#ma ptite bombasse đ„°
Text
Itâs always been you
Summary: after years by his side, Tommy sees your friendship shattered when he decides to marry Grace and then later, hurts your boyfriend. Will you ever be reunited?
A/N: phew! this was...well itâs officially the longest one shot I've ever written and itâs in honor of my darling @runnning-outof-timeâ bingo! Iâve worked very hard on this and I'm literally writing this on December 31st at half past two in the morning but itâs worth it! Also, big big thank you to my darling @choreosmania (youâre such a sexy little swine ily <3) Happy New Year everyone, I hope you enjoy this first fic of 2023!! đđ
Prompts: A holiday partyâhurt/comfortâmust include: a secretâenemies-to-lovers
Warnings: angst, mentions of death, swearwords, peaky related stuff and fluff (obviously)
Word count: 8,037 words
Tommy sat in the quiet office, waiting to hear the distinctive clicking on the hardwood floor. He had news to tell you. Something very important that got you rushing to the Shelby Company Ltd. Building. But for once, the news were good.
âWhat happened?â you almost screamed, erupting through the glass doors. You knew Tommy well enough to be concerned when he called you to his office for âimportant mattersâ. And the blood on his temple didnât soothe your worry.
âIâm getting married, Y/N.â
He pronounced the words calmly. As if it wasnât supposed to be exciting or thrilling or the best news you had heard all year. He had been through a lot and all you had wished for him was someone good. A nice girl to dust off the remains of the tunnels. Because even if he had changed, Tommy still deserved good things. He deserved to be loved, he deserved to be happy. Even if he didnât believe it most of the time.
âThis is amazing!â you exclaimed, rushing to embrace him. Tommy welcomed your hug, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. You were the first one to know. He wanted you to know before the rest of the family. Ever since he came back from France, you had been a constant. He was aware he was a different manâ far from the young boy he was when he left but you accepted it. You didnât try to make the young boy come back, you didnât expect Tommy to act like someone he wasnât anymore. And for that, he wanted to share the good news with you first, and you only.
âSo who is the unfortunate creature?â your playful tone made Tommy shake his head. You smiled at him, wondering who had managed to bring back the grin on his face. He hadnât mentioned anybody special and you hadnât seen him with anybody either.
âItâs Grace,â Tommy finally said, his smile widening. But you werenât smiling anymore.
You let him go, a cold pit in your stomach. No. No, you refused to believe it. He couldnât. He wouldnât. Not after everything that happened. No, it was probably someone else. Another girl. You heard it wrong because he wouldnât. He wouldnât marry her.
Tommy noticed the sudden switch. Your joyful expression erased by a troubled frown, you backed away in disbelief. âY/NâŠ,â but you shook your head, a hollow chuckle escaping your trembling lips.
âNo, no, you canât marry her. Fuck, Tommy! You canât be that naive, youâ did you forget what she did?â The man lowered his head, sighing. You were reacting out of shock but it would pass, he just needed to let you have a moment. âYou almost got killed because of her! She called the fucking cops on your own fucking sister and y-you want to marry her? No, no, please tell me this is supposed to be a joke because you canât be serious right nowâŠyou canâtâŠâ
âBut I am, Y/N,â he began calmly, grabbing your hand. âSheâs pregnant a-and she said she loved me.â
You snatched your hand away, angry tears rolling down your cheeks. âAre you fucking kidding me, Tommy? She said she loved you? So fucking what? She said she was a barmaid too, didnât she? And how do you know the babyâs yours, hm? Isnât she married?â
Tommy sighed, he was feeling less and less patient. Maybe he didnât expect you to jump out of happiness, especially after knowing he would marry Grace. But he thought you would be happy for him because it was important. Because after all these years in the dark, trying to dig himself out of the tunnels, he had found light.
âSheâs going to leave him, she doesnât love him.â
âOh rightâŠbecause she loves you,â you spat out bitterly. âIs that why you asked me to come here? Did you expect me to give you my blessing to go marry a traitor?â
âDonât call her that, alright?â The mere mention of the past was enough to make Tommyâs blood boil. He knew what Grace had done but he forgave her. You should understand that. You should understand that if he could forgive her, then you should too. Because there would be no one else for him, Grace was the one.
âCall her what? A traitor?â you taunted him even if your anger only masked the deep hurt you felt. She had harmed your family, she had harmed him and now he was opening the door for her. He was allowing her back in. What would she do this time? What would happen if this was another trap but he was too blinded to see? âThatâs what she is, Tom! She betrayed you and youâre just giving her another chance! This will never end well, you hear me? And if you go through with this, itâs over. Forget about me.â you uttered the words with all the fierceness burning in your heart. If he wanted to marry a traitor, then he was no better than her. And you didnât want to be friends with someone who would betray their own flesh and blood.
Tommy observed you for a moment, gauging how serious you were. But he didnât find an ounce of hesitation in your gaze. You were ready to throw away your entire friendship just for that? You would give up on him because he finally found happiness?
âThen leave, Y/N,â his blue eyes were cold, enough to freeze you on the spot. You watched him as he nonchalantly grabbed a cigarette out of his pocket. The Tommy you loved wasnât there anymore. You didnât recognize this man standing tall and proud before you. You shook your head, walking out of the office but before reaching the door you stopped. âWhen this all goes to shitâand it willâ donât expect me to be there for you. Goodbye, Thomas.â You slammed the glassdoor on your way out, leaving Tommy alone in the gigantic office.
âYouâre inviting Y/N?â Polly asked, surprised as her nephew handed her two invitations. She had been the first one to know about the terrible argument between him and Y/N. Polly was many things to the children: a mother, an aunt, a friend at times. But there had always been a strong bond between her and Y/N. Polly had grown up with her mother and when she passed, the Shelby matriarch didnât hesitate to take the little girl in. She was already spending most of the time with the rest of the Shelbys anyway. They had all accepted her whole-heartedly as part of their clan, especially Tommy. They were inseparable. If Y/N was somewhere, Tommy wasnât far behind. They disagreed sometimes but their fights never lasted long.
Thatâs what Polly thought would happen the last time. Nothing more than a petty argument, a few days sulking and then it would go back to normal. Y/N would get over her hatred towards Grace and Tommy would understand that marrying her didnât erase her wrongs. But neither seemed to budge, they were too stubborn, too set in their own positions.
Family meetings turned to awkward blanks and a tense atmosphere as everyone observed the broken pair. Y/N didnât address Tommy unless it was necessary. Tommy treated Y/N like she was nothing more than an employee. But the rest of the family couldnât help notice the glances one would throw when the other wasnât paying attention.
âWell, sheâs part of the family, isnât she?â Tommy answered simply, passing a tired hand over his face. He had told the same thing to Grace a week before when she was making the invitationsâ to which she replied: Â âIâm your family too, now, Tommy.â But he insisted regardless of Graceâs reticence. His soon-to-be wife didnât seem to understand why he would invite the girl who had decided to cut all relations with him. But Tommy, for some reason, couldnât imagine his wedding without Y/N being there. And even if there was a very strong chance she declined the invitation, Tommy thought he could try. Maybe extend an olive branch her way and put an end to the ridiculous quarrel between them.
âJust give her the invitation, will ya, Pol?â his aunt observed him, he seemed exhausted. But not the exhaustion of a father who had a teething baby at home. Not the exhaustion of a businessman spending too much time at the office. No, something was bothering him.
âWhatâs going on, Tommy?â
He looked up, eyes reddened by the incessant rubbing, but he didnât answer. Instead, he took out a file from a drawer and threw it on top of his desk. Polly opened it, finding letters and different annotations. âMr. Changretta met a girl in the Italian restaurant on Fleet Street and took her back to a suite at the Midland Hotel,â she read out loud.
Fuck.
You had been seeing Angel for a few months. You had told Polly about him, how nice he was to you.
âDonât tell her anything, alright? Iâm going to deal with it?â Polly looked up from the file, a frown on her face. Tommyâs tone didnât need clarifying. Anyone who hurt a Shelby would pay the consequences. These were the rules. But the Changrettas were a powerful family.
âThomas, donât start with the Italians, you hear me? Iâll tell Y/N what you found and she will handle it alone-â
âNo, Polly. You wonât tell her. Just let me handle it.â
She handed him the file back, sighing. Tommy wouldnât do something stupid, she told herself. Not when he had a baby, not right before his wedding. No, her nephew was a smart man. He would handle things properly.
You opened the glassdoors with such strength they hit the wall behind. But it didnât matter, you didnât care. Thomas got up from his desk as you ran towards him, rage deforming your features.
âFuck you, Thomas! Fuck you!â you pushed him, tears blurring your vision. âHow could you, hm? How could you do that? WhatâŠjust because I refused to come to your fucking wedding you had to get revenge? Are you that fucking petty?â you screamed. You probably seemed mad, maybe you were. It didnât matter. Not when he stood so calmly, even after what he did.
âY/NâŠâ he grabbed your wrists, holding them close to his chest. You easily got out of his grip, withdrawing as if his hands had burnt you.
âWhy did you do that, hm? Just out of spite?â but Tommy stood there, observing you. âAnswer me!â you demanded vehemently.
The office doors opened again. This time, Polly rushed inside, alerted by the screams.
âWhatâs going on?â
You turned to her, eyes swollen and red. âMaybe you should ask your nephew, hm?â your finger pointed accusingly towards Tommy, you explained âHe went to Angel and took his fucking eyes out.â
âWhat?â Polly observed Tommy in disbelief. Not because she was surprised by his action. But because two weeks ago, she warned him. She told him if he decided to deal with Changretta, he had to be diplomatic. This was far from diplomacy. This meant war with the Italians.
âAnd you wanna know why he did it, huh?â you continued, hands gesturing in anger âBecause the great Thomas Shelby canât stand that I hate his darling wife so he wants to make me pay. And for that, heâs just planning on hurting anybody I get close to, isnât he?â a hollow laugh left your trembling lips, Tommy kept quiet.
From the corner of her eye, Polly noticed his clenched jaw. Her nephew stood there, unable to defend himself because he refused to let you know the reason.
Tommy had to speak with Polly. Keep her from explaining why Angel Changretta lost his sight. But he couldnât do that with you in the room.
Polly seemed to understand her nephewâs lack of answer and called Lizzie.
âY/N, sweetheart, let me talk to Tommy. Go with Lizzie, alright?â
You sighed, your chest heaving. The flaming rush that led you to the office was slowly dissolving, leaving you a pounding headache and exhaustion. You listened to Polly, deflated and followed Lizzie outside.
The Shelby matriarch waited to hear the click of the door and turned back to Tommy. He slumped in his chair, sighing. âOh, you can sigh all you want but Iâm not leaving.â
âYeah, I know you wonât, Pol.â he lit up a cigarette, watching the cloud of smoke escaping from his lips.
âYou have to apologize, Thomas. We canât afford a war with the Italians. Not when you already have that business with the Russians.â
Tommy scoffed, shaking his head. âOh yeah and how should I apologize, eh? In English or in Italian?â
Polly shook her head. Her nephew was too proud to realize the consequences of his actions.
âOr maybe we should ask them which fucking language they prefer?â
âWhy, Thomas? Why?â
âBecause anyone who hurts a Shelby pays the price, remember, Pol?â he said matter-of-factly, his voice low.
She observed him. This was more than just pride, this was more than just a show of power.
âWhy didnât you tell Y/N, then? Why let her believe you did it out of pure spite?â
Tommy took a minute to reply, smoking his cigarette as he stared at the family portrait on the desk. âShe hates me already. No need to get her heart broken on top of it.â
Polly sighed. She sat next to him, grabbing a cigarette as well. He knew the consequences of his actions but it didnât matter, he would blind the king himself if he dared disrespecting you. Even if your friendship had shattered to pieces, it didnât make him care less about you. It didnât change the years spent by your side. Tommy knew you like no one did. And even if you were a strong woman, he wouldnât handle seeing you in pain. Much less for a scumbag like Angel Changretta.
âDonât tell her, Polly, yeah?â his aunt stared at him, containing the smirk forming on her lips.
âI wonât but thatâs not what you should be worried about, Tommy. The Changrettas will come after you.â
âThen let âem come, Pol. Let âem come.â
A cup of tea, a book in hand and a fire softly crackling in the hearth. All the elements for a perfect evening. And it would be perfect if Polly wasnât standing over you, arms folded across her chest. âCome on, Y/N, just come! You canât spend New yearâs Eve alone!â
You rolled your eyes, finally giving up on your book. âI can, Polly. And I will. Now, you got the pearls you were looking for, go or youâll be late.â Wrapping your robe closer around your chest, you opened the door. âAnd you know how your dear nephew loathes late people.â
Polly sighed. The only reason you refused to come was because said New Yearâs party was at Arrow House. It was a stupid reason. And even though Polly had tried to be patient, she  was tired of you and Tommy sulking like children, refusing to be near each other under any circumstance. âY/NâŠâ
âPollyâŠâ you mimicked her. The woman sighed, closing the door and grabbing your hand.
âAlright, I wonât take another minute of you behaving like a kid. Sit,â her order was firm. It left no room for negotiation. And quite frankly, no matter how grown you were, you couldnât ignore Pollyâs scolding.
âYouâre going to that party.â you opened your mouth, ready to retaliate âYou are going. And youâll talk to Tommy.â She fished a dress out of your wardrobe, throwing it on your bed. â Go on, we donât have all day. I need to do your hair.â
âPolly, please.â
It was hard for the family, you were aware of that. Tommy and you had always been close and the sudden distance between you had completely wrecked the usual balance. But you couldnât just forgive and forget. It was better to ignore him than go to his house and sulk all night while the others were put in the middle.
âY/N, this has to stop,â she spoke more softly, her hands rubbing your arms up and down. âLook, he doesnât want you to know butâŠâ, Polly hesitated. She promised she wouldnât say anything but she couldnât bear watching you and Tommy apart anymore. âAngel was cheating on you.â
âWhat?â
Polly sighed. âHe was cheating with some other girl and thatâs why Tommy gave the order. He asked me to keep it a secret andâŠâ
âAnd you lied. You let me believe that Tommy did it because he was bitter,â you scoffed, shaking your head.
âTommy didnât want you to be heartbroken. HeâŠhe cares even if he has strange ways of showing it.â
You observed Polly, suddenly feeling stupid. You thought your anger towards Tommy was justified, that he deserved it because someone had to stop him. Someone had to make him understand he didnât have all the rights to do whatever he pleased. But nowâŠnow you realized your outburst was unfair. He was trying to protect you, even if he could have let you deal with your troubles alone. He shielded you from the pain, took the blame for everything. Gosh you hated him.
âJust come, alright?â
Your initial reticence had seemingly disappeared and you nodded.
Polly helped you get ready and called her driver an hour later. You would arrive late, probably right in time for dinner but it didnât matter. All you needed was a talk with Tommy. You needed to apologize and put an end to the conflict betweenâwhich seemed completely ridiculous now. Apprehension grew in the pit of your stomach as you got closer and closer to Arrow House. You didnât know how he would react: would he listen to you? Would he try to avoid the conversation?
âWeâre there, Y/N,â Pollyâs firm hand squeezed yours, the great manor standing tall behind the window.
You took a deep breath, exiting the car. Each step brought you closer to him and it frightened you. You brought your coat closer to you, trying to stop your hands from shaking. Polly, noticing your anxiety, kept her hand tightly wrapped around yours and offered you a smile as you passed the threshold.
âWell, Polly, youâreâŠâ Tommy appeared, his pocket watch in hand. He was probably going to comment on his auntâs late arrival but he stopped himself mid sentence. Polly didnât come alone tonight. No, you were here too.
Tommy had invited you, the same way he invited his brothers and their wife but unlike John, Esme or Arthur, he didnât expect you to show up.
Even a year later, you didnât forgive what happened to Angel Changretta. Tommy had paid the price already but losing Grace made him realize how alone he felt. After her death, he didnât have anyone to turn to. Of course, there were Ada and Polly and Arthurâs clumsy attempts. But none were enough. Not compared to you.
Tommy remembered the days after his motherâs death, you had been the only one he could somehow confide in.
Sometimes, his grief grew so heavy he couldnât speak anymore. His family didnât understand that. They didnât see his silence as the biggest proof of his sorrow, they saw it as a lack of emotion. But you had always been attentive enough to understand that words didnât work, not when he felt like his heart was nothing but broken pieces scattered on the floor.
Your absence had never been as striking as it had been during the past year. But you were here now, on his doorstep with a soft smile brightening your features. Tommy moved towards you, he wanted to hug you, tell you just how much he had missed you.
âY/N,â he mumbled instead, a polite nod to greet you.
Polly watched the scene, suppressing a grin. It wasnât much but it was progress, she thought.
âAlright, Tom, are we spending the rest of the evening on the doorstep or can we get in? Itâs freezing here!â The Shelby matriarch almost pushed her nephew out of the way and ran to greet the rest of the family. Johnâs kids screamed as they saw Polly, scaring to death BillyâArthurâs baby.
The party was booming, jazz echoing through the halls and children running around. Although you didnât come here often, you knew your way to the parlor where most of the family was. You hugged everyone, giggling at Arthurâs tight embrace and drunken comments. Quickly, you found yourself holding Esmeâs little girl in your arms, chatting with her and Linda.
Tommy sat in the corner of the room, a glass of whiskey in hand and a cigarette in the other. He didnât enjoy partiesâtoo much noise, too much messâ but Arrow House had been so quiet. A deadly silence, gloomily settling in the manor until Tommy couldnât handle it anymore. Inviting the family over brought back some of the liveliness: the chandeliers had been lit, music played on the phonograph and Charlie could run around with his cousins.
âTom?â he blinked, startled as you stood before him. It had been a while since he heard you say his name. âCould I talk to you, please?â Tommy kept quiet for a moment, surprised by your proposal but he nodded, guiding you to his office.
There was a beat of silence as you stood in the middle of the room, twisting your fingers. You didnât know how to start.
âIs everything okay?â Tommy finally asked, observing your nervous gestures.
âNoâŠI mean, yes, I justâŠPolly told me about what you did andâŠand I guess I wanted to apologize.â
Tommy sighed, your words clear enough he didnât need to ask what you were talking about. Polly promised she wouldnât say anything but of course, his aunt never listened to him.
âYou donât have to apologize, Iâm the one who blinded the man you loved, didnât I?â
âYou did it because he deserved it,â you reasoned simply. âAnd I didnât love him, he was just a nice manâŠwell, I thought so. IâŠwhy did you do it, Tom?â
Polly gave you a reason earlier today but you wanted to hear it from him. Why would he do something so reckless just over a love affair between you and some Italian man?
âI didnât want you to get your heart broken over him. You didnât deserve that,â he admitted, hands in his pocket.
âSo you thought taking the blame would be better? You didnât deserve getting yelled at.â
Tommy stared at you. He didnât know what to answer. Letting you believe he was a terrible person somehow felt easier than watching you in pain. It was hard to explain but at the time, he didnât need to explain anything. It was natural. Your friendship was already dead anyway, why break your heart to save something that wasnât there anymore?
