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runnning-outof-time · 8 months

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The Brother That Always Wins | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by @kpopgirlbtssvt

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader, with hints of John Shelby and Arthur Shelby trying their hand at flirting with the reader

Summary: (Y/N) is oblivious to the fact that three of the most powerful men in Birmingham are interested in her. When it's all said and done though, the brother that always wins, wins.

Warnings: language, drinking, terribly written flirting

Word Count: 4350

A/N: this story turned into an absolute ride, one that I enjoyed much more than I thought I would. It’s a bit of controlled chaos…I hope you’re ready for it. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message Me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

"The fuck are you grinnin' for?" John Shelby asked as soon as his brother, Arthur entered the snug. He couldn't help himself, his older sibling's grin was able to be seen from a mile away.

"I just helped the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen in me life," Arthur proudly answered, his chest jutting out slightly as he spoke.

"Helped in what way, eh?" Tommy questioned, his one eyebrow raised. He'd been reading the newspaper and keeping to himself, only half-listening as John talked away about whatever, but he couldn't deny that he was interested in what Arthur had to say.

"I bet you he just stood there and gawked at her!" John chimed in before Arthur could respond, a smug grin on his face.

"I did not!" Arthur snapped back at his younger sibling, sending a glare his way, "I had a bloody conversation with her and all!"

"What happened?" Tommy asked another question, slowly losing his patience as he waited.

"So she was walkin' with a box, right? A big ass box...one that's too big for a lady like her to be carryin’. But she was walkin' with it. And so I was watchin' her from across the road, because she was goin' the same way I was. We must've walked for some time, how long I don't remember. Anyways, she gets to this one stretch and she trips...loses her fuckin' balance or something. All of the things in the box go flyin'. So I did what any man does and ran 'cross the street to help her. We put all the shit back into the box and then when she looked up at me, I thought I was gonna die on the spot. She was so fuckin' beautiful, lads. Shy, and sweet, and just fuckin'...gorgeous. I swear to you that if she would've..."

"Get on with the story, Arthur," Tommy interjected into Arthur's tangent, making him snap out of the attraction-riddled daze that he was quickly slipping into.

"Yeah, right," Arthur nodded, shaking his head slightly as he tried to recall where he was. "She was actin' so shy and thankin' me for helpin' her clean the stuff up that I couldn't but just be, fuckin'..."

"Arthur," Tommy said in a warning tone.

"I'm gettin' on with it," he brushed his brother off before continuing, "I couldn't help but not want to leave her. So I asked her where she was goin' and she said to the school. That was out of my way, but I didn't fuckin' care. I carried her things to the school she went on with thankin' me again. She was so fuckin' gorgeous and...shit, boys, I think I might be in love," he finished up his story, continuing on with it despite the scoffs or stiffled laughter coming from his brothers.

"You said she was going to the school?" John asked a question once it was clear that Arthur was finished with his story.

"Yeah...she's a fuckin' teacher, mate. Even better," Arthur grinned.

"Did you get her name?" John asked another question.

"Course I did!" Arthur responded like it was obvious.

Silence fell in the snug then, the three men looking between each other. John waited on bated breath for a few moments before it became obvious that Arthur wasn't going to say it without being prompted. "What was it?"

"(Y/N), I think it was," Arthur recalled, his answer making John choke out a weird sound, one that seemed to be a mixture of a scoff and a laugh. "What?"

"She's Katie's fuckin' teacher, mate!" John exclaimed, his declaration making Arthur's eyes widen. "She is fuckin' gorgeous, I'll tell you that," he then agreed with Arthur, a wide grin now plastered across his face.

John and Arthur then went about talking about her after Arthur prompted his younger sibling to tell him all that he knew about her. Tommy sat in his chair, half reading the paper and half listening to their conversation. He couldn't deny that he was intrigued by his brothers' stories, and everything they said about her made him want to go and meet her for himself even more.

"Can I help you?" (Y/N) (Y/L/N) asked the man that she swore appeared in her doorway out of nowhere. He was dressed in an expensive looking three-piece suit with an equally as expensive looking overcoat over top of it, as well as a peaked cap atop his head.

"I'm looking for (Y/N)," the man answered.

"You found her," (Y/N) smiled, setting her book down on the desk to give the man her full attention. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"I was directed to you by the front office. They said you're in charge of the donations?"

"That depends...if you're looking to donate to the building, you'll need to speak with our headmaster, but if you're looking to donate directly to the children, you can speak to me," she explained with a smile. She was proud to have been named the head of the board that made sure the children in the school had the tools they needed in order to thrive in the learning environment.

"I'm looking to donate to the children."

"Then you're in the right place," she chirped, "you can come over here and we'll get into the details of it," she said then, waving him over to her desk.

He finally entered the room, and as he walked over, (Y/N) felt the commanding aura that swirled around him. It wasn't one that made her scared, but rather one that filled her with intrigue.

"Can I have the name for the donation?" she asked once she had a piece of paper and a pencil ready.

"It's Thomas Shelby," he answered her, watching as realization sparked in her eyes. He couldn't help but think that Arthur was absolutely right - for once in his life...she was absolutely gorgeous.

"Shelby? I have a student whose last name is Shelby."

"Katie?" Tommy questioned, even though he already knew who she was talking about.

"Yes!" (Y/N) happily answered, "Katie's such a lovely girl. Who is she to you?" she couldn't help but ask.

"She's my niece," he shared, his words making her nod in understanding.

"What sort of donation would you like to make, Mr. Shelby?" she asked then, the pencil ready in her hand.

"I'd like to make it so that all of the children in the year you teach have whatever they need to excel in their classes," he answered, speaking in a nonchalant tone.

"Oh...my goodness," she gasped, stopping what she was writing as the weight of his statement finally clicked in her mind.

"Is there a problem?"

"No, it's just that..." she trailed off, unable to put her thoughts properly into words, "no one has made such a generous donation before."

"I like to make sure that others benefit from the wealth I've gained," he told her in an assured tone. Well that was one of the reasons why he'd made such a donation.

"I...uh, goodness, I don't even know where to start," she confessed, still genuinely baffled by his generosity. "Usually I'd go through with the person donating and we'd make a list of where the funds can be allocated, but with your overwhelming donation, I'm not sure I know what to do first," she added, a sheepish smile present on her face when she looked up at him again.

"It's nothing you'd need to have done in a hurry," he told her, showing that he wasn't upset by her unsuredness.

"I'd hate to waste your time now and make you wait..." she trailed off, biting on the end of the pencil as she tried to think of some ways his funds could be used.

Spending time with you would not be time wasted, Tommy thought to himself just as an idea came to mind: "what if we go for dinner at the end of the week? You can have time to think of ideas and you'll share them with me then," he proposed, his eyebrows raising slightly as he awaited her response.

(Y/N) took a moment to think about his proposition. It'd certainly be a good idea for her to have more time to think about it, and she couldn't say that she'd be opposed to having dinner with this man. "Dinner sounds nice," she gave her answer after a few moments had passed, "I'll come prepared with good ideas," she assured him with a smile.

"I'm sure whatever ideas you'll bring will interest me," Tommy told her, nodding once before he took a step back towards the door.

"Thank you, Mr. Shelby. It's a great pleasure to have you working with us," (Y/N) smiled, still truly overwhelmed by his generosity.

"The pleasure's mine, (Y/N)," he couldn't help but let a smile break onto his lips as he looked over her one last time. They said their goodbyes then, and Tommy exited the school. He was genuinely pleased with the fact that she'd agreed to have dinner with him. It was certainly a step in the right direction with her.

John Shelby entered the school that his children attended two days after his brother did. He was unsuccessful in finding someone who could help direct him to the room he wanted to visit, but thankfully found the woman he was looking for as she walked towards the main doors from down a hallway.

"Miss (Y/L/N)!" he called to her, hoping to get her attention.

To his luck, she heard him. "Can I help you?" she asked with a smile, one that made John feel like he was going to go weak at the knees.

"Yes. You're my daughter's teacher. Her name's Katie Shelby. I wanted to ask how she's been doing in class," he told her the reason behind him being there. Truthfully he couldn't care less about Katie's performance. School wasn't something he was ever interested in, but if it meant he'd be able to talk to an utterly gorgeous woman, he'd give the performance of the century.

"Oh Katie!" (Y/N) answered, her smile growing wider as she recalled one of her students, "she's amazing...such a pleasure to have in class. She's always working hard and staying on top of her assignments," she then gave him a run down on his daughter's performance.

John nodded as she spoke. He had no shame in the fact that he was only half listening to her answer; being too preoccupied with drinking in her appearance. Silence fell between them then as that topic of conversation passed quickly. John didn't want her to leave just yet, so he scrambled for another talking point. "I heard that you met my brother, Arthur, the other day," he said then. It wasn't his best choice of topic, but he hoped it would keep her around. His hopes fell when a look of confusion formed on her pretty face. Shit, John...save yourself here! "He, uh...he told me that he helped you with one of your boxes...?" he ended his statement like it was a question, hoping that she'd show some sort of recollection.

Realization did appear on her face, but the sentence that accompanied it was one that left John confused: "oh...it seems I've met two of your brothers," she informed him, effectively making him wear the same expression she had moments ago. She took the time to explain then: "Thomas came in a few days ago to arrange a generous donation to aid the children who come here."

Fucks sake. John couldn't help but sigh internally. Tommy had already sunk his paws into the territory John thought he'd have a leg up in. "Oh he did?" he decided to play it cool, hoping that his aggravation didn't bubble up to the surface.

"He did. The other teachers and I are all so thankful for the contribution," (Y/N) answered, her smile telling John that he was doing well at masking how he was really feeling.

"Well I'm happy to hear that," John stated, running a hand over his face as he tried to think of a way to divert the conversation away from Tommy. "I can't say enough how happy I am that my daughter has a wonderful, smart, caring teacher like yourself," he said then, deciding to go the compliment route. There were many other things he wanted to include while referring to her, but he didn't want to overdo it.

"Awe thank you, Mr. Shelby. As I've said before, Katie is such a pleasure to have in class," (Y/N) accepted the compliment with grace, a bashful smile forming on her face.

Silence fell around them for a few beats before John spoke again: "you're probably wantin' to get home, so I should probably go," he stated, nodding his head back towards the main doors of the school.

"Oh yes, it's certainly been a long day," she answered with a nod.

"I'll see you around sometime then," John began to say his goodbyes.

"You certainly will," (Y/N) sent him one last smile before John turned and exited the school.

John was thankful to see the majority of his family sitting around the main table of the betting shop when he entered it that evening.

"Where've you been, John Boy?" Arthur asked, everyone's eyes following John as he made his way to an open chair.

"I just left the school," John answered, his face straight as he spoke.

"The school?" Arthur questioned.

"Something happen with one of the children?" Polly asked, her brows furrowed.

"No, everything's fine with them," John quelled her concern.

"Why were you at the school then?" Polly asked another question.

"Ah I know...you were tryin' to see the hot teacher, huh?" Arthur chimed in before John could answer, a grin now present on his face.

John shot a glare in his brother's direction, slightly annoyed by the fact that he was a little too anxious to know. But with all of the eyes in the room on him, he figured he may as well give up. "Yeah, I went to see her."

"Did ya talk to her?" Arthur eagerly asked.

John didn't miss Polly's eyeroll before he answered his brother: "yeah, I did...and I was told that Tommy already went and talked to her." He couldn't help but glance at Tommy from the corner of his eye, seeing if his statement roused any type of reaction from him.

"Why would you have gone to talk to the childrens' teacher, Thomas?" Polly was the one to ask, her eyes now zeroed in on him.

"She told me that he wanted to make a donation to the school," John offered more information, a sour tone still present in his voice.

"Tommy," Polly sighed, bringing her hand up to her forehead.

"We've arranged to have dinner one of these upcoming evenings to discuss it further," Tommy nonchalantly shared more details of his meeting with (Y/N).

"Bloody hell, Tommy," Arthur grumbled, a frown on his face as he shook his head. He'd have no chance in hell with her now.

"Why was this not brought up in a family meeting?" Polly asked a sensible question, seemingly unaware of the brothers' reason behind their responses.

"Because I have decided that we need to start putting back into the city," Tommy answered, an authoritative tone laced into his voice.

"And you thought that the school would be the most logical place to start?" she quirked an eyebrow.

"Why not?"

"You're putting yourself into places you shouldn't be...if this blows up in your face, I won't be here for it," Polly spoke in a firm tone, showing her distaste for his decision.

Tommy held his gaze on her, an uninterested look present in his eyes. He didn't quite care what his aunt had to say about this, he was going to continue on how he saw fit.

Polly held his gaze, waiting for him to say something. When he didn't, she rolled her eyes and let out a scoff before turning and stalking over to the door. She stopped before she could grab the handle, abruptly turning to look at the three men sitting at the table. "If any of you make her cry or so much as hurt a single strand of hair on her head..." she paused, pursing her lips as she shook her head slightly, "you will have hell to pay." Her voice was flat, but her tone was serious, and she let no one respond before she opened the door and exited the betting shop.

"Ms. Gray, it's so nice to see you again," (Y/N) said with a smile as she found the older woman standing in the doorway of her classroom. "Is everything ok with Katie? We missed her in class today."

"Katie's fine," Polly quelled the teacher's worry, "she was feeling ill so she stayed home."

"Oh, ok. I hope she gets better soon," (Y/N) offered her regards with a smile, one that Polly reciprocated. "Is there something that you need?"

"Yes," Polly didn't beat around the bush, "my nephew, Tommy, came to speak with you the other day..." she began, trailing off in hopes that (Y/N) would continue.

"Yes, he did!" she took the bait without question, "he made a very generous donation, and then suggested we have dinner to work the smaller points of it out."

"And how did that go?" Polly asked with raised eyebrows.

"Very well," (Y/N) smiled in response, "the children are already benefiting from the money he's given. It was very kind of him to do this."

Nothing Tommy Shelby has done was done just for the sake of 'being kind', Polly thought to herself as she mentally scoffed at the younger woman's statement. "I'm happy to hear that the children are benefitting from it," Polly said in response, keeping her thoughts on her nephew's intentions to herself.

(Y/N) smiled in response, completely overjoyed by the kindness of the Shelby family that she was oblivious to even the mere thought of Tommy having other intentions behind his decision to donate. Nothing else was said then as the women exchanged parting words.

(Y/N) smoothed out her dress as she reached the doors of the establishment. She hoped that the outfit she chose didn't make her over, or under, dressed for the occasion. With a deep breath, she grabbed the handle and opened the door, the sounds of chatter and music smacking her in the face. She entered the pub with a smile, hoping to quickly find a familiar face.

Of course one of the Shelbys quickly found her at the door. It was their re-opening party after all, and a beautiful woman like (Y/N) was most certainly not going to go unnoticed.

"Oi, you came!" Arthur was the first of the brothers to spot her, and a big grin was plastered across his face as he moved over to greet her.

"Yes! This place looks lovely!" she answered, smiling as she looked around the room.

"We made sure to get the best of the best," he boasted, his grin still present. "And speakin' of the best...can I offer one of the best women I've seen a drink?" he smoothly transitioned, his one eyebrow raised as he looked at her.

"I'd love one, thank you," she answered, smiling at his kindness.

"Come on then," he stated, offering her his arm so that he could lead her to the bar.

She accepted it, walking over to an open seat so that he could go around the bar and get her a drink. She thanked him again when he set it down in front of her, and just as he leaned up against the bar, ready to chat with her, Isiah came to him with a matter of business. He left her with a slight frown and an 'excuse me, love,' before going off with the younger man. (Y/N) sat by herself, sipping her drink and enjoying the revelry around her. She wasn't alone for long though.

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)...I didn't think I'd see you here," shock was present in John Shelby's voice as he came up beside her.

"I decided to stop in and see what all of the talk was about," she smiled at him.

"Well we're certainly happy to have you here," he grinned at her, trying so hard not to give her a once over. "Say why don't you come and share a dance with me?" he suggested.

"Oh, I couldn't," she turned down his offer, her shyness creeping in.

"Come on...a quick dance wouldn't hurt," he didn't quite give up hope.

"I'm rather terrible at dancing."

"You've not seen me dance then."

(Y/N) bit her lip to conceal her giggles, surprised with how forward he was.

"Come on..." John coaxed her, hand outstretched in her direction. She was hesitant, but accepted it, allowing him to lead her to the floor. "Just follow my lead and you'll be fine," he said, assuming the position before he began to lead her in a similar dance to what the other partygoers were doing.

(Y/N) couldn't help but smile as she danced around the floor with John. She certainly was having fun, not really thinking about what she looked like or what others thought. John couldn't believe that he was dancing with one of the most beautiful women in the room.

They danced for about two songs before (Y/N) excused herself, wanting to go have a seat. John allowed her to go, deciding that he'd go into the snug and check on Finn - who he knew was sneaking stronger drinks than what his brothers originally told him he could have.

(Y/N) found a newly opened seat at the bar as soon as she came to it. She was bummed that her drink had been lost, but she didn't need to worry about that for too long.

"You made it," Tommy Shelby's voice came from her left, making her turn slightly to see him approaching her from behind the bar.

"I did, thanks for inviting me," (Y/N) smiled at him, "this party's amazing!" she commented, glancing around the room.

"It is," Tommy agreed once she focused on him again, "can I get you something to drink?"

"Please," she smiled kindly at the offer, watching as he went about grabbing a bottle from the shelf. "I wanted to also thank you, again, for the dinner and the donation. The children have already gotten some of the supplies that we've received, and they're loving them," she shared some information once he came back with a glass for her.

"That's good news," he nodded, taking a drink from his glass then. "You know I was thinking maybe...maybe you and I could have dinner again, without the need to talk about the donations this time," he proposed, watching her intently as he waited for a response.

(Y/N) couldn't stop her eyes from lighting up at his suggestion. She had a lovely time with him at their first dinner. "I'd like that," she answered with a smile.

"Figured we could get to know each other better."

"That would be lovely," she agreed, giggling slightly at the fact that he was practically reading her mind.

The two then went about planning the dinner, agreeing on a time and place. (Y/N) couldn't help but feel giddy when he suggested a restaurant that was far more classy than the first place they'd met. If she wasn't excited before...she certainly was now.

As they spoke more, Polly Gray kept a close eye on them from across the room. She'd been watching the brothers all evening as they tried their hand at her. It became clear to her, though, that Tommy had ended out on top as she watched them converse at the bar. She could easily tell from how (Y/N) was invested in their conversation, giggling and leaning closer to him when he'd speak, that what he was doing was being received well. John and Arthur wouldn't have much of a chance now.

-One Year Later-

Slowly, Tommy lifted the veil up to reveal (Y/N)'s smiling face. He draped it over her head and let his eyes dance across her features, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he felt the joy radiating from her.

"We are gathered here today to witness the marriage of (Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N) and Thomas Michael Shelby," the officiant began, commanding the attention of everyone in the church.

Ever since the evening of the party at the Garrison, (Y/N) and Tommy found themselves wrapped up in a whirlwind of a romance. Tommy proposed after five months of them being together, knowing that he wasn't going to find another woman like her. They spent five months being engaged and doing a great amount of traveling - it was the summer holiday for (Y/N), so she was able to follow Tommy wherever he went. Now they were standing at the altar in front of a great number of guests who were anxiously waiting to see them pronounce their love for each other.

Well...two of the guests were exactly anxious. John and Arthur sat on Tommy's side of the church, watching as the ceremony commenced. Both were happy for their brother, but they'd be lying if they said that they weren't bummed that it wasn't them up with (Y/N).

Everyone stood up and celebrated as the officiant pronounced Tommy and (Y/N) 'man and wife', and they shared their first kiss as a married couple.

"As always..." John started, elbowing Arthur in the ribcage as they both clapped for their brother, "Tommy gets the girl, and we've gotta sit back and watch."

Arthur couldn't help but snort as he heard what John had to say. "You're right, John boy," he agreed, shaking his head but nonetheless continuing clapping.

No matter what happened, or how hard John and Arthur tried to get ahead, Tommy would forever be the brother that always wins.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders oneshot #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

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ninja-potato-shelby-solomons · 1 year

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#tom hardy #alfie solomons #tommy shelby #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #tommy x alfie #tofie #sholomons #tommy/alfie #tommyalfie #tommy shelby x alfie solomons #alfie solomons x tommy shelby #venom x eddie #veddie #symbrock fanfiction #symbrock #eddie x venom

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kadwrites · 9 months

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A man with a reputation; masterlist

- thomas shelby + arranged marriage!trope

1. a man with a reputation

; you cannot talk your way out of this, for the first time of your life , you're given no choice

2. an introduction

; you meet your husband to be for the first time

3. office scandal

; polly takes you with her to run an errand

4. the color green

; you've met tommy's secretary, who has a thing for him.

5. the shelby charm

; tommy demonstrates his charm on an unsuspecting girl.

6. entanglement

; your fate is now sealed

7. a perfect fit

; you and your family plan for the engagement party

8. desperate measures

;you finally take on the role of the tomm's bride-to-be.

9. different yet the same

;nothing stays the same, but how can you explain that to the people you love?

10. future mrs shelby

;the dreaded day arrives

11. my mother's daughter

; you and your mother get into a heated argument

12. surprise visit

; someone pays you a surprise visit

13. young love

;a person from your past makes an appearance.

14. something old, something new

;how long can you keep that secret?

15. unspoken

; some confrontations cannot be avoided.

16. romeo

;tommy shelby is an unpredictable man.

17. deja vu

;how well do we really know the people we love?

#tommy shelby x reader #kadwrites #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction #tommy shelby fanfiction #thomas shelby fanfiction

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awritesthings1 · 4 months

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All The Things We Don't Say

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Female Reader

Summary: An anthology of your life with Tommy, from friends to strangers to lovers, and all the little moments in between.

