as waifs and strays. They still did. Always jumping around, asking way too many questions, destroying everything that comes to their hands and John just needed a break.

Just one night, was all he was asking for.

But first he had to do his job. Then he could think of all the ways he could spend his free time. So he walked to the pub and grumbled. How fucking garish it looked! Everything was so nice and expensive and everyone acted like they were about humans. John gave a sniff about these posh fuckers. The look in his eyes was dismissive as he entered this fancy place.

Indoors it smelled like wine and cigars. Not bad, he thought as he glanced around. The place was light and warm and full of laughter. Golden ornaments everywhere, he noticed and shook his head about it. This was nothing he cared about. They wouldn’t even serve beer here.

John walked to the bar and ordered a whiskey, Irish of course. Then he waited at the counter, like Tommy had explained to him. A man would walk up to him and asking him how the weather was outside and regardless of the cloud free sky that night, John should answer: “It’s fookin pouring.” What a bloody drama was this anyway? Why he couldn’t pick up the package like a normal person? But with Tommy and his secret plans and all this bullshit he had no other way, but to do as he was commanded.

The Shelby drowned one glass and then next and then the next, still no contact in sight. For the glimpse of a moment he thought he had to wait all night for the man to come. After his fourth glass of whiskey a small man with a bowler, white stubbly hair and a curly moustache arrived. He had an umbrella with him and used it as walking stick. The way he walked looked almost cartoonish. John gave his best not to laugh about this codger, especially when he asked the question. “Oh, young boy, could you please tell me, how is the weather outside?” The voice of the strange man was croaking, which made the whole conversation even more farcical.

Now he really had to bit his lip, so he wouldn’t burst out in laughter. “It’s fooking pouring”, John chuckled and emptied his glass.

“Good”, the old man said: “Just as I expected. Now I don’t need the paper anymore. Take this.” He handed John a newspaper with something inside. John took it and put it in the inside of his jacket. The dossier was safe there.

Instead of saying thanks, John shouted to the bartender: “One drink for him and one for me.” The guy behind the bar rushed to them and poured another drink. John wasn’t drunk yet, but sooner or later the whiskey would do his work.

The job was a simple transaction, but his part of the deal wasn’t done yet. First he paid the barkeeper and waited for him to leave. Then he sat there awhile and drank there quietly. He still didn’t know how he should hand the money discretely… until the man asked: “Boy, please do me another favor. Lend me some money for the cab.”

This had to be a sign, he thought and pulled out a thick wad of money, which he slipped into the wrinkly hands of the geezer. “This would be more than enough. Farewell.” He muttered and stood up from his stool, ready to leave.

Just in this moment he realized nature was calling and he should do that, before walking into the cold night of Birmingham. So he took a little detour to the lavatories.

With steady steps he headed to the exit. One last time he turned around. There was something interesting about this place after all. In the back were four card tables. John liked to play, whenever he was at the garrison, but even if he left right away, the garrison would be closed as soon as he arrived in Small Heath. It was almost midnight by now, but John was now more drunk than tired and he though one or two rounds of cards couldn’t hurt.

So he walked towards the tables and studied them to pick the right one. On the first were just some posh greybeards, which weren’t interesting at all or at least not for John. The second was empty and on the third table were two Chinese men talking in their mother tongue. The last table caught his attention. There sat the croupier, a man with a scar across his face in his forties, a Spanish guy with gelled hair and a lady. She had her hair open, so the blonde locks would reach her tailbone. This seemed by far to be the most interesting table.

Without a second thought he sat down at table number four. The other players nodded slightly, when he arrived. The round wasn’t done yet, but the pot was full of chips and in the middle was a golden hair pin. Now he realized why the woman wore her hair open. She had used her pin as her stake.

John decided to take a closer look at his fellow players. The two men were exactly what he thought they would be… greasy, compulsive gamblers. Nothing more to say.