Before he could figure out an answer, Tommy felt your arms wrapped around his neck. You embraced him so tight it knocked the air out of his lungs. âThank you,â a soft whisper, mumbled close to his ear.
It had been so long, he didnât even realize how much he had missed it. You always hugged him like your life depended on it, like at any point he would disappear and you needed to make the most of whatever time you had left. Not much had changed, not even the perfume you wore. Tommy finally wrapped his own arms around your figure, his head resting on your shoulder. He closed his eyes for a moment. He dreaded the moment you would pull away, afraid it was the last time and he didnât enjoy it enough.
But you didnât want to let go either. You had missed him terribly. Often people wondered what you found in him, why a girl like you would care so deeply about the devil of Small Heath. And you understood the concern: Tommy was from being a saint. But there was so much to him, so much you were never able to express. He had unique ways of showing his love but you wouldnât trade it for anything in the world. If you had to learn a lesson from all these years apart, it was that. You needed him just like you knew he needed you.
âMr. Shelby?â a soft knock on the office door and Tommy loosened his hold, allowing Frances to come inside. âThe fireworks are ready, sir.â
âFireworks, huh?â you asked in a playful tone.
âWanted to start the year on the right foot.â
Tommyâs hand rested safely on the small of your back, guiding you outside. Polly instantly noticed the gesture as you arrived in the garden. She didnât commentâthere would be more appropriate times for thatâ but she couldnât help flashing a sly smirk your way.
It was a minute to midnight, everyone was ready. The kids sat expectedly, waiting for the magic to start while the adults checked their watch. At last, Tommy signed for the fireworks to be lit.
Midnight sharp. A first bang, followed by another. The entire family marveled at the colors and festive motifs as they all hugged each other. A bright smile on your face, you turned to Tommy and kissed his cheek. âHappy New Year, Tom.â
But before he could answer, the noise was covered by cars screeching in the driveway and explosionsâdifferent from the fireworks. You merely had time to register the screams, Arthur yelling to get inside with the kids and bullets flying left and right. You couldnât see who was shooting, your mind numbing the noise as you stood there, completely frozen. Fireworks were still shooting in the sky and in hues of red and blue, you saw John and the bullets passing through his chest, you saw Michael right behind him fall to the ground and you felt something running down your arm. A wave of hot liquid soaking your coat as arms pushed you away from the bullet. Gravel scratched your cheekâa sting long forgotten as you bled out on the ground. Tommy lay on top of you, he pushed the hair out of your face and spoke to you but all you could hear was the ringing in your head.
â...Okay? Y/N?â
You blinked, mumbling about your armâat least you thought you did, you werenât sure your lips could still move. Tommy seemed to understand and he took off his scarf, wrapping it around the wound.
âIt hurts, Tom.â
âI know, I know, love,â he held you, leaning against the wall. You felt the wool of his coat around you and the fast thumps of his heart against your cheek. He shouted instructions, his loud voice rumbling in his chest. Someone was crying, you couldnât see who it was. Your arm was getting numb, you couldnât feel the tip of your fingers anymore. The pain was so raw you thought you would pass out. Somewhere in the distance, the cries were covered by sirens. You were so tired, so cold.
âHey, hey, Y/N, stay awake, love,â Tommyâs hands cooled down your flushed cheeks.
ââm so tired.â
âYeah, yeah but you have to stay awake, alright? You have to stay awake, the ambulance is coming,â Even in your half-conscious state, you picked up on the worry in his voice. Tommy couldnât lose you. He had lost enough already, he wouldnât handle losing you as well. The dark attire, the funeral, everyone crying and him just standing there, only crumbling in the middle of the night, guilt gnawing at his insides. No, he couldnât do it all again. âPlease, Y/NâŠâ
âHey,â you quietly joined Tommy in front of the fireplace, sitting on the carpet. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he sipped his whiskey.
âHow is your arm doing?â his gaze darted towards the fresh bandages wrapped around the bullet wound.
You had spent the few hours following the attack at the hospital. Thankfully, no bone was touched. Your injury was taken care of quickly, you didnât even realize it was overâwhich probably had to do with the heavy dose of anesthetic they gave you. Tommy proposed to take you back home and stay with you, leaving Polly with Michael and JohnâŠ
Oh JohnâŠ
You didnât see him, didnât have time to say goodbye. But a part of you was glad you didnât go to the morgue. That way, the last memory you would keep of him would be his booming laugh and the jokes heâd share at dinner. Not the gruesome view of his wan skin covered by blood and lifeless eyes. No, that way, you cherished that last evening with him, his smile and his hugs and everything that made him him.
âItâs okay. I donât feel much with all the painkillers.â
Tommy nodded, his eyes stopping on your cheek. His fingers instinctively reached for the scratch, his thumb gently trailing over the redded marks. âItâs from the gravel, donât worry,â you assured him, your hand closing over his fingers.
He frowned, his jaw clenching. ââm sorry, I didnât realizeâŠâ
âAre you joking? Tom, hey,â you tilted his chin, making him look at you. âYou saved my life. If it wasnât for you, I wouldâve gotten that bulletâŠâ
Right to the heart.
âI know,â he interrupted you.
Tommy had watched the scene unfold before him. You and that bullet rushing at you. It had left a strange impression of dĂ©jĂ -vu. A familiar sequence. Memories of one fateful evening under glistening chandeliers, guests screaming, the noise covered by his own buzzing fear. His stomach churned at the ideaâthe sparkle of your dress fading under warm red, holding your lifeless body as he begged for you to stay. So he did what he didnât have the chance to do a year before: he pushed you to the ground, deviating the trajectory. The bullet didnât miss, it went to your arm but you were okay. You were okay.
âBut I didnât save John,â Tommy let the words sting his tongue, not even realizing how broken his voice sounded or how easily the truth came out. He felt his eyes burn with the tears he couldnât shed, his jaw aching under the tight pressure.
But your hand found a place on his shoulder, a simple gesture alleviating Tommyâs sorrow.
âIâm sorry, Tom,â you whispered but he shook his head. âItâs not your fault, donât do this to yourself.â
He scoffed bitterly, bolting the remnants of whiskey. It was his fault. Maybe you were too kind to admit it or even to see it but Tommy knew it was. His hand may not have been the one blinding Angel Changretta but his mouth gave the orders.
âHey,â your hands gently framed his face, your forehead resting against his. âYou canât control everything, you canât predict the future. Maybe this was avoidable or maybe it wasnât. Maybe it was going to happen no matter what. And there is nothing you can do to change that. Blaming yourself wonât make any of this better.â
Tommy observed you, your words sinking in. A part of him wanted to believe you. A part of him knew you were right. But he couldnât help the guilt gnawing at his insides.
âAll I can think about is what you said. That day when I told you about Grace. You said it would go wrong. I didnât want to believe you then but you were right. It all went wrong,â he confessed. Your words had haunted him ever since that first night alone in Arrow House. He desperately wanted to go back. Listen to you and let Grace sail away. Maybe then, all of this wouldn't have happened. Maybe he wouldnât feel the constant grief laying heavily on his chest.
âI said that out of anger, Tom. I never meantâŠâ you sighed, realizing the impact of your wrath. You had been so blinded by your rage you didnât even consider the consequences of your words.
A pinch of guilt in your chest, you bit your lip. âAll these years not talking to you, dâyou know what I regretted the most?â
Your thumb trailed across his cheek as he kept quiet. âHow safe you made me feel,â you uttered. Those words were true, you meant every single one of them, in every way they could be interpreted. He was the arms you ran into after each heartbreak, each torment. An unsuspected haven hiding under intimidating layers of arrogance and rigidity.
âAnd after tonight, I can only say the feeling has increased. I know you want to blame yourself for everything that went wrong but I donât think itâs fair. You do so much good, Tom. You protect us, as best as you can. I know that, Polly knows that. And John knew that too.â
A single tear rolled down Tommyâs freckled cheek. You leaned in, kissing his pain away as his hands tightened around your waist. He embraced you, head resting on your shoulder and even though the wound was still raw, Tommy chose to believe you.
Laughs and chatters echoing through Charlieâs yard, the smell of roasted meat and the entire family gathered around a lavish meal: the perfect way to celebrate John. No matter the pain, no matter the grief, the Shelby clan knew that he would have wanted them to remember the good moments only. The memory of his buoyant energy soothed their sorrow as they chose to say goodbye reminiscing the pranks and jokes John was a master of.
Tommy sat at the end of the table, playing with the flask of whiskey in his hand. He had tuned out the chatter around, turning the loud voices and exclamations into a mere buzzing in the background. Although he seemed miles away from the actual scene, his eyes were fixed on the other side of the table.
You sat next to Ada, chatting about something or another, still wearing your mourning attire. Since the night before, Tommy hadnât been able to get you out of his mind. For some reason, your presence seemed to haunt his thoughts even more so than usual.
Even after you had gone to bed, Tommy stayed wide awake, incapable of forgetting the solace you had offered him. Your gentleness, your words, your hands. Everything about you made him crave more. He longed for your arms around him, for your voice to whisper in his ear and quiet the demons in his mind. Tommy couldnât shake that feelingâa wave of peace and tranquility washing over him amidst a tempestuous ocean.
âI heard you and Y/N finally buried the hatchet,â Polly sat down next to him, a sly smirk illuminating her tired face.
Tommy sipped on his whiskey, shrugging. âYeah, guess I have to thank you for that.â
His gaze was still fixed on the other end of the table. Although his aunt promised she would keep his secret, for once he was glad that she did the complete opposite of what he wanted. If it wasnât for Pollyâs meddling, Tommy would still be living with that cold, empty pit: the knowledge that no matter how close he was sitting, you would only get further and further away.
âI wanted to keep your secret,â she began, her gaze briefly following his. Polly turned to her nephew, observing his tired features. She often worried about him. The more time passed, the more he looked like his mother. And although nothing could be done for Martha, Polly didnât want the history to repeat itself. Regardless of yours and Tommyâs bond, you were good to him. The Shelby matriarch handled the matters of the heart in the family for a reason, she wasnât going to let the only good thing in Tommyâs life slip through his fingers. âBut then I remembered the time you came home from school and told me you had met your wife.â
Tommyâs head shot up at Pollyâs words. It had been so long, somehow buried under the decades of war and pain and loss. A memory lost, somewhere before France, somewhere before his mumâs death and his fatherâs leaving. Somewhere Tommy was still a boy who wasted the weekâs money on top hats and coconuts and you were still a little girl with braids and a toothy smile.
It had been another dusty afternoon, running home after school. Tommy was with his brothers, kicking a ball and laughing the soot away. But even in the middle of a very important game, the little boy didnât miss the cruel snickering echoing through the streets. He remembered abandoning the ball, his brothersâ exclamations ignored as he followed a lone, shriek cry for help.
Behind an alley, tall boys circling a smaller figure. Tommy knew them, some scumbags from school who spent their days attacking those who couldnât defend themselves. And their new target was you, only 8 but already tougher than those boys. They were mocking you, making fun of your fatherâor lack thereof. You didnât care, your mum explained it all to you but those idiots didnât seem to understand.
Tommy stepped up, easily reminding them their own lives werenât perfectâthey lived in dingy Small Heath just like that little girl after all, they werenât any better. You had watched the scene, scared for your daring saviorâthose boys could easily take himâbut he got a pocket knife out and in the blink of an eye, the boys scurried off the alley.
âThank you, Tommy,â you had shyly muttered, the first words you ever said to him. Tommy had seen you, sometimes you came over with your mum but you always stayed hidden in her skirts.
Tommy remembered how your light voice made him smile. Â And with the full weight of his 11 years old, he realized that the chirpy melody was too beautiful to be tainted by sorrow or even anger. He couldnât understand it then but the radiant grin you offered him on that first, real meeting, made his heart flutter and his cheek redden.
Kindly, Tommy took you back to your house and made sure you arrived safely but before leaving, you granted him another smile. âThank you,â you had repeated and Tommy waved the gesture off as if it was nothing. It was to him.
He remembered how you looked around, searching for something until your gaze dropped on a small dandelion. It had somehow grown on your doorstep, finding a crack through the pavement and shamelessly growing, unafraid of the industrial monster around. You handed him the flower, tiptoeing to kiss his cheek. The first kiss Tommy didnât get from his mum or his aunt. The first kiss he got from an actual girl. He took the flower, staring at you dumbfounded.
On the way back to his house, Tommy couldnât help but touch his freshly kissed cheek, observing the dandelion. He had passed the threshold, arriving in the living room, still as starstruck as he had been ever since your lips touched his skin. Polly observed her nephew, wondering what in the world could have turned the usually loud boy so quiet.
âIâI think I met my wife, Pol,â he mumbled, showing the bright yellow dandelion.
Tommy stared at the dried flower between his fingers. It had been there all along, at the bottom of a drawer in his childhood bedroom. After the lunch in Charlieâs yard, Tommy had spent another sleepless night. It wasnât nightmares or ruminations this time, no. It was that old, shrunken up dandelion. He had been unable to shake the growing feeling in his chest, the memories of an entire life spent by your side.
âHey, you said you wanted to see me?â Tommy blinked his thoughts away, quickly hiding the flower in his pocket.
He cleared his throat, leaving his chair and grabbing his coat. âYeah, IâŠI wanted to take you somewhere.â
Instinctively, Tommy extended his arm towards you and you linked your fingers with his. He almost stopped in his tracks, surprised by the striking contrast. Your soft finger rubbing the rough and calloused skin of his hand.
You quickly recognized the path you took countless times before. It brought you right to the Canal, a secret spot Tommy showed you when you were merely 16. There was not enough space, not enough quiet on Watery Lane so he found somewhere else. A place known by you and him only. A place you would escape to when you wanted to chat or just get away from thin walls and wandering ears.
âItâs been so long since I came here,â you uttered, nostalgia rushing through your veins. All these years and yet, it stayed the same. Nothing had changed since the last time you met there. As if the Canal knew. As if it waited for you to come back, freezing dear memories in time.
Tommy walked to the water, watching a bird on the other side of the bank. He stayed quiet, deep in his thoughts. Something in him told him to bring you here but nowâŠnow he didn't know what to do. He considered admitting the strange feelings. Maybe admitting it outloud would make it easier? Or at least make him realize how stupid those thoughts were.
âThe trip down memory lane sounds fun, Tom, honestly but, uh, why dâyou bring me here? Itâs fucking freezing,â you muttered after a good 15 minutes spent in silence.
Tommy walked back to you, leaving his incessant thoughts behind. He handed you a cigarette, observing your features as you exhaled the smoke.
âI had a crush on you,â he finally blurted out. The words lingered in the air for a moment. Tommy didnât even realize what he said until he noticed the frown on your face.
âWhat?â
âYeah, before France, had a crush on you.â
âReally? IâI always thought you were in love with Greta Jurossi,â you chuckled, the image of a younger Tommy appearing somewhere in your mind.
âNah, she was just helping me. I never told anyone but she knew and she said she would play cupid.â Tommy shook his head at the memory, he had spent hours with Greta, listening to her talk about women loved and how to be romantic.
âDâyou remember that time we ended up in the linen closet?â
You hummed.
âYeah well, that was her idea. She read it in some book, said that by the end the characters kissed and then got married,â Tommy chuckled. It did sound ridiculous now that he said it. âBut you grew tired of waiting for her to come back with help so you knocked the damn door down.â
You giggled, remembering that one particular afternoon. You had found yourself locked up in the linen closet and for some unknown reasonâwell, it was at the timeâTommy just sat there and tried to convince you to wait. Greta promised she would get some help to get you out but time passed and you were still stuck in that closet. Tired of waiting, you did what any other sensible person would do and forced the door open. You never understood why the two kept behaving so strangely but now it all made sense.
âOh, my poor Tommy, I ruined your plans, didnât I?â you pouted, a tender expression gracing your features.
âYeahâŠâ he observed you, hands brushing the hair framing your face.
You had changed so much. Long gone were the two kids from Small Heath who only had each other. But in your gaze, Tommy found a sparkle, the same gleam the little girl with her braids and toothy smile carried proudly. The dandelion weighed in his pocket. It was the reminder that beautiful things grew everywhereâeven in the dusty hell of Small Heath. A reminder that, once, Tommy was just a boy and you were just the girl who kissed him. He had given up on being a simple man. Someone who craved to be loved just as much as he craved to love. But the boy he had buried under the mud was still there, still craving the tender smiles and soft kisses.
Tommy felt himself lean in, closer and closer until his lips gently touched yours. His hands caressed your cheeks, slowly trailing down your neck as you responded to the kiss. Your arm wrapped his waist, you brought him closer. It should have been strange, kissing him. It should have felt weird and probably even repulsing. But you still melted against him, fingers getting lost in his raven hair.
Reluctantly, Tommyâs lips left yours cold and hungry for more. He rested his forehead against yours, sighing. âI think I love you, Y/N.â
You shouldnât have been feeling that peculiar flutter in your stomach at his words. You shouldnât be craving more, more of his lips, more of his touch, more of the sparkle he lit. But it didnât feel wrong. It didnât feel like a mistake, something that should never happen again. No, it was the missing piece of the puzzle. What should have happened all these years ago but never really did.
You felt a yearning. It had been hidden, retained, buried for so long. Too long. And now, you both realized it was everything you wanted, everything you needed. The source of your happiness, your peace, safely resting in each otherâs hands.
âNo, I donât thinkâŠI know,â Tommy mumbled, his lips brushing yours before kissing you once again.
The sun shone, its gleam covering the guests in golden hues. Arrow House was dressed in its best attire, tents had been installed in the gardens and enthusiasm flowed through the sweet summer air.
Tommy stood at the end of the alley, facing the few guests. Arthur was beside him, talking his ear off as they waited patiently for you. You had decided to get married in your garden with Jeremiah to officiate and only your close family and friends attending. It was unusual, unconventional even. But the Shelby clan wasnât known for respecting conventions.
At last, the brideâs melody covered the excited chatter as everyone got up. You sauntered through the alley, walking by each of the guests, a bright smile hidden by your veil. You instantly fixed your gaze on Tommy. He looked dashing in his navy blue suit, you thought.
Polly walked next to you, proudly giving you away. The tradition was for the father of the bride to bring her down the aisle but you never had a father. What you had was your aunt who raised you and loved you enough to replace whatever masculine presence people valued so much.
âIâm so proud of you, sweetheart,â she whispered to you, tears glistening in her honey-like eyes. She embraced you tightly, finally leaving you with Tommy.
Your soon-to-be husband beamed at the sight of you: an angel sent to him for a reason he still couldnât understand. Gently, he lifted the veil covering your face and his smile only brightened. Even after all these years, he couldnât help but still be starstruck by your beauty.
âYou look beautiful, love,â he mumbled, his gaze overflowing with adoration.