Warnings: 18+, implied DV, substance abuse, childhood trauma, ptsd, overprotective tommy, swearing, brief smut, longfic oneshot, feminist themes (motherhood & being a wife in the 1920s).

ao3 link

Smash!

“Pick it up!”

Your daddy was a drunk. You remembered the fact since you could walk. He stayed home while the working men left for the factories, then disappeared in the late hours of the morning until his eventual return when the slam of the front door woke the household up. Mother used to hold you at night as she curled up in your bed. She was sick a lot. Always sniffing into the back of your neck when you were asleep. Sometimes the sleeve of your nightgown would get soaked while she muffled her hiccups.

She looked sad, too. In the morning, she kept the curtains drawn and stayed away from the outside world. She told you it was to keep nosey Mrs. Gretel away from her family affairs. But Mrs. Gretel had left Birmingham two months prior.

By seven years old, you were the 'man' of the house. You had gone to sleep one night, and when you awoke, your mother had vaporized into the air like a rabbit in a hat.

“She left because of you,” your father slurred at you.

You hated him.

She left behind her long-sleeve dresses, scarves, and wicker hats that covered nearly every inch of her skin. They were far too big for you then, but when your father came home at the end of the week with a stack of cash, you ran to your mother’s closet, which had remained untouched until then, to find only cobwebs. Gone. Every single one of her dresses. You looked out at the moon in those early hours of the morning and swore to it that when you were bigger, you would get him back so much worse.

And so you were left to clean up his smashed glass bottles and scrub the alcohol out of the gritty carpet. Your little hands struggled to pluck the glass from the floorboards. In a year’s time, they were covered in little scars.

On your tenth birthday, you decided you were grown enough to take matters into your own hands. When he was passed out on the floor from whatever he managed to fill his pipe with, you grabbed the small bottles he hid under a loose floorboard and poured them into the gutter at the back of your house.

You turned to run back to the door when the contents of the bottle were empty, but a ball almost tripped you over. You gripped your tattered skirt before you could lose your footing and snapped your head around with a fierce pout.

“That’s my ball,” pointed a young Thomas Shelby.

You put your small hands on your smaller hips. “You kicked it my way on purpose!”

You weren’t entirely sure, but you suspected it.

“Maybe I thought you were pretty,” he grinned.

You noticed his two front teeth were missing.

“Ewwww! I would never go out with you!” You squawked.

At ten years old, you knew better than that.

Seemingly unaffected by your distaste, he continued. “Do you live there?” He nodded to the house whose roof was falling apart.

“What’s it to you?” You frowned stubbornly, not wanting to admit that, yes, that was your house.

“The curtains are always drawn,” he answered, walking over to pick up his ball from your feet. He was the same height as you were at the time. “My brother Arthur said it’s haunted. He saw a ghost in the window once. He said it was a woman and that she starved to death.”

Your nose scrunched up. "Well, he’s a phony!”

You ran inside said house and slammed the door shut.

He kissed you down by the docks that winter. It was your first kiss, and a clumsy one at that, so you didn’t remember much of it.

By thirteen, you had given in and sold the rest of your mother’s belongings to support yourself. You hated yourself for it, and that nagging voice inside your head told you that you were no better than your father. Oh, and your father? Your father lost vision in his left eye from a bar fight. Too bad it wasn’t both.

Sometime later, a boy two years older than you saw your wandering hand in someone’s bag at the fair and threatened to teach you some manners ‘the hard way’. You bit anxiously on your nails and pleaded with him because he was bigger than most boys his age, when Tommy’s brother Arthur (who you’d seen hanging around the Garrison) came passing by and threatened to ‘toss him about’. The other boy, not all believing in Arthur’s temper, rushed forward, and the two ended up rolling in the dirt, but by then you were gone with a stolen pocket watch in your fist. Nearly two legs and an arm deep in poverty, some quick cash, or a hero complex? You’d take the penny.

At fourteen, a lady knocked on your door. It was a lady of the night who had come to inform your father that he had fathered a son with her. You were glad it was a boy. A girl wouldn’t have stood a chance in the slums of Birmingham. Life was hard, but Birmingham was harder. Your father had refused to listen to the young woman and shooed her off. You never saw her teary-eyed face again.

At fifteen, your father attempted to wash his hands of you by marrying you off to the highest bidder. There was no real auction, but just about anyone who suggested a handsome sum of money did the trick.

“His name is William,” you exhaled, kicking your legs over the edge of the dock.

Tommy laughed. “You won’t marry him.”

“What choice do I have, Tom?”

Your finances were getting tight, and the gloomy pressure to take up working at night like many young ladies was beginning to loom closer and closer. You hated being a woman. Boys would never have to worry about selling themselves to survive.

“I’ll put a gypsy curse on him,” he decided, squinting his eyes from the bright reflection dancing across the water.

You hit his shoulder.

“No, you won't, because then you’ll be cursing me.”

The severity of your situation began to dawn on Tommy. No amount of pestering Polly for change to spare would relieve you of your burden any longer.

“That’s it, then?” He gulped, shifting his glassy eyes to the harbor.

You sighed and followed his gaze.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad. I’ll never have to see dad again, and William promised to take care of me.”

Tommy scoffed.

You frowned at him. “What?”

He shook his head.

“What! Tom—”

“Don’t marry him.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, here we go, why?”

“You know why.”

You were engaged to William on the eve of your seventeenth birthday. He was a very proper man and never dared to go any further than hooking an arm around yours on formal occasions. You were never attracted to his thin mustache nor the thick lenses he wore. In fact, he was incredibly awkward at social occasions, always checking his pocket watch and avoiding eye contact with whichever circle he stood in.

Tommy began to fade out of your life around that time. Margaret—a lady who had taken you on to help with the sewing of her family’s tailoring business—told you that Tommy was spotted arm in arm with another girl that week. You expected to feel jealous, but you felt nothing. You knew love would never be your right. Love was for the more fortunate.

You spent that year learning how to be a wife. Surprisingly, it wasn’t too different from what you did as a child—cooking and cleaning up like you did when your father came home, that is. It was comforting to have a routine in place. It meant finality—no one walking in and out of your life as they pleased, and certainly no more growling stomachs. Perhaps being a wife was a skill your mother never learned. You were grateful for William’s mother, who seemed to be more than enthusiastic to show you the reigns.

After a year-long engagement, you caught your fiancé, William, locked in a compromising position with another man.

“Oh,” was all you got out before leaving his house.

You lacked the special ingredient that marriages needed: love.

You sat down at the fountain across the street. William and his lover’s silhouette were visible behind the blinds he had drawn on the second floor, which peered over the sidewalk. You watched their shadows fluster their feathers around the room like headless geese, and for a moment your head surfaced above water and laughter frothed out between your sealed lips. Perhaps Birmingham made you a little mad.

You didn’t go through with the marriage. You suspected William was relieved.

That week, your father left. You never knew whether he left on his own accord or just never made it home one night. Either way, you never really cared to find out.

With nothing left to lose, you knocked on the Shelby family’s door at Watery Lane. Finn appeared around the other side of the door a moment later.

“Is Tommy home?”

Finn nodded, spinning on his heel to alert his brother. When Tommy did appear, his shoulders were tensed. Disheveled hair never looked so stylish on him. When you saw his suspenders (which were hastily thrown on), you wanted to ask who he expected to be at the door that he planned to answer dressed in such fashion but then thought better of it. He peered down at you, then checked over his shoulder before ushering you inside and up to his bedroom.

“It’s… smaller than I thought,” you landed on, taking in his room.

After all these years, you had never stepped foot into the Shelby home. You weren’t the type of person to come door-knocking.

You turned around to face Tommy after hearing him click the lock on his door.

“Are you hurt?" were the first words he had spoken to you in a year.

“No.” You pressed your lips together, eyeing everything from the bed to the view out the window.

Silence followed closely after.

“Then why are you here?” Tommy sighed.

Your vision began to blur then. “I don’t know,” you said honestly, trying to stop your bottom lip from trembling.

Desperately, you pushed your hair back and straightened up, attempting to hold yourself together. You must have looked like a puppet being held together by a string, given how poor you looked.

Tommy’s boots pad across the wooden floor. “You love me?”

Did that word truly exist? How could you answer if you never knew what it meant to love?

You don’t meet his eyes. He licked his lips, pushing your head up to meet his with his thumb. His eyebrows rose expectantly.

“I don’t know what to do, Tom,” you breathed, avoiding his question. “I’m all alone now. No William, no father…”

His lips parted, and you watched with fascination as the cogs turned in his head. “Yes… that is a problem." His breath fanned over your face.

You gagged, a reaction you yourself had not expected, before rushing to his door, only to remember that, yes, he had locked it, before turning to the nearest silver bucket in the corner to empty your guts.

The first thing you heard when you caught your breath was, “are you pregnant?”

No, but when you stand so close to me and I can smell the cigarettes you smoke and your freshly washed skin, I can imagine a future where we are married, and I see your face growing more disappointed as we age together because you married a woman who never knew how to be a mother to your children nor a wife who knew to tend to you with affection by your bedside when you’re ill.

“No,” you choked, spitting out the vile taste in your mouth. “We never did anything.”

You wanted him to know that. You wanted him to think that you never let William touch you because you never loved him, not because William wasn’t interested in girls.

A moment later, Tommy sat beside you on the floor and quietly combed your hair away from your wobbling lips.

“So, if you’re not pregnant and you don’t love me, why are you here?”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. How were you supposed to answer that? After letting your guts loose in his room, you thought he would surely have booted you out the door.

A knock came on the door: “Tommy?”

“A minute, Finn!” Tommy growled at the door, refusing to back away from your trembling frame.

You were so hungry. Margaret had to cut back your hours ever since her husband fell ill. She spent more time by his bedside than keeping the store open, which meant you were making less than usual. The imminent closing of the store hung over your head like a taunting crow, gouging your insides like you were Prometheus. Birmingham your chains, a woman your fate, and the bird your punishment for thinking you deserved more.

“I should go.” You shivered at the draft inching towards your skin from the open window.

Tommy’s intense gaze stuttered, falling to your lap, where you picked at the dead skin around your nails. He cleared his throat, fishing out the key from his pocket. Although it was dull and muted from the years, it gleaned brightly in your eyes as if it were the reward you came for. Flushed, you grabbed it out of his hands without sparing a glance. Electricity sparked in those precious seconds, igniting a deadly fire in your belly.

“You’re cold." Tommy flinched at your touch.

You retreated as soon as the key slid into the hole and unlocked with a click. In your haste, you left the most valuable thing you owned there in his room.

Your heart.

The months went by, and summer arrived. The stories your mother told you left you expecting a bright gleam of air that would wash over the streets and paint each tree and every patch of grass a frighteningly bright green that would even encourage grumpy Mrs. Gretel to come out to preen her stubborn roses that would just not grow. Birmingham left less to be desired. The summer days never came, and that persisting bitter bog thickened, albeit with slightly less rain. There were gray clouds, smoke from the factories, and a shivering north westerly, which pushed said clouds at breakneck speed as if they had somewhere to be. You looked to the sky one day and said a prayer for blue breezes and sweltering sun, but the sky was empty.

Sometime later, men marched the streets armed with guns in their ‘dashing’ uniforms. A war, they said, a great one. Queues lined the street for the post offices and grocers. Rain rivaled the bustle of the city. What did it feel like to love someone so much as to stand in the pouring rain next to the gutter? You wanted that kind of love. Not the love you could only give yourself because even you didn’t want your own love.

One of the soldiers decorated in medals stood on a crate at the port, yelling something supposedly inspiring that captured the attention of many young men. The words honorable and patriotic were tossed in there like a delectable salad, enticing them in the way farmers held a carrot to a pig’s snout.

You pitied their mothers. Their daughters were married off, and then their sons were swooning over the idea of dying. Birmingham was filthy, rotting, and disgusting. You needed to leave.

You kissed Margaret goodbye on the cheek one Tuesday morning. Ever since your pockets turned out empty, you had been working as a bedside nurse for her ill-stricken husband. They were good to you, and they were probably the only people you could consider family.

She patted your cheek and said, "you're doing good to serve this country.”

You hadn’t had the heart to tell her you were leaving because the city was marring your flesh, so you slipped her the sugarcoated lie of wanting to join the war effort so that you might help others who were bedridden, just like her husband.

At the train station, you stood with your suitcases held tightly in both arms. You had to set one down to hold onto your hat as a train full of men waving their caps out the window pulled into the station. Some children weaved between the crowd, wagging a newspaper above their heads, hoping to make a quick penny. To your side, women wept for their brothers, husbands, and lovers.

“Who are you wishing off?” asked an elderly woman who was clutching her cane.

“Oh, I’m not. I’m boarding the next train.”

She laughed, and you wondered how old your mother would be now. Would she have grown wrinkles and settled into a deeper laugh like this woman?

“My dear, you have a bright imagination if you think they will let a woman on any of these trains.”

A sudden anger filled your blood. “Why not?”

“These men are heading straight for London, where they will be shipped away to France to fight,” the woman explained as if it were any other day.

“I’ll catch the next train then.”

She shook her head, and her frail hand curled tighter around her cane. “They’ve stopped the trains so they can transport soldiers to London.”

You frowned. “Then how will I leave Birmingham?”

You’ll never forget her dismissive laughter.

“My dear, you won’t.”

Men boarded the train, clapping each other on the back with a wink and a laugh. When a line of men on the platform thinned, the train whistled, and you looked over just in time to see Polly, Ada, and little Finn standing with their hands crossed over their hearts as they waved to the train.

No. It wasn’t possible.

But it was because you caught the gleam of the razors sewn into their peaky caps. Tommy, Arthur, and John all stood aboard the train, sticking their heads out and waving to Polly and Ada with a grin that wrung your stomach like a wet cloth.

Those countless daydreams you spun, the intricate webs you wove, began breaking down to thin fibers. In one pathway, you stayed there in his room and told him the truth you always denied yourself. You loved him. In another, you stood next to Polly, close to tears, as you begged him to come home safely. There was a resounding click in that moment as your breath stuttered. You had been the person who wiped away those futures, thinking it was nothing but an annoying spiderweb. Oh, how wrong you were!

“Tommy!” You left your suitcases behind and stepped around the old woman as you ducked under hugs and tearful goodbyes.

“Tommy!” You cried again with the gusto of someone who certainly shouldn’t be as concerned as they were considering you left him in his room that day.

Thankfully, his eyes eventually found yours as you pushed through the last line of people. You stood there and stomached all your regrets head-on. It was funny how, up until that moment, you managed to squash every seed of doubt. Why was it that you only realized what you had when it was slipping out of reach?

He never called your name back. He just stared at you blankly as the train pulled away, unlike you, who clung to the image of his frame even as the train disappeared from sight and the crowd began to disperse. You stood there unblinking, hoping to soak up the last of him before you forgot the intensity of his eyes or the humming rumble of his voice. Because the idea of something you held dearly becoming a memory meant that it could as easily be forgotten, and that terrified you. Your eyes were watering now, against your best wishes.

You overheard Polly ushering Finn and Ada off. Finn rushed home without protest, but Ada stopped in her tracks when she saw you hunched over your knees in tears. She smiled weakly before chasing Finn home. It was then that Polly’s shadow approached your huddled frame. She didn’t say anything, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if she expected you to stand and apologize for being such a mess. That’s when a penny clattered to the ground beside you. She squeezed your shoulder once before disappearing.

You kissed that penny as if Tommy would feel the power of it across the country, then ran back to Margaret’s, having forgotten your suitcases.

“Oh…” She exclaimed, slapping her tea towel on the counter when you walked into the kitchen. “You missed your train?”

Dread made your stomach tender and your breath short.

“I’m enrolling in the Red Cross.”

Throughout the war, you thought of Tommy every day until your stomach lurched. Would it have worked if you had stayed? Would you both have grown old together instead of subjecting yourself to the spray of dirt when a bomb went off nearby?

A day ago, your supply rations never came. It wasn’t like hunger was anything new, but when your mind was too focused on surviving the perilous weather, it was hard to save other lives. You made work with what little supplies you had left. The morphine went stint within hours of its arrival, and the cries of pained soldiers filled the medical tent all night. You did what you could, wiped sweat from their foreheads, and wrote letters to their mothers and lovers with what supplies you could scavenge. Some were written on cardboard from shell packaging, others on torn pages from the bibles they kept over their hearts. Pens were useless—the ink ran in the rain—so you scribbled everything down in pencil.

Before you left for France, you were warned of the bullets. No one ever warned you about the shrapnel, nor the bombs or grenades. They shattered soldiers’ bones beyond repair and left bodies unrecognizable. There wasn’t much you could do when most of their flesh was missing.

Keeping faith became an impossible task. Supplies were depleted, and nurses were dejected. Sally, who had been writing home for news of her brother, recently had her letters returned with the black stamp. Death—return to sender. She spent only an hour sitting on a trunk, letting her tears fall, before she got back to work. Grief privileged those with time, something no one could afford in these conditions.

Then it came—the day Arthur Shelby was carried in on a stretcher. You were making your rounds around the beds when a truckload of yelling men pooled through the entrance of the tent.

“Nurse!” They all yelled, some limping, others setting down stretchers of men on the dirt between the filled beds.

You and two other nurses dropped everything and ran over to attend to the wounded. They were all covered head to toe in dirt, groaning and clutching limbs that were twisted the wrong way. One in particular coughed and huffed while he fought against hands, which were fruitlessly pushing him back down on the stretcher.

“Let me go!” He yelled, wrestling against an older nurse.

“It’s alright, Mary. I’ll handle this one,” you patted her shoulder as you swapped places.

You dunked a washcloth into a bucket of water to wipe away the dirt in his eyes. “Calm down; you're safe here,” you said, starting your usual script of reassurances.

When the striking blue eyes squinted up at you, your blood ran cold. You froze before taking his head in both your hands, despite his protests. “Arthur? Arthur, it’s me!”

He loosened his grip on your wrist. “Huh?”

“It’s me! Where’s Tommy and John?”

He spat blood and gritted his teeth. “Fucking hell, where’s the whiskey?”

You laughed despite the smell of blood encompassing the tent. You quickly fetched the alcohol you had been using to clean wounds and pressed it to his lips. You weren’t sure if it was whiskey or not, but you reasoned he was in too much pain to be able to tell. He drank it with a groan of pleasure. You didn’t try to snatch the bottle away as he emptied it down his palette; you just sat and grinned at the way he suckled it like a newborn baby while you cleaned away his cuts.

“I’ve never been happier to see you, Arthur.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, his lips still wrapped around the bottle.

You tried to stay by his side for as long as you could before the second wave of patients came tumbling through the flaps of the tent. One of them lost their grip on the stretcher, and the patient went sliding into the dirt headfirst.

“Fuck!” They all swore, abandoning the stretcher to drag the limp man further into the makeshift hospital.

You rushed to help when a hand gripped the back of your neck. You yelped in pain as your hair got caught in a fingernail when they turned you to face them.

And there he was: Tommy Shelby, covered in a thick layer of dirt, heaving for air.

“Nurse! Nurse!” Voices cried for you, but between the ringing in your ears and the wrath in Tommy’s blue eyes, you were frozen in place.

“The fuck are you doing here, eh?” He yelled over the anguished men.

You suddenly felt stupid standing there in your Red Cross uniform.

“I was looking for you, I—”

His dirty hands cupped your cheeks—something you were painfully aware of from the uncomfortable itch from the mud on your flushed skin—and pulled your forehead to his.

“You think this is some fantasy?” He squinted. “You think there’s any fucking moonlight to kiss under here, eh?” He spat.

His eyes held that haunted look you had seen on many soldiers that passed through the medical tent. Your eyes watered. Perhaps it was from the humidity and dirt being kicked up as nurses and patients scuffled around, not because you could hardly recognize the man in front of you. The blood smeared above his eyebrow worried you, so you reasoned that he was mad because it had been leaking into his eyes. Dutifully, you reached to wipe it with the back of your hand. He grabbed your wrist harshly, bringing it down to your side. He was in shock; you scolded yourself.

“Where’s John and Arthur?” Tommy swallowed, flexing his hands.

You led him to Arthur, who had been left in his corner while the nurses attended to more serious cases. It hurt watching the brothers reunite after their ordeal, so you left them alone no matter how much you feared them being discharged before your return. After all, everything you ever wanted sat in that corner, but it would be selfish to coddle Tommy all to yourself. Still, you couldn’t help sparing a glance when you walked up and down the tent, attending to patients.

Later that night, he came to you under the candlelight of your tent. He cleared his throat upon entry. You were lying face-up on your cot when he cleared his throat and peeled back the entrance to enter. The candlelight painted the mountain peaks of his face in a dull amber and the valleys in a frightening shadow. You sat up, pulling the thick cover over your shift.

Tommy kneeled next to you, resting on the heels of his boots. He licked his chapped lips and itched his nose. “You don’t belong here.”

Your grip on the cover loosened. “Huh?”

Nothing prepared you for when he swung his brooding stare towards you. He exhaled loudly before running a hand over his face.

“You should have stayed in Birmingham.” He said it like a warning.

“And done what?”

Vulnerability never looked good on Tommy. His head hung and his fingers itched at the back of his head—a tick you used to love; now you weren’t so sure. Because your Tommy was never afraid, but this man in front of you was alarmingly tense despite the clear efforts to mask it.

What have they done to you, Tom?

Under the dim light of your tent, you barely recognized him. A stranger’s eyes were blown wide in a frightening state of shock, something most soldiers mirrored. War washed out the sweet blue pair you knew, refitting them for a steely weapon. You hated seeing him like this, so still, so unsteady, cocooned into the corner as if afraid to take up space.

