The year we had together was bliss. There was no other way I could describe it. He was never too openly romantic with me, not like Jack with Ada who were always together and always kissing, or holding hands, or holding each other. No, Tommy and I were more reserved than that. I think part of it was because I was sixteen while he was twenty, nearly twenty one, and also because I was so innocent in the ways of men. I'd never had a boyfriend before, hadn't even kissed anyone since Harry Waller, he'd put me off so much. I didn't know how to be in a relationship. I certainly didn't know how to be Tommy Shelby's girlfriend.

I wasn't even sure I could've called myself that. He never did. One day at The Garrison, he came over and sat with me, kissing me quick on the lips and then sitting down next to me. That was all. None of the Shelby's, other than Polly, looked alarmed, but the other customers did, especially the girls there who I knew fancied him. They looked as though they couldn't fathom how a poor, uneducated, orphan girl like me could capture the attention of the Tommy Shelby. I heard Lizzie saying one day that it was only because I was a virgin that he was interested because he'd sampled every other girl in the city. When I'd told Tommy that he'd really laughed, which was the best thing he could've done at that time because I'd felt so silly when I'd told him. I heard Margie, another one of the girls who liked him, saying it was because I was the only girl with hair as bright as mine or as curly in these streets, and everyone knew that Tommy loved strange and unique things.

Eventually I'd just asked him why he was with me one day, on one of our walks back to the orphanage.

He'd not even looked at me when he said, "Cause you're the only girl who's ever said no to me."

When I'd pointed out that I'd been nine when I said no, and had rarely said no to him since, he'd told me that once was enough.

After two months of being together, I finally brought up the sex question. Why hadn't he tried to do it with me yet? Didn't he want to? Was he worried I'd be terrible at it? (I was worried that I'd be terrible at it.) We'd been in a quiet alley across from The Garrison, him pressing me against the wall and kissing me with such passion that my knees had buckled and I was only upright because he was pressed so close against me.

"Tommy?" I mumbled against his mouth when I felt brave enough to bring it up.

"Mm?"

He moved to kissing my neck so deliciously I almost forgot what I was going to say.

"When are you goin' to have sex with me?"

He stopped kissing my neck, but stayed with his head in the crook of my shoulder. "Why are you askin' me that, Daisy Smith?"

I swallowed nervously. "Ava and Jack have done—"

He groaned, the sound vibrating through me and landing in my lower belly. "Don't talk about my sister when you're pressed up against me like this."

"Sorry…"

I felt him smile slightly against my skin. "You're always sayin' sorry for somethin'."

I grinned too, albeit shakily and I was glad he couldn't see it. "I've usually got something to apologise for."

"Not with me."

Remembering those months ago when I'd said, "not me," about lying, he'd replied gently with the same words I spoke then. "No, not with you."

He kissed my neck once before pulling back and looking at me. "Why are you askin' me about sex?"

I tilted my head slightly, wishing he was back there and I'd not said anything. "Do you… I mean… Do you want to…?" I said it quietly but I was amazed I could talk about it at all.

The only experiences I'd had talking about sex were the girls talking about how it wasn't for us, Ada talking about how it was, and Harry Waller telling me everyone thought I'd be a whore one day. It was a sore subject.

"Dais, if you don't understand what this means," he pressed against me harder so I could really feel the stiffness between his legs, "then you're even more innocent than I'd thought."

I exhaled harshly, gripping his arms tighter.

"I know what it means," I said, raising my chin a little and gaining more confidence. "It's just you've done nothing about it yet."

His blue eyes flashed. "Is that a challenge, Daisy Smith?"

We'd had sex two weeks later. It had hurt at first, like both he and Ada had warned me, but soon his hands rubbing circles on me and grasping my breasts, and his mouth kissing me, kissing kissing me so hard I thought I might suffocate, had my body flooding with such exquisite pleasure rather than pain. He'd kept his eyes on mine the whole time, whispering every now and then how beautiful I was. I'd clutched onto him so tight and he'd grasped me back with equal ferocity, leaving my ribs with slight bruises. I didn't care - it was primal, and although I wouldn't admit it to anybody, it made me exceptionally happy that I'd had a temporary mark showing our passion. It was just for me and him, the way it always had been and always would be.

He'd seen the bruises Joe left me when he'd taken my dress off and was kissing his way down my chest, lingering on my breasts before going lower. He'd stopped at my ribcage and pulled away frowning.

"What are these?" He asked quietly, staring hard at the yellowing bruises on me.

"They're nothing," I insisted, just wanting his hands and mouth back on me again.

"Daisy." He'd used his serious voice on me again, speaking like I was one of his lackeys in the Blinders.

I sighed and turned my face away. "Joe doesn't like me much," I half joked, hoping to lighten the situation.

He'd frowned and glared at my stomach so hard it made me get self conscious. I started to pull my arms up to cover myself when he'd shaken his head and pulled my wrists into one of his hands and pulled them above my head.

He kissed me softly then, tenderly, and only said, "Don't keep things from me," before going back to kissing his way down my shaking body.

Then we hadn't been saying much of anything, just gasping and groaning against each other's skin, him whispering things he'd never said to me before and me doing the same.

"You're perfect, Dais…"

"Don't stop, Tommy…"

"So fuckin' pretty…"

"So…good…"

"I'm gonna make love to you every day from now on, Dais, don't you worry…" I had laughed softly at this, feeling his grin between my breasts.

"I love you, Tommy…"

He'd not said it back, but his body had loved mine in a way I'd never expected. Ada had told me about how good it could be, and it was, but she'd not told me about how beautiful it was. It didn't feel like the "fucking" I'd heard Arthur and John talking about. This was something else. Something that'd been building for years and was finally coming into fruition.

I didn't regret telling him I loved him. I did. With all my heart. For the next year he showed me all the different ways he loved me. He quietly took my hand every now and then at The Garrison. He somehow managed to get Joe to never even look at me again, let alone beat me. He took me to London once when he went on a job and we'd made love with Big Ben visible from our window. He made me laugh. He made me laugh a lot - and I made him laugh in return with silly jokes I'd heard on the street. He argued with Polly when she told him I wasn't good enough for him. He defended me, sometimes too violently, when people shouted rude things at me. He came to me after fights to either calm him down or keep him riled up - I was always more than happy to go along with both. It was only after a fight did our sex ever feel like "fucking" - it was hard and rough and raw but still beautiful because it was us. He sometimes held me with such tenderness, like I might break if he held on too tight. He showed that he loved me when he spoke to me about his father, whom he didn't like at all, and told me things he'd never told anyone, not even Ada, not even Arthur or Polly. He showed me his love in so many different ways, so many beautiful ways in that blissful year we spent together.

He told me, verbally, that he loved me on my seventeenth birthday, nearly a year later. I cried silently into his shoulder when he finally said it. He made fun of me for crying and we made love and he whispered it in my ear over and over and over…

"Daisy… I love you… I think I've always loved you, Dais…"

He told me he loved me on my seventeenth birthday: the third of August 1914.

England went to war with Germany the day after.

Nothing was ever the same.

End of Part One.

It gets much MUCH more angsty from here on out. Enjoy this fluffy chapter because not much good comes again for a while.

As a warning, from the next chapter out you might start to hate me a little bit because of what I have planned for our characters, but please bear with me - I'm a sucker for happy endings, remember!

Thank you for your support!