But the lady… Well, there was something about her. John couldn’t point it out yet, but he was eager to find out. Everything from her golden shiny hair to that arrogant grin on face was capturing. She had a fierce look on her face as if she knew something everyone else didn’t. Every little detail like her dominant cheekbones or tilted chin seemed to add to the impression how privileged and entitled she was. Yet, she was quite charming in her pink dress. Her clothing seemed to be expensive, but it completed her appearance.

John was so caught by her presence; he didn’t recognized when the round ended. The other player with the scar and the hat folded, so she won. As she revealed her hand, her opponent groaned and slapped his fist on the table. Apparently she had nothing, but a good poker face. The Shelby was pretty impressed. He had played cards with some girls before, but none of them were really good at it. They just tried to flirt with him, while playing.

So he leaned closer to her and whispered: “Any luck today?” She gave him a dismissive glare and then collected her stake.

While she twirled her hair around and put the pin back in place, the croupier asked John, if he wants to join for the next round. He nodded, pulled some bills out of his pocket and gave it to the dealer. In return the dealer handed him some chips and started riffle the cards.

The man who just lost the last round stood up and left the table grunting. Then the lady declared in a dry tone: “At least more than him.” John let out a little laugh. Obviously she was funny too. He already took the bait and was curious to get more information about her.

The Shelby slid closer to her and smiled at her, but that didn’t seem to please her. “Don’t fucking look at my cards.” She growled, raising an eyebrow. John bit his lip, glaring at her with amusement. Then he noticed, he didn’t even check his hand, so he did that- a jack and a five- and then placed a bet.

After he had done that, he started staring again and couldn’t stop until she nagged: “What exactly do you want from me?” He chuckled. As if he would know that?

“Whatever you want to give me”, he grinned and leaned forwards as he tried to get in a more comfortable position on his chair. While talking he noticed her smell. It was a combination of roses, vanilla and oranges. What a great contrast to the people he usually talked to. He wanted to ensure, that this wasn’t an illusion, but sniffing on woman wasn’t a publicly accepted thing to do. Even he knew and heeded that.

With widened eyes she gazed back at him. “So… you want to get slapped?” she answered, with blank eyes. The woman was quite serious, but John couldn’t help but smirk at her. He liked her fervor.

John smothered to say a little delinquent ‘Maybe’ and placed another bet as it was his turn again. His cards weren’t the best, but he wanted to keep playing.

They played for a while. Then out of the blue the lady asked: “Should I take you silence as a yes? Or did you swallow your tongue?” He didn’t expect her to insist on an answer.

His hand scratched the back of his head as he searched for words to say. “No, I just…”

“Just what?” she interrupted him, before he could even finish his sentence. Now she seemed to sneer.

Her laugh made him laugh too. It was contagious and he always had a thing for fierce women. “I just want to know you name at least” he added.

“Does this matter?” she responded while fumbling with her chips: “Aren’t we here to play cards, ey?”

The Shelby nodded. She was probably right. He shouldn’t care about this, but yet he still had the desire to know more about this mysterious creature in front of him. “To the game… no” he murmured: “To me, yes.”

She looked down at her cards, as she raised the stake. He didn’t know, if she would ignore him again, so he introduced himself first: “I’m John.” He raised her by two more chips.

The blond groaned as if she was almost disappointed. Then in the next round she called and said with the most Russian accent he could imagine: “I’m Darja, but you can call me Dascha.” Now he was surprised again. He didn’t expect that. From first sight she didn’t seemed to be Russian… but who would have guessed he was Romani. They would have thrown him out, if they knew.

“It’s a pleasure” he nodded and waited for the other player at the table to end his turn. That slickly guy folded and now it was just the two of them in the game. John decided to call and as he placed another red casino chip in the pot he whispered to himself: “Dascha”

Her name was like a sweet melody to him and fitted her image as an entitled little madam. They moaned the loudest though, when they get a good fuck. The picture of them doing it in the lavatories wouldn’t leave his head as he peered into the distance. How he would shag her, grabbing her tiny little butt, while she begged for more.

This little though brought him unholy amounts of pleasure. With a grin on his face he finally arrived back in reality, just to notice that he should shut his cards down. She waited patiently and then showed her hand.