âYou donât look so bad yourself.â
Tommy chuckled at your playful tone, his hand reaching for yours. You observed him, a radiant grin engraved on your face. He was beautiful and the best part, he was yours. A part of you wanted to leave everyone there, let them enjoy the champagne and the food while you ran away. Let them dance, let them sing and hide with Tommy, have him all to yourself again.
You made a note to yourself to thank Polly. She made Tommy pick the gorgeous shadeâthat way, he could be your something blue. But itâs not the suit that piqued your curiosity.
Among the immaculate flowers Tommy wore in his breast pocket, there was a smaller, rusty one.
âY-You kept it?â you asked, pointing to the old dandelion. The first thing you ever offered him.
Tommy smiled, squeezing your hand. He leaned in and whispered:
âI needed my lucky charm.â
#anna's fics#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader#ma ptite bombasse đ„°#tommy <3#thomas shelby#tommy shelby#peaky blinders#k's 2.5k holiday bingo challenge
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Hold me, love me, touch me
(Be the first who ever did)
MASTERLIST
Request:Â "itâs breaking my heart to see you like this" - maybe for Tommy? â @thesoldiersminuteâ
Summary: If you hold me without hurting me / Youâll be the first who ever didÂ
or: after running away from Graceâs funeral, Tommy finds some comfort in your arms
A/N: this is veryyyy different to what I usually post but iâve had this idea for so long!! Itâs inspired by a few scenes from the show as well as a few LDR songs. I would just like to add this quote from California because it fits the story well:
You don't ever have to be stronger than you really are
When you're lying in my arms, baby
You don't ever have to go faster than your fastest pace
Or faster than my fastest cars
Also big big big thank you to my pal @hauntedheathcliffâ and my bg @huntingingoodwill for helping me out, i donât think i would have finished and posted it if they werenât here!! this is the first very long one shot i post, I hope you all enjoy because iâve been working really hard on this and i think i got too attached to it oopsâŠanyway have fun!! <3
Warnings: mentions of death, war and just angst overall; a bit of fluff (old habits die hard)
Word count: 6,464 words
Thunder rumbled. Its echo reverberating on the tall trees.
Tommy could almost hear it.
The grieving sky screaming. The leaves whispering. Murmuring the same haunting chant over and over.
Sheâs dead. He killed her. Sheâs dead. He killed her.
His vision blurred. For an instant, he thought he was finally crying until he noticed the rain. It was raining.
A drop. Then another. And another. And another.
The tears rolling down Tommyâs peaked cap turned into weeping. The sky wailed its pain, crying the tears the widowed man didnât have.
He couldnât bring himself to.
Was he so broken even the death of his wife wouldnât affect him?
The man brought the half-empty bottle of whiskey to his lips. The golden liquid cast a gentle warmth on his entire being. Tommy welcomed it, only wincing as the taste burnt his lips.
At least he could still feel that.
The reason he couldnât cry for his late wife, he knew it.
That very reason made him cower with shame. Run away from her mourning family. Hide from his own son who, only aged two, reminded him so much of her.
But how could he cry for a woman he had never been in love with?
He swallowed another sip.
No matter how many times he had foolishly tried to convince himself, he was never in love.
He cared for her. He was loyal. He was devoted.
But never in love.
No, his heart belonged to another.
He chugged at the bottle, drinking until he couldnât breathe and his head felt dizzy.
He closed his eyes, the heavy rain making him shiver.
Her image, engraved on his eyelids, shook his heart. She had always been aware of it. There was a distance, a wall between them. He didnât look at her the way she wanted him toâ no spark, no tenderness in his gaze. They shared a house and a family but thatâs all they would ever have.
If Tommy married Grace, despite her betrayal, it was only to do right by her.
And he never regretted it.
Thomas Shelby wasnât a man of many regrets.
He was a man of guilt.
Marrying a woman he didnât love to preserve her reputationâ to protect herâ just to get her killed instead.
That was all him.
He stared blankly at his hands, an empty chuckle leaving his lips.
Those hands. Dripping with innocent blood.
So much blood.
Blood on her porcelain skin. Blood on her powder pink dress. Blood on his pristine white shirt. Blood. Everywhere.
And it was all his fault.
Gulp.
If there was one thing worse than being responsible for Grace's death, it was the shame he felt.
Even dead, he couldnât give her what she desired. He couldnât mourn for her the way everyone expected him to. His heart couldnât break for her the way it should because it never belonged to her in the first place.
Gulp.
His son was going to grow up without his mother. Tommy knew how that felt. It was the last thing he wished for Charlie. To grow up the way he did.
Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.
The last drop of ember liquid slid down his throat and Tommy stared at the clear glass. There was no consolation. No rest for him. Not here. And certainly not at the bottom of that bottle.
He got up suddenly, stumbling through the large field into his car. Glancing at his pallid face in the rearview mirror, he sighed.
There was only one place Tommy could hope to find comfort tonight.
A soft knock on the door tore you from your thoughts. A swift glance at the clock pointed to the late hour as you slipped your robe on. You crossed your apartment warily, wondering who could visit in the middle of the night. Who could be braveâ or stupid enough to defy the pouring rain outside?
You opened the door slowly, your heart pounding in apprehension.
âTommy?â You opened the door slowly, heart pounding in apprehension. âGosh, Tom, you must be freezing! A-are you okay?â you quickly ushered him inside.
Grabbing his coat and cap, you handed him a dry towel.
You hadnât seen him since the morning, at the funeral. He left after his speech, handing Charlie to Polly and taking his car.
His brothers spent hours searching for him but it was useless. If Thomas Shelby decided he didnât want to be found, then nobody would.
You hesitated for a moment. Maybe you should warn Polly or Ada, tell them he was with you.
Instead, you brought a comforting hand to his soaked arm. âWould you like me to make you some tea?â
âNo, itâs alright. IâŠI donât even know why I came here,â he slurred, his eyes darting aroundâ always avoiding you.
Guiding him towards the sofa, you managed to get a better look at him.
To say he seemed tired was a euphemism. His eyes lacked their usual spark and his skin had a sick, grayish tone. He had aged twenty years in about a week.
Your heart clenched in your chest as the memory of the young man he used to be appeared. His clear laugh rang out somewhere in your mind and you thought about the long nights spent with the other. Up there, on the roof of some abandoned factory, dreaming of a gilded future.
âDo you think you can get up? My brother left some clothes here, you could change into something dry.â
Tommy took a cigarette out from the pocket of his black jacket. You observed him, watching the same ritual youâve witnessed countless times. The cigarette between his lips, he muttered âItâs fine,â before inhaling the smoke. âI should go anyway. Shouldnât have bothered you so late at night. âM sorry.â
Your hand reached for his. âNo. Youâre not going anywhere, Tom.â
He observed you as he felt your thumb running against his skin. Such a simple gesture yet it took Tommy a moment to recognize the small display of affection.
Your touch sent shivers down his spine, different from the ones he felt because of the coldâ enjoyable. He decided to focus on the warmth emanating from your hand, sitting back down.
He wondered when was the last time someone had been so tender with him. The last time touch didnât rhyme with broken bones and bruises. The last time he seemed important enough to be handled with care and gentleness.
âHey,â you announced softly, taking a seat next to Tommy. âHowâs your arm doing?â
He took a swig straight out of the bottle of champagne. You instantly recognized the âgiftâ offered by Grace as he handed it to you. âFeels like it's been shot,â he shrugged, his gaze fixed on his passed-out brothers.
Sighing, you swallowed some of the bubbly liquid again. Even though a part of you was thrilled to see the blonde barmaid goneâ you had been wishing for that ever since she stepped into townâ seeing Tommy so heartbroken snatched the joy away.
To your dismay, her arrival in Small Heath brought back parts of him you thought were lost in some deserted french field. It shattered your heart to see his smile, the somehow sparkling eyes, the lightness in his demeanor every timeâand only when she was around.Â
And yet, if it meant him being happy again, then you could deal with the disappointment and the jealousy and the yearning. You could handle watching his joy from afar. Even if you werenât the reason behind his smile, even if you werenât part of it. You just wanted him to be happy.
But it was all a lie.
Who would have thought it was merely a scheme?
Probably the oldest one in the bookâ to get close to the man in charge and trick him into handing the information on a silver platter. No one suspected her. Not even Polly.
She had managed to fool all of you, the same way youâd fool a child into drinking some nasty medicine.
âAnd you?â you finally ask, turning your head to observe Tommy. âHow are you?â
You noticed the clench in his jaw, the pauseâa fraction of a second too long before answering âGood.â
"Really good or âjust leave me aloneâ good?â
He grabbed the bottle from your hands, staying quiet and you took this as a sign to ask again. âDo you want me to leave you alone?â
One of the things Tommy cherished the most in your relationship was his ability to be honest with you. You seemed to understand, or at least accept what others qualified as flaws. He knew he could ask you to go away if he wanted to without upsetting you. It comforted him in some way.Â
But then, the thought of you leaving made his heart clench painfully in his chest. The swirl of emotions was too much. Too much for him to deal with alone.
His hand searched for yours, squeezing it gently. The words didnât need to be uttered. You sat closer to him and for some reason Tommy couldnât understand, his head rested on your shoulder.
It wasnât calculated. He didnât even think of it.
One minute he was carrying his heavy heart alone. The next, you stood by him and lifted some of the burden away.
Your fingers made their way to the shaved part of his head and Tommy closed his eyes. He could forget about everything. Forget about the throbbing pain in his arm. Forget about Danny Whizzbang. Forget about her.
He could just lean on you for a little bit. Focus on the feeling of your nails grazing his skin. Let the faint scent of aldehydes wrapped in roses suffocate the demons in his mind.
âI donât want you to blame yourself, Tom,â you whispered after a moment of silence.
He scoffed and you brought your hands to his face, lifting his head from your shoulder. âIâm serious,â the fierce look in your eyes confirmed your words. âIt could have happened to any of us. And youâve been through so much. You wanted to believe you could finally allow yourself some peace,â your thumbs ran across his cheekbones. âIt was with the wrong person but you still deserve it. You deserve good things.â
Tommy stared at you, almost bewildered. How could you say those words to himâ and believe them when you knew what he was? He wondered if your friendship affected your judgment. Made you less able to separate the man he was from the memories you had with him.
As if you had been reading through his mind, you interrupted his ruminations. âI know youâve convinced yourself you were all bad and evil but youâre wrong. The voices in your head are wrong. There is still good in you, Tom. I know there is, I can see it,â your hand slid from his cheek, dropping to his heart. âRight here.â
Tommy could only observe you. The determination in your voice, the earnestness in your eyes, you were convinced with your own speech. So much that a part of him began to trust you.
You smiled softly at him and he swore he felt his heart miss a beat. âYouâre going to meet a nice girl. And sheâll be funny and sweet. And sheâll probably have the patience of a saint to deal with your stubborn arse.â He couldnât help but chuckle at your remark. âBut sheâll love you more than anything else and sheâll be lucky because youâll love her just the same.â
And while Tommy listened intently, the only thing he could think about was you.
Everything you described. Everything you said.
You. You. You.
It was you.
Tommy pressed his palms against his eyes until light dots appeared in his vision. He was beyond exhausted. His head, his arms, his legs ached. His entire body was begging him to surrender. Wave the white flag and give up.
He didnât know how many battles he could still fight. How many blows he could still stomach. How many times his heart could still be torn apart and keep going.
If all of this was extra, why did it hurt so much?
âI called Polly,â you cut Tommyâs train of thoughts, entering the living room. âCharlieâs alright, heâs asleep now. She is staying at Arrow House with Ada.â
Tommy sighed, his gaze fixed on his trembling fingers. You observed him quietly, noticing the habit he had when something bothered him. He kept clenching his jaw anxiously. To the point you worried he might dislocate it.
Trying to catch his attention, you cleared your throat. Once. Twice.
And realizing he was far too gone into his own mind, you lightly touched his shoulder.
âYou should get some rest. Youâre tired.â
âIâm alright,â the response was short. Cold.
Anyone else would have backed down. Apologized, even. But you sat next to him, your concern only growing and decided to ask, âWhen was the last time you slept, hm?â
The dead silence that followed said it all.
You shook your head, a desperate sigh filling the quiet room with your worry.
âI wish there was something I could do,â your fingers brushed against his damp hair. âItâs breaking my heart to see you like this, Tomâ
He stared at you, feeling your breath tickling his cheeksâ the soft summer breeze embracing him after a hot, straining day.
And something in the air shifted.
Maybe it was the comfort Tommy found in your eyes. Maybe it was the way his heartbeat seemed to chant your name. Maybe he just wanted to.
But he leaned in.
His lips caressed yours, almost timidly before he moved closer. He was kissing you. The dwindling ember ablaze at the sweet taste of your lips mixed with whiskey and tobacco. A precious nectar Tommy knew he could never live without now that he had tasted it.
It seemed to be the only way to bring air into his lungs. Yet somehow, he felt breathless at the same time.
The feeling of his lipsâ so strangely soft made you dizzy. Your brain didnât seem to work properly as you kissed him back. Tommy. Kissing you.
You almost giggled, a warm rush spreading in your chest and your head and everywhere in your body.
The only thing keeping you from bursting in flames was the cold. From his hands. His shirt. His hair twirling around your fingers.
You relished it. Cherished his calloused skin against yours. The dazzled lightness in the air.
At that moment, you were no more than a simple woman. And he was a simple man. Kissing you so passionately in the faint twilight.
Your hand touched his, grazing the golden band on his finger and you felt the bubble around you explode.
You werenât a simple woman. He was far from a simple man.
You pushed him away, regretfully. Your body was almost leaning in again, craving more of the electricity skipping through your veins.
You wanted to be his. And him to be yours.
But not like this.
You knew Tommy like you knew your way back home. He couldnât address his grief properly. He had never really learned, even after years of practice. The only thing he was used to was taking the pain away, no matter how. No matter the consequences heâd have to face.
And you were well aware of that.
Tommy wasnât kissing you out of love or even out of desire. He was kissing you to feel better. You couldnât let that happen. Not to him. Certainly not to you.
But the look he gave you as he realized what you had done made you want to throw it all away.
To hell with morals and honorable principles!
Who needed that when you could kiss him over and over again? When all you had to care about was his heart pounding against your palm, raindrops cooling down your flushed cheeks.
âTomâŠâ you resigned yourself.
No, you couldnât just throw it all away. He was mourning his dead wife and he was in pain. You couldnât take advantage of that.
His hand left your waist as if it had burnt him and guilt soon replaced the gentle warmth in your chest. But it was for the best.
At least, you tried to convince yourself it was.
The terrible humiliation was nothing compared to the regret heâd feel as the sunlight cleared his mind. He couldnât realize it now. Too intoxicated, protected by the moonâs sheltering shimmer.
You had to keep your composure. Donât let yourself be fooled by the comforting embrace. It was all an illusion. Giving in meant feeding the sliver of desire you tried so hard to contain.
You couldnât live off some false hope.
You couldnât risk your own sanity just so he could choose her.
Not again.
Running through the empty halls of the company, heart pounding in your chest with worry, you prayed.
Please let him be there. Please make sure heâs safe. Please. Please. Please.
Your heels hit the hardwood floor, each step resonating through the halls of the empty building. Out of breath, you almost fell to the ground when the engraved glass doors appeared in front of youâ at last, liberation.
You pushed them open, not paying attention to the sound of the slamming doors. A relieved sigh left your lips, your gaze falling on him.
In his armchair, almost asleep, Tommy didnât budge at the noise. He lazily opened one eye, observing your disheveled hair, how breathless you were. Sitting up, questions bubbling in his chest, he opened his mouth but you interrupted him before he could say a word.
âWhere the fuck have you been, eh?â you yelled, walking into the office. Tommy left his chair, carefully joining you in the middle of the room. âIâve been looking all over for you!â
He only stared at you, waiting for the anger to settle down. He realized how worried you must have been, how terrified it was to not find him after he left so suddenly. But he could only feel relief.
Two hours ago, he was kneeling in front of a grave, waiting to be shot. And now, he was with you, getting a well-deserved earful for disappearing.
Tommy had probably never been this happy to get yelled at.
ââŠAnd nobody knew where the fuck you were! And then there were shots and we were all running around, even got my new shoes ruined!â you rambled, your hands waving around. âArthur told me it was over but I couldnât find you! I searched everywhere, even asked that posh girl who looked after your horse! And I swear to God, someday I will put a leash on you! Disappearing like that! I-â You stopped abruptly, your expression changing as you noticed the bright red staining Tommyâs temple âYouâre bleeding. Why are you bleeding? WhatâŠâ
âIâm okay,â he replied softly, feeling a change in the air. You closed the distance between you, your hands reaching for the injury.
âWhat happened to you?â You whispered, your voice higher than before.
Thomasâs hand wrapped yours and he smiled, trying to reassure you. âI survived, Y/N. Iâm alive.â
Your lips wobbled, eyes watering and your anger wafted away, replaced by a gut-wrenching worry.
The words he uttered to you at the races before he left took on their full meaning. You couldnât realize it at the time but the way he looked at you, the way he kissed your temple and promised to come back.
It had felt a little too familiar but you couldnât remember why.
He was saying goodbye, thatâs why. He promised something he wasnât sure he would keep just to assure your peace of mind.
Suddenly, you were back on the train platform, watching him walk away to a most certain death, completely powerless.
You almost lost him today. Again.
He was gone but then he came back.
Maybe there was a reason. Maybe you were granted a second chance after letting the first one go. Who knew if you would get another?
You couldnât waste it.
You couldnât let your last chance slip through your fingers.
You couldnât risk losing him.
Not without him knowing about your feelings.
âTommy, IâŠâ
His arms wrapped around your waist stopped the words on the tip of your tongue. He held you close, so close his heart beat right over your ear. One gentle kiss on your temple. His fingers threading through your hair, you closed your eyes.
âIâll buy you new shoes. Iâll buy you all the shoes you wish for. Even hire a cobbler just for you,â he whispered, tightening his embrace.
âForget about the shoesâŠâ you started, trying to find the right words.
But what could you say?
Nothing seemed enough. All so insignificant compared to the love you carried like a cherished picture in a locketâ always close to your heart.
âI have to tell you something,â he interrupted, a soft smile brightening his expression. âIâm going to be a father.â
âWhat?â you asked, leaning back.
âGraceâs pregnant with my baby. Iâm going to marry her and weâll raise him together.â
And the world seemed to crumble around you.
Who knew a sentence as simple as this could have the same effect as a thousand cuts?
You could only stare at him, your mind playing the words over and over againâ a broken record you were doomed to endure for the rest of your days.
Your eyes burnt with bitter tears attempting to escape their prison. A million questions rushed through your brains, striking each other until nothing made sense.
Not her. Not her. Anyone but her.
You would find another way. Raise the child yourself if you had to. But not her.
He couldnât fall for her again. You had to talk him out of it. Reason with him.
You couldnât lose him like this.
âY/N?â
You focused your attention back on Tommy, noticing the frown forming between his brows.
He expected your answer. Hell, his decision probably depended on your next words. But the idea of a babyâŠ
He had given up on that.