You feared you looked no better. Having worked till the point of exhaustion, you usually found yourself awakening against a wooden crate or trunk to the cries of patients who demanded your attention despite your body not having the strength to stand. Today you had been lucky and found yourself crawling distance to your private tent when your knees started wobbling and your head lulling.

The wooden reinforcing of your private tent fought in vain to shelter your bodies from the elements; it still flapped and whipped about, sometimes rocking your cot. Yet Tommy remained still like those life-size stone statues you’d find outside an important building, brooding at the dirt and locked in an internal battle. You shifted to the edge of your makeshift bed and leaned close enough that you saw how the top buttons of his dirtied uniform were missing and most of his clothes were torn.

His arm, which was breaking out in goosebumps, lay heavily across his knee so that he could rest his forehead there limply. He looked in a bad enough condition that you feared the possibility of him succumbing to the wasteland threatening him outside your tent. You wrapped your arms around the scruff of his hair and pulled his face into your stomach, where he could hide from the terrible world. On instinct, his arms wound around your waist, and you felt his warm exhale against your skin through the thin fabric of your slip.

His tin water bottle clanged against the satchel he wore, which made you wonder if he had any time to rest at all if he still had all his equipment tied to his uniform.

“I didn’t…” His voice was muffled by your slip. He cleared his throat again, shaking his head.

When he dropped the thought, you spoke up. “Have you eaten?”

He slapped your thigh haphazardly. “No, do you have a cigarette?”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, instead gently pushing him away so you could kneel beneath your bed and fish a cigarette from your satchel. You pinched one from its tin case, then thought better of it and tossed it on Tommy’s lap. Gratefully, he collected one from the case and lit it with a nearby candle. You watched his chest rise and fall as he took an especially deep drag. His eyes shut as the nicotine rushed to his head.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he muttered under his breath.

“How are you here, Tommy? One of the night nurses should’ve been on watch.”

“Oh,” smoke puffed out of his mouth, and he raised his eyebrows, “there is.”

“Then how—”

“I had to see you.”

The butterflies in your stomach dove. The blue in his eyes appeared translucent as they hazed over like a ghost. His shoulders were slumped dejectedly, and he had a hand pushing through his greasy, unwashed hair to relieve his neck from the weight of his thoughts.

He pointed to you then, with the cigarette nursed between his fingers. “I need to know why you changed your mind.”

“About what, Thomas?”

His voice slurred and slipped into a deeper register from the lack of sleep. "Why you came back. Why you came to France.” Tommy shook his head lazily. “You expect me to believe you had a sudden change of heart? What? You a patriot now?” An amused exhale curled out while he took another drag. “Well I don’t believe it.”

You began shivering despite the way your body flushed.

“How’s Arthur?” You tried to avert the conversation.

“Bloody drunk off his ass.”

“And you?”

Tommy held your stare and swallowed dryly. “Trying.”

“You can go join him if you wish.”

He looked at the entrance of your tent as if he were weighing his options, then shook his head and took another drag before clearing his throat. “It’s different now.”

Naïvely, you sank to the ground beside him and rested a hand on his shoulder. “It doesn’t have to be.”

He sighed.

“I wish that were true.”

The next time you saw Tommy, you were working a shift at the hospital. After the war, you received a medal for your efforts, which easily got you a job in Birmingham. You pleaded with them to send you to any other hospital—London, Manchester, Liverpool—you didn’t care. Anywhere but Birmingham.

“You should be honored to work for me!” Exclaimed the head nurse at Birmingham Hospital, who didn’t seem too pleased with your distaste for the city.

You thought the job would be the final nail in the coffin, but you surprisingly got along well with the head nurse once you had put your animosity aside. So much so, she offered to lease you a room upstairs from hers.

Then came that dreaded night where you were finishing the filing of some documents when a patient was being rushed in. Your ears perked up, and you looked through the blinds of the office to see a man being rushed by. Something small and round had fallen off the stretcher while the nurses paid no attention, pushing him around the corner and down towards the operating theater. Curious, you exited the office.

And there on the ground was one of those peaky caps Tommy and his brothers used to wear. You knew this because you picked it up and nearly cut yourself on the blade that was sewn into the seam. You spent the next hour gnawing on your nails. Your imagination sparked ideas about the beaten man who was lying in an operating room two doors down in surgery. Was it Tommy? Arthur? John? The shadows under your eyes darkened at the thought. No, it was probably some other Peaky Blinder. The Shelby brothers were too careful. Still, you knocked over your coffee in a mad dash to the bathroom, where you heaved up your dinner.

You volunteered to stay until the morning, but the head nurse on duty for the night refused and sent you home. You didn’t sleep at all that night.

The next morning, you arrived early and made a beeline for the emergency ward. You grabbed the admission form and scanned the patient list. There were only two emergency patients who were listed under the final hour of your shift, a woman and a man, which made it easier to narrow it down to the man who was admitted at quarter to midnight in ward four, room seven.

When you peaked through the crack in the door, you knew you had been worried for a reason. Tommy lay under the covers, battered and bruised, with a swollen eye and a nasty scar where he had reportedly received surgery for trauma to the head.

You slipped inside quietly and closed the door. Tommy’s eyes were closed, and his mouth hung open, stealing miniscule amounts of air into his lungs. He looked as good as a ghost.

“Tommy…” You clutched his peaky cap (which you meant to return) between your fingers.

He didn’t move an inch, so you set the cap down by his bedside table, carefully watching the rise and fall of his chest.

What have they done to you, Tom?

On the second week, he woke up while you were cleaning the windowsill. He coughed, and you whipped around in shock.

“Nurse?” He asked hoarsely, blinking away the blinding light.

You rushed to his side, tears bursting like the fountain you passed on your way to work.

“Don’t move,” you urged when he tried to sit up.

“I have to get to London,” he slurred, only half awake.

You weren’t upset that he didn’t recognize you. You weren’t upset that he didn’t recognize you.

“Tommy… it’s me.”

He shrugged your hand off his shoulder with a hiss. “Fucking hell.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“Please don’t move; I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” You couldn’t hide the way your voice broke.

He looked up at you, then, through bloodshot blue eyes. You wished you knew what was going through his head. Happy or sad?

“Am I dead?”

“No,” you smiled weakly as a tear fell.

“Can I have a smoke then?”

“I don’t know how to love, Tommy!”

“Yeah? Yeah? That’s bullshit! Why do you keep coming back then?” He pinched your chin, glaring furiously into your eyes. “Eh?”

He stood so close that he blocked the light from the chandelier, which mournfully hung from the ceiling. You shivered in his shadow.

“I shouldn’t have come tonight.”

“But you did!” He accused, pointing in your face.

“It was a mista—”

“You fucking did!”

“Tommy!”

“I’ve had it! If you want to leave, then fucking leave; otherwise, don’t stand there all righteous waving empty threats over my head because I know you won’t leave.” He shook his head with a wild look in his eye. “No… You won’t leave. You won’t leave because you love me. You keep coming back,” he pointed matter-of-factly.

Tommy’s eyebrows danced between being terribly furrowed and alarmingly raised during his passionate monologue. It was rare for him to emit so much emotion these days. The war changed men, and Tommy was no exception. A chilling stillness framed his presence, which even you weren’t excused from. No more laughter, no more dreams of working with horses, because he was above all that now, wasn’t he? It was ambition that ground his teeth together and hollowed his eyes. Still, you couldn’t forget that the anger came from vulnerability, because it took a lot for someone to get under Thomas Shelby’s skin.

You moved to grab your purse, to make good on his word, but he halted your movement by grabbing your shoulders, roughly at first, before loosening his grip. You softened at his frantic demeanor. He was scared—oh, so afraid of you walking out that door again. But how could you ever explain it to him? You were never born for love. You would never know how to love him properly the way wives were supposed to because what you felt for Tommy was sickeningly deep. So much so that the mere impression of him sealed off your ribcage and ruined any chance of your heart beating for any other soul, so much so that you carried the weight of him in your bones because you could never shake him off.

When you looked back at life, all you saw was the absence of love. You used to imagine yourself growing up and falling in love with a handsome stranger, then getting married in a proper white dress to go live in your proper house. But when you looked in the mirror, you saw a ghost. The pathway of your life was laid out before your eyes once, and what you saw didn’t match the reflection. The man you were supposed to marry couldn’t even look at you, even if you cleaned and cleaned and cleaned until your fingerprints turned white and pasty.

Because what it all came down to was simple. You never got to become the person you envisioned. Instead, you were cursed to live as a blank slate and be consistently reminded of what you were supposed to be and of who you were: no one.

Tommy exhaled in a quick huff, pressing his forehead to yours so that he saw you clearer, without all the tension and bullshit in the way.

“Here it comes, Tommy.” You took a shaky breath. “I love you, but I could never be the perfect wife to you, and I would be a terrible mother.”

There, in all its ugly colors and shades, you hung yourself with the truth.

He shook his head as if he too couldn’t believe your words.

“Fuck’s sake! Forget about all that." His eyes watered out of frustration, but he was still puffing in anger. “I need you. You. Not some whore.”

You bit your lip to muffle the god-forsaken cry ready to erupt from the volcanoes you suddenly found roaring in your stomach. An earthquake overtook your hands the more you fought the inevitable eruption. You grabbed both his hands to stop yours from shaking.

“I have to be cursed; there’s no other way!”

“No!”

“My life slips through my fingers like grains of sand—”

“You’re not cursed!”

“And I can’t stop it, Tommy!”

“You’re not fucking cursed, and I’ll tell you why." Tommy cut you off. He leaned in, licking his lips, which had turned dry from all the shouting, and squeezed your hands. “Because my ancestors charmed dogs with their magic, they didn’t scare little girls with curses,” he paused. “But you… You waved a hand over my head, and now I’m no better than a dog.”

He closed the space between you, pressing his forehead against yours, and stroked both your cheeks, wiping at your tears. You held him there in a meek attempt at reciprocation.

You wished the world were ending so then you could grab Tommy’s hand and say, ‘I’m ready, Tom. The world is ending, so let’s kiss and love each other under the flames without any fear because the world is ending.’

But you were never good at expressing yourself with words, so you sealed it with a kiss, hoping he could taste the unspoken words on your lips the same way you tasted the tears. He responded in earnest, gripping you roughly by the scruff of your neck to seal the promise laden between your lips; no more running.

It was just your luck that you would bump into your ex-fiancé, William, while visiting a bar in London with Ada. You were buzzing from the warmth of three sweet liquors and whatever else Ada insisted you try, and everything was starting to seem a little funny by the time he approached you.

He engaged in pleasantries, swishing his wine around the glass and sniffing it occasionally, like many pompous older men tended to do. There was only so much smiling you could afford before you caught your reflection in the freshly wiped bar and realized how poorly your acting skills were. Ada was no help, muttering something about finding a phonebooth and then slipping into the belated and boozed crowd. It was then that the supposed nectar in your glass began to taste like the cleaning products—that nose-scrunching stench. Thankfully, William was too involved in some tangent to notice you muffle a gag into your palm.

The dazzling hum in your ears muffled out all his words. In your drunken state, William appeared to be more confident than what you remembered, but you were unable to decipher whether it was from a change of heart or if he was trying to fall back in your good graces. Otherwise, you were blinded by the roaring bustle of the bar and the delicious swell of music that seemed to reverberate across your being.

Growing a little bored with William’s story, your attention wandered over his shoulder, still being sure to nod every now and then as if you were deeply pondering his words. Not far away from his side, a man seemed to linger—a man who was careful not to reach your eye. You must have laughed a little harder than usual because William turned sharply to the man at his side, gave him a quick once-over, then returned his attention to you, but by then it was too late, and you knew exactly what William’s relationship was with this man and where William’s confidence had come from.

“You’ll make a fine wife and a finer mother someday,” William quickly added.

You cursed the witch inside you, who laughed from her stomach and used his shoulder to steady herself. Once upon a time, that was all you longed to hear, but now, with a half-spilt martini in hand, you couldn’t care less. Both of you had found happiness despite your unconventional circumstances, and there was no more to it. You could close that chapter without any loose threads.

A little drunk, you thanked him, disappeared, and never thought of him again.

“I can’t do it, Ada,” you stressed, beginning to feel uncomfortable with the baby in your arms.

Motherhood came rumbling into your life like a rusty engine spitting out oil. ‘Instinctual’, the mothers down the lane from Arrow House had said, ‘it’s like your body has been preparing for it your whole life.’ How awful, you thought, and by the time one of them finished speaking about their experience with their first, your nose was so scrunched in disgust that you would need an iron to flatten out the wrinkles. It wasn’t until now that you longed to be in their shoes, because nothing came naturally to you.

“He’ll latch eventually; he’s just a little fussy,” Ada reassured.

“Is it supposed to hurt?”

“It’s perfectly normal.”

Then, after an hour of rubbing your sons back on the verge of tears, he finally began feeding from you. Ada soothed your back the whole time and cooed softly to calm both you and your unruly boy. Sometimes she brought Karl. He would obediently sit on her lap, playing with his wooden horse, while your little Charles fussed.

One time in the early morning, when you were up attempting to feed Charles, Tommy rushed in alert with disheveled hair and sunken eyes.

“Sorry,” you mouthed, deflated your hardworking husband had been disturbed from his sleep.

He ran his hands over his face and sighed. You mistook his action for frustration and desperately tried to hush your baby. Tommy moved over to the rocking chair where you sat, trying to feed little Charles in your arms.

“Don’t be sorry,” he whispered into the crook of your neck. “How is he?”

You flushed under the moonlight, suddenly embarrassed that your husband had caught you in this vulnerable position with the top of your slip peeled down. Your exposed skin hissed when he pressed a kiss against your pulse.

“I don’t think he likes me very much.”

Tommy inhaled sharply against your neck before resting his chin on your shoulder to peer down at Charles. Charles had settled since Tommy walked into the room, acutely aware of his father as his little hands made a grabbing motion for him. Diligently, Tommy relieved your arms of Charles and cradled him close to his chest. Within minutes, the little baby was gurgling happily and blinking in a way that suggested sleep was on the horizon after all.

Your husband didn’t dare make any sudden noise as he gently set Charles in his cradle. Once he was surely asleep, Tommy guided you up from the rocking chair and into your shared bedroom.

“See?” you hissed, still maintaining a soft voice, “he only wants you.”

Tommy wouldn’t hear any of it, pulling you into his arms as he sat on the edge of the mattress. Your slip was still pooled around your hips, so he took the opportunity to plant a kiss above your breasts, where your heart was.

“He loves you,” he drawled in that husky voice of his. “I know he does because I do.”

Your head ached, but you couldn’t help the way your body reacted to his words and touch. Tommy’s wandering hands teased the silk fabric that clung to your hips as you felt his nose trail down to your breast, where he kissed one of your aching nipples delicately. Suddenly hot, you hummed in delight, the back of his shorn scalp pleasant beneath your nails. A grunt, bathed in that musk of his devours your senses. Inhaling sharply, he took the bud between his full lips, sucking, licking, and nibbling gently while his hands explored further down. Your head lulled back from the pleasure, gasping and withering under his skilled tongue.

The next thing you knew, Tommy was tugging the rest of your silk slip off and reminding you of just how much he loved you.

“Charles! Come here!” Tommy called.

Your little boy loved to play in the backyard of Arrow House. Much like his father, Charles adored horses. Big ones, small ones, black ones, white ones—but most of all, he favored his Shetland pony. Tommy had brought it for Charles before he could even walk. He said something about it being important for his son to be raised around horses from a young age. And while you didn’t necessarily disagree, it still stressed you out to hold your baby so close to such a large, muscular animal. You knew the Arabian breeds spooked easily, so you steered clear of them and were able to keep Tommy and Charles happy.

But now he had grown up so fast and was able to run around on his own two legs, climb trees, and bruise his knees on the way down. The sun beat lovingly on the apples of his cheeks as he dirtied his trousers, kneeling by the fence to feed his Shetland (affectionately named Biscuit) hand-picked grass through the gaps.

“Charles! We’re leaving!” You called when he ignored his father.

Stubbornly, Charles spun around to pout his lip and cross his arms. He glared at you as threateningly as a five-year-old could. You bit your lip to hide your smile because he really did look like a little Tommy with those big blue eyes. It would only be a matter of time before he perfected his father’s stare. With a sigh, you shifted your daughter into Tommy’s arms before approaching Charles, who was picking angrily at the grass.

You reached a hand out toward him, "let's go.”

“No!”

“All right,” you said decisively, spinning around, “Ruby will have all the fun then.”

“No!” cried your little boy.

You stuck a hand up in surrender and started walking back to Tommy. “No, it’s all right.”

“No, no no no!” Came his protest, chasing behind you as the gravel crunched beneath his boots.

You paid no attention to him, keeping your eyes trained ahead, silently relieved that your ploy worked. Tommy watched on in amusement while Ruby suckled on her thumb, curiously watching her brother storm closer.

“You hear that, Ruby? We’re going to spoil you,” a short smile played on Tommy’s face as he adjusted her so that she sat comfortably on his hip.

“And me!” Charles added and gave his best pout.

“No, Charles, you said you didn’t want to go,” you reminded him, raising your eyebrows.

“I do! I do!”

“Hmm,” you thought aloud, and held a finger to your chin while looking to the sky in exaggerated contemplation. “Very well, but only if you get in daddy’s car right this instant.”

He climbed into the backseat of the Bentley without further fuss.

When all the bags were neatly packed in the back for the day’s festivities, Tommy came around your side to sit Ruby on your lap. Quickly, he leaned in to kiss you and pinch your cheek, which swelled into a glowing grin.

He smiled back and whispered low enough for only you to hear, “got him wrapped around your finger, eh?”

You laughed. “Him and a few other Shelby’s I know of.”

The thundering sound of music could be heard from outside the theater on the corner of Old Pauls. Inside, patrons mused between champagne, dancing, and making a display of their wealth by bidding on little trinkets. It was one of the many charity galas Tommy had to attend because of his new move into politics. Usually, you enjoyed dressing for those sorts of things, but tonight you simply weren’t feeling up to it. Maybe it was the drape of your dress not sitting right or the new leather shoes that still needed breaking in.

Your shimmering smile faded into the crowd as you snuck through the back door in your satin bordeaux dress. Old Pauls sat perched above the cemetery it was named after. Conveniently across the street from the buzz of the theater, it was airily quiet and stuck out from the rest of industrial Birmingham. Your heels clacked across the pavement as you wandered up and down the garden, glimpsing at stone angels and silver plaques. All you had to light your path were the streetlights and the moon.

Your diamond wedding ring twinkled under the stars as you stopped to trace a name. It was the same as your mother's, but with a different last name. Still, you always wondered what happened to her. Had she gotten married to another man and taken his name? You expected to shiver at the idea, but you found that thinking of her no longer unnerved you. She packed up the title of mother when she left you all alone in that cramped house.

Light spilled out onto the pavement across the street when the entrance to the theater swung open. A few men flew down the steps and split off in different directions. Thinking it odd, you remained crouched until they disappeared around their respective corners. That’s when you saw Tommy exit through the same doors, throwing a cigarette and wiping at his brow while he looked up and down the street. Quickly, you stood and waved your arm to get his attention. When he noticed, he stormed down the steps and stalked across the street and through the gates of Old Pauls over to you.

“I needed some air,” you spoke up before he could get a word in.

His eyes wildly flickered back and forth from yours in a frenzy. Under the moonlight, they looked almost translucent, and, save for a ghost of blue, his pupils were wide.

“Why the bloody hell are you out here, eh?” He demanded, gently shaking your head between his hands for emphasis while his eyebrows rose expectantly.

“It’s quieter.”

When he tilted his head to the sky and exhaled, your stomach dropped at the sight of blood. Your ears, which had been tuning out the music, flinched when a shrill cry from a woman rang out the theater doors. The music was gone, now replaced with screams as all the patrons rushed out, tripping over each other like it were a race. You turned back to Tommy, now as worried as the others.

“What the hell happened? Are you hurt?” You urged, gripping his white collar, now red, to inspect where the blood was coming from.

“Not mine,” he cleared his throat, grabbing the hand on his collar to tug you down the street.

The frame of your world stretched a little wider, like light pouring in through open shutters. Car doors slammed, and drivers honked at the agitated crowd who ran this way and that across the road.

“Where’s the fucking ambulance?” Shouted a man who took no care to avoid bumping into you.

You stumbled back, your hand slipping from Tommy’s on impact. Rage flickered across his features briefly, having noticed the man push through you, but he reconnected your hands and continued walking fast. When he reached the Bentley, he urged you inside, holding your hand the whole way until you were seated in the passenger seat.

“What the hell happened, Tommy?” You repeated as he slid into the driver’s seat.

“Someone got shot.”

Your eyes widened. “Are Polly and—”

“They’re fine.”

You sank back into your seat as the engine roared to life. Peaky Blinder’s followed the frenzied crowd, moving together like a pack of wolves onto the streets. They only parted to let Tommy’s Bentley through. Out the window, people were fighting and throwing fists as they all tried to escape the mayhem.

“Why aren’t they letting people through?” You asked after witnessing a Peaky Blinder block the road and refuse to let a car pass.

“Doesn’t matter.”

He never told you anything when it came to business. And although you suspected this was much more than the doing of the Shelby brothers, Tommy’s face never betrayed him. Simply put, if he didn’t want you to know, you wouldn’t.

“Would anyone want to follow us?”

“No.” He exhaled deeply, cleared his throat, and then reached to give your thigh a squeeze.

You knew it was a lie when his eyebrows rose. He only did that when he was worried. Your tongue remained pressed to the back of your teeth the entire ride home.

The howl of the wind whistled down into the valley of the gypsy camp Tommy had brought you and the children to.

“Pack your things,” he had said one night after storming through the front door of Arrow House, “we’re going on a trip.”