The two of them starred at the cards. He had won with just a three of a kind. That was luck indeed. She had a pair of queens.

“Seems like you’re lucky tonight”, she mumbled as she took a sip from a colorful drink.

His eyes widened from surprise and amusement. Grinning at her he asked: “Oh, is that so?”

The blonde woman clucked her tongue and gave him a dismissive stare. “Don’t get cocky after just one round.”

So the next round started. They played for a while. Sometimes she had won and sometimes he did.

Now his cards were even better than the last time. John had to bit his lip to hide his smile. Soon after he placed a bet, he got an idea. The guy on the other side of the table was nearly out of money and so it was clear it was a race between them now.

When the other guy reached his limit, John put three of his red chips in the middle of the table and said to the croupier: “Open a side pot, please.” Then he slowly turned to the woman. She hasn’t changed mimic or position, almost statuesque. There was still this mysterious smile on her face. But then she moved her hand to call.

“Shall we make this more interesting?”, he purposed and flicked a coin in his hands.

She glared at him for a while, completely silent, as if she tried to read his thoughts. Very quietly she hummed. John had to focus on the melody to even hear it, so it wouldn’t get lost in the surroundings. Finally she tilted her head and inquired: “What do you have in mind?”

It seemed like the Shelby had caught her interest as well and he was ready to play with her. John licked his lips and laughed. “Just a little bet. If I win this round, we’ll meet again… on a date.” He knew just too well, that if he mentioned something more sexual, this little lady would run away. But as his grandfather used to say, he had to think of the long game.

The Russian nodded. “But what if I win? What do I get? Do you even have something interesting for me?”

Now he was a little lost. He thought he’d never get this far. What could she want was the question in mind. Well, he couldn’t give up his pocket watch and he didn’t have anything else expensive with him. But on the other hand she seemed to be rich enough to deny his offer.

John was desperate, not completely, just a little. This might be his only chance with a woman like her. So he did what he could do best- be an arrogant asshole! He looked at her the whole time until he made his move. His eyes wandered from her to his manhood and then back to her. With a cocky smile on his face he underlined his wager.

And she burst out in laughter: “Hell no!” It took almost a minute until she calmed down again. She was still giggling like a five-year-old, when she added: “This is not going to happen, but I’m going to take your ring as a stake. So you’ll learn your lesson.”

At first he didn’t know what she meant. Then he looked at his hands. Like other Romani he wore at least five of them. Most were family heirloom, but his wedding ring wasn’t. All his other rings were luxuriant. His wedding ring was simple golden and had no ornaments like the others. Until now he had completely forgot about this. Of course he was still wearing it. He never took it off. Not during the war and not after Martha had died.

John had never questioned it, but now he had to. If he wasn’t so sure, he would win, he would have never agreed to this. It was a weird feeling to take it off, after all those years. He turned the ring in his hand, still worried if he would get it back. Then he heard her giggle again. She felt confident, John wouldn’t cross this line, but because she was so convinced, he finally put the ring on the table. “Then teach me”, he grunted.

Once again it was time to turn the cards. His heartbeat was going crazy as his fingers reached for the two cards in front of him again. He flipped them as quickly as possible. There was no chance, she would win. John had a fucking flush on his hand.

He was watching her closely, as she played with one lose streak of her blond hair. One moment she was laughing, and then she hung her head. Suddenly he would realize the bittersweet nuance in her smile, as she had shown her cards. The Russian had lost again. “My luck ended, when you came to this table, I guess”, she mumbled.

On the other hand John couldn’t feel luckier. He took his bet back, put his ring back on and piled up his chips gleefully. “Oh, you shouldn’t be sad. You just won a date with me”, he joked knowing he was just rubbed salt in her wounds.

Amused he watched her as she pouted her lips. She stood up from her stool, stretched herself and declared: “I better get going, before I lose the rest of my dignity.” A nod to the croupier was enough to tell him to change the chips back into money.