The dreams of a happy, somewhat normal life had been buried in the tunnels. Covered in mud. Lying next to the decaying bodies of his comrades.
And now, it was so close to him. He could reach through the mud and get this life back. He could try to leave the war behind. Let a new life forgive all the lost ones.
Let the flowers grow over the old tunnels.
You bit the inside of your cheek. No, you couldnât ruin that for him. He went through enough. He deserved some rest.
No matter how selfish you wanted to be, he would always be above all foolish sentiments.
A forced, poorly attempted smile made its way on your faceâ locking the tears away.
âIâm justâŠIâm so happy for you,â your voice broke as relief washed over his tired features. He hugged you again, chuckling. âYouâre going to be a wonderful father,â there was no hesitation. Only the truth.
âAnd youâll be an even more wonderful aunt,â he kissed your cheek, rubbing your back. âDonât tell Ada I said this.â
You clutched his jacket in your hands, biting your lips hard enough a faint metallic taste covered the bile in your mouth.
The familiar feeling was here again. An impression of déjà -vu. Back on the train platform. Watching him leave.
But this time, he wasnât coming back.
âIâm sorry, Tommy, we canâtâŠâ but he wasnât listening. He couldnât listen to whatever excuse you had.
The only thing worse than being rejected by you would probably be hearing you say the words.
I donât love you, Tommy.
No. It would be the fatal blow. He wasnât ready for that.
He got up, the alcohol in his blood seemingly goneâ deserting, leaving him powerless.
âTommy, pleaseâ
You kept saying his name like it mattered. Like it would change anything.
Shaking his head, he pulled his arm away.
Nothing could mend the raw rip, tearing his heart in half.
It made no sense to him. He was convinced there had been something.
You.
You who stood by him through everything.
You were the only constant.
Your relationship, his only havenâ the solid deck on vicious waters.
Never breaking. Never busting.
What would he do if the deck shattered?
Tommy didnât have the answer to that question. He didnât want to know.
The cold pit in his stomach as you leaned back was enough to make him leave. He couldnât bear looking you in the eyes, terrified of what heâd find there.
He had to go.
You followed him through your apartment, calling his name. He wasnât going anywhere, you wouldnât allow it. Passing the door meant giving up on your friendship.
It couldnât end this way.
âTom, listen to me,â you pleaded. âIâm sorry, I didnât mean toâŠâ struggling to find your words, you felt the lump in your throat growing until you were suffocating. âPlease, donât go. You canât go now, you canât.â
He grabbed his jacket. The sound of your voice withering almost made him stay. Force a smile on. Tell you it was alright.
No matter how hardened he grew with the years, he never could stand you crying. Ever since the day he met you. Â
You had scratched your knee on the dingy pavement and he carried you on his back. He even stole a chocolate bar to console youâ the little girl with braids and the sweetest laugh his ears were blessed to hear.
He swore heâd do anything to bring the smile back on your face. Engrave the lightness it carried in his heart.
You would know no woe. No grief.
Not as long as you had him.
You clenched your jaw, desperate tears starting to roll down your cheeks. Deep down, you knew your choice was the best but the sight of him leavingâeven worse, hating you, made you sick.
âTommy,â your voice broke,  âPlease, you canât leave now. PleaseâŠ,â one last wretched attempt to get him to stay.
Time began to flow so slowly you could swear it stopped.
The clock didnât tick. The fire in the hearth didnât crack. The wind didnât blow.
The world around you held its breath. Waiting. Carefully listening to your beating heart. Pounding against your ribcage. Each thump edging you to the forlorn void of despair.
But if there was one promise Tommy wouldnât break, it was the one he made to the little girl with her braids and her scratched knee.
His greatest weakness.
You.
Fingers freezing on the doorknob, Tommy listened to your quiet sniffles. He bit his tongue, feeling the guilty grip around his heart.
The moment of hesitationâ only a few seconds but it was enough time to put your hand on his shoulder.
âIâm sorry,â your forehead rested against his as you whispered, your breath brushing against his lips. âBut we canât do this,â Tommy clenched his jaw, his shoulders slouching in apprehension. âYouâre only doing this to feel better and I wish I could help you, I do. But I wonât let you wreck everything just to regret it tomorrow and probably the days afterâŠbecause you love her.â
A trembling breath left your lips. âYou're in love with Grace and youâre mourning andâŠâ
âWhat?â
Tommy pushed you away, deep creases forming on his forehead. âWhat the fuck are you talking about?â
âTomâŠâ
âWhat are you talking about? Why would you say that, eh?â confusion in his voice turning into venom, the lack of sleep grinding his nerves.
âY-You love her. You love Grace, she was your wife and Iâm sorry ifâŠâ
âIs that what you think?â he spat out as your hands reached for him again.
The fatal blow.
Unexpected. Sharp. Lethal.
âWhat do you mean?â you stared at him, puzzled at his brusque reaction. âGrace wasâŠâ
âStop saying her fucking name!â he snapped, eyes maddened by his own anguish.
The mere sound of her name was enough to stir the guilt overtaking his bodyâ stabbing the same bleeding wound over and over. Â
You stood before him, not knowing how to act.
Tommy rarely lost his cool. He always had the upper hand over his own emotions. You were used to that. You had learnt to deal with his seemingly unshakable façade.
This was different.
âIs that what you think, hm?â he repeated, cutting the stunned silence reigning âYou think I was in love with her?â
You had no idea what to reply. You couldnât grasp the reason behind his outburst. His anger and his hurt were part of a puzzle missing its central piece.
Twisting his words in your mind, you tried to find a clueâ anything to help you understand. The accumulation of distressing events was the most obvious answer but it still didnât explain everything.
âTom, I donât understand, IâŠâ you finally admitted, powerless faced with his own torment.
Your confession made him scoff. Tommyâs chest heaved and he clenched his jaw, biting back the words burning his tongue.
The turmoil of emotion began to overwhelm him and he knew that as soon as he opened his mouth, words would flow uncontrollably. The wise decision was to walk away.
Walk away and blame the concerning amount of whiskey in his blood the next day.
Just walk away.
âArenât you going to say anything?â
Of course.
The heavy lump in Tommyâs throat seemed to explode, spreading its vehement poison across his body.
âI was never in love with Grace.â he spun around, facing your defeated expression âI was never in love with her because Iâve always loved you. You.â
You didnât answer. You couldnât say anything. But Tommy didnât expect you to. âShe was the mother of my son and I cared about her but the way I love you⊠You are the only woman that ever mattered and without youâŠâ his voice broke, eyes watering.
The wave of emotion washed over him with such intensity, air barely reached his lungs.
Drowning.
He felt like he was drowning. Condemned in a tormented sea. Desperately gasping for air yet only allowing more water in.
Tommy considered the idea of forsakingâ let the water burn his throat, churn at his insides as long as he could rest. As long as his soul didnât ache.
But at the very last second, he felt hands pulling him out.
You embraced him, arms tightly knit around his neck, his head resting against your shoulder. Tommy closed his eyes, treasuring the small moment of peace granted to him.
Feeling the strength in his body failing, you guided your bodies to the carpeted floor. His arms tightened around you and you sighed.
His confession had been everything you ever wanted to hear and you desperately wanted to believe him. Craved to whisper those same words back.
But could you trust the words of a man so inebriated he would probably not remember by the morning?
âIt was all an illusionâ, you reminded yourself.
Tommy, your friend, may have been the man you loved but he was also a widower. Maybe it made no sense to act this way and maybe you should believe him because why else would he say this?
But it was unfair to expect him to âmake senseâ after what happened to him.
He needed comfort. He needed to stop being the man in charge, the âalways standingâ one. He needed you to be his friend.
Only that.
Your hands rubbed his back soothingly and you kissed the side of his head, chasing the voice in your head begging you to give in.
For now, youâd have to content yourself with that.
A gentle embrace, mending the scattered pieces of his heart in the dark hall. Tommy couldnât let go. Your arms provided the solace he longed forâthe lifebelt keeping him afloat.
And as you held him, he could only think about the time. The time he lost. The time he could have had.
If only he had said somethingâŠ
The train platform turned into a sea of teary goodbyes, children escaping their motherâs grasp and boys, menâ soldiers, leaving for France.
Clutching Tommyâs army jacket in your hand, you felt his fingers brushing the tears on your cheeks.
âCome on, sweetheart, you know I hate seeing you cry,â he attempted a soft smile.
âThen donât leave us.â
And he knew he would. He would do anything if it dried your tears and erased the sad pout on your face.
âPlease, just one smile. I want to see you smile.â
In case it was the last time.
Tommy searched through his pockets, waving a bright blue box in front of you. âNow you canât cry anymore,â he muttered with a sly smirk.
You stared at the chocolate bar and couldnât help the grin making its way through your tears. You swung your arms around his neck, cutting his breath short as you hugged him.
Tommy returned the embrace, closing his eyes.
He could never open them again and stay with you. He wouldnât have to go anywhere. Just stay. Thread his fingers through your hair and kiss you and love you. He could just stay.
Neither of you wanted to let go. You were pretty sure neither of you could.
As long as you had him. As long as he had you. Nothing could reach you. Nothing could hurt you. If only you held onto each other tighter.
But a loud, piercing whistle resonated through the station, breaking the tender embrace. Tommy took a moment to admire you. Gentle features and radiant smile. Thatâs how he wanted to remember you. His thumbs reached under your eyes. No tears.
Not today. Not ever.
He wasnât sure he could keep standing there as you cried and not cry himself. Blinking away, his jaw clenched, he let his fingers trail down your cheek.
His touch was so soft, so lightâlike feathers tickling your skinâ it almost made you forget why he was leaving.
You tried to smile, even as a few rebellious tears tried to escape.
Oh, my darling Y/N...
And he thought he might finally admit it. Confess right here on the noisy train platform. Whisper the words into your ear and make you promise youâll wait for him.
He was already walking towards death, he might as well free himself of the secret he kept for so longâ the same way a condemned man would.
âTommy?â
He focused his attention on you, the delicately embroidered handkerchief close to your nose. Your eyes reddened with tears, cheeks still damp.
Yes, he could say it.
But what if he didnât come back?
What if he told you he loved you and died in some french field? What if the only thing you got back from him was a box of his belongings and nothing else?
âIâŠI justâŠâ You wouldn't handle it. You were already terrified of what would happen, he couldnât add to that some foolish confession just to feel better.Â
He couldnât risk it.Â
âIâll miss you. Take care, yeah?â he leaned in, kissing your temple.
âCome on, Tom! Weâre gonna be late,â Arthurâs deep voice urged him.
âIâll write to you all the time,â you promised, your hand reaching for his.
Tommy didnât let go, holding your fingers until he was too far. He stepped onto the train, his eyes always set on yours.
One last glance. One last smile.
And he was gone.
Arthur and John found a compartment where they set their bags, greeting other soldiers. But Tommy wasnât paying attention.
He had a chance. He could have said it.
No. No, it would have been too selfish to blurt it out and leave. He wanted to tell you he loved you but not under Deathâs malignant threat.
He would admit he loved you only if he could live to fulfill that promise. When he could take you dancing. When he could be sure to fall asleep kissing you and wake up just the same.
What was the point of saying it if he never had the chance to show it?
But could he really risk dying without ever telling you?
If he died and you never knew he loved you, he would regret it.
One last whistle resonated through the train station. The train wobbled, slowly moving.
No. No. No.
Tommy left the compartment, running to the corridors.
âTom, what the fuck are you doing?â
The last thing he wanted was to break your heart if he didnât come back. But he couldnât leave without you knowing just how much he loved you.
He just had to make his way back to you.
And he could. He could fight and floor his opponent if it meant coming home to you.
He just had to say it. He had to.
He would never forgive himself if he didnât.
Pushing away soldiers, ignoring their exclamations and complaints, Tommy finally reached the last car.
It was full but it didnât matter. He burst in, running towards the window. Quick. Before itâs too late.
I love you. Â
Soldiers were staring at him as if he was mad.
Maybe he was.
I love you.
He leaned out, almost tipping over and falling. He didnât care.
I love you.
Tommy spotted you amongst the crowd.
I love you. I love you. I...
But the train had already left the platform.
It was too far. It was too late.
âI love you, Y/N,â he whispered, defeated.
No one noticed the tears in his eyes. The train rushed under the dim tunnel as regret filled his body with immense darkness.
Too late.
You woke up with a groan, shy rays of sunshine tiptoeing through your quiet apartment. But you couldnât enjoy the warm weather. Not when every limb, every muscle, every fiber of your body ached.
On the floor. You had fallen asleep on the floor.
You groaned again, stretching your sore legs. As you tried to get up, the night before came back to your mind.Â
At least you had an explanation for your aching neck.
You called for Tommy, expecting to find him in the living room but the room was completely empty.
The exhaustion in your body was enough to not question it too much as you made your way to the kitchen. You needed a cup of tea. And maybe some sleep in your bed.
But as you moved towards the table to prepare your breakfast, you noticed a small piece of paper.
Recognizing Tommyâs clear writing, you felt a warm rush through your body and a smile creeping on your tired features.
#ma ptite bombasse đ„°#tommy <3#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby angst#thomas shelby fluff#peaky blinders#anna's fics#500 followers celebration#anna's grand ball#peaky blinders
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
My Darling, When Autumn Leaves Start to FallâŠ
MASTERLIST
Summary: Four moments of bliss in Tommyâs life set in autumn
A/N: this is a very late participation to my sweet @runnning-outof-timeâ 2k celebration, congrats again!! I got the title from the lovely song Autumn Leaves (Edith Piafâs version) but the story doesnât have anything to do with the song, still listen to it because itâs beautiful :)Â I donât really have anything else to say so, I hope you enjoy this (at least, I had fun writing it!)Â
oh and thank you to my @choreosmaniaâ for giving me your feedback on the story, youâre really worthy of the âonly poutine eater I donât want to punchâ title <3
Warnings: this is literally just fluff for the sake of it (so beware of the immense amount of fluff ig)
Word count: 2,155 words
It was early in the morning. Too early for the sun to cast its warm shade over the land. Too early for the birds to sing. Too early for Tommy to be awake.
But he lay on his side, eyes wide open. His troubled mind never let him rest more than a few hours at once. No matter how exhausted he was, no matter how much he wanted to.
Tommy considered the idea of getting up and turning his lack of sleep into productive work. Itâs what the businessman in him kept whispering.
And then, Tommy turned towards you, soundly asleep. Lying on your stomach, your mouth slightly agape, it made your husband smile. Leaving the bedâleaving you suddenly seemed like a very foolish thing to do.
Instead, he brushed the hair framing your face. His calloused hands grazed your warm skin and he found himself incapable of stopping.
Very gently, his fingers trailed down your neck, your shoulder, your spine and a smile stretched his lips as he felt you shiver. You moved, humming but your husbandâs feather-like touch didnât seem to bother your peaceful slumber.
Tommy closed the distance between you. He played with your hair as your head rested on his chest. He brought the blanket over your shoulders, reveling in the contact of his fingertips with the softness of your hip.
He observed the night slowly making place for the sun to rise, a subdued light filtering through the drapes. Tommy thought he could wake you upâ you loved to see the sunrise. But as if you were reading his mind, you nuzzled closer, a contented sigh leaving your lips.
For a moment, he asked himself if he was still dreaming. The quietude reigning seemed surreal. So quiet, so calm, even his screaming mind seemed to respect the peaceful intermission.
Your soft breaths fanning over his skin, your cold fingertipsâalways cold no matter how hot the rest of your body was, your hair tickling his chest. He would have sworn it was some twisted wraith, playing with his deepest longing if it wasnât for your hand safely resting on his waist.
The idea of leaving the bed came back and this time, there was no hesitation. Tommy lazily kissed your forehead, sliding back under the covers.
Business could wait.
Fiery leaves crunching under your steps, the biting cold softened by the warm October sun. The sweet summer time was bidding goodbye, slowly welcoming autumn and its honeytoned afternoons.
It was the perfect weather for a family walk in the gardens.
Tommy was finally home after months spent in the hospital and thankfully, the doctor forbade him from working which meant a very well deserved holidayâ even though said holiday almost cost his life.
Ruby was very excited to have her father all to herself and when she saw the piles of fallen leaves, she couldnât resist. She asked and asked for a walk with her parents just so she could jump in the dreamy hills of red and orange.
So after her nap, you got her dressed and even allowed her to put her new white gloves on. Tommy was already outside, enjoying the warm weather as his little girl came running, shouting his name.
You watched your overly excited daughter jump and run, grabbing leaves and crunching them, a tender smile brightening your features. Your hand firmly holding Tommyâs, you strolled through the manorâs grounds, enjoying the dazzling rays caressing your skin.
âAre you alright, darling?â you turned to him, observing his tired eyes.
âJust a headache.â
âMommy, mommy, look,â Rubyâs chirping voice interrupted you. She blew a cloud of fog in the air, âIâm smoking, like daddy!â
You giggled as she repeated her action.
âYouâre like me, eh?â Tommy asked, a teasing smile fading the exhausted traits.
Ruby put her tiny fists on her hips and with the deepest voice she could attempt, she replied âYes, Iâm a grown-up. Bring me whiskey and donât use my pens for your drawings.â
The resemblance was uncanny. It was really hard to keep a straight face as Ruby went on âI have work to do, no game tonight,â she poutedâ just like her father.
Tommy feigned hurt and you decided to help him a little, out of mercy âWell, I guess you canât carry her anymore if sheâs a grown up. She can walk.â
Your last comment seemed to shake the âgrown upâ out of your Ruby and she turned to her dad, using her most efficient weapon: the puppy eyes.
âNo, daddy. Look, I'm not a grown up! You can still carry me!â She ran back to Tommy, hugging his waist.
Your husband glanced at you, a smile gracing his lips. He bent down, lifting his little girl in his arms.
With his other hand, Tommy brought you closer to him, earning him a gentle kiss on the cheek.
âAt least she got your talents for impressions,â you whispered to him, playfully.
âYeah, sheâs her daddyâs girl for a reason.â
âAnd now letâs open the gifts!â Ruby exclaimed, clapping her small hands together.
âBut we didnât eat the cake yet!â
âNo, gifts first, mommy!â You smiled fondly at your daughterâs impatience as Frances brought a few neatly wrapped boxes.
It was Rubyâs birthday, the yearly reminder that your little baby was growing up and didnât plan to stop. You had managed to convince Tommy to come early tonightâ although it didnât take much convincing to celebrate the three of you together. A bigger party was planned the next day with all of Rubyâs cousins and the extended family but tonight, you wanted it to be just you.
A squeal erupted from your daughter as she discovered the beautiful toy horse her father had chosen for her. Before you could even realize, you were lovingly attacked with hugs and kisses.
Ruby sat on Tommyâs lap, enjoying the comforting embrace of her dad. He presented to her another box and helped her with the tightly knotted bow.
âLook at that, Ruby!â your husband took out the doll and handed her to her new owner, âWhat will we be calling her, hm?â
Ruby thought about it for a secondâ it was indeed a crucial decision and almost screamed âKatie!â
She repeated her dollâs name softly, caressing her blonde hair.