Charles and Ruby cheered, but you suspected something sinister beneath his intentions.

So, there you were, picking at the grass by your feet while you perched on the bottom step of the gypsy wagon Tommy parked beneath a tree for shade. He kept quiet for most of the ride, absorbed in leading the horse around loose gravel and stones, or rather, he led you to believe he was lost in concentration. Because, when it came down to it, you knew Tommy better than to assume nothing was wrong.

The past week, he had been acting different, jumpy even. He ran into the nursery during the early hours of the morning on edge, as if expecting something to be amiss. You tried interrogating him, but he brushed it off, insisting things were fine. Fine—you began detesting that word. Fine this, fine that, but if things were really fine, then why was he on edge?

Then came the bloodshot eyes and the slamming of his desk drawer when you entered the office. Only this time he couldn’t deny the unmistakable jingle of a bullet, which rattled in the wooden compartment like some sort of airy death chime.

A black hand. One for each Shelby. And since you were now one too, that meant neither you nor the children were subjected to any special treatment. A week, he said, a week for his family to clear up the business while he stayed here watching over you like a shepherd to his flock.

And watched he did, standing next to where you sat, he found peace observing Charles and Ruby as they chased each other around the overgrown field. There he remained for an hour or so, frighteningly still, the only motion being his sharp jaw chewing on a mint leaf, somewhat reminiscent of the soldier in your tent all those years ago. Next to him, tied to the tree, the black steed filled the silence with snorts and grazed favorably on the loose roots and grass patches.

“Ruby was crying this morning. She’s scared, Tom." You sighed.

Tommy hadn’t been there when you woke up that morning in the caravan. He returned shortly after, ominous as ever, just as Ruby had begun to settle.

He tossed the stalk of his mint leaf into the grass and offered you his hand. You looked up at him in question for a moment, slightly suspicious of his intentions. Nevertheless, you slid your hand into his, and he stood you up, sat down on the higher step, and pulled you between his legs to sit on the lower step. He hugged you from behind as he slouched to rest his head on your shoulder, then exhaled deeply.

“We will be home soon,” he whispered in your ear, brushing your knuckles tenderly.

“For how long? Until we get another bullet in the post?”

Tommy’s throbbing forehead found solace in the warmth of your neck.

“You’ve never been one to run,” you continued, “what’s bothering you? We took a vow that we would share everything.”

He nuzzled his nose deeper into your pulse.

Frustrated, you tried to get up, but he held you firmly against his chest.

“Italians.”

“Italians?”

“Italians sent the black hands.”

You waited in silence for more information, but more did not come.

“Speak to me, Thomas.”

“I don’t want you any more involved than you are.”

“They’ve sent death knocking on our door; how more involved could I be?”

Tommy moved methodically, licking his lips and clearing his throat. He squinted his eyes up at the glaring sun.

“It’s nothing you should be concerned about. I’ll keep us safe.”

“Nothing I should be concerned over, Thomas? Just how many people are we at war with?”

He didn’t answer, so you turned your head away from him. Charles and Ruby had since settled by a patch of flowers. Charles was crouched over, helping his sister gather all the yellow flowers for her yellow dress.

The tension broke the surface then.

“Why are you still fighting, Tom? Is this,” you nod to your children and breathe in the fresh air, “not enough?”

You pictured Arrow House and its lavish garden, one to compete with all the wealthy families down the lane. You thought of Arthur, John, Polly, Ada, and all his family that lived to see his success. Everything, from the thoroughbreds in the stable to the fancy cars. The money itself was a testimony to his drive. What more could the gangster of Birmingham want when he already had everything?

You had gone and worked yourself up now because the world seemed blurrier than before.

Tommy, still on his guard, guided your chin to your shoulder so he could kiss the tears away. “It is enough.”

“Then make it enough. You’re respectable now, so stop the fighting.” Your voice broke at the end.

He hung his forehead on your shoulder. Like a flower sheltered away from the sun, Tommy wilted when he was away from his business. Usually, you were a strong enough light to keep him going, but whatever business he had gotten himself into was poisoning him, and ever the addicted flower, he kept running out to the fields, continuing to drink in the sunlight until it was too much and turned his leaves brow. Because business was what occupied his mind day and night, he was unable to turn the cogs of the engine off and let the air out of the tires.

A hand brushes your hair away to kiss the spot beneath your ear, airing out the destructive thoughts.

God, you loved him anyway. An overpowering feeling that ruled over calculating minds like Tommy’s and faint hearts like yours. You were no better than him—both addicted to a little sunlight.

The framed photographs on the wall shook as your third-eldest slammed the door to her room closed.

“I hate you!” She cried from the other side.

Your husband, Tommy, sighed to the ceiling, then stalked past you to his study, no longer interested in anything your daughter had to say. They had been at it for the last ten minutes arguing over some boy she was seeing, and your ears were just about ringing having witnessed it from the sidelines. You were left there in the hallway, an unwilling participant in the unspoken feud between father and daughter, and you understood that whoever you went to console would take it that you were siding with them, even though you just wanted to keep your family together.

Going to your daughter was the instinctive answer, but you knew she needed time to cool off. Tommy was the only reasonable choice.

You knocked on the door to his office before letting yourself in.

“Come to lick my wounds, eh?” He mused while smoking a cigarette.

Your lips wormed into a thin line. “This needs to stop, Tom.”

“Yeah,” he said, tapping the ash into his tray, “it will fucking stop.” He points with his cigarette, “I’ll make it fucking stop.”

You sighed. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

The chair screeched as he stood. “I’m her father, and if I say she can’t see that boy, she can’t. It’s only a childish fling; she’ll get over it.”

He poured a whiskey and downed it by the time you walked around his desk so that you were face-to-face with him.

“They’re in love, Tommy.”

“Yeah?” He scoffed. “Well, that can be undone.”

You held his glare, a challenge lighting in your own. “So easily, you think?”

He paused mid-drag, catching onto the underlying meaning in your words. “No,” he said, setting the cigarette down in the ash tray and grabbing your shoulders. “Don’t act like that.”

“Act like what?”

“Like you’re threatening our love over some fucking boy that’s charmed our daughter. They’re too young.”

“He’s sweet.”

“Oh, sweet and nice, I’m sure. But he’ll have no place in this house.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because I fucking said so!” He spat.

“Don’t yell at me.”

“Or what? You’ll leave me?” He huffed in amusement. “You won't; you love me too much.”

“You’re so certain?”

He paused for a moment and stared at you as if he couldn’t believe what you had said.

“Yeah, because we still fuck like two people who love each other, eh? And you’ve not told me no before, so if the day comes and your body no longer wants mine, then I’ll be worried. But until then, don’t test me with empty threats." His face hardened.

He knew you like the back of his hand. All bark, no bite. You loved him inexplicably, even after all these years, gray hairs and all. His face, body, and soul nourished you until you were satiated and full. And even if his eyebrows furrowed at times, you were willing to bet that it was for aesthetic, a shapely shadow gathered over the years from being the stoic leader the Peaky Blinders and Shelby family needed. How could you fault him for it?

Because, at the end of the day, you were a team. Even if he played the role of an overprotective father a bit too convincingly, he only ever wanted what was good for your daughter. Everything he worked for, ultimately, was for his family. A family man. And that came with its virtues and vices because, despite what Tommy thought, he wasn’t perfect; no one was.

Shrinking under his hands, you breathed a sigh and appeased him. “End this feud, Tom. Find peace with her. I don’t care what you do, but by the end of it, I expect to be able to sit down at the dinner table without having to beg my husband and daughter to look up from their plates.” You stroked his hands, which held your shoulders, and finally blinked up at him.

A haze of softness swept across his glare and melted the glaciers to a thin sheen of blue. The seams of exhaustion frayed one by one through his muscles. He nodded, licked his lips, and leaned down for a kiss of absolution. Not entirely prepared to surrender, you tilted your head so that he found the corner of your mouth instead.

“It will be done, love.” He brushed the apples of your cheeks tenderly. “And by tonight,” his voice lowered, “I promise you’ll forget all about it.”

Only then did you accept his kiss, eager to put the grievance to rest. Tommy, on the other hand, had other plans and stepped forward so that you were pinned between his desk and hips. He quickly began to gather your skirts above your waist, but you pulled away just as fast at the hiss of air against your exposed skin. An unsolicited gasp escaped his mouth when your knee brushed him there, and you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, looking deep into his eyes.

“Promise me you won’t break her heart. She might not be old enough now, but I don’t want you to put her off love forever,” you caressed his jaw.

“No,” he agreed, breathier than usual, flexing the hands that were still caught up in the fabric of your skirt.

“And our Daisy may never say it, but I know she loves you dearly. So please, Tom, be gentle with her. I don’t want her to grow up despising you. Tell her you love her, kiss her forehead, hug her.”

He deflated, and you watched him swallow his pride. Cogs turned against the sweltering lust, threatening to deplete the clever thoughts in that powerful head of his in favor of your careful touch. Please, please, please, you begged without uttering a word; agree with me on this, Tom.

Tommy leaned back down to rest his forehead on yours; his face gave nothing away. You were sure he had found something to say, which would make you feel like a fool for asking. However, when you embraced those faint subtleties of emotion flickering across his face like candlelight, so miniscule you might blink and miss it, you found nothing of the sort to suggest any hostile nature. Because Tommy loved you.

“I will.”

A/N: Tried doing a long one shot, what does everyone think? Yay or nay? Comment to be added to the tag list!

Taglist: @maliceofwonderland , @fairytale07 , @goblinjnr , @ilovepeoplesdads , @multidimensionalslut

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darkshelbyfiction · 6 months

Text

forced to serve (p.1)

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: Smut, Forced Prostitution, Dub-Con, Butt Stuff, Ass to Mouth

Written for and with my sexy wife @queenshelby, luv you bae

Summary: Your husband forces you into prostitution and your client is Thomas Shelby 👌

After you were told to prepare for your first client that evening, you found yourself nervous about what would come. This wasn't how you wanted things to turn out - not by a long shot! It was your very own husband who forced you into prostitution and desperate times called for desperate measures, right? You somehow had to feed your young child.

Dressed in your most provocative attire, your heart raced when you heard someone approaching your door – it was him. Tommy Shelby. A man whose reputation preceded him. From stories whispered around town, he always demanded something different and intense from those he interacted with. He enjoyed intercourse that was rough and forceful and demanded complete submission from those who served him.

He paid well and he was informed by the madam of the house that you would be obedient and allow him to penetrate you in whatever way he wished, for at least two hours.

It was all part of the deal you had made before entering this world where men like Tommy Shelby roamed free, dictating others' lives, desires, destinies.

The moment he entered the room, he immediately began taking off his shirt, exposing himself without shame or embarrassment. His muscular body gleaming under dim lights only intensified the raw power emanating from him. There was no mistaking whose presence filled the room now.

"Get on your hands and knees and crawl over here, my pet!" Tommy commanded without bothering to formally introduce himself.

"You want me to crawl towards you, on the floor?" you asked hesitantly, unsure whether you really understood his request correctly.

"Yes, Love," he barked back at you impatiently. "And don't ask questions. Just do it."

Your heart thumped rapidly against your ribcage, adrenaline coursing through your veins, heightening your senses. As you scrambled across the floor, getting closer to his towering frame, a strange mix of fear engulfed you.

"Good pet", he growled softly, taking notice of your compliance. Then, gripping your wrist tightly, he pulled you up onto your feet and led you towards the bed, commanding you once again to get on your knees, facing away from him.

Without waiting for your response, he spanked your bottom harshly, sending a shockwave of pain throughout your entire body. As tears welled up in your eyes, you felt a sudden surge of anger rise within you.

"Your safe word is red. Use it when you can't take it anymore and I will stop," Tommy spoke, his voice hoarse with lust. "I am not going to be gentle. In fact, I am going to hurt you, but this is what I am fucking paying you for, eh?"

As he roughly grabbed your hips, lifting you off the ground and positioning you into a standing doggystyle, you couldn't help but feel utterly overwhelmed by his brute strength. With one hand firmly grasping your waist, he used the other to pull your skirt higher, baring your bare behind for him to see.

Your stomach twisted with nerves as he swiftly removed his trousers, releasing his enormous erection from its confines. It stood tall and proud, almost taunting you.

Tommy reached forward and, without warning, he pushed your head down onto the mattress. "Open your legs wide and stick out your ass, sweetheart," he ordered.

Reluctantly, you did as instructed, feeling humiliated and afraid of what might happen next. Toying with your tender flesh, he slapped your ass repeatedly until it stung fiercely. He then took hold of your waist once more, pulling you further into the position he desired. Your face flushed crimson with anger and shame, yet your resolve remained unbroken. If anything, these brutish acts fueled your determination to endure. Tommy leaned in close, speaking directly into your ear, his hot breath causing goosebumps along your neck.

"Don't worry, love," he whispered huskily, "This won't last forever." He punctuated his words with a sharp slap to your ass cheek, eliciting a whimper from you despite your best efforts to suppress it.

"Now tell me how badly you need my cock inside your cunt, little bird," he said in a low, threatening tone.

"Please, sir..." you murmured, trying hard to maintain composure. "Just please make sure it doesn't hurt too much…"

At this point, his expression changed, morphing into pure malevolence. He knew just how far he could push you without crossing the line marked 'red'.

"That's my good pet, eh" he snarled approvingly, rubbing his cock against your still dry entrance.

Realising that you were not ready yet, he removed his cock temporally and spat some saliva onto his fingers and pressed them against your moistening hole, massaging and stretching it slowly while occasionally glancing at you with a look of hunger. You clenched your teeth together, fighting back the urge to cry out from the burning sensation spreading through your insides.

Finally, he stopped and held his manhood upright, his gaze fixated upon yours. "Are you ready, love?" he questioned with anticipation evident in his voice. You nodded mutely, unable to find the courage to speak aloud.

Unable to bear the intensity of the pressure building inside you, you finally gave consent, letting out a soft whimper that seemed to excite him even more. Grabbing you tighter by the waist, he thrust violently into you, causing you to gasp involuntarily.

Despite the initial discomfort, the familiarity of the rhythm gradually allowed you to become accustomed to his size. However, you struggled to regulate your breathing, hyperventilating as you tried to keep pace with the increasing speed of his movements.

Clutching the sheets tightly, you winced every time he drove deeper into you, the pain shooting through your loins growing stronger with each thrust.

Tommy loved watching his partner squirm beneath him, submitting to his every desire.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" he taunted, pounding into you relentlessly.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as the intensity continued to increase, leaving trails of salty residues on your skin. Each stroke felt like an invasion, deepening the connection he sought.

You bit your lip, determined not to let your cries escape. Instead, you focused on counting the number of strokes, trying to block out the searing pain with numbers. Your throat became parched as sweat trickled down your forehead, making it difficult to swallow.

"You are married aren't you?" Tommy suddenly interrupted your internal struggle, his heavy breath echoing in the silence of the room.

"What makes you think that?" you managed to choke out, trying to hide your feelings behind innocuous indifference.

"The ring on your finger gave it away," he replied smugly, continuing his thrusts, groaning loudly.

"Y-yes, sir. I am married" you mumbled weakly, your whole body trembling slightly from the assault.

He paused briefly, admiring your vulnerability before continuing mercilessly.

"Tell me Love, does your husband fuck you like this?" he crooned, driving his hips harder into you.

You cried out involuntarily, overcome by the intensity of his movement. Your legs quivered with fatigue, your arms shook as they supported your weight precariously on all fours.

"Answer me, love," he growled, pushing deeper inside you, his member pulsing against your wall, filling you completely. Your throat burned with the effort of holding back your cries.

"No," you whispered hoarsely, causing Tommy to smile maliciously as, unexpectedly, he started to probe your anal opening with his finger while continuing to thrust into your sore pussy,

"Does your husband ever touch you here?" He breathed heavily into your ear, his warm breath tickling your sensitive skin.

You closed your eyes, struggling with the urge to both answer him honestly and to deny him altogether.

"Answer me, love," he repeated forcefully, pushing his index finger into your anus with such precision and ease that it surprised you greatly. You cried out in astonishment at the sudden intrusion.

"No," you answered eventually while crying out loudly.

His laughter resonated around the room, causing goosebumps to prickle your skin. "So, has anyone fucked your ass yet? Tell me, sweet thing."

You cringed internally, mortified that he would ask something so personal, but knowing it was part of the game, you mustered enough courage to respond truthfully.

"N-no," you stammered quietly, the word nearly escaping your lips before you could catch yourself.

"Well, we'll rectify that today, shall we?" He purred menacingly, slipping two fingers into your wet, gaping anus, stretching and teasing you slowly.

Your muscles contracted involuntarily in response to his fingers penetrating your rectum, making you writhe underneath him. Your mouth opened slightly in surprise, emitting silent gasps.

"Good pet," he whispered, withdrawing his fingers slowly and methodically from your anus.

"I think your ass is ready for my cock now," mockingly, reaching for the bedside table and retrieving some Vaseline.

Fearful and hesitant, you lowered your head submissively. He ignored your reluctance and quickly covered his cock in the creamy substance.

Without waiting for your permission, he positioned himself over you again, guiding his engorged tool toward your aching anus. His grip on your hips was ironclad, refusing to allow you to escape or resist his assault. You writhed helplessly underneath him, struggling to accept the impending invasion. Despite your protests, your body refused to comply, betraying your resistance as he slowly inserted his length into your rear passage.

"Remember your safe word love," he whispered softly into your ear. You bit your tongue, willing yourself to remain strong.

As his full girth filled you up, he began moving within you, his powerful hips bucking against your own, his hands pressing harshly against your shoulders, pinning you in place.

The world around you blurred, and the only sound you heard was your labored breathing combined with his savage grunts of pleasure. Your tears flowed freely down your cheeks, unnoticed by either party involved in this perverse act.

"It hurts, doesn't it? Having my thick cock in your smallest hole? I can feel how much it aches you when I slide in and out," Tommy gloated cruelly, his breath ragged and heavy against your shoulder. His cock throbbed steadily inside you, reminding you of his sheer power over you. It felt like he had no regard for your limits, your needs – he simply possessed you, taking whatever he wished, whenever he chose.

"Tell me, do you like feeling my massive rod buried deep inside your bowels?" He asked playfully, his voice carrying a sinister undertone that made your stomach turn.

Swallowing nervously, you managed to gather enough strength to utter a faint yes. It wasn't a complete fabrication though, as you did enjoy feeling full. This admission served as further encouragement for him, prompting him to continue his brutal attack.

With each new entry, his pace increased incrementally until you found yourself lost in a haze of desperation, pain, and arousal. Your walls seemed to close in on themselves, creating a claustrophobic environment where you could neither scream nor beg for release.

In this moment, Tommy realized that he was approaching his peak - the culmination of his dominance and control over you. Increasing his tempo exponentially, he used his considerable strength to propel himself deeply within you once more, ignoring your frantic attempts to pull away.

His hardened pelvis rubbed against your tender entrance, forcing you to succumb to the waves of pleasure coursing through your body despite your best efforts to maintain distance.

Every thrust reverberated throughout your entire frame, sending shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your system, making it impossible to hold back your orgasm. As you approached climax, Tommy increased his vigor, grasping your hips firmly, rocking your body against his rhythmic pace.

With every thrust, your moans grew louder, feeding off one another. Tommy couldn't help but be proud of his mastery, reveling in your submission. You were a delicious treat he didn't want to end too soon. Your breath quickened, and your nipples hardened under his gaze. As your excitement reached its peak, the walls around you disappeared, replaced by the intense heat of passion. The sensation of his hand cupping your breast brought forth a surge of electric energy, heightening your already spiraling awareness.

The rhythm of his thrusts intensified, mirroring the rapid beat of your heart. With each motion, you could sense the pressure building within, threatening to erupt and consume you entirely.

Your nails scratched furiously at the sheets, seeking some kind of anchor amidst the storm of emotion and physical stimulation consuming you. The taste of salt lingering on your lips only added fuel to the fire, and you found yourself begging for him to take you even further.

"Please, please don't stop!" you pleaded. Tommy laughed triumphantly, a devilish glint dancing in his eyes.

"Do you truly wish for me to push beyond your limit, my little pet?" He taunted, grazing his teeth along your neck, sending shivers racing across your flesh. Unable to suppress your desire any longer, you nodded fervently, meeting his challenge eagerly.

"Then open your mouth wide, my dear," he instructed, loosening his grip just enough to grant you a brief reprieve as he pulled his cock from your ass and pushed you onto the floor.

"You are going to swallow my cum without spilling a drop," he commanded sternly, towering over you.

Feeling violated and humiliated, you dropped obediently to your knees and took his rigid erection into your hungry mouth. Tears streamed down your face as you performed this degrading task, your pride battered and bruised beneath his feet.

Despite the overwhelming shame and embarrassment, you tried your utmost to satisfy him, hoping to regain even the slightest fragment of dignity that remained intact.

His manhood twitched visibly in response to your efforts, provoking him to grab your hair roughly, pulling your head closer to his groin.

"Keep it up, open your throat," he threatened gruffly, reaffirming his absolute control over you. Panicked, you obeyed without question, not wanting to anger him further. Every caress of his fingers through your strands sent shudders of fear down your spine, yet you continued to service him dutifully.

His member grew heavier in your mouth, swelling impossibly larger still as you worked harder to accommodate its size. You fought the urge to gag, concentrating solely on staying true to your promise to him. The struggle became evident in your reddened eyes and quivering jawline. Desperate to avoid his wrath, you tightened your grip on his length, sucking harder, and increasing the intensity of your movements.

Tommy let out a low growl of satisfaction, pleased with your performance.