John did the same, when he had put his money away, he ran after her. “Wait, darling”, he said under his breath: “You don’t get away this easily. You still owe me something… Let me walk you home, so I know where I can pick you up for our date.”

She chose to ignore him, so he grabbed her wrist to stop her from going away. Then she turned around to him and raised her eyebrow. “Do I?”, she asked: “I thought this was a joke or would you really gamble away your wedding ring? What would your wife say about this?”

Before he could even answer, she added: “I mean I feel very flattered by your attention, since you’re somehow good looking or whatever, but I don’t fuck married man.”

“Stop right there”, he replied: “Yes, I was serious and don’t bring my wife into this discussion. The date doesn’t mean we have to have sex… I mean it would be nice, but that’s not my point. I want to get to know you… and I won.” Somehow he couldn’t tell her the truth. He was a widower with four children and he didn’t want her to pity him. Actually that was the last thing he wanted right now. In his opinion it was better if she thought he was a married asshole, than a poor, sad widower.

With a straight face she wrest herself free, just to offer her arm, so he could link in. Her cheeks were gleaming red as she moaned: “Let’s just get out of here.” Gladly he would take her hand and guide her outside.

It was still warm outside and it would be one of the last pleasant evenings in Birmingham for the next time. Fall was coming soon and it would get way colder. Right now, he and the lady to his right could walk down the street without a coat. John was mentally prepared to give her his jacket, if she would need it, but she was silent as they left the nightclub.

“Why do you want to walk with me? I don’t live so far from here”, she asked and looked the other way.

It was so dark outside; he could barely see his own hands in front of him. Yet he knew that her face was still flushed with shame. His smile was undeniable. “Well”, he explained: “You don’t come from Birmingham and so you might not know, it’s a dangerous town for a woman like you.”

He could see the silhouette of her head nod. Then he heard her laughter. “And you are here to save me?”

Of course, it wasn’t his job to bring her home, but it felt like the right thing to do and after all, he wanted to spend more time with her. It was a weird thing, yes, since he had only known her for maybe an hour or less, but there was something about her, something captivating and he thought that eventually- if he could get to know her better- he could figure out why she was so fascinating to him. There was something in her eyes, something he had never seen before and he was keen to know, what it was. Or maybe he was just needy and an idiot to fall for the first pretty woman he had seen for months. After a while he answered: “Yes, I do.” His voice was soft, when he spoke, it sounded so unfamiliar.

“What make you think I need a savior?” was her next question. Somehow he got the idea, that she would never stop asking things. The way she said it seemed so innocent to him. He had seen war and violence en masse and he knew his city well enough to predict something bad, without having any second Romani sense like his aunt.

“Nah, I just think it’s better to be safe than to be sorry”, he responded and caressed her arm with his thumb. Usually he wasn’t so sweet, when it came to woman, but he still tried to charm her. And it somehow worked, at least she giggled again.

Then she joked: “So what? You’re going to heroically fight them off with your fists? Is this what you want me to believe?” Suddenly she stopped walking and just stood there, staring at him.

John chuckled and stopped as well. “No, I have a gun.” He didn’t want to scare her, so he just said it very calmly. And well, there was no need to show his Webley to her, right?

The Russian laughed even louder. Somehow she managed to say: “Excuse me… English is not my first language… Is gun another jargon for cock?”

Another time this would make him laugh as well, but now he thought she was not taking him seriously, which hurt his big male ego. After all, he was a goddamn Shelby, a King of Small Heath, a gangster or whatever people liked to call him… and yet the little lady in front of him was twitting about him.

So he opened his jacket and his gun shimmered in the light of the nearest lantern. “See? I’m not joking, honey”, he grunted. Others would fear him now, but she looked very unbothered right now. She wasn’t impressed or scared, she hid all her emotions beneath her brilliant poker face again.

They stood there in silence for quite a while. John wasn’t sure how to proceed and he was still waiting for her reaction.