âDo you like it, daddy?â
âItâs a beautiful name,â Tommy answered with absolutely no hesitation, âJust like yours, my darling.â
You watched the two of them, your heart swelling at the sight of your husband arranging your daughterâs long locks. Ruby had grown to be her daddyâs little girl through and through. A part of you felt a little jealous that he got all the precious attention but nothing could compare to the joy of watching Tommy grow with her.
You never doubted he would be any less than a wonderful father. And every moment observing them was proof of that.
âMommy,â Ruby ushered, poking your arm. She gave a not very discreet look towards her dad and you nodded knowingly for tonight wasnât just Rubyâs birthday.
After years spent by his side, Tommy had never wanted to celebrate anything apart from your anniversary and your birthday. You knew the reason and respected it. But your very stubborn daughterâ she got that from her dadâ decided that no birthday should ever be forgotten, no matter the reason.
âWhatâs going on?â your husband asked as Ruby precipitately left the room.
âWe have a little surprise for you,â is all you said.
Ruby came back, hiding behind her back the small gifts you had both gotten.
âHappy birthday, daddy,â she proudly offered him the drawing she spent hours making, using her best colors.
Tommy gazed at you, confused but still accepted his present. It was a drawing of the three of you, Ruby in the middle and you holding her hands. âThatâs me and there you are, daddy. Youâre the king and mommy is the queen and I am the princess,â she pointed at each of you as she spoke.
âItâs gorgeous, Ruby. Thank you,â Tommy kissed her cheek, promising to keep the drawing in his office.
âNow itâs your turn, Mommy!â she nudged you, waiting excitedly as you gave the other present.
It was a golden ring engraved with your three initials. You wanted to offer it for your wedding anniversary but Ruby insisted her dad had presents for his birthday as well, so you chose to give it to him a little earlier.
You put the ring on Tommyâs finger, above his wedding band and he squeezed your hand. âThank you,â he cleared his throat.
You observed him longly, a pinch of guilt making you quiet. Ruby was so excited to include her father in the celebration you didnât have the heart to tell her he hated his birthday. But maybe you should have been more firm with herâŠ
âIâm sorry, Tom,â you whispered to him as soon as Ruby was occupied playing with her toys. âShe asked me the other day and when I told her I didn't know, she asked Polly. I thought it would be enough but then Polly told her you were born around the same time as her and she insisted we did something for you as well.â
Your husband shook his head, bringing you closer to him. âYou did good, itâs alright.â
Tommy sighed, glancing at the ring on his finger.
He didnât always hate his birthday. There was a time where it meant having cake and getting new shoes if the year hadnât been too rough. His mother always made it special, even if they didnât have the money for a big party or for a sumptuous feast. She even got him his white poney.
But that was the last thing she ever got for him.
There was no point in celebrating anything after that. What did he have to celebrate?
There was no rest, no peace, too much happening all at once to the point where the mere thought of it was ridiculous. It was just another day in November after all.
But as they all sang and ate too much chocolate cake and laughed until his heart burst with joy, Tommy realized.
He had his girls now.
The clock ticked softly and the fire crackled in the hearth, accompanying Tommyâs nightly work. He had to study some numbers for a board meeting the next day and although he only wanted to lie in bed with you, he couldnât detach himself from his task.
You had gone to bed with Ruby half an hour ago, quickly passing by the office for a necessary goodnight kiss.
By now, his sweet girl was asleep and you were probably struggling to stay awakeâ you wanted your goodnight kiss too.
But tonightâs ritual wasnât as thoroughly respected as the previous nights.
Tommy dropped his pen, hearing tiny footsteps walking closer and closer untilâŠâDaddy?â Ruby whispered, shyly entering the room.
âWhatâs going on, love?â
âI canât sleepâŠâ Tommy gestured for her to come closer. He sat his daughter on his lap, his knuckles grazing her cheek. âI want a story.â
âMommy didnât read you one?â he asked curiously.
Ruby hesitated for a moment. âShe didâŠbut she doesnât make the voices like you, daddy.â
Tommy chuckled, kissing his daughterâs forehead.
âAlright, what do you say we go to bed together and I read you another one?â
He felt her nodding against his chest. Tommy finally gave up the very important workâ but for even more important matters and carried his Ruby upstairs. He grabbed the book on her bedside table but instead of putting her in her own bed, he walked out of the room.
âWhat do you say we teach mommy how to make the voices, hm?â
Ruby replied with a smile, gladly enjoying the unusual bedtime.
âWhatâs going on?â you asked as soon as Tommy appeared, carrying your daughter inside.
âShe wanted me to read her a story.â
âI already read her one, Tom.â
âI know,â he dropped Ruby on the bed. âShe said she wanted me to do the voices.â
You shook your head, trying to suppress the growing smile. Your husbandâ no matter how firm and cold he could be with anyoneâ struggled with keeping his usual steadfastness with his four years old daughter.
âShe isnât supposed to sleep in the bed with us, itâs a bad habit,â you tried to scold.
âJust this time.â
âYes, mommy, just tonight,â a light voice erupted from under the covers.
You sighed, defeated.
âFine.â
Tommy mimicked Rubyâs content smile.
âBut just tonight, then everyone sleeps in their own bed, deal?â
They both nodded, Ruby hurrying to hug her father. She grabbed your hand, playing with your ringâ a small habit she got as a baby.
âAlright,â Tommy cleared his throat, opening his arms for you to slide in as well. âOnce upon a time, there were three bearsâŠâ
Very important matters, indeed
#ma ptite bombasse đ„°#tommy <3#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby x reader#peaky blinders#root2kfollowercelebration#anna's fics
795 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Sweetest Escape
MASTERLIST
Summary: as youâre spending your night on a balcony, a certain someone keeps you company
A/N: helloooo i know i know i havenât posted in a while but my darling friend @zablife hit 1k and organized a fantastic celebration so I had to participate!! this pretty short and not proofread but i really wanted to post it! I hope you enjoy!! đ
Warnings: none i can think of
Word count: 640 words
The ballroom boomed with chatters and music, champagne spilling and golden hues dazzling the guests.
You watched them from afar, well hidden on the quiet balcony. It was a splendid night, stars shining bright above you, a light breeze caressing your cheeks. You wondered why everyone seemed so interested in the party inside. With the fakes laughters and gossips when the moon stood so graceful in the sky.
Shivers covered your naked shoulders but you welcomed the contrast of your warm skin with the ambient cold. You couldâve ran back inside but you knew your body would get used to it eventually.
You wouldnât get used to the snakes lurking in the corners of the ballroom. You never really did.
âYouâre going to catch a terrible cold, Miss Y/Nâ a deep voice tore you from your thoughts.
You turned around, facing your interlocutor.
âDonât worry, Mr. Shelby. Iâm tougher than I look like.â
A soft smile lightened his stern features and you observed him a little longer than necessary. He was a handsome man, rough on the edges but there was a gentleness about him...Something you couldnât pinpoint. Maybe it was the freckles adorning his cheeksâŠOr maybe the shade of light blue, hiding behind the steel of his look.
But he was above all your fatherâs colleague. And twice your age.
The man grabbed his cigarette holder from the inside of his blazer then took it off to wrap it around your shoulders. It smelled like him. Tobacco and whiskey. Long sleepless nights and freedom.
âMr. Shelby, you donât have toââ he waved as if to say it was no problem.
A cigarette found its place between his lips and again, you found yourself staring at him, a pleasant warmth making its way to your cheeks.
Feeling your gaze on him, Thomas looked up, repressing the smirk forming on his lips. He nonchalantly handed you a cigarette as well, your manicured fingers grazing his rough hand.
You brought your face closer to him so he could light up the cigarette for you.
âThank you, Mr. Shelby.â
âYou can call me, Tommy, love,â he almost whispered and you felt your heart miss a beat.
âT-thank you, Tommy,â you nervously passed a hand in your hair, pretending to fix your pin.
âWhat are you doing here all by yourself, eh?â Tommy finally asked, blowing a cloud of smoke into the night. âDâyou hate these parties as well?â
âOh, but I like large parties,â Tommy raised his eyebrows, almost reminding you you had just ran out of said party. âTheyâre so intimate. At small parties there isnât any privacy,â you shrugged, answering as if it was the most logical explanation in the world.
A soft chuckle escaped his lips and you swore you had never heard a sweetest sound. He didnât seem like the man who laughed a lot. No, he looked like the kind of person who laughed only for people who deserved it. The kind of people who had such a precious laugh they couldnât waste it on anyone.
âBut you donât like parties, Tommy?â
The way his name sounded, rolling on your tongue, Tommy almost asked you to say it again. Beg you to repeat his name over and over. No one had ever said it this way. So sweetly, so gently. As if it was the most beautiful thing in the world. As if it wouldnât bring the devil to your front door.
âIs it because you canât dance?â you asked playfully after a minute of silence.
Tommy scoffed. âI only dance with ladies who love parties to escape from themâ
You chuckled, shaking your head. Feeling a sudden rush of confidence skipping through your veins, you closed the distance between you and whispered in his ear
âWell what do you say we escape from hereâŠfor real?â
#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader#anna's fics#thomas shelby fic#zablife1k#ma ptite bombasse đ„°#tommy <3#peaky blinders
508 notes
·
View notes
Text
At Last
MASTERLIST
Summary: âAt last, my love has come along
My lonely days are over
And life is like a songâ
A/N: this is in honor of @zablifeâs wonderful celebration! Congratulations again, darling! I hope you enjoy this! Also huge thank you to my silly little friend @sunrisepoets for helping me out with this!!! This fic is set in the modern!au (i wrote two other stories in this au which you can find here & here)
I apologize for any mistakes or typos, Iâm literally writing this on my phone! I really hope you enjoy this nonetheless đ
Warnings: Tommy being hopelessly in love with his wife; a lot of books; death of an ice cream
Word count: â 1,800 words
The sun was almost setting when Tommy parked his Bentley in the driveway. It had been an awfully long week, having to fix issues after issues. But he was home.
At last.
Tommy entered the mansionâs hall, slightly disappointed to see Frances grab his suitcase instead of you. She greeted him politely and, sensing the question bubbling in her bossâ chest, added âMrs. Shelby is in the garden, taking care of the roses.â
After dismissing the maid, Tommy ran outside to find you. He had not seen you all week, leaving early for London on Tuesday. To say he was excited to be back was an understatement. Your absence turned your apartment dull and Tommyâs few hours there cold and lonely. Even trying to busy himself with studying documents didnât work. To the point where he found himself calling you late at night, talking to you until you fell asleep. But the horrendous week was finally over.
A smile made its way on your husbandâs face as soon as you appeared in front of him. You knelt on a small cushion, watering beds of colorful flowers. You hadnât noticed him yet, the music playing in your ears loud enough even he could hear it. Tommy leaned in and grabbed your shoulders with a mischievous grin.
You jumped, a terrified yelp leaving your lips. Your husband, very proud of his little joke, chuckled at your wide opened eyes, your hand on your chest. He pulled you in, embracing you.
âI hate you, Tommy,â you mumbled against him. âI should get a divorce just for that.â
Nonetheless, you wrapped your arms around him, inhaling his scent.
âIâm so sorry, love but you know I had to,â he was still laughing at your reaction.
âYouâre just very lucky I missed you enough to not kick your butt.â
âI missed you, too,â he caressed your hair, kissing your temple. âAnd I got you something. Close your eyes.â
Tommy reached for the box in his pocket, carefully taking out the piece of jewelry. You couldnât help the excitement growing in your belly, turning you into a fidgety little mess. You knew your husband was taking his sweet time just to torture you, asking you if your eyes were really closed at least twice. Finally, you felt his fingers grazing your neck, pushing your hair away.
A familiar cold sensation tickled your skin and you were allowed to glance at a gorgeous golden locket. You gently took it in your hand, admiring the delicate engraving.
âDo you like it?â Tommy murmured in your ear. âI passed by that antique store you love and I found this. I thought it would look good on you.â
You turned around, beaming at your darling husband. It was an adorable habit of his: to buy you a gift any time he left for too long. He was aware it didnât make up for his absence but he enjoyed showing you that, although he was far away, you didnât leave his thoughts once.
âI love it, thank you,â you kissed his cheek, leaving a stain where your coloured lips had touched him.
âI was thinking, do you have plans tomorrow?â Tommy asked as you tried to erase the red on his skin.
âNo, not really. I thought you would want to rest.â
âWhat about we go to the bookstore and-â
âYes!â you exclaimed âYes, letâs go to the bookstore!â
You began rambling about some pretty edition you saw and the newest book of your favorite author coming out. Tommy chuckled at your reaction, bringing you close.
Oh, how he missed you.
Skipping into the bookstore, you inhaled the familiar smell of paper. Tommy almost had to run after you, fearing he might lose you in the large building. Taking you to any kind of place with books was the same thing as taking any of Johnâs kids in a toy store. There was no other way to describe it. You had a tendency to get a rush of energy, jumping from one section to the other, speaking impossibly fast. All a very lovely scene but slightly hard to follow.
âOh! There it is!â you almost screamed, grabbing a book with a train on it. You happily showed it to Tommy. He remembered the previous story very clearly. You hadnât been able to let go of the book and finished it in the middle of the night, staring blankly at the wall for half an hour afterwards. âMy goodness, it sounds amazing! But waitâŠâ
Tommy observed you as you turned the book around, opening the last page.
âWhat are you doing?â
âReading the last sentence,â you answered very simply.
Your husband shook his head, confused. âBut why would youâŠâ
âShhh!â you placed a finger on his lips, letting out a squeal as you closed the book again.
âWhatâs going on?â Tommy asked, trying to understand the expression on your face.
âTheâŠOkay, do you remember those books with the Norwegian detective?â
He nodded as you went on, explaining how the detective from the previous series somehow appeared in this new one. He couldnât grasp why this information was enough to make your hands shake but you seemed very excited to find out more. You handed the book to Tommy before running away to another section.
Another squeal alerted your husband as you pointed towards a gorgeous cover.
âLook! Itâs the collection I told you about!â you showed him a new edition of Emma. Even he had to agree it was splendid.
Tommy was pretty sure you already had those books at home but it didnât matter. Not when this ânew collectionâ turned you into a cheerful, giggly mess.
He took the heavy pile and found a small bench near you. He watched you, the way you seemed so focused to find the one. Every time, you would come back and add a new book to the growing stack. Tommy had one job: check the book off the list you made âwhich he gladly did.
âAlright, whatâs this oneâŠThe Bell jar,â he read over the titles, until pinpointing the right one. âDone.â
âThank you,â you whispered in a sunny tone, warming Tommyâs heart. â...Can I get one more? The last one, I promise!â Your husband nodded even though you had chosen âthe last oneâ about five books ago. You squealed, leaving a light kiss on his cheek and you disappeared again, making him chuckle.
You stayed in the bookstore for about an hour, running back and forth between each section. Every single time, you would swear you were done.
Until you discovered a new little treasure you couldnât resist.
Tommy pretended he needed to think about it before giving in, just to make the chase a bit funnier. And also because you would kiss him as soon as he said yesâwhich was an opportunity he couldnât miss.
âOkay, thatâs it! I am done!â Tommy raised an eyebrow at you. âFor real this time, I have everything.â
âWell you did take everything. We walked into a bookstore and weâre going to leave empty Ikea shelves!â
You pursed your lips, trying to resist the grin stretching your lips.
âThatâs very funny, Mr. Shelby. You should probably consider a career in a circus with that much humor!â
Tommy laughed sarcastically, grabbing the stack of books in his arms. You realized just how much you had actually taken with you when your husbandâs face disappeared behind The Great Gatsby and Mussoâs new novel.
âYou know what? Maybe I did go too farâŠI should just take some of those and Iâll buy the rest later,â you mumbled, internally cursing your extravagance.
Tommy put the books on a table nearby and took your hand.
âYou could have bought the entire bookstoreâ literally and I would still carry all those books for you, yeah?â he kissed your forehead tenderly. âNow come on, Iâm buying us some ice cream. All this book hunting starved me â
Your eyes gleamed with that precious, childish spark and Tommy knew he was as earnest as ever. He would buy you the entire universe if it meant making you smile as a reward. Any struggle seemed ludicrous next to your radiant, beaming face.
With a delicious cone of cookie dough and brownie ice cream in hand, you strolled through the busy streets. Tommy walked beside you, one arm around your shoulder while the other held his ice cream cone. He was wearing a simple black tee-shirt with some jeans and his signature raybans on his eyes.
It was almost funny how different he looked when he was not working. His cheeks were slightly flushed with the heat, his freckles more obvious because of the sun. Even though you found your husband handsome all the time, you had to admit having a slight preference for âlaid back Tommyâ.
Completely lost in your thoughts, you missed the small hole in the pavement and tripped. Tommyâs arm tightened on you, saving you in extremis from a terrible fall.
Your ice cream was not as lucky.
A desolated sigh escaped your lips as you realized your fresh, sweet treat was now melting on the concrete.
Before you could think about mourning for your poor ice-cream, Tommy stepped in front of you.
âHere, take mine.â
You considered his proposal for a second but turned it down. It wasnât his fault you werenât attentive enough.
But of course, your very stubborn husband insisted. He managed to negotiate one bite each with a very serious âcome on, weâre married! For richer, for poorer, remember?â
Which you had countered rather easily: âI donât think it applies to ice cream, Tom.â
âOf course it does! And you donât want to hurt my feelings by not tasting this delicious ice cream, do you?â
So you kept walking, sharing the tiny pink spoon. He carefully listened to your extremely passionate speech about your detectiveâs character development along the books. It made him wonder how many hours you actually spent thinking about this, managing to quote psychology researches and articles.
It was almost marvelous. The contrast between your serious words and you, happily munching on the ice cream cone.
After each bite, you cut a piece and fed it to Tommy. The same way you would do with a small bird you found in the park.
Concluding on your rant, you handed the last of the cone but your husband refused.
âOh no, itâs fine. Just take it.â
âThanks,â you grumbled, your mouth half full.
âWas it good at least?â
You nodded frantically. âIt was so good! Thank you for sharing your ice cream with me, darling,â you rested your hand against his shoulder, squeezing his waist.
âAnytime,â he hummed, his voice getting lost in your hair.
It was all worth it.
#ma ptite bombasse ïżœïżœïżœ#tommy <3#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby#peaky blinders#ma copine lee#lee tag âĄ#friends#zablife600#annaâs fics
534 notes
·
View notes
Text
Midnights: Chapter 1
MASTERLIST â MIDNIGHTS MASTERLIST
Summary: In the tunnels, Tommy is haunted by the green-eyed man: the soldier he killed.Â
A/N: well here it is, the first chapter!! For this first sleepless night, I chose an event that had to do with the war because it is quite central to Tommyâs development and I felt like it was important! Itâs quite short (and so will some of the other chapters) but I really hope you enjoy!! đ
Ps. You can always send me an ask or a dm if you want to be tagged in the story đ
Warnings: mentions of death, blood, war; angstÂ
Word count: 847 words
Tommy observed his hands in the dim light, dirt covering the dried blood. Not his blood. No, the blood of the boy he killed. A young German soldierâprobably younger than Johnâstabbed ruthlessly with his knife.