"Here it comes, love. Feast upon my essence, my precious pet," he said, allowing his seminal fluid to pour forcefully into your awaiting mouth. The salty liquid flooded your palate, filling your mouth completely. The bitter flavor caused your lips to pucker. Still, you valiantly kept your mouth closed, determined not to defile his command.

Still holding your hair tightly, he allowed you to come up from your knees, bringing you into a standing position.

"Open and show me your tongue, I want to make sure you swallowed it all." Obeying, you extended your tongue to meet his inspection.

"Very good, my pet. Now get back on to your knees and clean off my cock properly," Tommy ordered coldly, releasing his grip on your hair. Observing his reaction, you hurriedly knelt before him, carefully opening your mouth to receive his cock once more. His phallus emerged from your mouth, wet and sticky, leaving behind traces of his seed.

"Lick it clean, come on!" he demanded brusquely, eyeing you critically. You complied immediately, not wanting to upset him anymore today. Swirling your tongue around the sensitive tip, you meticulously cleansed it, paying special attention to any lingering residues.

"That will do," he conceded finally, stepping away from you. Exhausted, you sank down onto the floor, feeling a wave of relief wash over you as the events gradually subsided.

Looking up, you noticed Tommy surveying you with a mixture of admiration and contempt.

Clearly satisfied with your obedience, he smirked, wiping the remaining evidence of his domination from your lips with a smile.

"You did well tonight, pet," he admitted grudgingly, turning to leave. "And I cannot believe that your husband would share someone as divine as you are, sweetheart. I certainly would not share you with other men if you belonged to me, which makes me wonder what sort of man he is..." Tommy leered at you suggestively, his tone oozing confidence and superiority. You flinched involuntarily, unsure whether to feel insulted or intrigued by his brazen assessment. Feeling emboldened by his apparent interest, you sought to learn more about the enigmatic Mr. Shelby. "My husband... He is quite peculiar, sir," you hesitated, casting your eyes downward thoughtfully, without telling him that he was forcing you to do this for money.

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cillianhead · 6 months

Note

Your Thomas Shelby's younger inexperienced wife and you are both experimenting in the bedroom and he lets you choke him 🥵

Oh absolutely...!

God I can't wait to write this. Thank you for your request! I hope you like it :-)

Show Me How Much You Need Me || Thomas Shelby x Reader

Part One!

Warnings: SMUT, unprotected P in V, choking, light spanking i guess??, face slapping, age gap, degrading language, swearing / vulgar language, kinda mild breeding kink, daddy kink, squirting, mild overstimulation sort of, oral sex (f receiving), arranged marriage, very very very very vague implications of dubcon sort of but like not really but just be warned! adult content. (sorry if I missed any warnings)

18+ Minors DNI

To your parents, being unmarried at the age of twenty was absolutely unacceptable. So on your birthday, they had men lining up around the block, both old and young alike, hoping to be your husband. Now there were some good candidates, not that you had a choice in who you were going to marry. Your parents were control freaks, deciding they were going to decide for you. But as soon as Thomas Shelby walked into the room, cigarette hanging loosely out of his lips, a trail of smoke following him and a huge wad of cash in hand and then tossing it down in front of my parents, acting like he owned the place... You knew no one else stood a chance.

Now you'd been married for a month, Tommy was an insatiable man. He got what he wanted when he wanted. You remember the look in his eyes on your wedding night when you told him you were a virgin, he nearly came in his trousers at the thought of your tight pussy. You've had sex pretty much twice a day or more ever since, he couldn't keep his hands off of you. Tommy showed you how to fuck, how to suck his cock, showed you how to please a man. Of course, the only man you would ever be allowed to please would be Tommy himself. You were hesitant to marry him, you were also slightly afraid of him but as you got to know each other, got to spend more time together as husband and wife, you appreciated his company, and you could even see yourself beginning to love him. But lately the sex between you had started to die down, Tommy being busy dealing with the peaky blinders and all their drama, you'd only have sex every other day or so. Which for you guys, wasn't a lot. But you knew he was tired, it wasn't cause he wasn't attracted to you anymore.

It was pouring rain outside as you both quietly sat in bed, Tommy read his novel quietly, glasses sitting on the edge of his nose while you brushed through your hair, topless and only in some thin white panties for him. There was a visible wet patch from your arousal, you were always wet when you were near Tommy, he just had that affect over you. He thought it was cute how easily excitable you are. You were incredibly needy, now that you'd had a taste of what it was like to have sex, you were constantly asking for it, constantly trying to get his attention. Poor little inexperienced thing you were.

"Tommy," You whined, placing your hairbrush on the bedside table and then leaning over, pressing your face into his neck. "Pay attention to me..."

Tommy let out an amused huff, turning another page of his book, not bothering to even spare one glance at you. "What do y'need, love?" He asked gruffly, reaching his spare arm and wrapping it around you, pulling you into him. He knew exactly what you needed, he just wanted to hear you say it. The way you got embarrassed and shy was incredibly sexy to him.

"Need you..." You whispered, placing kisses along the column of his throat.

"Gotta be more specific than that," He closed his book, finally setting it aside along with his glasses. "What do you need from me?"

"I need... you..." You were flustered, burying your face in his bare chest but he grabbed you by the nape of the neck like you were a kitten and pulled your head up, forcing you to look at him. "I need you to fuck me... Tommy..."

"Is that so?" He chuckled, running a thumb over your bottom lip which you innocently popped into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digit. You weren't doing intentionally to turn him on, you just liked the way it felt to suck on something, especially if that something was Tommy's thumb. But the sight was suggestive, Tommy wished it was his cock in your mouth instead. "Fuckin' hell, alright, sit in me lap, I'll give you what ye need."

You continued sucking on his thumb, keeping eye contact with him as he pulled down his sleep shorts and pulled down your underwear. "Go on then, take what ya came here for." Tommy pulled his wet thumb away, shoving it between your folds and rubbing your clit, making you weak in the knees. He had so much power over you. So you grabbed onto his shoulders before holding the head of his dick before lining up with the leaky tip and sinking down on him. You watched his eyes roll into the back of his head as you squeezed around him. "Easy, girl." He warned, his cock twitching inside you, he could cum from just how tight you were. God he fucking loved that his cock was the only one you'd ever taken, loved the way you stretched around him.

"Fuck... so deep..." You sat on him for just a moment, adjusting to the feeling. Even though you'd taken him plenty of times, your cunt just hadn't gotten use to the sheer size and girth of him. It made you feel like you were being torn open in the most beautiful way possible. "T-Tommy..."

"Ride me, slut, go on... show me how much you need me." He slapped your ass harshly before grabbing a handful of it and encouraging your hips to start grinding against him. "Such a pretty girl."

You moved your hips back and forth, a bit shy at first as you did so but as more and more pleasure began to build in your stomach, your dignity went out the window as you began desperately bouncing on his cock. Tommy had never seen you so hungry for it before, he just leaned back against the bed, his hands gripping your waist as you took what you wanted.

Your tits bounced right in front of his face and Tommy thought to himself this was the greatest view in the world. His pretty little wife fucking herself and her perfect tits moving in sync with her movements. He let out gravelly groans as you sunk back down on him, sweaty, you froze for a moment to catch your breath. This was still all so new to you, still such an innocent little thing. You still need Tommy's help to get off sometimes, not quite strong enough yet to ride him all on your own.

"Tommy..." You whispered with a small whine. "Need your help..." Your flushed cheeks and blown out pupils were a sign of how lost in the moment you were. He just smiled as he pushed you down onto your back and threw your legs over his shoulders. His cock pressing even deeper into your pussy, somehow. You could feel him in your stomach.

"This what you want, little girl?" He hummed as he started to fuck in and out of you, impaling you on his dick. "Want me to fuck you like the slut you are?"

You moaned, nodding dumbly as your mind went blank. "Yes! Tommy! Fuck me!" You were incredibly loud and you were lucky no one else was in the house because otherwise they'd hear how loud you were being, when usually you were quite reserved around other people. "Pl-Please put a baby in me Tommy... let me make you a daddy..."

"Fuck..." Tommy could cum at your words, "Yeah?" He panted continuing to piston in and out of you, one of his hands grabbed roughly at your tits, playing with your hard nipple. "Gonna breed you like the bitch that you are." You moaned at his words, arching your back further into him as he gave you another harsh spank to your asscheeks.

"Tommy... gonna cum... please... don't stop!" You sounded like a pornstar, Tommy leaned down and kissed you.

"My pretty little wife," His voice was vibrating through you, the gravel of it making you even wetter. The sound of his cock slipping in and out of your sopping little cunt echoed throughout the room as he leaned down even further and connected his lips to yours once again. He felt your fingers curl around his neck, both hands wrapped around his throat, Tommy was never one to get flustered but the idea of you choking him made his hips stutter as you squeezed around him a bit. "Fuck..." He moaned lowly as you held onto his neck. You looked so sweet in that moment. "Such a stupid little girl, when you're full of cock, don't even know what ye doin, eh?" He fucked into you more, feeling you squeeze around him. Your hands held onto his throat as if you were holding him on a leash.

You were a writhing mess, shaking underneath him, only choking him further. You looked at how pretty he looked with your hands wrapped around his throat and how flushed his face was, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead as his hips bruised your pelvis. "Daddy...!" You moaned out, experimentally, waiting to see his reaction. You had always fantasized about calling him it but you were always too nervous to do so. But right now you were drunk on the pleasure, too fucked out to care.

"Fuck... say that again... gonna fuckin' fill you up, love." Tommy was just as desperate as you now, chasing his own high as you started to convulse around him, your orgasm unraveling, he lightly slapped you across the face, hard enough to break you out of your daze but not enough to actually do any damage. "Fuckin' do what I say!" You clenched tighter around him, cumming even harder at the sound of him yelling at you. Him being angry at you shouldn't be so hot but it was.

"Sorry... s-sorry... daddy!" You sobbed out as you gushed around his cock that began leaking cum. "Please... cum in me, please daddy..."

"That's right, baby..." He was rutting into you now, hips moving into you hard yet slow. "I'm yer daddy." He let out a deep mewl as he came inside you, making you moan even louder, your voice hoarse and your throat sore as you let go of his throat, collapsing your arms back. Tommy fucked his cum deep into you despite the sensitivity of his cock. Slowly pulling out of you, he pushed your legs against your chest to look down at the slick between your legs. A little bit of cum dripped out of your stretched out hole, earning you two fingers pushing it back into you, you just whimpered, a bit overstimulated.

"Think I gotta get a taste of your pussy now, love," He hummed getting down on his tummy, face aligned perfectly as he moved his fingers in a 'come hither' movement. You gasped, he was hitting your g-spot each time.

"Fuck, tommy!"

"Eh, that's not me name right now." He looked at you warningly before unhinging his jaw and attaching his hot mouth to your sensitive clit again.

"Oh daddy! 'S too much, too much... please..." You couldn't tell if you wanted him to stop or to keep going, it was all too much for your brain to comprehend. You were seeing hot flashes of white, your body going completely limp as another orgasm washed over you, rendering you helpless to the pleasure that was consuming you from the inside out. "D-Daddy..." You dumbly moaned.

"Tastes so fuckin good, keep cummin' on my face." His nose brushed your clit as he licked up your juices and you came again and again and again. Extremely overstimulated. "Just gimme one more, baby then I'll leave you alone." You were unresponsive, nodding your head weakly, wanting to be good for him. "Such a good girl for daddy, aren't ya?" He made out with your gushing sex, adding a third finger.

And suddenly you felt it burst out of you, drenching his hair, face, and the sheets underneath you. Squirting all over his face and just as you thought it was over, it just kept on coming. Your mouth agape in a silent scream of pleasure, he drank it all up, continuing to slurp at your pussy until it finally ended. He pulled away, leaning back on his ankles, Tommy had a very pleased look on his face, your squirt dripping down his chin and his chest sticky with your cum and the sheets soaking wet. "That was the best bloody thing to ever happen to me." He huffed, licking his wet fingers. You laid there, tears streaming down your face and twitching gently, still coming down. He laid down beside you. "You did so good f'me, so good, you're alright, I'm here."

He held you as you continued to shake, waiting for you to calm down a bit. "I've never done that before..." You whimpered, pussy throbbing, full of cum, and sopping wet.

He gave you a loud genuine laugh, still sticky with your juices as he kissed you. "I'm gonna make you squirt over and over and over again every time we fuck now, just so you know."

You giggled at his words, he was gonna be the death of you.

I know there wasn't a whole lot of 'experimenting' or choking so i'm sorry! But I hope you enjoyed anyway!!

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lovelybucky1 · 7 months

Text

Nectar- Tommy Shelby x Reader

warnings: AFAB!reader, f receiving oral sex, fingering, mentions of masturbation, blasphemy kink, church sex, heavy religious themes, corruption kink, dirty talk, canon typical violence

masterlist

The church is quiet like it always is at this hour. The pews empty of parishioners, the confessionals vacant, and the lights dim. The priest and almost everyone in the neighborhood have long been in bed. You, however, were wide awake.

You’ve been working in the church since you were a girl, per your family’s wishes. It’s mostly charity work: caring for the sick, poor, orphans, and others in need. You also spend a fair amount of time working inside the church, cleaning and whatnot. It is fulfilling work, but it doesn’t offer much in terms of pay, so you don’t have much of a space to call your own. That is why you spend your nights in the empty church, alone save for the conversations you have with God.

Since you spend so much time in the church, you’re pretty familiar with the congregation. It’s not often you see a new face unless a new family moves to the city. When you heard the heavy oak doors open, you were expecting a devout Catholic in crisis, not the notorious crime boss, Tommy Shelby.

You watch from the first pew near the altar as he walks down the aisle toward you. His hat and coat are wet from the rain, and once he takes a seat a few rows behind you, he takes them off. You’re confused, wondering what he could be doing in your church in the middle of the night. Part of you feels nervous, knowing that danger never follows far behind a Peaky Blinder.

“Good evening, Mr. Shelby,” you decide to speak up, voice kind and sweet as always.

Tommy’s eyes flick to you, but his expression is unreadable. “I’m not dead yet, eh?” he says. You look closer at him and in the dim light, you can just make out the dried blood splattered on his face.

So maybe it isn’t a good evening. Nevertheless, he has come to a church and he is allowed sanctuary here. You make your way over to where he sits and you stand at the end of the row, obviously looking hesitant if his glance is anything to go by.

“Do you mind if I sit?” you ask. Instead of a response, he cocks his head to the side in a way that you’re interpreting as go ahead. You sit down, pressing your knees together to make yourself as small as possible. There is about a foot of space between the two of you, but even still, the proximity to him is overwhelming.

As the two of you sit in silence, your mind starts to wander. You know his Aunt Polly is Catholic; she frequents the church, though she never attends the services. You’ve overheard her prayers before, and you understand why she prefers to pray in private.

“Are you Catholic, Mr. Shelby?”

Your desire for conversation seems to surprise him. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye before he goes back to looking straight ahead at the altar. It takes him a few moments to respond, and you can see the inner battle on his face as he decides how to answer.

“No,” he says.

“I see. Your Aunt is, though. I see her nearly every day.”

“And she’s a fool for it.” The bitter tone he takes only gives you more questions.

“I take it you don’t believe in God?”

“You’re quite inquisitive,” he says, shooting you a look. “God abandoned me long ago.”

You sigh. Many of the men held the same sentiment after they came back from the war. The horrors they experienced in France, the death and destruction took the fear of God away from these men. Now, all they fear is each other.

“It’s never too late to find him again,” you offer. Tommy lets out a dry, humorless chuckle in response. “You can still be saved.”

“I’m past the point of saving. I’ve got a spot in hell waiting for me.”

You frown at that. “God is all about forgiveness. God will even forgive men like you as long as you accept him.”

“What’s the point in asking forgiveness if I don’t indent on stopping?” he asks, leaning back in his seat, making himself look more intimidating. “And what do you mean, men like me?”

As if someone dumped a bucket of ice water on you, you immediately realize your mistake.

“I didn’t mean to offend you, sir. I just meant men in your… line of work,” you say, trying to backtrack.

“And what line of work is that?”

Tommy is sitting up now, leaning just slightly closer to you. Now that he is fully facing you, you can see the blood on his face, but by the lack of injuries he has, you’re suspecting it’s not his. His gaze is piercing as he stares into your eyes, smirking as he waits for you to respond.

“I-I don’t know.” With a small, satisfied smirk, Tommy leans back again. “I’m just saying, sir, you haven’t strayed too far from God’s light.”

That makes him chuckle again. “I see. So all I have to do is absolve myself, right? Confess my sins and I’ll be God’s child once again?”

He’s toying with you now. He wants to see if you are devoted enough to your God that you’d try to convince the biggest sinner in the city to become a religious man.

“That’s right,” you smile softly, still hesitant from your previous slip-up.

“Can I confess to you?” he asks.

“I’m not the priest-”

“I want to do this now. I want to find God.” His voice is so earnest that you believe him.

“Okay,” you agree. It’s about confessing to God, the person doesn’t matter. “We can go to the confessionals.” You begin to stand, but he stops you by grabbing your wrist.

“That’s far too formal, don’t you think? We can do it right here,” he says, the faintest look of mischief in his eyes.

You nod and sit back down, folding your hands onto your lap. Tommy slides off the bench and sinks to his knees on the floor, hands clasped in front of him.

“Bless me, for I have sinned,” he begins, looking into your eyes. “It’s been many years since my last confession. In my time away I’ve done many bad things, terrible things, that make me ashamed to look in the mirror. I’ve lied, stolen, scammed, and gambled. I live a life of deceit and greed, and I’ve found great success in doing so, but those are not the sins that weigh heaviest on me.”

You watch him intently as he speaks, your eyes tracing every word his mouth forms. Your heart begins to beat quicker in your chest; the idea that you’re getting access to information only meant for God makes you feel guilty, but it’s also exciting in a strange way.

“I’ve taken many lives. During the war, I was ordered to, but I continued once I came home. I’ve killed in every way imaginable. Shot in the head, slitting their throat, hanging, drowning, burning, suffocating. I’ve had men ripped apart for betraying me, and I did not feel remorse. I watched these men suffer as my men tortured them. I laughed as they pleaded for God to save them.”

Tommy doesn’t look as remorseful as most do when they’re confessing their terrible sins. He almost looks proud, like he’s bragging about them to you as you squirm under his gaze. The graphic descriptions he’s offering make you uncomfortable like your skin is too tight on your bones. Like he’s corrupting you just by having you listen to his tales.

There is a blaze behind his light blue eyes that captivate as much as they scare you. They bore into your soul and peel back the layers, revealing all of your inner thoughts. It makes you want to run away screaming, to pray for God to rid this world of the devil in front of you but you’re stuck, frozen in front of him as he confesses.

Tommy takes a breath as if what he is going to say next brings him great shame. As if he hasn’t already confessed the worst sins man could commit.

“Perhaps worst of all, I lust. I lust after women and I envy men with beautiful wives to the point I take them for myself. I’ve had many married women in my bed, as well as hers. I fuck whores too, but only the pretty ones. And they can’t be cheap, because those women can’t keep a secret. I don’t only fuck them in the bed. I’ve fucked in my office, my car, and my pub. It doesn’t matter who these women are, but once I have my sights set on them, I am determined to get what I want.”

The confessions about his sex life shock you. Of course, you know people have pre-marital sex and affairs are common, but you’ve spent your life in the church. You don’t hear of these things frequently, and you feel bashful because of his vulgar words. Tommy holds eye contact with you as he speaks, though you find it difficult to meet his eyes.

Your body betrays you now; you’re unsure how to react. You should be scared, you are scared. There is a murderer less than two feet from you, splattered with someone else’s blood. However, he has a soothing, gentle voice, kind eyes, and a soft smile. It’s hard to believe that the man on his knees praying to God is a monster, but you find it harder to believe that there is a heat growing between your thighs from his confessions.

The vivid images of Tommy with some faceless woman play in your mind. You imagine the way he’d look lost in pleasure, carefree and blissful. You imagine how his rough hands, which are currently clasped together, would feel on your skin. You imagine how his voice would sound in your ear, how his lips would feel as he whispers.

Your heartbeat picks up in your chest, a physical reaction from the fantasies. Your skin feels hot, burning with shame as you pray that Tommy doesn’t notice your current state.

“And finally, I’d like forgiveness for lusting after the church girl who was stupid enough to think she could show me the light,” he says, hands now dropped at his side and gaze predatory.

Entranced by his words, you didn’t notice how close he had leaned in, now only inches from your face. Your breath hitches in your throat and for a split-second, you think you see Tommy’s eyes on your lips.

“Sir?” you ask, voice no more than a squeak.

“I appreciate your efforts, dear, but I sold my soul many years ago.”

Tommy’s eyes are sharp and his grin is wide as he leans closer to you. He has lured you into his trap and you fell for it like a fool. Now, helpless and trapped, he is going to swallow you whole. Your heartbeat throbs in your ears, almost downing out his sweet, deep voice.

Tommy places his hands on your knees, and even through the fabric of your skirt, you can feel the coolness of his skin. The touch, although not sexual in nature, electrifies you. A shiver runs down your spine and Tommy must notice if the slight smirk is anything to go by.

“Are you alright?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Yes,” you choke out.

“Would you mind helping me?”

You furrow your brow, now much more hesitant to do anything for him. Your heart is still hammering in your chest and you’re certain you are trembling slightly.

“With what?” you manage to ask. Somehow, even on his knees below you, Tommy makes you feel small.

“I need something new to worship,” he says.

Tommy slides his hands down your claves until he reaches the hem of your dress, which he then pushes up to reveal your stockinged legs. He gently guides your knees apart and you allow him until you feel too exposed. You resist against him and he looks up at you with a questioning look.

“I-I can’t,” you say.