All the sudden a big smile from one ear to the other was carved into her skin. Her eyes seemed so lost, like she wasn’t mentally here anymore, when she lifted her hand to his head, or to his cap to be precise. She snorted as she hovered with her finger over the edge of his flat cap. He was about to tell her about the razor blades he had sewn in there, when she presented the blood on her index finger. “You are one of these Peaky Blinders. Am I right, John?”

He felt caught, even though this wasn’t actually a secret. It was more like everybody knew who he was. So why couldn’t he say something now? All those words were stuck in his thought and he couldn’t break nor speak. His head was all blank and he still wanted to turn this conversation around. The only thing he could do was to nod.

“Good”, she whispered and came close to him: “I like when someone doesn’t play by the rules, because neither do I.” The Russian moved away and her cheek briefly brushed against his. A shiver ran down his spine. Her voice was electrifying and he wanted her to moan his name over and over again.

She was so mean, when she teased him like this, but he couldn’t deny that this was appealing to him. “Fuck”, he groaned and put his hand on her waist to pull her closer. Now he could see her face in the light of street lantern again. To his pleasure he noticed that she seemed at least a little scared. “Following the rules is just so tiring and on top of that also boring. Why should I keep playing by the book, when is so much more fun, just to break some shit?” Under his fingertips he felt the fabric of her dress and how she trembled.

Just like he thought it was getting to cold for just a summer dress like hers. “Do you want my jacket?”, he offered with a smile and moved his hand to her cheek to caress it gently.

Slowly she shook her head and refused his kind gesture. “No, I’m fine. Thanks.” They were still close and she hasn’t hurried away, which was a good sign for him. He liked to feel her warm body against his. The last time he had felt something like this was so long ago.

A small, but very vulnerable smile graced his lips. “Dascha?” Calling her name like was oddly intense, but his heart jumped when she squeaked. He hadn’t imagine her to be so soft all the sudden as if she was melting in his hands. And the look in her eyes gave him the rest. It was like the world had stopped for a second. There was no sound, no other smell and no other visual sensation. Everything else became so blurry. Now there was just her. Maybe it wasn’t even his action, maybe the whiskey had made him to it, but he leaned in to kiss her.

Their lips met a lot sooner than he thought. John was so relieved, she didn’t push him away and seconds later he was surprised how soft and sweet her lips tasted. He couldn’t get enough of this. His hands were all on her body. Right now everything else that happened this night was irrelevant. This was worth all the stress. And he was glad, he had enough courage to do it.

Even when they parted, they were still strangers to each other, but John was sure he felt a connection. Heavily breathing he couldn’t take his eyes of her. She was still panting. Her lips were swollen and her whole face was heading a shade of red unknown to mankind, but fuck, she was beautiful.

“You stole a kiss from me?” It sounded more like statement than a question, but John nodded in agreement. Yes, he did that and he was so proud he did. It was the most interesting thing, that has happened to him in months and he would do it again, if he had to.

The blond bid her lip and moaned: “Now I have to steal it back.” He hadn’t even realized what she just said, when he felt her lips on his again. She had caught him in surprise and he got the idea how she must have felt, when he attacked her like this. It was rushed and yet perplexing good.

They only stopped, because the bell announced the next hour. She looked up at the sky as if she could she the clock tower from this dark alley. “I have to go now”, she explained: “But let’s meet here again next week. Same spot at eight.” Then she pointed above them. Only now he noticed they were standing at the corner of St. James and George Road.

“Can’t wait”, he replied and smiled. There was no point in asking her again, if he should walk her home. She seemed to be sure to go home alone. The Russian nodded and hurried away. He kept eying her until she disappeared behind the next corner. This whole encounter was so surreal.

On the way back home he thought about her and hoped he wouldn’t forget their next meeting. Now he just had to figure out, how he would convince Polly to take care of his kids. When he got home everything was silent. The kids were asleep and he would go straight to bed to. As he stumbled out of his clothes and into his bed, he still could feel the touch of her lips. Needless to say, he had a wonderful sleep that night.

tagging: @theshelbyclan @justalonelyslytherin @bonniesgoldengirl

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