They had fought in the constricted tunnels, each trying to have the upper hand. Each showing no mercy to the other and for what?
If it hadnât been an order from the king, Tommy could have met this boy and talked to him. Maybe they could have been comrades, sharing pint of beers and playing card games in a pub. Instead, Tommy shoved a bayonet in his heart.
His hands hadnât stopped shaking since. It took both Freddie and Barney to tear him away from the now lifeless green eyes. Tommy had noticed them as he pinned the soldier to the ground. Green eyes, light hair darkened with dirt. And a gaping wound in the chest.
He had to, Tommy kept repeating to himself. If he didnât kill the soldier, the soldier would have killed him. If he didnât stab the soldier, the soldier would have stabbed him. If he hadnât volunteered, he would have never met the soldier, the soldier would have still been alive.
He clenched his jaw, tearing his gaze away from his bloodied hands. So much blood staining his fair skin. So much blood that shouldnât be there.
âStop thinking about it, it wonât do you any good,â Jeremiah had whispered to him as they moved deeper in the tunnels. âYou had to do it, you didnât have a choice. God forgives you.â
But Tommy wasnât worried about Godâs forgiveness. He couldnât even remember the last time he had been in a church.
So why did it hurt so much?
He wasnât afraid of some sort of punishment. And he knew what he had signed for. But it became too real. There was a difference between saying he was going to war to fight the Boches and actually murdering one.
That look. The look the German soldier gave him haunted him. As if he was begging in his last moments. As if he was calling to him.
âPlease, Tommy, donât kill me. Donât kill me. I have a family waiting for me.â
It was ridiculous. The soldier didnât know his name. He was a stranger. For all he knew, he could have been a real scumbag. Someone horrible who deserved to die. But Tommy realized it wasnât his place to choose. Who was he to decide who could live and who couldnât? He was no one. No one who had just killed a boy.
And now, all his mind could do was think of the possibilities. The what if's.
What if a child would be growing up without their father?
What if a mother had just lost her only child?
What if, what if, what if?
That war was stupid. It made no sense. Tommy could finally see it. He thought volunteering would help. It would make him feel proud. He would be doing his duty. But maybe he volunteered because Small Heath hurt too much. Maybe because he needed an excuse to get away.
Greta was everywhere, there. She was in the alley behind the bakery where he used to bring her those cakes she loved. She was near the canal where he used to take her, in every street, every passageway. She was everywhere.
Oh, GretaâŠ
What would she say if she saw him? If she saw the red tinting his fingersâ the same fingers she used to kiss and hold and love.
Would she even recognize him?
The man she adored, the man whose laugh echoed through the dingy streets, the dust and soot. Where was he, now?
Tommyâs eyes fell on his distorted reflection in his pocket knife. He couldnât find that man. All he saw was a bloodied, dirty soldier. A mere pawn in a game he should have never agreed to play. The glint in his eyes had vanished, turning the vivid cerulean into a lackluster, faded color.
Everyone around him was asleep, enjoying a few hours of calm before it was time to dig again. Tommy knew he should try to rest. But he was terrified to close his eyes. Terrified the boy would come and haunt him. Terrified his green eyes would beg him to spare him again. Terrified to hear the writhing gurgles. Terrified to see the blood spilling from his half-opened mouth.
Instead, Tommy stared back at himself. Or what seemed like himself.
It almost made him wake up his comrades and ask them.
Do you recognize me? Am I still the same?
Maybe the shift wasnât physical. Maybe it was deeper. But Tommy felt it. Something in him had changed. Something was lost and he hopelessly searched for it, digging through the dirt to get it back.
He tried to catch a glimpse of the old Tommy, the one with his clean hands and liveful expression. But every time he tried, he could feel the green eyes staring at himâ the man and his red right hand.
Taglist: @aaskoct @cillmequick @dandelionprints @edmundo-diaz @forgottenpeakywriter @huntingingoodwill @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @jokim @julkaamazing @lili12356 @look-at-the-soul @lyarr24 @midnightmagpiemama @milkshakelol @notyour-valentine @rangerelik @salvatoremeanssavior @thesoldiersminute @wretched-mischief @zablife
#midnights#anna's fics#thomas shelby fic#ma ptite bombasse đ„°#tommy shelby#thomas shelby#tommy <3#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders
148 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi! I was inspired by the game I saw @zablife create a few weeks ago (I canât find the link for it, sorry!) where you send people a GIF for them to use as creative inspiration for either a blurb, headcannon, moodboard or one shot or fic whenever they choose!
This can sit in your inbox for months and months if you wish, the idea of this is just to be there for when you feel as though you need some inspiration for something creative and just want to have a bit of fun or get the brain into a creative place! Please donât feel any pressure to use this I just thought it might be quite a nice thing to use when youâre in the mood to write but arenât sure what!
I hope you enjoy this and have fun with it! X
 This actually sound so fun so thank you so much for sending me this, darling!! This is a short blurb and I wrote it quickly but I hope you like it! đ
Tommy observed you from afar, giggling at something some dickhead whispered in your ear. Of course, you were allowed to laugh with anybody. You were allowed to spend your entire evening ignoring him. You were allowed to look so scandalously gorgeous among all these other girls. You were allowed all that.
Theoretically.
Because even though Tommy knew he had absolutely no ownership over youâ you werenât an object, after allâ he couldnât help but hate not being the center of your attention.Â
He could only blame himself for that. He was the one who invited May to visit the stables and have a drink at the Garrison, knowing you could be there. He was the one who kept acting so nonchalantly careless of you.
But he was also the one who, despite his little distractions, craved you only.
âJust go talk to her, Tom,â Polly whispered to him after spending the last few minutes next to him, completely unnoticed. Her nephew had the incredible ability to turn blind as soon as you entered a room. He wouldnât see a flying monkey and dancing horses if you were there.
âWhy would I do that? Sheâs having fun, isnât she?â he mumbled bitterly, taking an angry sip of his whiskey.
Polly only smiled and snatched the glass from his hands.
âStop acting like a child and go talk to her.â Facing his auntâs firm and unwavering voice, he rolled his eyes but still got up. âSheâs just doing this to get back at you.âÂ
Tommy was about to leave the booth when Polly exclaimed. âBut the next time I hear you fucking around with some other posh girl, Iâll cut your balls off,â she pointed a finger at him in a threatening way, giving him the same look she did when John left his gun lying around the house.Â
âAnd another one for the pretty lady,â screamed the scumbag as he pointed to your figure. Tommyâs blood boiled in his veins and it took every bit of self-control to not punch the man across the fucking face
âLeave her alone,â he appeared in front of the both of you. His tone was stern, he didnât even have to scream. The threat was clear, the man only had to move if he wanted to keep his sight.Â
The scumbag was about to retaliate, tell Tommy to fuck off while he flirted with the pretty lady at the bar. That was until he noticed it wasnât some common drunk man from the pub. No, it was Mr. Shelby.
The man was out of your sight within the next minute and you sat there, a smirk on your painted lips. âGood job, Tommy. You scared the only guy who actually had some interest in me.â
The venom in your voice was directed at him. Tommy was well aware of that. But instead of replying with an equally cutting line, he grabbed your arms and walked you outside.
Cold bit your naked arms, your entire body shivering in the freezing night. âWhat the fuck is wrong with you?â you spit at him but Tommy put his jacket over your shoulder, ignoring your question.
âWhy were you flirting with that man?â
You scoffed. âWhy do you care?â
âDonât play this game with me, Y/N,â he warned. It wasnât supposed to scare you. Tommy knew you enough to be sure you wouldnât be scared. But it was nonetheless a warning. A warning to not push him too far before he admitted things he wasnât supposed to.
âNo, tell me! Why do you care? You spend your days with other women, canât I have a little fun as well?â your tone was cutting, unforgiving. And rightfully so.Â
Tommy realized how angry you were at the moment. There was nothing for him to do, not when you were in this state. And either way, Tommy had never been much of a man for long speeches and declarations.
He crashed his lips onto yours, passionately. The low weather was soon forgotten as his hands seemed to ignite a fire of their own, settled on your waist. You froze for a moment before your lips moved in rhythm with his. The sickly sweet taste of whiskey mixed with tobacco and champagne made you dizzy, your fingers finding refuge in his hair.
When he pulled back, cheeks flushed and dark eyes staring down at you, you chuckled. âTook you long enough.â
#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby fic#anna's fics#ma ptite bombasse đ„°#tommy <3#peaky blinders#aimee tag âĄ#friends
307 notes
·
View notes
Text
Special Announcement!!
I am so thrilled today because for the past few months, I have been working on a very secret project (also the reason why I havenât really posted much) and now it is finally done!! You canât imagine how hard it has been to work in the dark (literally) and keep the secret because I really wanted to share it with all of you. But now itâs ready and I can officially present to all of you my first multi-chaptered story: Midnights
To explain briefly the concept, it is based on Taylor Swiftâs newest album. For those of you who donât know, her last album is based on 13 sleepless nights during her life. I decided to take that concept and turn into a story around Tommy.Â
Just to be clear, the story isnât based on the songs at all. I just kept the idea of telling the stories of 13 different sleepless nights. And because Tommy is quite literally the king of insomnia and I couldnât make a 150 chapters story, I picked 13 specific nights with specific events.Â
I have to be honest, I always said I would never commit to a multi-chaptered story because as a reader, I used to invest emotionally into stories that would be discontinued and it was disappointing. Of course, as a writer, I understand why some stories arenât finished but itâs something I feel particularly uncomfortable with: to promise a whole story and only end up giving a part of it because I got bored or discouraged. I found a little loophole and just wrote the entire thing! So all the chapters are written and pretty much edited, they just need to be posted now so you donât need to worry about potentially never knowing how it ends.
This story focuses mainly on what happened in canon with one chapter being before the show and one after. Itâs not exactly a reader insert and there is no character present except from mentions. This is just Tommy and Tommy alone, dealing with his demons. It is the core idea of this story. I really wanted to explore Tommyâs loneliness in most of the important and difficult moments of his life. It is far from being a fluffy, light story and honestly, doing a deep dive in Tommyâs mind for the last two months has been quite difficult haha. The chapters are also quite short (everything is under 2k words). Iâve worked very hard on this so Iâm a bit anxious but I really hope you like it!!
I decided to make you, readers, participate a little! Because everything is written, I wanted to ask your opinion about posting so here, you can find a Google form link:Â https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSezXfPK9BWYUJSmgG4Qhchv26SrYURASSKGIp9GisB7DvPE3g/viewform?usp=sf_link
Itâs very short and it will take you less than a minute to fill out, I promise (there are literally 3 questions). I will leave you until Monday, December 19th, 7pm (Paris time) to answer it and then I will post the very first chapter of the story!Â
To finish this very long rant, I want to start by thanking my darling @choreosmania for all the help and support youâve given me!! I told you so many times already but I would have never finished this so quickly without you so thank you đ
And I'm going to tag some mutuals who might be interested (if not, I would still love it if you reblogged this đ„°): @hauntedheathcliff @huntingingoodwill @runnning-outof-time @zablife @look-at-the-soul @dandelionprints @celticmelody @tommydoesntpayforsuits @dearshelby @theshelbyslimited @theshelbyclan @forgottenpeakywriter @notyour-valentine @thesoldiersminute @cillmequick @wretched-mischief
#midnights#ma ptite bombasse đ„°#tommy <3#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders
98 notes
·
View notes
Text
Midnights: Chapter 9
MASTERLIST â MIDNIGHTS MASTERLIST
Summary: Tommy finds himself standing alone, once again, mourning for his daughter. The grief is so strong, the pain so raw that he allows himself one moment of weakness, one last goodbye in Rubyâs bedroomÂ
A/N: Iâm sorry, folks. You were probably dreading this moment, hoping it would never come but I couldnât avoid it. It is very sad, even writing it made me crying but I hope that at least the heartbreak will be worth it. And if you need something to cheer you up, join me in disillusion and denial by reading A well-needed sleep (the happy version of this chapter). Anyway, I hope you enjoy and see you next week <3
Warnings: mentions of death, very very sad, angst, youâre going to cry
Word count: 1,420 wordsÂ
Sheâs gone, Tommy. Sheâs gone.
Those were the words plaguing Tommyâs mind. Words he wanted to believe were untrue, a mere trick meant to shake him. But it couldnât be the truth.
His Ruby couldnât be...dead.
And yet, the eerie quiet and mourning attires reigning in Arrow house proved the opposite. Ruby was dead. They burnt her the very same morning. Jeremiah lit the fireâ he was the one who made her laugh and Tommy read the eulogy.
Even as he grieved his daughter, he was still expected to stand tall and strong. Tommy asked Arthur to read it for him. But Arthur couldnât. Nobody else took his place. So Tommy did.
He wanted to crumble, shatter, weep, scream but he took deep breaths and read the words he had written the previous night. He struggled to decipher the words. The ink smudged by crestfallen tears turned the speech into dark droplets of despair. But Tommy already knew it by heart.
His voice trembled, his hands clutched the paper to steady himself. He intended to keep the unwavering facade for his daughter, for Lizzie and Charlie whose heartbreak couldnât be contained. Because if he crumbled, what would become of them?
But now, he stood in front of Rubyâs door. The moon as his only witness, he finally allowed himself one moment of weakness. Just a truce in the middle of his interminable war where he wasnât The Great Thomas Shelby. Just one small moment where he could be a grieving father and nothing else. Not a soldier, not an MP, not the head of the family. One moment where he could miss his little girl.
The bedroom was left untouched. The maids were asked to leave the room as it was. Like a scene in a snowglobeâ a memory frozen in time, only here as a reminder.
Small tea cups from the last tea party were left on the table; little dolls and toy horses lay on the ground, faithfully waiting for the return of their ownerâbut she wasnât coming back.
Tommyâs gaze fell on the theater and puppets made of cardboard. Hours he had spent with her, making up stories of horses and princesses. Hours spent listening to her gleeful giggles as he imitated the loud voices of dragons or the light one of a mouse.
He sat on her bed, his hands grazing the quilt Polly knitted for her. It used to be her blanket when she was a babyâ so small she could fit in Tommyâs arms as if the place had been carved specifically for her.
He reached for her teddy bear, bringing the soft fur to his nose. It still smelled like her. It smelled like soap and innocence. It smelled like long nights spent in the bed that was too small for him, holding her because she was scared of the thunder. It smelled like his little girl. His Ruby.
She was sent to him like a blessing. And what a blessing she was.
The same way he kissed her knees when she fell in the driveway, she held his hand when the troubles got to his head. Because she always seemed to know, she always seemed to understand. There was an unspoken bond between them, never to be broken. Something he had never been able to explain but that made the ache in his heart fade away.
His Ruby was everything he wasnât. She was life. She was light. And she loved him.
She adored her daddy, even if his hands dripped with the blood of innocents, even if he was a sinner and a devil. She didnât care. She didnât see that in him.
No, she saw good. Tommy never understood how but she did. She saw the best in him, whatever light was left in his heart. And she cherished it.
Tommy had never known love like hers. He would never touch that golden warmth again. She used to sneak into his office at night and sit on his lap while he worked. More often than not, she would fall asleep and he would carry her to bed. He would let her soft hair tickle his chin and her arms wrap around his neckâand even if she was tiny, she carried a strength Tommy didnât think was possible.
That same force she used when she would hug him. It was enough to knock the air out of his lung but her embrace was worth not breathing anymore.
Tommy tightened his hold on the small bear. Only yesterday, everyone was running around, making sure tiny Ruby wouldnât fall off the stairs because she had just started crawling. Only yesterday, she could barely mumble a âdadaâ but would raise her arms and babble for Tommy to carry her. Only yesterday, his little girl made him promise he would build her a snowman.
She didnât even see the first snow.
A first tear fell on the teddy bear. Then another. And before he knew it, Tommy was weeping, his shoulders shook by uncontrollable sobs. He fell to the ground, his hands clutched on the bear.
Ruby couldnât sleep without it. She had lost it once, in the forest and Tommy had spent the entire night drying her tears and promising he would get it back for her. Now the bear was safely in its place. But Ruby wasnât there anymore.
Tommy long believed he was dead already, he had lost his mind and only used the crate it came in. But the pain was so raw, he writhed in agony. It was like somebody ripped his heart over and over again. There was nothing to soothe the pain. She was the one who could soothe his pain. But Ruby wasnât there anymore.
He didnât even say goodbye. He didnât get to kiss her. He didnât tell her how much he loved her. How she had saved him, countless times.
But Tommy was never meant to say goodbye. Parents donât say goodbye to their children. Tommy, for all the bad and mud he was, didnât deserve to live. Not when all that was left of her was dust. Dust and echoes of her giggles in his troubled mind.
She was supposed to grow and learn and even if he dreaded it, fall in love. He was supposed to hold her hand all the way down the aisle and give her away. There was so much he still had to do. So many words he wanted to say. But all he had was a teddy bear in a bedroom that felt too much like her and yet, only accentuated her absence.
His vision blurred, Tommy caught a glimpse of the small chair in the corner of the room. The pink and maroon roses on the black wood. Her favorite chair. She used to bring it in his office to draw while he worked.
Tommy dried his eyes and set the teddy bear gently on the bed. He dragged his feet to the corner of the room, seizing the chair. He couldnât stand the sight of it. He didnât know why, it didnât make much sense. But he didnât want to make sense anymore.
Quietly, he made his way to his office, passing in front of his and Lizzieâs bedroom. Charlie was probably with her. Tommy found some comfort in that. At least they had each other. He knew he couldnât be there for either of them. He couldnât give them what they needed. But they would help one another.
Tommy grabbed his lighter, throwing the chair in the fireplace. He didnât want to stare at it. He wanted it gone.
He sat in front of the hearth, the small chair quickly consumed by glowing flames. The wood and paint burning left a cloud of smoke in the room. It smelt terrible. Reminded him of the opium he used to take.
But Tommy sat there, looking at the chair disappear, devoured by the insatiable blaze. He inhaled the fumes, relished in its peculiar scent. It was comforting. The sudden feeling of numbness, the dizziness in his head.
The ache was still here. But at least, now he found some sort of sweetness in it. The ache brought him closer to his Ruby, he needed it to feel her.
Tommy watched the fire, silent tears rolling down his cheeks.
Soon, he would be with her. But until then, he had to change. He had to become the light she always saw in him.
He must, for his Ruby.