“You can lie to yourself, you can lie to God, but you can’t lie to me,” Tommy says, grasp still from on your knees but no longer pushing. “You want this.”

You look away, over your left shoulder as you try to hold onto any of the values you held before Tommy entered the church. You’re saving yourself for marriage, and even worse, you hadn’t formally met Tommy before tonight. There’s no love, no future, between the two of you. It goes against everything you have been taught since you were a girl, but he is appealing to the primal side of you. The side of you that slips your fingers underneath your nightgown after you say your nightly prayers. The side of you that allows your eyes to linger on the men in the chuch during service, even as their wives and children sit beside them.

Tommy is not putting the thoughts of sin in your head, he is simply tempting you to act upon the urges you have felt for years.

“You’re the devil,” you whisper.

“And you’re the fuckin’ Virgin Mary,” he counters. “You spend all your life worrying about what’s going to happen when you die. How about I show you what it’s like to live, eh?”

You set your jaw, trying to save a bit of your dignity before you give the man on the floor permission to debase you. You squeeze your eyes shut and nod your head, but that is not enough for Tommy.

“I need to hear you say it.”

You wonder if he is really concerned with how much you want this, or if this is just another power move. You swallow thickly and resolve yourself to the reality of the situation: if you want anything from the devil with the silver tongue, you’ll have to play his game.

“I want it.”

You’re Eve, and you have just been tempted to take a bite out of the apple by the snake.

With a wicked grin, Tommy presses a kiss to the inside of your knee and, embarrassingly, the contact makes you jolt. He removes your shoes, unbuckling them quickly and with ease, then placing them underneath the pew. His hands reach up your skirt to grab ahold of the top of your stocking. He gently rolls them down your smooth leg and pulls it off your foot before turning his attention to the other one.

It is unnecessary for him to undress you like this, especially when your stockings wouldn’t be an obstacle. There is something about being unusually bare in a church that makes you ache with guilt, and Tommy must know that. He seems like he knows everything.

He bunches the skirt around your upper thighs and he spreads your legs farther. This time, you don’t resist. You swear you see his mouth water when he catches a glimpse of your white knickers, pristine and perfect like a good girl should wear.

“What a precious little thing you are,” he grins.

Tommy ducks his head and drags his nose along your inner thigh until he reaches your clothed mound. He presses his face between your legs and takes a long, slow inhale like he’s smoking a cigarette. His fingers press firmly into your legs and you’re certain you will have bruises left behind. You should be upset about that but truthfully, you’ve longed for something like this.

Tommy’s fingers find the edge of your panties and gently push them to the side, exposing your pussy to the church air. Your breath hitches in your throat and you watch as he stares shamelessly at you. He swipes his finger through your folds to gather your wetness on his fingertip. He brings his hand back to show your desire glistening in the dim light.

“What’s all this?” he asks smugly.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you huff.

“Oh love, I’m not making fun. I think it’s sweet how worked up you got over nothin’.”

Tommy leans in again and his hot breath fans over your cunt, which now feels cool from being in the open. You shiver with anticipation as he nears, and your body jolts when his tongue makes contact with you. It’s a light, barely there touch but it sends an electric shock through you and elicits an embarrassing moan.

You hear him chuckle, but he doesn’t stop or say anything else. He licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit, then back down. Your hands twitch at your sides, fighting back the urge to grab him, not wanting to show how much you’re enjoying his torture. He knows, of course.

He works you up slowly, not giving too much attention to one spot, not making you too sensitive. You keep your attention focused on him, watching intently as he pleasures you. You don’t even feel the sting of his nails digging into your thighs when he sucks on your clit.

“Sir, please, this is wrong,” you try to reason, but your broken, airy voice sends a different message. You don’t want him to stop, you’d probably cry if he did, but it’s still wrong. It’s still a sin.

You hold on tightly to the edge of the wooden bench to ground yourself so you don’t get lost in the pleasure. Part of you realizes how ridiculous this situation is: a notorious gangster eating out an innocent little church girl. Another part of you couldn’t give less of a shit and just wants to cum.

“Mr. Shelby, please,” you whine. It’s unclear if you’re begging for more or to stop, but Tommy doesn’t seem to care either way. He’s going to give you what he wants and nothing more, nothing less.

He slides two fingers into your soaking cunt and curls them against that spot deep inside of you that makes your toes curl. He fucks you with his fingers and works your clit with his tongue, and you feel yourself nearing the edge faster than you ever have before.

You build up to your peak, and after a particularly harsh suck to your clit, you begin to cum. Your orgasm shutters through you, making your legs twitch on his shoulders. You let out an unintelligible whine as you grip the bench. Despite having cum, Tommy doesn’t let up on his assault. He continues to suck on your over sensitive clit until you’re shrieking and pushing his head away.

He chuckles and sits back on his heels, looking at you with a glistening face. He makes a show of pushing up his sleeve and wiping his face with the back of his hand. You want to close your legs to stop the cool air from hitting your sensitive cunt, but he is still in the way, keeping you exposed.

“Nectar of the gods in there,” he smirks, glancing down at your soaked pussy.

Without another word, he stands up. He picks up his hat and coat, and begins to walk down the aisle, leaving you alone.

“Wait,” you say, voice echoing in the church. He stops and turns around, eyebrow raised. “That’s it?”

“What more do you want?” he asks.

“What about you?”

Tommy chuckles. “Such a generous soul. I’ll take care of it myself, love. You just get to prayin’. We did a lot of sinning you have to repent for.”

You sigh and nod. “Will I see you again?”

“If I decide to become a priest,” he says with a smirk before turning on his heel and continuing out the door.

You know Tommy Shelby will never turn to priesthood, but you do have a feeling he’s found something in the church worth coming back for.

my inbox is open for requests!

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader

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zkvry · 8 months

Text

Are You Laughing at My Brother? | Shelby Brothers x Sister!Reader

Summary : Y/N is just a year younger than John Shelby, though her immense instinct to protect her older brothers against their enemies reveals that the Shelby name is not to be trifled with.

Warnings : cussing, misogyny, death threats, guns, descriptions of violence, racism

Additional Information : > takes place in early season 1 ; Billy Kimber era (minor spoilers) > written in third person perspective (she/her) > 847 words | 6 minutes

Author's Note : decided to use some gifs along the way, might be distracting for your reading - I apologise. My first work on here, please let me know how you find it! Enjoy <3

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"Are you laughing, at my brother?" She speaks, appearing from behind the bar. For the first time since they've dared to enter the Garrison, Billy Kimber and his two men flinched slightly at her sternness. This only lasted a split second. Still, it didn't go unnoticed.

Billy Kimber flashes a cocksure smirk, pleased at the presence of something less dreadful than matter at hand. "And what do we have here,"

John lets out a humourless laugh. "I'd be careful with that one. She's feisty," He warns Billy Kimber with an all-knowing look.

Billy Kimber rakes his eyes over her physique. "This is no place for a whore - even a pretty one at that," He tuts mockingly, shaking his head.

Arthur inhales deeply as he fights the very last nerve to not cut the cheeky bastard across the face - to not slice his eyes for looking at his dearest little sister. The word 'whore' bounces around in his head. Arthur's lips twitch, knuckles turning white as he grips onto the arm rest for restraint.

He was waiting for a signal - a sound or nod of approval from Tommy or Her. Hell, he thinks, even John could command it and he would bloody do it. No questions asked.

Nonetheless, She makes her presence known. Almost like clockwork - one of the Shelby brothers stand and holds out his chair. In this moment, it was John. He extends his hand and escorts her to his previously occupied seat with care. Recklessly, he drags a chair for himself from a nearby table beside them, and plops down.

Billy Kimber clears his throat wearily but still as arrogant as before. "Right, he's the oldest, you're the thickest. I'm told the boss is called tommy so it can't be this woman you lot here seem to worship. Then I'm guessing that's you, cause you're looking at me up and down like I'm a fucking tart, " He spits out.

Thomas finally unclenches his jaw, the throbbing pain creeping onto him. He puts on a calm façade. Unmoving, he looks to Her direction.

Only when he saw She hadn't intervene, he spoke. "I want to know what you want. And which one am I talking to, which one of you is the boss?" Thomas breathes out as he takes a puff from a cigarette. His finger darting around from Billy Kimber to the two men that accompanied him.

Billy Kimber shoots up from his seat, knocking it to the ground. "I'm the fucking boss, alright!? Enough parley, you fixed the race without my permission. You fucking Gypsy scum. I run the races. You fixed one of 'em, so I'm going to have you shot against the post!" He declares - finger pointing threateningly to Thomas.

"Pick it up," She leans forward onto the table, hands intertwined infront of her.

Billy Kimber looks at her flabbergasted, "What?" He furrows his eyebrows, offended.

She stands slowly, the men around her straightening their backs in alert at her movement. She stares at him, unfriendly.

"I said," She continues, leaning forward once more, arms stretched out on the sides of the table, dominating the space at the table. "Pick. my chair. up," She repeats.

Billy Kimber remains stunned, seemingly not knowing what to do. The audacity of such a woman to demand him to pick up a chair? He was shocked to say the least, and outrageously insulted.

Ready to argue and humiliate her, Billy Kimber opens his mouth but She was quicker.

"You swayed your arse in here like you own the place. Guns out like you're flaunting fuck knows what," She speaks fluently, rage settling in. "We fixed your race, you put a bullet in my ceiling. That's fair, but then you had to run that fucking mouthpiece of yours didn't ya eh?"

"Want to put a bullet in my brother's head, is that it?" Like a predator, She stalks closer to him.

As She approaches, one of Billy Kimber's men crouched down and picked up the fallen chair. Just as the chair was upright, She gathered her strength and slammed Kimber's shoulders down onto the seat and held him still.

"Why don't we put one in yours?" She whispers into his ear, patting harshly on his right shoulder.

In an instant, Kimber's two men draw their guns.

The Shelby brothers lurch forward, in efforts to protect their sister infront of them, moving to draw their own guns as well.

However, the men who were supposedly loyal to Billy Kimber pointed their guns at the man himself. A sinister smile creeps onto Her face.

"Let's do proper business, shall we Mister Kimber? Starting off with your races, " She declares, moving to lower the guns that have been drawn by her brothers and the two men working for Her.

She turns abruptly to face Kimber. "Though, they wouldn't be your races any longer after we're done here, would they? " Her face suggestive of diplomacy, but voice laced with threat.

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brummiereader · 1 month

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MASTERLIST PART THREE

Unchained Melody (Part Four)

Summary: After a distressing day of events, you and Tommy finally have the conversation you had both been avoiding for over a fortnight. All under the furious glare of the Governess as she watches from the window, fuming that her plan had fallen apart.

Warnings: Language, angst, fluff, mutual pining, medical emergency

Word Count: 5334

Counting the days since your return to Arrow House had quickly turned into counting weeks. And just as you had once stored the memory of time passed, you found yourself in the midst of loneliness once again. Your new life felt much the same as it once did, albeit with a clearer mind, and the cherished guiding hand of reassurance from your dear housekeeper, Frances. But as you tried to rebuild the severed bond with your son, one thing from your previous life stubbornly remained without any hope of changing. Tommy's absence. Two weeks had passed since your husband had given you a difficult dose in the reality of your disappearance from his life to swallow. And two weeks had passed since you last spoke more than a few words to each other. If his avoidance of you wasn't obvious before, there was now no denying it.

Ashamed of his behavior, and begrudging the fact the near full contents of a whisky bottle he had consumed that night was not enough to dull his memory of the moment he had nearly struck you, Tommy had all but barricaded himself off, and away from any resurfacing grievances he still held for you.

Not allowing yourself to follow your husband's emotional course of self-destruction, you decided to focus your attention on one thing. William. If your husband's bullheadedness had no intentions of following his Aunt's advice, then you would. For all the years you had lived within the tight-knit family you had married into, you had learnt one thing. Polly was always right. Always.

With the wise words of the Shelby matriarch playing on loop in your thoughts as you sat at your vanity, brushing your hair into a loose updo, you forgoed any hopes of reconciliation with your husband, and did as the saying goes. "Let sleeping dogs lie"

Just let him be. You told your nagging brain as you stood up, placing your ivory pearl tear-dropped earrings into your ears, forcing them with a wince through the thin layer of skin that had formed from the many years you had gone without jewellery. A birthday gift from Tommy. Was a little part of you hoping he would notice? You thought to yourself as you opened your bedroom door, wondering if the subtle gesture of gratitude you still held for him would go overlooked. Not that you were trying, of course. And like everything else you had been thrown into in the past two weeks, now was your chance to find out. For just as you reached the top of the staircase, so did your husband, and with it an uncomfortable, almost unbearable silence following him.

" Tommy" you greeted him, unable to force a smile through the sorrow weighing down your heart at his absent gaze as you searched his face for the same desperation you felt.

" Morning" he stated, void of any notions of intimacy as he cleared his throat. Sending but a mere glimpse your way, he gestured with his hand for you to lead the way.

For the briefest of moments all you could do was stand there, hoping like some silly school girl he'd notice the birthday present he had gifted you all those many moons ago. But as Tommy fished in his suit jacket for a much-needed puff of the cigarette calling his name, a dousing of embarrassment piled onto the already mounting heap you had accumulated over the past two weeks, and thus further installing Polly's words to you.

Focus on William. You reassured yourself holding your head high as he followed behind you, quickly inhaling the fumes from the tightly coiled cylinder of tobacco resting between his lips.

But Tommy did notice. He would have noticed a single eyelash out of place if given enough time to do so. Everything, and anything to do with you Tommy noticed, anything but the one thing he had regretfully refused to face, and would now haunt him to his grave, tormenting him for not saying something enough to soothe your worries away. You wore royal blue that night. He thought to himself, recalling the evening he had gifted you the delicate pearled jewels that were gracefully swaying through the whispers of your hair gathered together into pins as he took each step down the long wooded staircase behind you, watching the skin on your neck pucker into small goosebumps from the light spring breeze flowing through the open windows. The same night he held you tightly in his arms, making love to you in front of the fireplace of your living room. The night he was sure William was made. He recounted, losing himself in the small ghost of a smile etched on the corner of his mouth as he watched the end of your dress glide over each step, while the memory of you profusely refuting his calculations entered his thoughts. But when William was born exactly nine months later, he couldn't help but feel a certain sense of cockiness that his keen eye for observation, and his note of a very needy wife that night hadn't gone a miss.

"Mrs Shelby, Mr Shelby. He's been so eager to see you both" Frances smiled upon seeing you descend united down the staircase, a small amount of misplaced hope in her heart that you had worked through things as you both beamed at the wriggly two-year-old unable to contain himself any further in her arms at the sight of his parents.

" William! Hi sweetheart " You smiled, kneeling down as his little legs charged towards you, throwing himself into you with a squeal and a thud. " Did you grow during the night? I think you did" you tickled under the curve of his chin, rubbing your nose over his as your husband's heart pulled at it's tethered strings from seeing the peaceful image of his wife and son together, an image he never thought he'd witness again " What do you think Tommy? Doesn't he looked like he's gro.." You said, momentarily forgetting your self as you turned to face your husband, only to be met with an empty space with Tommy having already walked off to his office.

" Come Mam, I have breakfast ready for you both" Frances sighed ushering you away from the sadness enveloping you as you pulled your only connection to your husband tightly in your arms. " Don't fret now" she said placing her hand to your back, as all your reserves left and a tear began to well in your lashes. " Time is a great healer" she whispered to you with a loving smile as the dining room door closed behind you both and Tommy glanced back, watching his family shut him out. How long would he keep this up before he buckled?

"Good day to you Mrs Shelby, and young Master William" the gardener, Mr Heath greeted you both taking his gloves off as you and William made your way out into the gardens of Arrow house later that morning, feeling the need to walk off the large breakfast of crumpets, and every spreadable food known to man that Frances had lovingly prepared for you.

" Look who it is William! Say hello" you guided him forward with a smile, watching him toddle to the enticing flower bed bright with colours Mr Heath had undoubtedly spent most of his morning planting. With an incoherent babble of words leaving his lips, William sized up the flower in front of him, picking it from its root before you had time to scoop him up into your arms. " I'm sorry Mr Heath. Nothing seems to escape him at the moment" you apologised as you held William on your hip with his victory grasped firmly between his chubby fingers.

" Plenty more where they came from. Isn't that right William? We'll make a gardener of you yet" he winked to your son, looping his thumbs through his suspenders as William kicked his feet back and forth with a squeal, muddying your freshly laundered dress. " Got some of those roses you like Mam, had one of the lads plant 'em this morning. Miss Gray insisted on them being added to the new flower bed you've been designing. And I'm not foolish enough to say no to her, ay?" he said with a chuckle nodding them out as your eyes widened, and a smile flashed across your face at the touching gesture, and Polly's keen memory of the flowers you would have the groundsmen plant rows of so you could adorn the rooms of Arrow house with their sweet perfume.

" Oh Mr Heath, thank you! You're ever so kind" you said, placing your hand on the curve of his shoulder as your eyes brimmed with tears at his gentle nature, unaware the whole interaction was being watched by your husband who was stood at his office window.

" Well, well. She seems to have a soft spot for your trusted gardener" the Governess said announcing her presence, snaking forward behind Tommy as his jaw tightened at the sound of her voice, his fists clenching furiously onto the windowsill Infront of him." She's often out there talking to him, for hours on end"

" Get out" he stated coldly as Tommy continued to watch you from afar, the Governesses words slowly sowing doubt into his already bombarded thoughts.

" Oh come on Tommy..." She purred, standing behind him as she watched you with William talking to the gardener, her breath hot against the back of his neck, sending a shivering chill down his spine " William's her priority now. She's moving on, time you did too. I see a little spark between them" she giggled, brushing her hands around his waist down to his belt whilst she rested her freshly powdered cheek on his back as a heavy release of anger quickly heated the tips of Tommy's ears from her continued refusal to accept his disinterest in her.

"Keep your vapid thoughts to yourself!" he spat, pulling her talons off him as he marched to his office door puffing furiously on his cigarette before swinging it open for her to leave.

" She doesn't want you Tommy" she teased, her icy glare matching his own as she sauntered past him, taking the cigarette from his mouth then blowing the fumes over his lips before your husband furiously slammed the door and returned back to the window, back to his troubled mind.

Heavy with anger, the Governesses words had left a bitter taste in his spiraling thoughts as he slipped into paranoia. Was this your way to get back at him for the Governess? A fling with one of his staff? He thought to himself, watching your hand drop from the gardener's shoulder, your muffled laughs loud enough to be heard from where he was stood. What was so funny? Were you laughing at him? He fumed with jealousy, his eyes fixed solely on your every movement, ignoring the real reason for your joyful mood.

" William, no darling!" You said with a chuckle, turning to face your two-year-old who had taken a liking to the flower he had picked so much, it was now fully enclosed in his mouth with only the stem sticking out.

"We'll leave those for the horses, ay William?" the gardener laughed, ruffling his dark locks as you pulled the fully intact flower from within his plump cheeks. " I'll have my boys plant some more roses this weekend for you Mam. We'll soon have the gardens looking as they once did" Mr Heath promised, turning back with pride at the flower bed he had spent the previous days planning with you, a little something to help you remember things could be how they once were, given enough time to flower.

" Thank you, Mr Heath" you said, looking around the garden when your eyes darted past Tommy stood at the window in the distance with a cloud of smoke bellowing in front his face, a displeased look etched into his furrowed brow. " Shall we get you inside?" you said glancing away from your husband to your son, wondering what you had done now to have him looking so vexed.

" It's good to have you back Mam" Mr Heath nodded his head to you with a smile as you turned to leave.

" It's good to be home" you called back, adjusting William on your hip as you watched your husband in the corner of your eye, following your every step as you made your way back inside, and unknowingly to face his sour temper.

" Y/N!" Tommy bellowed your name as he came marching towards you when Frances quickly inserted herself between you both, noting the Governess lurking behind the door of the library watching.

" Did you enjoy the flowers Miss Gray had planted for the new garden you've been planning with Mr Heath, Mrs Shelby?" Frances quickly interrupted Tommy before he said something he would later undoubtedly regret. For Tommy's once notorious stoic demeanor had rapidly turned into one of anger since your return. The likely culprit to this sudden change in behavior, still watching down in the corridor, adding more fuel to the flames of your already burning marriage.

" It's beautiful. I must remember to call and thank her" you replied, turning to face your husband with a quizzical brow, watching him turn his head away with a deep sigh as his fingers came up to pinch the tightened skin on the bridge of his nose.

" Mr Shelby, is there something I can help you with?" Frances asked as you both waited, watching the wheels turn in his eyes while he stood with his hands on his hips, head cast down feeling stupid for letting the viper he needed to be rid of slither her way into his paranoia.

"The er, the cake..." he said clearing his throat as he looked up, his eyes darting between you and Frances as you furrowed your brow at his unusual stuttering manner. What had gotten into him?

" Yes Mr Shelby?" Frances replied with a dutiful smile.

" What...what did Mr Giles use this time?" he asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as his eyes quickly darted to you then back to your head housekeeper.

"Oh, I wouldn't know Mr Shelby. It was your wife that baked it this week" she said looking to you as you glanced up from smoothing down the jumper bunched up around William's chest whilst he curiously pulled at the pearl dangling from your earring.

" Brandy" you replied as a silence uncomfortably sat between you both while Frances watched on in desperation for you to both reunite, and bring peace and the love you shared back to Arrow House.

" Right" he replied quietly as his eyes lingered on you, gazing between your glossy lips and doe eyes looking up at him through your full lashes. " Right..." he repeated once again before suddenly turning for the front door.

" What...what on earth was all that about?" You asked your housekeeper as a look of puzzlement crossed your face from your husband's chaotic interaction with you.

" I'm not sure Mam" Frances replied guiding you away before glancing back to see a smirk of enjoyment flash across the Governesses lips, her eyes unnervingly narrowing in on her.

With an uncomfortable feeling of dread and unease weighing down her stomach, Frances watched the library door close, and the woman she had clocked onto slip away. What was she up to?

"Soon, William. Just another hour" you sighed, looking up at the clock as your son furiously stomped his feet, throwing his teddy your way with a wail of cries. No snacking, he's on a strict schedule. The Governesses words rang in your ears as you looked back at the ticking hands of the clock, convinced they were purposely going slower than normal. " How about we play with your new train set while we wait for dinner? Yeh?" you said energetically as you stood up from the nursery floor, hoping your enthusiasm would distract him from his rumbling belly. Holding out for his reaction, you waited and watched as he blinked away his tears, then dramatically threw himself to the floor, thrashing about like a crocodile in the throes of a death roll. " Right, you win" you declared, deciding a small snack was nothing worth battling over with a two-year-old as you picked him up and marched to the door and down the staircase. " I'm your mummy, and if you want a snack only one hour before dinner then...well, you can have a bloody snack" you said with determination, ignoring the Governesses rules that were anything but what she claimed to be "polite recommendations".

" Can I help you Mam?" The young kitchen aid Billy asked you as you started rummaging through the many cupboards, while simultaneously stopping Williams curious hands from putting everything and anything in his mouth for a drooling, toothy toddler taste test.

"Do we have any dried fruit, biscuits, bread?" You turned to ask him with a flustered face placing William down, your son instantly making a beeline for a large packet of flour. " William, wait!" you said as he opened the contents, pouring it over the tiled floor.

" Uh oh" he said with his hands out behind a puff of flour filling the air.

" Uh oh, indeed" you said covering your mouth from the giggles you were unable to hold back as you and Billy both looked down at your two-year-old emerging from the cloud of white dust that had settled around him.

" What's going on in here?" The Governess snapped, stood at the door as you patted the flour from your child's clothes. " Billy, clean this up" she demanded as you picked up your son and placed him on the kitchen table, dusting the remaining powdery kitchen staple from his brown locks. " Mrs Shelby. Your presence brings quite the chaos doesn't it?" she said as you sharply turned back to the cupboards, your patience reaching it's limits with her constant undermining of you. " His dinner is in under an hour" she reminded you as she frowned at the various jars and boxes of food you had pulled out from within the kitchen cabinets.

"He's been hungry for a few hours now. Something small won't hurt him before it's ready" you replied with as much assertiveness you could muster, waiting for her next snarky remark.

"Hours? I didn't tell you to starve the poor child. You're his mother, surely you know what he needs?" she replied, her cruel words hitting the little remaining self-confidence you had left as you bent down to William's eye level, his sweet face smiling back at you enough to keep the tears from starting, and the strength to say what needed to be said.

" I am his mother" you said, standing up, placing your arm protectively around your child's back. " And from today, I don't want to hear any more of your council, nor opinions on how I raise him. Know your place, and stay out of my parenting, and marriage" you finished with a labored breath, your heart rapidly pounding in your chest as you tried to keep your firmness on the matter from falling under the nerves coursing through your body.

"Billy, Mr Giles wants you! " She snapped, turning her piercing glare to the young kitchen aid stood nervously watching at the end of the table.

" But I have to finish up..."

" Now!" she barked, uncrossing her arms as she pulled a small jar of hazelnuts and various dried fruits from the shelf behind her as the young worker hurried past her, his eyes darting to the items of food she had placed on the large wooden table before he shut the door behind him. "Mrs Shelby?" She said pushing the food towards you, as you looked up from your son.

"Here we go, sweetheart" you said with a smile as you reached for the jar of nuts, crushing one between the heel of your hand and the table for him." Good?" You asked as he held his hand out for more, excitedly kicking his feet back and forth.

" Slow down" you giggled as your son delved his hand into the jar whilst you crushed another of the sweet earthy hazelnuts for you to share. "Slowly William" you said furrowing your brow as he began to cough, and your eyes darted around the kitchen for a jug of water as the Governess stood quietly watching. " William here, drink" you said placing a small cup to his lips when a feeling of unease settled in your stomach and your heart rapidly fluttered within you chest at the sound of yours sons sudden, unexpected wheezing. "William...William?" You panicked rubbing his back as his little lungs forcefully strained each labored breath out." Get help!" You cried looking to the Governess as you scooped up your son into your arms, his stifled cries of pain sending your body into a dizzying daze as your ears filled with a piercing ringing.

"What did you give him?!" Tommy shouted, storming through the kitchen moments later with Frances quickly following behind him as you stood there in shock, frantically trying to ease your child's cries.

" Wha...what's happening? Tommy?" You stuttered out between your rapid thoughts as you tried to answer your husband, when Tommy grabbed him from within your arms and placed him down on the cool slabbed floor, pulling his jumper off him.

" What did you fucking give him?!" Your husband screamed at you as his eyes darted up from the blotchy pink rashes covering your child's heaving chest and stomach.

" I...I..." You cried as you picked up the crushed hazelnut on the table next to you as Tommy's eyes suddenly widened in a panic.

" Get the fucking car!" Tommy shouted picking William up in his arms, cradling his limp body tightly against his chest as he ran outside, the Governess feet behind him.

" Frances?..." Your voice trembled as your eyes blinked through the tears welled in your lashes.

" You didn't know, dear. Quick, he needs you" she beckoned you forward from the state of shock welding your feet to the ground.

With a surge of adrenaline pushing you forward and out the front door, you watched as your husband carried your son into the car as the Governess slipped into the seat beside him.

"William!" You cried, as your shaky body frantically ran to them, stumbling forward until your hands landed on the boot of the car. " I'm here...William I'm here" you sobbed as your trembling fingers guided you around the Bentley, only for the Governess to slam the door shut in your face before quickly winding the window up. " Wait, wait!" You cried banging your fists on the glass, trying to garner your husband's attention who was in his own panicked daze as he tried to ease your sons discomfort.

" Go" the Governess instructed the driver as she wrapped her arm around your husbands shoulder, flashing you a look of disgust and contempt before the car drove off in a haste, leaving you in a heap of strangled cried in the muddied grass.

An allergic reaction, something any mother would have know. Something you should have known. But you didn't. And as you watched the car speed away, you felt your body cave in on itself as the weight of the grave error you had made plunged you into the depths of the ground below you, dragging you into nothing but hopelessness and despair. You were his mother... you should have known.

Four hours had passed since your husband had rushed your son to the nearest hospital. And as you sat in the icy bath you had plunged yourself into over two hours ago, you stayed motionless, numb from the thousands of needles pricking your skin as you stared blankly at the droplets of water dripping from the tap at the end of the bath, counting them as they echoed loudly in the empty darkened room.

" Mrs Shelby! My goodness!" You'll freeze to death" Frances gasped upon entering the room, throwing the neatly folded linen in her arms to the floor before pulling the plug from the bath and you along with it.

"Is he dead? Frances... Is he dead?" your voice trembled as you snapped out of your dazed state at the feeling of a warm towel being tightly wrapped around your freezing body.

" William is well, Mam" She replied as she pulled you towards her, frantically rubbing your arms up and down in an attempt to warm your body up. " Mr Shelby is waiting for you in the nursery. He wants to speak with you"

"No. I can't, Frances...not after this. He'll kill me" you panicked as you clutched tightly onto her arm, pulling yourself and her away from the door, away from the anger you feared your husband had for you.

" He'll do nothing of the sort" she reassured your paranoid mind, slowly guiding your reluctant feet to the master bedroom to dress, and the welcoming burning fire she had lit for you.

" I do like to be beside the seaside, oh I do like to be beside the sea" you heard your husband quietly sing as William slept soundly in his arms whilst you watched from the door of the nursery. "Shh, my boy" he said, turning to see you as you shifted nervously from one foot to the other under the moonlight beaming through the windows as he placed William gently into his cot.

" I'm sorry. I...I didn't know" you sobbed quietly as your husband stood with his hands resting on his waist, his face tired and drained from the day's events.

" We need to talk" he said, raising his brow with his hand out pointing to you as he watched you step back and away from him.

" I didn't know Tommy..." you cried, slowly walking backwards until your body hit the door and your fingers frantically reached for the handle behind you as your husband stared you down.

" You gonna run, eh? That's what you do, don't you?" He said following you, his eyes challenging you with every step you took as you stumbled past the furniture of your master bedroom. "Run when things get hard..." his voice rose when you turned and bolted out the door and down the corridor. " Y/N!" Tommy's voice bellowed down the stairs as he ran after you, watching you push the heavy front door open into the night air. " No! I'm not gonna let you do this again!" He shouted catching up, firmly grabbing your arm as you tossed and turned in his grip.

" Tommy stop!" You screamed, pushing him off you as you stumbled back, your lungs scrambling for air from the anguished cry that had left your lips. " I can't...I can't do this anymore. I'm not fit to be his mother. I could've killed him" you wept breathlessly as you clutched onto the brick wall gating your home.

"You didn't know..."

"I should have though! Why did you bring me back here, Tommy?! Why? You should have left me!" you shouted at him, hitting him across his chest, furious that he had thrown you back into the situation you once fled from after having convinced yourself your presence only brought dread and chaos to the ones you loved the most.

" Left you? You wanted me to fucking leave you?! Do you want to see what you left me with, eh?" Tommy bellowed, as he grabbed you by your arms, stopping your weak blows before dragging you by the wrist to a gated, enclosed area at the back of the house. "There. That's what you left me with" he spat, pushing you through the gate to a stoned monument adorned with carved roses cascading down it's side, your name intricately etched into the marble. " An empty fucking grave Y/N!" He yelled, the force of his words taking his breath away as his body hunched over, heaving for air.

"Tom..." You cried turning to face him, desperately reaching for him.

" Filled with your clothes, pictures of me and William. A tomb without a fucking body" he said, running his hands through his hair as he looked at the marked grave. "He cried for you every night you were gone. I...I didn't know what to do Y/N, he wanted his mother. But you were gone, dead" Tommy sniffed, letting his barrier finally drop as tears welled in his eyes, and he lulled his head back, desperately trying to get a hold on his escaping emotions. "Do you know how that felt, eh? That I couldn't take his tears away, that his own father couldn't settle him?" He said through gritted teeth letting his head drop, letting you see the depths of despair you had left him in. "Two years Y/N. Two fucking years...Why?" He finally gave into the conversation he had been avoiding for over a fortnight.

I...I couldn't cope anymore " you sobbed as you cautiously stepped closer to him with your hands out. " You were never here, I..."

" So it was my fault then?" He quickly interjected, shaking his head with a scoff.

" No! No Tommy" you hurried to correct him, gingerly reaching up to cup his cheeks as you turned his head to face you. " I needed your help. I should have asked for your help" you sniffed as you desperately searched your muddled thoughts for the answers he rightfully deserved. " I felt lost, Tommy. Confused. I didn't understand why I couldn't do what other women did so naturally, when all I've ever wanted to be, all I've ever dreamt of being was a mother. And I couldn't do it, Tommy. I couldn't fucking do it!" You broke down, your fingers grasped tightly onto the front of his shirt. " I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." you wept loudly, your body shaking furiously from the heartache you had put both yourself and your family through with your actions.

Unable to withstand the torment of seeing the woman he loved so broken, so fragile, he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around you as he placed a pressing kiss to your head.

" You were doing it though. You couldn't see it, but you were doing everything any mother would have done, sweetheart" he sighed, threading his hand through your hair as he closed his eyes, his longing body starved of your warmth loosening in the comfort of you. "I should..." He sighed as he looked up at the night sky, a gentle breeze drifting past him cooling his simmering temper. " I should have been there. Done more" he said as he cupped your head to look at him. " I should have done more Y/N" he reiterated as his thumb swiped over the tears pooled above your cheeks.

" Forgive me Tommy...please" You sobbed, pressing your forehead to his as you linked your hands tightly around his neck, desperately holding out for his forgiveness.

" I've never had a reason to, darling" he sighed, cradling the side of your head against his thundering heart, his love for you beating rapidly through his chest. For as much as Tommy's troubled mind had put the brunt of your shared problems on your shoulders alone. His heart never betrayed him, never stopped loving you, never once blamed you for the troubled emotions he knew were out of your reach of control.

As you both sat down on the step of the marble headstone, you rested your tired body in your husband's strong frame as he looked up at the glittering sky, silently thanking the unknown for the peace he finally felt having you wrapped in his arms once again. But Tommy's peace would be short-lived. A storm was coming to Arrow house, its maker watching from the window of her room as her face twisted with fury, her bitter mind gleeful of the hell she would bring down on this grand house and everyone in it.

" You fool Thomas Shelby. You fool..

PART FIVE coming soon!

Tag List: @garrison-girl-08 @call-sign-shark @red-riding-wood @look-at-the-soul @lau219 @peakyswritings @babaohhhriley @naevisct @galactict3a @satanhauntedmytorment @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @kmc1989 @latorsgatorz @garfieldsladybird @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @henrywintersdearestgirl @goblinjnr (unable to tag) @abaker74 @hummusxx @xvintageghostx (unable to tag) @sagecodm @isabbellagonzalezz88 (unable to tag) @girlwith-thepearlearring @minaxcarter (unable to tag) @cleverzonkwombatsludge @saltburnwhore (unable to tag) @outlanderuniverse @anastacia-lynn @sofiblossom @akemiixx01 @thelastemzy @xxbeckybeexx-blog @cyphah @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @kammsinn @nadloves @esquivelbianca @bruher @honeymoon8 @amberpanda99 @whorefortim @casquinhaa @globetrotter88 (unable to tag) @s0eul @depressed-but-make-it-cute

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x reader insert #tommy shelby x reader #cillian murphy #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby series #peaky blinders #peaky blinders series #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby x fem!reader

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evita-shelby · 8 months

Text

Happy wife, Happy life

Or Tommy gets drunk and assumes his wife is someone else so he sleeps on the floor instead

For @runnning-outof-time with the prompt 34) “I didn’t get your name.”

Gif by @cillianparadise

The sight of Tommy, this new Tommy who is always in control at all times, drunk as hell and stumbling into the bedroom, is a sight for sore eyes.

It is the old him, the one who laughed and loved horses and had ambition but not the sort to get you murdered by the Crown's most evil men.

“Did you have fun tonight, love?” You ask as your husband of four years stripped down to join you in bed.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I am sure you’re a catch, but I got a wife.” He answers, perfectly serious too and lies down on the floor after taking his pillow with him.

You can’t help but laugh and tease him. Not like he’ll remember this tomorrow.

“Oh, so you’d rather sleep on the floor instead of your bed, Mr. Shelby?” you ask letting you arm hang over the edge of the bed and just low enough to bop his nose.

He hates it, and rolls his eyes at your immaturity.

“Yeah, happy wife happy life.” Tommy responds as if it made all the sense in the world.

Good boy, you say and he thanks you for the praise and rejects your advances while he’s at it.

“What if I told you your wife was in bed and can’t sleep without you with her?” you ask while you lightly pester him in ways only you did.

“Mhm, she’d shoot me if she caught me in bed with another woman, especially you.” He turned on his side and you paused as you raked your fingers through his mop of dark hair.

You.

Was there another tramp trying to woo him away from you?

You knew from the beginning that every woman here would sign off on their firstborn to be in his bed, and sell their soul to the devil to be in your shoes.

You were jealous, so much so that when he left for France you told him he could fuck a whore so long as you got to fuck a fella in return.

Your threat saved him from a bout of gonorrhea which Barney got from a whore who gave it to every man in the battalion save for Tommy.

“She doesn’t have to know,” you say keeping up the act so you know which woman you have to scare away from your fucking husband.

Couldn’t these ladies see the wedding band in his finger?

“She will, you aren’t exactly doing yourself any favors working in the pub, Miss. Miss?” Tommy faltered forgetting the name of the mousy barmaid. Looked like Jane Seymour , with that holier-than-thou face that got Anne Boleyn short of a head. “Sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

“Grace. Grace Burgess.” You filled in the blanks and knew you’d make the blonde bitch leave Birmingham and scurry the fuck back to Belfast or your name isn’t Y/N Shelby.

Part 2

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x fem!reader #tommy shelby x wife!reader #thomas shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x oc #peaky blinders fanfiction #k's 3.5k celebration

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runnning-outof-time · 2 months

Note

Hi! For the celebration, how about… “Do you know you’re bleeding?” with Tommy.

Maybe a more light hearted protective Tommy situation <3

Hi there, anon! Thanks for sending this in! I’m sorry it took a little bit for me to get to. I love me some protective Tommy! I hope you like what I did with the prompt. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!

An Unfortunate Accident

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: language, blood

Word Count: 601

Summary: When Tommy finds (Y/N) injured after something silly happened to her, he immediately thinks the worst.

“Shit,” (Y/N) hissed as she quickly cradled her hand against her chest. She gritted her teeth as a surge of pain quickly shot down her arm. “Shit, shit, shit!”

She looked around the kitchen. There has to be something I can use to cover this, she thought to herself as the pain grew stronger. Footsteps sounded off the hardwood just as she managed to grab one of the dish towels sitting on the counter. A quick spin to face the archway told her that Tommy had entered the room. Shit.

“Hi, Tommy,” she tried to sound as nonchalant as possible as she greeted her husband. Her both hands were now hdiden behind her back, and she was placing as much pressure on her injury as possible. “You’re home early,” she commented sheepishly.

“Not really,” he answered, his brows furrowing slightly as he took in the sight of her. “What’s happened?” he asked her then, closing the gap between them as worry seeped into his features. Between her frazzled state and how things looked, his mind was starting to create several scenarios.

“What?” her question came out like a breath, her heart hammering in her chest.

“Do you know you’re bleeding?” he asked.

“I’m not,” she dismissed him, speaking a little too quickly for her liking.

“You are. It’s all over your dress, love,” he answered, motioning to the article of clothing. (Y/N) quickly looked down to see that the front of her dress was indeed stained crimson. A sigh left her lips. “So tell me the truth. What happened?” he asked again, his voice level, his tone one that she couldn’t argue with.

“You’re going to laugh,” she sighed, her sheepishness returning.

“I’m not,” he assured her with a slight shake of his head, his eyes still focused on her.

(Y/N) held his gaze for a few moments, still weighing it all out in her mind. Tommy kept his eyes on her, his eyebrows raising after a few seconds of silence had passed - his nonverbal way of saying ‘I’m waiting’.

One more sigh escaped her lips before she finally brought her (now blood-stained) cloth-covered hand back into view. “I, uh…I was chopping some of the vegetables, and a bird flew into the window. The bang it made scared me and my hand slipped. I sliced my finger pretty good.”

“A bird?” Tommy questioned, incredulousness seeping into his words. His eyes left hers, albeit for a moment, to glance out the window…as if said bird was still going to be hovering there.

“Yes, a bloody bird,” (Y/N) answered, a dire earnestness present in her voice. She watched her husband’s face carefully, waiting for what she knew would becoming. The second she saw his lips twitch, she jumped on him. “You said you weren’t going to laugh!” she exclaimed.

“I’m not laughing!” he defended himself, although he couldn’t help but let a few chuckles out. This made (Y/N) glare at him, and she smacked him on the chest without thinking.

“Ow! Fuck. Tommy!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with pain.

“Didn’t quite think that one through, eh?” he questioned with a chuckle. (Y/N) couldn’t even be mad at him…he was right. “Lemme see it,” he said then, coaxing her to show him her injured hand.

It took a few moments, but she showed it to him. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” she asked, cringing at the sight of it.

“I’ve seen worse,” he answered, glancing up at her to send a smile before focusing on her hand again, “let’s get it cleaned up.”

*tags in reblog so that hopefully they get sent out.

MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby blurb #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders blurb #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #k’s 3.5k celebration

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cupidbread · 3 months

Text

I Love You Always Forever

TOMMY SHELBY X WIFE!READER

Title inspired by the Donna Lewis song!

Thank you so so much for this request sweetheart. My apologies for being late to attend to it, I've been busy :(

THE NEW BARMAID in the Garrison stirred suspicion within Y/N's heart. Her gaze, like an insatiable hunger, fixated on Tommy, her husband, as if he were eye candy. There most definitely is something strange about her, nevertheless, Y/N regarded the interloper as nothing more than a desperate shadow, a woman who couldn't seem to fathom the ropes that bound Y/N and Tommy together.

As the clock struck 4, Tommy, enveloped in a tower of paperwork, leaned back on his chair. The door's creaking intrusion unveiled Y/N, her presence itself a cure to his icy soul.

"It's late, darling," she smiled, a melody in her voice that he craved to hear every second if possible. His icy gaze warmed at her disheveled hair, a white nightgown loosely hanging onto to her frame.

She approached, her legs immediately entwined with his thighs. Straddling him, she clung to him with an urgency akin to a leech seeking blood. "What're you doing, hm? I'm meant to be working..." he murmured, fingers gently weaving through her tousled hair.

"The bed is rather cold without you," she confessed, her eyes pleading. "Come to bed, my dear. There's always another day to catch up on work. For me?" A sigh escaped him, a surrender of her affections, making her eyes light up.

"You're going to be the death of me, woman." he admitted, sealing his words with a peck on her pouted lips.

The next morning, Y/N walked into the Garrison, ever so elegantly. The sight that awaited her made her blood boil. The Irish barmaid, leaning sticking out her bossom to Y/N's husband, served him a glass of whisky.

Suppressing her anger, Y/N approached with a tight lip, catching Tommy's attention. His gaze softened, focused solely on his wife as if she was the only woman on the planet. "Are you alright, love?"

"All good, dear. I was told to deliver a letter." She placed the letter into his lap, claiming a rough kiss.