Taglist: @aaskoct @cillmequick @dandelionprints @edmundo-diaz @forgottenpeakywriter @huntingingoodwillâ @iwantmyredvelvetcupcakeâ @jokim @julkaamazingâ @lili12356 @look-at-the-soulâ @lyarr24â @midnightmagpiemamaâ @milkshakelol @notyour-valentineâ @rangerelikâ @salvatoremeanssavior @thesoldiersminuteâ @emotionalcadaver @zablifeâ @shelbydelreyâ @peakypollyÂ
#ma ptite bombasse đ„°#tommy <3#anna's fics#midnights#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby#tommy shelby#thomas shelby fic#peaky blinder fanfic#peaky blinders
55 notes
·
View notes
Text
Midnights: Chapter 5
MASTERLIST â MIDNIGHTS MASTERLIST
Summary: John is dead and the Shelby familyâor whatever is left of itâhas to deal with the threat of the Italian mafia. Tommy contemplates the most recent events and how he will face this new enemy.
A/N: another chapter, another big jump! We switch to season 4 in this one but I promise there will be less and less time jumps between each chapters. I hope you will enjoy this and see you next Friday! đ
Warnings: mentions of death, angst
Word count: 1,135 words
Tommy remembered the day after John was born. His mum was exhausted, his father nowhere to be found and Polly, holding a small figure hidden in a quilt, came to him with a smile. She sat down and handed him his baby brother. Even as a little boy, Tommy understood how fragile he was. He understood that such a small creature needed protection and gentleness. And although Tommy wasnât much gentle with his brother, he swore to protect him whether in the dingy street of Small Heath or feet under the surface, in the tunnels.
Now, Tommy stood in their childhood home, with smoke clinging to his suit and an empty bedroom down the hallâ the only reminders that once, John was here. That he wasnât a product of Tommyâs tortured imagination. That once, there was another brother. A brother Tommy failed to protect.
He observed the empty street plunged in darkness. Loss was a strange thing. He had lost so many people you would think he got used to the feeling. But the pain never lessened. It accumulated. It grew and grew and Tommy could feel the heaviness hovering over his head. He tried to keep it away but as time passed, he felt like his body couldnât resist much anymore. The years of pain he had fought would soon explode and Tommy didnât know what would happen then. He didnât want to find out.
Tommy could still feel the quilt his mum had knitted for John. It was soft. A sharp contrast with the cold, metallic table of the morgue.
He had rushed to the hospital, a mere few hours after arriving at Small Heath and putting Charlie to bed. Esme called the hospital. Then she called Polly. Then Polly called him. Tommy didnât understand much from the conversation but he ran to the hospital. Michael was barely alive. He had been shot. Four times. His chest was bleeding and Polly was all over the place. But Michael was still breathing. Michael would be okay. John wouldnât.
He had died in front of his house. Tommy counted six gaping holes on his brotherâs scarlet chest. Arthur was crying. He couldnât even look, couldnât even speak. And Tommy wished he could cry too. But the tears stayed locked, burning his vision. A part of him knew that if he began crying, he would probably never stop. So he mumbled the words. In the bleak midwinter. The only promise he couldnât fail to fulfill.
Esme ran inside as soon as the words had been uttered. And all her rage, all her despair, Tommy felt it. He almost apologized to her as she cursed him.
He knew the power women had. But he wasnât mad, he wasnât even scared. He knew he deserved it. Whatever curse Esme was throwing at his face, he was already paying for it. The curse was his ambition. The curse was himself.
Not even a year before, he was in the parlor with Polly and John and Arthur. Grace was safely waiting for him at Arrow House and he was king of the world. And he threw all that away. All for some pride, for some apologies. All because he fucking could.
And everybody in his family didnât miss a chance to remind him. Especially Polly. Oh, how he hated her sometimes. But the worst part was that he hated her because she was right. They all paid the price for his actions. It didnât matter that Tommy would get them out of jailâof course, he wouldnât let them be executedâbut it meant nothing because while they were in the gallows, Tommy was in his house. While they stood on a platform, a noose around their neck, Tommy was playing with his son and taking care of his horses.
He rubbed his eyes, lighting up a cigarette. The funeral was this morning. Caravans, out in the open. Thatâs how John wanted to go. He tried to tell the familyâand remind himself that John had already died once. Tommy had lost him. Him and his comrades in the tunnels as they waited for the Prussian cavalry to finish them off. And for some time, he wondered why he ached. Why was he so sad when it had already happened? But then Tommy realized that in the tunnels, they were all supposed to die. Now, his brother was gone and he had to keep going without him. He was never prepared for that.
Tommy didnât want to admit it out loud but a part of him dreaded the end. When they would all go their separate ways. When he would have to go back to that gigantic mansion of his and enjoy loneliness as sole company.
John may be a cloud of smoke now but so was his relationship with Polly. And he knew that without Polly, he would crumble. It killed him to acknowledge it, even just to himself but it was the truth. She had always been the only one who somehow understood him. She understood his mind like no one else did. And although she challenged him, Tommy enjoyed that competition. He thrived on it.
Polly knew more about himself than he probably did. She wasnât afraid to use that against him, reminding him constantly that he wasnât invincible, he wasnât the stable and strong figure he tried to be. No, Tommy was lost. And terrified. He was so fucking scared. He had already lost a wife and a brother, he knew he couldnât lose anyone else. But there were killers lurking around every corner and no amount of money or power could shield them from deadly bullets. He could hire all the Aberama Golds the world had to offer, it still didnât assure an infallible protection.
Tommy glanced towards the bed, Charlieâs small figure hidden under the blankets. His son had no idea. He didnât remember John much, nor Esme or his cousins. Tommy wished he could explain to him that he had another uncle. An uncle who was an expert at making the plane and who always won hide-and-seek. But Charlie wouldnât understand because Tommy tore the family apart and let his son spend the past year alone, in a mansion too big for him.
Charlie still asked him where his mum was sometimes. Tommy tried to explain it to him. But truth was, she was gone. Just like John. One minute, he slept in the bedroom down the hall. The next, the house felt too empty because he wasnât there anymore. Just gone.
And now, Tommy had to carry that burden. His wife died, it was his fault. Now his brother was killed and it was his fault too. Tommy threw the cigarette in the ashtray, glancing at the sky above and his chest heaved.
His fault.
Taglist: @aaskoct @cillmequick @dandelionprints @edmundo-diaz @forgottenpeakywriter @huntingingoodwillâ @iwantmyredvelvetcupcakeâ @jokim @julkaamazingâ @lili12356 @look-at-the-soulâ @lyarr24â @midnightmagpiemamaâ @milkshakelol @notyour-valentineâ @rangerelikâ @salvatoremeanssavior @thesoldiersminuteâ @emotionalcadaver @zablifeâ @shelbydelreyâ @peakypollyÂ
#midnights#anna's fics#ma ptite bombasse đ„°#tommy <3#thomas shelby#tommy shelby#thomas shelby fic#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader#peaky blinder fanfic
59 notes
·
View notes
Text
the other day, my teacher in British civilization said âA man who can elicit so much love from his wife canât be all badâ and if this isnât tommy with wife!reader then I donât know what is
#btw that teacher is so cool#and i already know iâm going to miss him :(#thomas shelby x reader#ma ptite bombasse đ„°#tommy <3#peaky blinders
64 notes
·
View notes
Text
Midnights: Chapter 11
MASTERLIST â MIDNIGHTS MASTERLIST
Summary: Lizzie and Charlie are gone, leaving Tommy and his demons behind, locked in Arrow House.
Warnings: mentions of death, angst
Word count: 1,046 words
Threatening clouds darkened the evening sky, an eerie aura floating over the manorâs tall windows. Tommy stood in the middle of the bitter hall. Alone.
He hated that house. He was the one who bought it in the first place, yes but nothing couldâve prepared him for the endless torments of his own living hell.
It was for her that he had chosen the biggest manor England had to offer. A luxurious house. A dozen bedrooms, a library, a gigantic kitchen, gardens, greenhouses, stables. But all that was left of her was her painting in the staircase.
Tommy dragged his feet to his office, grabbed a glass, filled it with his precious golden liquid, drank it all. And poured himself another.
A cigarette to go with the sweet burn of the whiskey, Tommy slumped on his chair. It was the only place in that goddamned house he could still stand.
Everything else made him nauseous. The great manor turned into a pale phantom of its gilding glory. A gaping pit in the middle of the battlefield.
He could have settled for a simpler house. But she wanted more. She wanted space for the kids to play. A place for her sumptuous parties. Enough rooms to welcome all the extended family.
Now everything was empty. Bleak. Dead.
Lizzie hated the house as well. She hated the painting in the staircase. She hated her husband. She hated his wife whoâ although buried for yearsâ had never really disappeared.
She wanted to blow up the house. Thatâs what she had confessed a few days before.
Right before she left him, taking his son with her.
Tommy wasnât mad. No, he was even surprised she didnât leave earlier. She deserved better. Charlie deserved better. Ruby deserved better. They all deserved better. Better than his war. Better than his demons. Better than him.
He observed the room and somewhere, deep in the mud of his thoughts, he heard a clear laugh ringing. Ruby and Charlie, running through the corridors, their light voices echoing, bursting with joy and innocence.
The only noise left in the manor was silence.
That silence was deafening. That silence drove him mad. That silence crept up behind him, lurking in every corner, drowning his heart in an immense darkness.
Frances brought a small tray of food after some time. She knew Tommy didnât like being in the dining room. It was too big, too empty.
Every time he dared to sit there, it reminded him of old times, like dusty pictures found in the attic. Weddings and anniversaries. Chandeliers shimmering. Guests chattering. Music booming. Setting a foot there only tore the wound wide open. All he could think about was the sliver of peace he had once known. A few moments of calm in the middle of the tempestuous ocean. Now, the sound of people laughing joined the demons snickering in his mind in the dull, isolated dining room.
Tommy didnât even bother looking at his meal. Instead, he poured himself another glass of whiskey. The past four years of stone cold sobriety made him scoff. He used to drink too much and his family hated it and then, he wasnât drinking at all but they were still not happy.
Now, he had no family and plenty of whiskey.
He focused on the numbers and documents before him, trying to drown the noise in his head with waves of information.
The exhaustion threatened to defeat him but Tommy couldnât sleep.
He had work to do. Polly agreed to give him some time to put his business in order. His one last deal. One last deal and then he could rest.
Tommy grabbed the glass in front of him. He swallowed its content. The effect wasnât there anymore but it was the only way to keep the cold away.
No matter how many fires crackled in the hearth, no matter the time of the day or the season, Tommy was always cold.
Sometimes he thought he might have been dead already. Perhaps he was a lone ghost, wandering in the gloomy corridors of Arrow House.
Lizzie used to remind him how he was a mere shadow of the man she had known. A specter terrifying their children until the idea of being near him was unfathomable.
Tommy sighed, getting his cigarette holder out of his pocket. His gaze met the distorted reflection staring back at him in the dim light. His eyes, a piercing shade of cerulean. A frightening, fascinating color. People could never look him in the eyes. They said that in his gaze lied the devil.
All he saw was the fatigue. Hollow cheeks, a shallow complexion. A poor copy of the young man who fucking volunteered.
He walked in the hall, for only company the bottle in his hand and the creaking of the wooden floor. Tommy sat on the stairs, right beneath the giant painting.
She looked down on him, disdain and disappointment hovering over his head as he swallowed another sip.
The house had been for her because her dream was to have children running everywhere, to have joyous chatter all the time. Because there was a time where the manor was more than haunted walls. There was a time where the manor was a home. A place of hope. A place of laughter. A place of happiness.
There was a time where Tommy would enter a warm, softly lit hall and be welcomed by a kiss from his wife or hugs from his children.
Even after Grace, he tried to keep her memory alive, honoring her wishes. He had Charlie and Ruby and even Lizzie for a while.
He hung colorful drawings in his office, took Ruby horse riding and played with Charlie in the garden. The idea of going home, his kids running to greet him in the driveway made him smile. Dinners were a moment of lively discussions. Cousins came to play on Sundays. Movies in the big drawing room. His sonâs deep blue eyes reminding him of his mum. His daughter snuggling close to him after a nightmare. Her hair tickling his cheeks.
And all he had left was the golden liquid, turned dull in the dimly lit staircase. His only comfort in the cold and dead manor.
Alone.
Taglist: @aaskoct @cillmequick @dandelionprints @edmundo-diaz @forgottenpeakywriter @huntingingoodwillâ @iwantmyredvelvetcupcakeâ @jokim @julkaamazingâ @lili12356 @look-at-the-soulâ @lyarr24â @midnightmagpiemamaâ @milkshakelol @notyour-valentineâ @rangerelikâ @salvatoremeanssavior @thesoldiersminuteâ @emotionalcadaver @zablifeâ @shelbydelreyâ @peakypollyÂ
#peaky blinders#thomas shelby#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby#tommy <3#ma ptite bombasse đ„°#midnights#anna's fics
36 notes
·
View notes
Text
Midnights: Chapter 8
MASTERLIST â MIDNIGHTS MASTERLIST
Summary: After the failure of his plan and later, his suicide attempt, Tommy thinks he reached the bottom. But fate still has a few cards to play.
A/N: weâre getting closer and closer to the end of the show and I decided to use this chapter as a bridge between s5 and s6 (as this particular event is mentioned in both). But this will be the last chapter set in s5 and then, the story will cover what happened in s6! I hope you enjoy this and see you next week! đ
Warnings: mentions of death and tommyâs suicide attempt (+ the aftermath), dark thoughts and overall angst
Word count: 906 words (donât worry, next one will be much longer)
Night had draped the land of its velvet quilt as Tommy stared blankly at his hands, sitting in the lone office. Lizzie and the children had gone to bed hours ago, leaving Tommy alone to face his thoughts.
Lizzie had tried to get him to speak, to react in some other way than the dull and monotone speech he gave the family as he announced Pollyâs death. But Tommy had no strength left in him. No anger, no sadness. He was just tired.
But they wouldnât let him pass.
He had found himself deep in the mud again, praying for the agony to end. But even the release of death was too sweet for him. Tommy wasnât meant for peace, he was meant for destruction and despair.
Lizzieâs furious gaze, as she threw the unused bullets at him, was proof of that. Youâre a coward, Tommy. The words were filled with venom, spiteful and true. He was a coward. But giving up was all he had left.
Now Barney was dead because of him. Aberama was dead because of him. And PollyâŠ
Tommy bit the inside of his cheeks, tightly clasping his hands together. He couldnât start crying. He had to think about his next step. How he would avenge her. And for that, he needed to be clear-headed.
All he wanted was the ache to stop but he didnât have any way out. His last, desperate attempt miserably failed like the rest. Even killing himself wasnât an option anymore. He was at the bottom of the abysmal pit of despair. Like in the tunnels when they would dig too deep, they wouldnât see the light for weeks except for the petrol lamps they carried; the air was rare and their lungs filled with dirt and dust particles.
Thatâs how Tommy felt. Like he couldnât breathe. Like he was suffocating, in a dark confined room.
He still felt the barrel of the gun against his templeâcold and lethal, he could still hear Grace calling out to him but where darkness should have reigned, he found himself face in the mud. It wasnât until Lizzie arrived that he realized he was still alive and how fucking ridiculous he was. Because she knew he had pulled the trigger. She knew what his intention was. And it was a selfish, spineless move.
But a part of him felt the sting of her wordsâworth a million bullets to the head. Lizzie had a big heart, she was gentle and loving but there was no more love left for him. Only a pure, vindictive hatred. And Tommyâs failed attempt to take his life away only hurt more as he realized that now, he would have to face his wife, his children, knowing he wanted to disappear, to never see them again.
Tommyâs intention wasnât to get away from them. He hadnât even thought about not seeing them if he killed himself. It just felt like the last thing he could do, the thing he should have done a long time ago to stop the endless cycle of suffering. But he was still alive.
And the suffering was far from being over.
As he sat in his gloomy office, he wondered if the only reason he had failed to kill himself was to discover the bodies. To face the deadly consequences of his limitless actionsâ like some twisted joke from the universe.
The sight of Polly lying on the driveway was engraved on his eyelids, meant to haunt him for the rest of his miserable life. She was still wearing the blue dress he last saw her with, a maroon stain where the knife had struck her. Captain Swing had told him on the phone, explained her scheme in a vicious attempt to show her controlâ he had lost the game to her. Tommy didnât want to believe it as he rushed outside, Lizzieâs confused eyes following him. But, Captain Swing had won. She had managed to easily dismantle his infallible plan. And he didnât see anything coming.
Why? Why didnât he, Thomas Shelby, see anything coming? He was by far the most clever one in his family, he had built his entire empire from scratch. Why didnât he fucking see it coming?
His gaze fell on the bottle of whiskey and the half-empty glass. The golden hues seemed to answer his silent question. Whiskey and opium. The fuels meant to keep him functioning. The only things that could quiet down the voices in his head, make his mind clearerâŠOr so he thought.
They didnât make his mind clearer. They numbed him. Turned him into a phantom, plagued with visions and angry wraiths.
He didnât see the Captainâs attempts to steal his crown because he was far too deep into his own mind, between clouds of golden brown and rivers of moonshine.
Yes, that was the reason.
Tommy stared at the whiskey and the small vial of opium before hastily grabbing them and throwing everything in the hearth.
The flames, exposed to the poison, erupted and the air soon wafted pongs of ammonia. He would see clearly now. The haze blurring his mind would vanish and he would see everything. No one would ever be able to bring him down.
He would get revenge. Kill every single one of his enemies. No matter the time it would take him, no matter the blood he would have to spill.
Polly will be avenged.
Taglist: @aaskoct @cillmequick @dandelionprints @edmundo-diaz @forgottenpeakywriter @huntingingoodwillâ @iwantmyredvelvetcupcakeâ @jokim @julkaamazingâ @lili12356 @look-at-the-soulâ @lyarr24â @midnightmagpiemamaâ @milkshakelol @notyour-valentineâ @rangerelikâ @salvatoremeanssavior @thesoldiersminuteâ @emotionalcadaver @zablifeâ @shelbydelreyâ @peakypollyÂ
#midnights#anna's fics#ma ptite bombasse đ„°#tommy <3#thomas shelby#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby fic#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby#peaky blinder fanfic
45 notes
·
View notes
Text
Midnights: Chapter 7
MASTERLIST â MIDNIGHTS MASTERLIST
Summary: Tommyâs demons are haunting him with thoughts and ideas that could lead him to do an irrevocable act, standing on a bridge
A/N: and another depressing chapter for you all to enjoy! I got inspired by the episode 4 from season 5 (and by inspired I mean âwatched the same 10 minutes over and over until I had them engraved in my memory) and itâs the first chapter set in s5. From now on, there will be less and less time jumps but I wanted to address that particular scene because it seemed important. Anywayyy enjoy and see you next week!! <3
Warnings: mentions of suicide, dead people and ghosts
Word count: 1,192 words
It wasnât the blue stone, Tommy. It was you. It was you.
She stood in the corner of the room, appearing in the dimly lit office, the chain of necklace jingling as it moved. Grace always visited him at night, she waited for the clear sun to disappear to strike, hit him when he was the most vulnerable.
Her voice rang in the empty room. Tommy could feel her heartbeat slowing down as she clutched the sapphire close to her chest. There was blood dripping down her hands, staining the luxurious carpet. Grace was gasping, her breaths more and more shallow.
Tommy didnât look at her. If he ignored her, she would go away. Her apparitions became less and less comforting as time passed. At first, she helped him, made him feel the warmth he craved. Now, he felt haunted by her. She reminded him of his faults, stirred the knife of guilt into unhealed wounds.
It seemed like hours had passed when finally, the ominous presence vanished. Tommy slumped in his chair, the ache in his head intensifying. His clenched fists were sore, his nails digging his skin. He reached for the drawer next to his hand, his fingers grazing the cold barrel of the revolver. The feeling seemed to bring some clarity inside his mind, the blurry haze the wraith had diffused disappearing.
Tommy finally grabbed his cap, closed the door of his office and exited the House of Commons. He was suffocating in that study. He needed to think. Alone.
He took his car and drove through the streets of London, aimlessly. He didnât know where he was going, he didnât know anything anymore. The car stopped, Tommy didnât realize he had pushed the button. His hand opened the door, his feet stepped out. He was moving, he could feel himself moving but he didnât have any control anymore. It wasnât him who chose to walk on the bridge. His arm reached for a lamppost, his feet climbed on the edgeâthe sheltering barrier between the world of the living and the dead.
Tommy almost heaved, the sudden void under him making his stomach churn. His mum went that way. She stepped into the Canal, back in Small Heath. Uncle Charlie told him everything.
Tommy remembered the months before her death. She would mutter all day long, even if nobody was in the room. She said it was the spirits, they kept her company. His mother was a sad woman. She was sad because she had no choice. Nowhere to escape. Until Charlie told her to leave for some time. Thatâs when she came back with the white pony.
Tommy loved that horse because suddenly, his mum wasnât so sad anymore. She would smile at him and she didnât speak to the spirits as much. He thought it was over. The spirits and the seances, all that shit was over. His mum was home now, it would be okay.
A few weeks later, Charlie pulled her body out of the Cut.
Tommy used to be scared of her as a boy. Now he understood how she felt.
He was nowhere near the condition of his mother. His spouse didnât come home drunk every night to beat him, he wasnât poor or had too many mouths to feed. But he felt the same longing. A yearning for death, a yearning for the void, for a place where he wouldnât have to ache anymore.
His mum used the pills to get away, he had his precious vial of opium.
The situations were different but they were the same. He didnât even see it coming. He had spent so many years trying not to be his father that he ended up like his mum.
As he stood on the bridge, so close to the edge, he realized he could leave like she did. Relax his sore limbs and let go. Immerse himself in the cold, dark waters and allow it to get inside his lungs. He wouldnât fight it, wouldnât try to escape. He would just welcome the sweet burn forewarning of the eternal darkness. Death. Peace.
There was no point in fighting anymore. The family was falling apart, his children were terrified of him, Lizzie loathed the mere sight of himâshe wanted to get a divorce. It made him chuckle. A fucking divorce. He couldnât blame her. Hell, he was surprised he didnât wake up to an empty house and packed suitcases already. But her angerâalthough justifiedâmade him understand his presence became more and more of a burden. He was a liability, there was no point in apologizing. It wouldnât change much.
But Tommy could free them. He could allow his family to be happy. They would live off of the money he had made. Lizzie would find someoneâ a good man, and Charlie and Ruby would be raised properly. They would be loved. They would be happy. They wouldnât have to worry about him screaming anymore.
Tommy considered all of his cards, all of his options and deathâŠdeath seemed like the only solution. He glanced at the water under his feet. One move and it would all be over. Just let go, Tom. Let go.
But Tommy saw a boat, a boat on the river. It looked familiar at first, then he recognized it. The January. His dadâs boat. The boat he was born on.
Grace was there. She lay in a heap of coal, her eyes looking up towards the bridge. But she wasnât alone. No, he was there too. His own self seemed to call out for him. They stared at each other and Tommy understood. His reflection drove the boat away, following the dark waters, sinking into the night.
From the bridge, he observed the scene like the path he had to follow. It was the only way. Charlie told him his grandfather went the same way. He killed himself. He said that sometimes, these kind of things ran in families. Maybe they did, maybe Tommyâs fate was to jump from a bridge and die. Die the same way he felt, the same way he lived. Alone.
Who would find him?
For a moment, Tommy wondered. Would Lizzie be worried he didnât come home? Would he be found by some random man, early in the morning and get recognized as Mr. Shelby, MP? He tried to imagine his family, Polly, Arthur getting the phone call and rushing to the hospital. But they werenât crying. Nobody was sad. It didnât seem to change anything, except that now, the weight was lifted.
Once, Polly had told him he had to shake hands with the devil and walk away. But what happened when he couldnât walk away from it? What happened when the devil cornered him on a barge in ominous waters? All these years, Tommy thought he had walked away, that he was past that but it was an illusion, a vicious trick from his mind.
He couldnât walk away because there was nowhere to go. Tommy was still on the boat. He had never gotten off of it, he never will.
And only the January could take him away.
Taglist: @aaskoctâ @cillmequick @dandelionprints @edmundo-diaz @forgottenpeakywriter @huntingingoodwillâ @iwantmyredvelvetcupcakeâ @jokim @julkaamazingâ @lili12356 @look-at-the-soulâ @lyarr24â @midnightmagpiemamaâ @milkshakelol @notyour-valentineâ @rangerelikâ @salvatoremeanssavior @thesoldiersminuteâ @emotionalcadaver @zablifeâ @shelbydelreyâ @peakypollyÂ
#midnights#anna's fics#ma ptite bombasse đ„°#tommy <3#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby#tommy shelby#peaky blinder fanfic#peaky blinders
39 notes
·
View notes
Text
Midnights: Chapter 6
ïżŒMASTERLIST â MIDNIGHTS MASTERLIST
Summary: The Shelbys decided it was finally time for Tommy to take a vacation, to âput his feet upâ but maybe a vacation was the last thing he needed...
A/N: hello!! so hereâs chapter 6, itâs only getting sadder and sadder, I'm sorry but Tommy isnât a very happy character...Anyway I really hope you like this series so far. Iâm very thankful for the feedback I received but not a lot of people seemed to have read it? I donât know but yeah, I was just wondering if you enjoyed the story or not. Iâll stop rambling now and let you read the new chapter! <3
Warnings: mentions of death, alcohol, depression; just very angsty and sad stuff in general
Word count: 1,412 words
Rich men spent their free time golfing and fishing. They said it was relaxing, got their minds off of work. But all Tommy could think about was the war and the mud and he never felt as anguished as he did on that golf course. The same dread, the same nausea, always lurking behind him when he was there. While men played, he sat, staring blankly at his hands, the sound of bombs and scared horses echoing in the back of his head.
He lost track of the times he jumped to the ground, hand over his head, protecting himself from imaginary bombs. The slightest noise frightened him, like a little boy who was scared of thunder. Itâs just the music hall band turning up. Â
âWarâs over. No one wants to kill us. To peaceâ, thatâs what Arthur said. But Tommy didnât believe him then. He couldnât believe him now. He didnât feel any peace. The storm inside him was raging, stronger and fiercer than ever. Like the mention of a vacation had only made it angrier.
It kept him awake at night, torturing him with memories and images of Grace, of John, of France. He couldnât sleep. The opium didnât work as well as it used to. Instead, he drank. Every time the voices came to bother him, he served himself one drink, then another and another until the burn in his throat scalded the demons in his head. The gin was too sweet, May was right. It didnât keep him from drinking.
There was no limit between the day and the night, only an endless cycle of agony. He was back on the front but this time, there would be no armistice, no peace to dig him out of the mud.
Tommy was afraid heâd start hearing the shovels again. Even in the majestic fortress that was Arrow House, even with all the richness in the world, they could still come and get him. So he stayed awake. He stayed awake and he drank whole bottles, hoping salvation would be at the bottom. Distilled for the eradication of seemingly incurable sadness, thatâs what the bottle said. What his dad always told him.
But the gin didnât work because Tommy wasnât sad. He was worn out, he was exhausted, his head and his back and every fucking muscle in his body hurt. But he wasnât sad.
He poured himself another clear glass. It looked like water. The only water that could make the bombs and the pain and all the mud go away. Tommy drank until he couldnât see straight and managed to drag himself up the stairs. The maids stayed out of his way, they were all in bed. Everyone in the house knew not to lurk around too long, to not jump at the sudden noises that echoed through the halls, to not pay attention.
He stumbled in the master bedroom, swearing as he tried to take off his vest. There was no light, only the moon filtering through the long curtains. Grace chose them. Just like she chose the paint on the walls and everything else in that house. Even the fucking knobs on the door reminded him of her.
The other day, Polly told him he was having a girl. Lizzie wanted to see him. She kept calling, sending letters. But he didnât want to get near her. That baby had to stay as far from him as possible, for her own good. Charlie was already suffering enough, he didnât have a choice. Tommy was all he had. That baby could stay with her mum. She would be okay as long as he wasnât there.
He remembered the curse Esme laid on him, back in the morgue. Only women could lay curses, whoever encountered their wrath was doomed. Tommy wouldnât risk it with his unborn child. That babyâŠthat baby had to stay away. Lizzie would raise her, he would send money and make sure they had what they needed. No good could come out of him. Everywhere he went, death seemed to follow. Lizzie already had a hard life. He would only wreck whatever good she managed to have.
Tommy fell on the green ottoman, bottle still in his hand. He was so cold. Cold from inside, like his bones were made out of ice. He took a sip of gin but the burn wasnât there anymore. God, he was tired. His eyes felt heavy, he should close them for a moment. Have a rest. No, no, he couldnât sleep.
Tommy sat up, gasping. He couldnât fall asleep, he didnât want to hear the shovels. No, he needed a cigarette. He rummaged through his pockets but the fucking lighter wasnât there. Tommy got up abruptly, it was there somewhere, he knew it. Yes, the vest, in his vest it was.
He sat on the edge of the bed, inhaling the sweet tobacco. Another sip of gin. His head was throbbing, he stared at his hands like heâd never seen them before. He was miserable. What would Grace even say?
She died to protect him. She saved his fucking pathetic life for him to be a drunkard. She sacrificed herself and for what? But Tommy didnât have an answer. She died for nothing. She died for ambition and futility. Just like John. They died because of him. Because of nothing. How could he still be walking and breathing when they werenât?
Just take me, now. Take me and bring them back.
âYou can do that, eh?â he exclaimed, staring at the moon. But the moon observed him quietly, her disdain spreading in the room. Tommy walked up closer to the window, the precious gin always close to him.
âYou can take me and bring them back. Theyâre worth it and âm not. âm not, you hear me?â
The moon kept silent, Tommy opted for the gin. The gin had the answer. The gin knew what he didnât.
He clutched the bottle, turning around to show the moon. Show her that he had his gin and he didnât need her. But Tommy lost his balance, drunk and dizzy. A loud clatter resonated through the room as he desperately tried to steady himself.
The bottle broke, gin spilling all over the floor, all over him. He saw the blood on his forearms, noticing the shards of glass and among them, quartz and gold. Fuck.
Tommy scurried to pick up the lipstick holder. No, no, please donât be broken. He tried to open it but the music came out broken and sad. The little ballerina was dying, she couldnât twirl anymore. Tommy killed her.
âFuck!â he screamed, hitting the varnished floor. Glass pierced his skin but he didnât care. It was Graceâs favorite. She adored that lipstick holder. She adored the light melody. And Tommy broke it.
He wanted to scream, to destroy the rest of the bedroom because nothing else mattered. Nothing meant anything to him. But he heard the door open.
Charlieâs curious head slipped inside, observing the scene. Tommy instinctively hid his bloody arms from his son, and called out his name.
He felt like his fatherâ drunk and yelling, scaring him and his siblings in the middle of the night. He had sworn he would never become like him, that he would be better. And there he was, drunk and yelling, Charlie witnessing the miserable state he put himself in.
Like father, like son.
A maid quickly rushed to tear the boy away from the troubling sight, closing the door behind her. Tommy tried to get up from the floor, go to his son and apologize. Tell him he was sorry for being such a mess, for not being what he needs. But he was too drunk, too weak. He managed to grab the edge of the vanity behind him, his arms burning.
Tommy realized how pathetic he had become. Long gone, the ambitious man who wanted to reach the top. All that was left were broken pieces, unmended, scattered all around, threatening to cut anyone who got too close.
Tommy hugged his arms, the pain suddenly too much to bear. His tears mixed with the gin on his face and it took him every bit of strength left to not fall in the shards of glass.
Everything ached. A wave of despair washed over him and the tide threatened to knock him down. There was no rest, there was no peace.
Not for him, at least.
Taglist: @aaskoct @cillmequick @dandelionprints @edmundo-diaz @forgottenpeakywriter @huntingingoodwillâ @iwantmyredvelvetcupcakeâ @jokim @julkaamazingâ @lili12356 @look-at-the-soulâ @lyarr24â @midnightmagpiemamaâ @milkshakelol @notyour-valentineâ @rangerelikâ @salvatoremeanssavior @thesoldiersminuteâ @emotionalcadaver @zablifeâ @shelbydelreyâ @peakypollyÂ
#midnights#anna's fics#ma ptite bombasse đ„°#tommy <3#thomas shelby#tommy shelby#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader#peaky blinder fanfic#peaky blinders
53 notes
·
View notes
Text
Midnights: Chapter 12
MASTERLIST â MIDNIGHTS MASTERLIST
Summary: Tommy decided to retreat into the hills and wait for death to finally come and release him
Warnings: mentions of death, dead people, blood, suicide, angst
Word count: 933 words
The wind blew, making the leaves chant in the starless night. Tommy could feel the breeze tickling his skin but he wasnât cold. The amount of alcohol rushing through his veins and the small fire in front of him was enough to stay warm.
He sat on the grass, observing the flames dancing, somehow amazed by the show in front of him. It was beautiful. Like glowing snakes circling before his eyes. They were taunting him, compelling him to reach out, let his fingers graze their fiery figures.
âYouâll burn yourself if you do that, love.â
Tommy looked behind the fire, squinting his eyes to see the woman standing before him. That voiceâŠHe knew her.
She approached and his heart sank in his chest.
âMum?â
It had been so long since he had seen her. And even after all these dreadful years, she still looked the same. Long, dark hair against her soft porcelain skin and those eyesâŠjust as deep as his, just as enchanting.
Suddenly, Tommy felt like a little boy again. His mum sat next to him and observed the fire. They used to spend hours like this, just the two of them, quietly enjoying each other. When was the last time he sat with her? Why did it ever stop?
He turned to her, about to ask her but all that left his mouth was a gasp. She was drenched, her dress clinging to her body. The soft, dark locks turned into leeches, hiding the translucent skin underneath. Bruises coloring her cheeks, her arms, the piercing eyes faded into a lifeless blue. âYou didnât help me, Thomas.â
He could only stare in horror, his chest heaving. She had jumped in the Canal and nobody was there to save her. He shouldâve known, he shouldâve seen that his mother needed him. All the spirits and the seances and the moments of eerie silence where it felt like she was oneâŠTommy knew.
And he did nothing.
âWhy didnât you help us, Thomas?â
He turned around.
Polly.
She wore the same blue dress, the same jewelry as he saw her last. The same gaping wound on her chest.
âI-Iâm sorry,â is all he could answer. He repeated his apology. Over and over. Like it mattered. Like it would bring them back.
Small coughs echoed through the vast valley and Tommy searched for the sound. The horrifying wraiths vanished, replaced by an even more frightening sight.
âRuby!â
He scrambled towards the lump on the floor, reaching out for his daughterâs hand. She coughed again, blood splattering all over his clothes. No.
âYou didnât kiss me goodbye, daddy,â she whimpered, her brow covered in cold sweats . âYou killed me.â
âNo, no, Ruby, my darling. Stay with me. Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry,â his voice broke as he tried to touch her, to bring her close. He couldn't fail. He couldn't lose her again.
âOh but you already failed. You killed me too, Tom, remember?â
Grace stood over Rubyâs body, dirt covering the once delicate features of her face. She caressed his daughterâs hair, staring at her husband. Her eyes taunted him as her hands clasped the small shoulder. âYou said youâd protect me. You promised.â
The powdered pink dress turned a crimson red, Tommy extended his hands, trying to soak the blood. âAnd then you let me die.â
âI didnât meanââ but the dark stain dripped over his hands, like all the blood he had shed so carelessly. The blue sapphire over his head shone accusingly. It laughed at him, pridefully reflecting the fireâs light. You killed them all.
On his knees, Tommy searched for his gun. He would end it. End it all. No more pain, no more agony. He would go back and spend the rest of his eternity burning for his sins.
âWhy are you trying to escape? Why are you always running away, Tommy?â Greta sat near the fire, his gun in her hand. âYou promised you would never leave me.â
Dark circles, hollow cheeks and blood tainting her lips. She stared at him, her gaze once full of adoration now void. âYou canât escape now.â
She checked the chamber, lifting the gun. Tommy closed his eyes, his lips trembling as he waited for the final bang.
His heart stopped as the loud noise resonated through the valley but he didnât feel anything. Tommy opened his eyes, searching for blood. Nothing.
All he saw was John, falling on his knees, clutching his chest. His brother stared at him in disbelief, tears welling up in his clear eyes.
The gun. The gun was in his hand. He had fired the shot.
âNoâŠno, John. No. I didnât-â
Tommy joined his brother, his fingers shaking as he tried to touch the wound. He had to soak up the wound before he lost too much blood. He had to put pressure on it. He had toâŠ
âW-why did you do it, Tom?â
âNo, I didnât mean to, Iââ
Johnâs body had already vanished, only leaving the overwhelming guilt for Tommy to drown in. His lips wavered, his fist hitting the ground as if to make amends. The crisp air seemed to laugh at his miserable state.
âIt was too late,â it seemed to snicker. âYou killed them all, you failed.â
In the eerie night, Tommy sat near the fire. The flames called for him. The cold breeze hurt his lungs, only the warm hearth would make the pain stop. There was no rest for him, no absolution.
As he stared at the amber snakes, Tommy knew.
There was only one thing left for him to do.
Taglist: @aaskoct @cillmequick @dandelionprints @edmundo-diaz @forgottenpeakywriter @huntingingoodwill @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @jokim @julkaamazing @lili12356 @look-at-the-soul @lyarr24 @midnightmagpiemama @milkshakelol @notyour-valentine @rangerelikâ @salvatoremeanssavior @thesoldiersminute @emotionalcadaver @zablife @shelbydelrey @peakypollyÂ
#midnights#anna's fics#thomas shelby#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby#ma ptite bombasse đ„°#tommy <3#peaky blinders#peaky blinder fanfic
25 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
kathniellooover
Kathryn Bernardo
notshirodemon
Shiro Sketchbook
biobeautybreastcream
Bio Beauty Breast Cream in Pakistan Firming & Enlargement Offici
ceogreys
Untitled
nonstoplover
nonstoplover