Y/N rarely displayed such affection, in public of course. Reserving it for when they are home. Tommy welcomed it with no complaints, his eyes closing in pleasure. An irritating voice disrupted the intimacy. "Ahem! This is quite an inappropriate place, Mr. Shelby!"

Silence covers the pub, the tension palpable. Tommy, unyielding, glared at the interloper. "Excuse me? And when exactly did you get a say in what Tommy Shelby can or can't do, eh?"

Cutting off any response, Tommy continued, his eyes burning with authority. "The drinks are on the house. It's about time you learn how things work around here, or you won't be here much longer. You hear me?"

Stifled, she nodded looking close to tears as Tommy led his wife away, leaving a smirking imprint on her face as she looked back.

Y/N spoke softly. "You were rather harsh on her, Tom."

"I know how you feel about her, love. She's nothing compared to you," he assured, cupping her face and sealing his words with a tender kiss to her cheek.

Y/N smiled, turning his palm to place a kiss. "Lead the way home, Mr. Shelby. You're not getting out of bed tonight," she declared with a mischievous grin, their love a puzzle seamlessly fitting together, despite all the complexities they face, they face it together.

#tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders #tommy shelby fluff #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader

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kadwrites · 9 months

Text

an introduction | T.S

previous part | next part

or check out the series masterlist

summary ; you meet your husband to be for the first time.

warnings ; angst, dysfunctional family ig? , arranged marriage trope. bad writing?

a/n ; is it good? is it bad? is it too long? who knows. thank you for the support <3 please let me know what you think!

you hadn't left your room for the past three days. celest would be there , feeding you, holding you as you cried.

tonight though, you couldn't sleep because the sounds of your siblings yelling is keeping you away from the slumber you very much needed.

"you did what?"

oliver's brows furrow, his very pregnant wife , renee , sits beside him, her eyes open wide and a hand on her belly.

his mother tries to act like she didn't feel the guilt clawing at her heart , she sips her tea, "it's about time she got a husband."

"mum , what were you thinking? what has gotten into you?" his voice isn't loud, it isn't his usual roar, which is what concerned his wife. she puts a hand on his shoulder "you're forcing 'er to marry thomas shelby? are you fucking insane? have you lost your bloody mind?"

"im not forcing her to do anything, she agreed."

"after ya slapped 'er."

celest lets out a chocked sob at the mention of that

his mother's eyes are stern when they look up at him, resenting the fact that he brought it up

"she's a wild girl, she raised her voice at me"

"what did you expect 'er to do?" he got up, and his wife desperately tries to calm him down "lay on 'er back and open 'er legs?"

"to obey her mother."

"the mother that treated 'er own daughter like a piece of meat?" his jaw clenched, his hands shake "how could you do that? you didn't even tell us anything."

abraham is pacing around. his girlfriend ,anna stands in the doorway, watching this unfold. what else was she supposed to do?, its not like she can do anything. celest is sitting on a chair, her face buried in her hands as she cries. their father wasn't at home, he was out visiting his brother.

he's been avoiding this very incident like the plaque.

"when did this even 'appen?" abraham walks and stands next to oliver, both of them staring at their mother, his voice trembles as he tries to hold back whatever he had to say.

"why does it matter?" their mother slams the teacup on the table "it's already happened. what good is it going to do if we keep talking about it?"

"how long 'ave you been plottin' at this?" oliver's voice gets louder, his wife tries to get up but cant, abraham grabs his shoulder instead. "are you that desperate for money?"

"i did it-"

"for 'er ? securing 'er a future, yeah? is that what you tell yourself?" celest finally speaks, her face glistening with tears as she stands up

celest was always her mother's daughter. being the eldest, she always aimed to please her but when this happened, she couldn't even stand to look at her mother. she knew their mother was looking for a suitor ,she tried to reason with her, telling her how her younger sister would never agree, that she'll just yell and maybe even try to run away. celest never knew that the suitor her mother had in mind was thomas shelby, she never knew that he'd already agreed to all of this.

their mother's eyes move to celest, renee and anna share a look , and anna stands with her mouth covered. "this is not going to end well." ,they both think.

"what?"

"i said is that what you think you're doing? that you're doing whats best for 'er?" celest repeats "when you and i and everyone in this room knows who thomas shelby is, we know what he does, we know how he lives"

"he will take care of her." she raises her voice as well

"mother...." abraham warns, with his eyes closed. he knows the words she will say next would just anger everyone further

"i dont want her to end up like you! with a man that has you living in a piss poor excuse of a house, running after his spawn." her mother spits those words out like venom.

"i love 'im, i chose 'im, and i never ever regretted that decision, i never once complained,i never doubted his love or loyalty" celest walks closer "i will live a good life with a man who is good to me, an honest man. would she say the same about the husband you chose for 'er?"

"she will love him! she will grow to love him" she yells those words, as if she desperately wants them to be true.

celest lets out a chuckle , looking at her mother as if she was insane "do you not hear yourself? do you not hear how you sound?" then she moves even closer,"you're ruining 'er life!" celest cried, her screams sound through the whole house, abraham is now holding her back, as she squirms and thrashes "is this what you fucking want ? for your own child to live a miserable life?"

oliver left the living room at some point and he was inside your room now, somehow.

he crouched at the side of the bed, where you're laying on your stomach, cheek against the pillow and covers tucked up to your neck.

"i..." he tries to speak, he lets out a breath "i didn't know" he felt guilty for some reason, as if he could've stopped this.

"i know"

"you don't 'ave to say yes" he puts a hand on your head smoothing down your hair. oliver was never the one for affection, always awkward with it. "you don't. you can say no"

"i cant" you whisper back to him, your eyes look at him and they are once again filled with tears, your lips quiver

"yes you can"

"no i can't" you let out a sob "and you know that."

he just looks back at you, keeps on smoothing down your hair

"its not your responsibility to save them."

"it is now"

and he knew he couldn't change your mind, "she says he's comin' by tomorrow ,to see you."

silence ensues. you two just stare at each-other not knowing what to say

for the first time in his life, oliver the man with the biggest mouth, the loudest voice, the one who always fought you over that one spot on the table, doesn't know what to say. he has nothing to say.

he slowly gets up, and leaves the room, closing the door behind him gently.

and when that dreaded morning comes, you find yourself on your vanity chair, looking at your reflection in the mirror, your face still almost emotionless

celest stands behind you, brushing your hair,she's crying silently, and you just stare at the mirror

you knew that those steps belonged to your mother, you'd memorized how they sounded when you were a child , when you pretended to be asleep so she wouldn't know you'd stayed awake past your bedtime. she walks and stands next to celest, you don't look at her, you just stare at yourself.

celest puts the brush on the table and she walks away, she walks to the window, trying to calm down. your mother picks up the brush.

"i know you think im cruel, and that i'm selfish. but i did it for your sake." she speaks

this is the first time you'd even seen her since it all happened

your eyes dart up to her, she doesn't look at you, she just looks down at your hair as she brushes it.

"when your father got sick, i never thought we'd lose the farm too, we lost the very thing that gave us most of our money." she pauses for a second "i know this isnt how you wanted to get married, it was not an easy decision for me either"

"i don't love 'im" your voice is soft, its not angry

"love isn't everything, you don't need it to be content" she continues "i didn't love your father when i married him , but love follows"

"he is nothing like my dad"

your mother stops again "he's a hardworking man, he was in the war , wasn't he? just like yer father."

"my father was a farmer," she muttered "that's what you loved about 'im, what you've come to love. that he is a good man but the man you're marrying me off to isn't"

you sound like celest.

your words cut deeper than you thought they would, your mothers eyes close, she sighs "you're my youngest child and i want you to live a good life when me and your father are no longer here .a safe life. i dont want you to need a roof over your head or worry about money or food"

you don't want to argue , so you don't. you just let her brush your hair and neatly style it. she brings a box and opens it, inside it a golden necklace with a ruby as a pendant, she puts it on you, she smiles at your reflection

"i wore it when i married your father", maybe it will bless your marriage too, your mother thinks to herself.

you don't say anything, you just do what you're told. you were too tired to fight this anyways. you just wanted this day to pass

and then you hear it, your brother's voice as he greets him, despite his anger your oliver sounds polite. their voices are muffled but you hear them.

you mother walks you down the stairs and when you descend you see him, on the green sofa , talking to your father and your brothers and as if he could sense your presence his eyes dart up the stairs and he sees you.

you feel as if the whole house ran out of air, and as if your lung collapsed. you look back at him nonetheless as you walk down the stairs.

it feels as if their voices are distant as your family greets him, very welcoming and warm they sound but you can't process a word. you just look at him. you think you mumbled a greeting too, you're not sure.

he got up when you entered the living room, he looks you up and down but only for an instant and then his eyes go back to yours. you cannot see any emotion on his face.

you sister stands at your side, renee on the other, they sit with you between them on the couch facing him, the rest of your family scattered around the room but you didn't look at them, too busy looking at the man you'll marry. it's almost as if you can visibly see the blood on his hands.

but when he speaks , you snap back into reality out of your trance

"its a pleasure to finally meet you."

his voice is deep, calm and collected. for some reason it sends a chill down your spine

"the pleasure is mine" you say back, as politely as you could.

slowly, person by person, your family leaves the room

you glance at the window, your brothers and father are outside smoking, pretending to not watch. celest, renee and anna are under the foyer.

your mother and mrs gray are in the kitchen, having tea, when did she come in here?, you didn't even notice her.

you lean back against the sofa, you stare at him just like he stares at you

"mind if i smoke?" he already has his cigarette between his lips , he pulls out his lighter

"no" you say curtly , you sit on the sofa in the most expensive dress you own, your newest heels,

he offers you a cigarette, you eye it. you hadn't smoked since your parents caught you smoking on the roof but they've disappointed you, so what if you disappoint them one more time

you pull a cigarette out, he passes you the light and you light it, then putting it out

he leans back as well, crossing his legs

"are you good with children? can you care for them?"

you nod, your cigarette hangs between your fingers"i 'ave one nephew and 4 nieces, one on the way too"

"i 'ave a boy"

his eyes give nothing away no matter how long you stared at him , looking for a crack in the mask

"what's his name?" you ask softly

"charles"

"how old is he?"

"four, he's turning five soon"

"is that why you're looking for a wife? to look after your son?"

"thats a part of it, yes" he exhales the smoke, he throws an arm around the back of the sofa

"what's the other part?"

"i need a wife and i want someone i can trust around my boy when im not around"

you nod , your eyes look away for the first time.

"do you feel like you can do that?"

you turn back to look at him

"i believe so , yes"

he nods, "are you being forced into this?" he's blunt. it doesn't take a genius to know that you're not happy, that you're reluctant.

"no, i'm not"

"i don't want to marry you if you're unwilling"

"i said i'm not ,didn't i?" you tried to hold back your tongue, but you couldn't

his brow raises at this ,"you don't exactly look like you're content with your decision"

"is this an interrogation?" you ask, stubbing the cigarette on the ashtray that sits on the table. partly because the taste of it made you nauseous, having not had one in years. the other part annoyed and defensive

"i believe its called an introduction" a his face is still stoic, but his voice is betraying him, it's sounds as though he's amused.

you look up, you hate to admit it but you can't deny it. he looks handsome, in his expensive suit, his glasses, his cheek bones. celest was right, at least he is easy on the eyes

"an introduction, aye?"

"hmm"

you just look at eachother, you blink a couple of times, then lean back again.

"its my decision, mr shelby." you try to compose yourself, "it wasn't forced on me,"

he nods again,

"do you 'ave any conditions?"

"i do..." you lick your lips nervously "my father, he's sick"

"i will take care of his medical expenses" he nods before you could finish that sentence

"it would be nice if i could finish my own fucking sentences"

he lets out a dry chuckle, and you take it as a sign to continue

"he's never been properly checked , we don't know what exactly is wrong with 'im" you sigh "my only condition is that 'im and my mother would be looked after, financially and medically."

"they will be"

"i want it in writing" you hesitate but then say it anyways , you don't know if you can trust him, you don't care if you offend him.

he looks at you, his eye travel between yours "alright"

you let out a breath you didn't know you've been holding

@tardisloverz , @optimisticsandwichgladiator

#kadwrites #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction #tommy shelby fanfiction #thomas shelby fanfiction

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awritesthings1 · 26 days

Text

Good Taste

Pairing: Tommy Shelby / Wife reader

Summary: You get made fun of for wearing your sapphire necklace to the foundation dinner. Tommy always finds a way to make things better.

Warnings: swearing, implied smut.

ao3 link

“She was making fun of me!”

“Yeah? And when has that ever bothered you before, my darling?”

“Since all the bloody country wives started debating whether my jewelry was in fashion or not, Tommy,” you huffed at your husband, who was having no luck pinching away the creases between his eyebrows.

Tommy sighed deeply, not really bothered to continue the conversation but irked because the wives down the lane had gotten under your skin, and if you were unhappy, then he was unhappy. He fueled his throbbing head with a cigarette, chain-smoking them back-to-back while he hunched over on the settee.

You were sitting at the vanity, fingers tangled hopelessly at the stubborn latch of your necklace that just wouldn’t let, when you saw how Tommy was beginning to fold in on himself. Guilt consumed you immediately. It wasn’t that you actually cared all that much about what people said, but when you were around Tommy, your guard slipped, and all the things that made you tick during the day would come cluttering out of your mouth like an unwanted clash of symbols and noise. Tommy would sit there and listen, hum, nod, and completely detach himself from the world.

You ran each other around like clockwork. He leaned back, you forward. Lust swelled in his eyes, concern in yours, a tug at your hip, and a gasp from your throat. You smiled sympathetically, apologetically. He kept quiet, forgivingly holding your gaze, until a defeated sigh broke the tension, and you both understood how silly the whole ordeal was. Here was Thomas Shelby, a man of great power, slumped against the settee, utterly exhausted.

“Darling, this is fucking Birmingham. Good taste is for people that can’t afford sapphires.”

That brought a smirk to your lips.

“Oh?” You muse, watching him through your vanity mirror.

Tommy huffs, but it’s more out of amusement than agitation. The cigarette between his lips twitches as a smile graces his face. He hums in affirmation.

You give up on trying to unlatch the sapphire necklace around your neck. You’re far too distracted by the way Tommy leans back on the settee like he knows it’s his damn right, spreading his legs, chain-smoking cigarettes, and blowing the smoke towards the ceiling. He’s completely in the wrong if he thinks you are going to keep your hands tangled up in a necklace when they would be much more useful somewhere else…

When your chair screeches against the wood as you push it back to stand, his head snaps to attention. He has a faraway look to his eye, haunted even, but he swallows when you sink to your knees between his legs, and something else begins to swell other than his pupils.

You run your hands up his knees to his thighs and back again.

“I know it’s stupid. They just get under my skin sometimes,” you resign.

He clears his throat and reaches past your head to set his cigarette on the ash tray. He stays there, bent forward, a breath apart, and begins caressing your face with the back of his fingers. A faint smile softens his features and warms his skin.

You laugh because it really is ridiculous. For marrying someone who spends most of their life buried in their head, you sure have picked up on his tendencies.

“Do you think I’m becoming obsessed?”

He doesn’t even try to hide his amusement. “No.”

You were; he was just treading carefully. Because while he wandered off to speak to god knows who at the foundation dinner, your feathers were being ruffled by stuck-up old women who were too busy being stuck up to notice their husbands’ lingering eyes. However, being able to defend your vanity was another thing compared to dealing with Shelby Company Limited business. And if it came to surviving passive aggressive remarks from old women or being led into another room to talk with Mr. Thomas Shelby, head of the Peaky Blinders, you would sneer rudely at Margaret any day.

You voice the thought at Tommy, “I take it your night wasn’t as successful as mine?”

He exhales and raises his eyebrows playfully, more or less confirming your suspicions.

“And should I ask you about it like a good wife?”

He hums, “no.”

He’s so entranced in running his fingers up and down your jaw, around your chin, and thumbing your lips that you’ll just have to forgive him later.

You pull a face. You’re not mad at him. Far from it. Those fingers of his dancing across your face are your weakness.

“You’re not listening to me.” You lean in closer.

“Yes, I am,” he smiles.

You try to pull back in faux skepticism, but with his hand holding your face so close to his,

“Where are you going, eh?” Tommy leans forward to steal a kiss, and he feels your laughter against his lips, a pleasant sensation.

“Oh, Mr. Shelby,” you jest.

Together, you fall back onto the settee with you astride his lap. Your hair falls over his face like a curtain, keeping him safe from the outside world. He doesn’t want to move; no, he will stay here for the next couple of months, transfixed inside this moment. The gun tucked away in the holster beneath his arm feels less heavy, and the clock ticking above his head slows. He can breathe. He can gingerly stroke your jaw with his thumb in the way you adore. So he does, and the shuttering thoughts that occupy so much of his head stutter in fear because they know they come second to you.

Then there’s that pretty sapphire necklace hanging from your neck. The one that got you both in this position in the first place. Those fucking people, eh? Those fucking people with their fancy palaces and prim and proper manners judging you, his wife, refusing you, his wife? That got him going.

You can tell he is in his head by the way his eyes linger on your sapphire necklace. He looks irked.

“What’s wrong, Tommy?”

He shakes his head lazily.

“Speak to me, love,” you insist.

Fuck em. Fuck the bastards that made his wife feel unworthy. They wouldn’t know taste if it hit them like a fucking train. He won’t let them bring her down.

Tommy clears his throat. “I’m sorry for being in my head, Mrs. Shelby.”

His apology is soothed into your skin with a gentle brush of his thumb at the end of your chin. He tilts it down to lay a kiss on the corner of your mouth. He always knows how to make you smile.

You press more of your weight into him and deepen the kiss, to which he grunts. It stirs a honey warmth in your stomach.

As for Tommy, the need to be closer to you is suffocating; he’d rather just lock you both in this room and throw away the key. He’d rather the stifling walls close in on you both until he can’t even open his lungs, and even then, it wouldn’t be enough. He needs to be in your skin, in your thoughts, but most importantly, right now, in your underwear.

It’s your goddamn nails clawing at his scalp that do it for him. It winds him up like a fucking pocket watch, boils his blood like good whiskey, and fuels the fires.

He urges your name in warning because he’s so strung up he might just rip the seams of your pretty dress, and you make the mistake of swallowing his plea with a huff and a tangle of tongues.

“The necklace, Thomas,” you gasp.

It would really be a pity if he accidentally broke it in the rush to remove your dress. It slows him down momentarily removing it, and his fingers can’t quite function being away from your skin but he knows ever since he gifted it to you, there’s been nothing you loved more. When the latch finally unclasps, he parts from your lips to gently lower it to the coffee table where it remains unscathed for the rest of the night. The same couldn’t be said about your dress.

Taglist: (i was drunk when I posted this so I forgot to add it lol).

@maliceofwonderland @fairytale07 @goblinjnr @ilovepeoplesdads @multidimensionalslut @blogforficslol @elenavampire21

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darklydeliciousdesires · 3 months

Text

Say it Dirty - An Alfie Solomons/Reader One Shot Story.

For my babes @cillmequick and @zablife. Enjoy!

Words - 1,467

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

Alfie. One could never use the word tall to describe the gangster rum distiller of Camden town, but suffice to say, he is big. He takes up space. He has presence. Alfie is so wide in both physical width and the enormity of his personality, he fills whatever room he happens to be within.

Everything about Alfie is imposing. That is why you fell for him in the first place. What gets your blood tingling with desire the most, though...

“Next lad!”

Oh, that enormous voice. He doesn’t shout often, but when he does, it sends your knees to jelly.

“Next lad!”

He’s handing out the weekly wages, the precise count out of pounds, shillings and pence into a small paper envelope, handing them to each of his employees for their, ahem, “baking” endeavours. The smell of the rum within the large casks fills your nose as you walk past them down in the dingy distillery, moving past the line and entering Alfie’s office.

“Bear with me, sweetheart.” He doesn’t even need to look up from his desk to know you’ve arrived. He can smell the sweet notes of your perfume in a sea of rum and sweaty men a mile off. “Just gotta get these fellas paid, innit.”

You perch on the edge of his desk, his hand moving to stroke your thigh fleetingly. “Next lad!” God, you’ll melt off the edge of the desk if you’re not careful. “Is there a fuckin’ reason you’re gorping, boy?”

“Um, n-no, Mr. Solomons.”

Alfie lowers his spectacles, raising his eyebrows. “You seriously comin’ in here for your pay, and giving me missus the once over with your beady little eyes while you’re here, eh? Nah, son. Off you fuck, while you still have them legs to carry ya. Just know, though. If I ever see you lookin’ at her like that again, yeah, it’ll be the last fuckin’ time you have eyes, mate.”

The young man takes his wages with a stiff gulp. “S-s-sorry, Mr. Solomons.”

“Ain’t me you was lookin’ at like a slab of meat.” He folds his arms, jerking his head in your direction, a smile spreading beneath his beard. “Apology should be directed at me wife, really.”

“I apologise, Mrs. Solomons.” He’s steadier when talking to you, wringing his cap between his hands nervously all the same.

Alfie studies you, watching you nod. “Alright, fuck off outta here. Next lad!” He scurries from the office, your husband continuing to hand out each wage envelope and mark it off with a pencil strike in the ledger. With the last lad paid, he stands, moving before you.

“Now, how about I take my little turtle dove out for a bit of nosh, yeah?” Well, that’s the sole reason you came to meet him from work, after all. He goes for a quick wash and to change his shirt before you leave, yet when he returns, he finds you not quite as ready to leave as he is.

The double take at seeing you sitting atop his desk naked is priceless, eyes touring your bare curves with much interest. “My darlin’, I dunno what kind of fuckin’ restaurant you think we’re going to, right, but it ain’t the kind where the customers sit about naked.”

“Can’t help it,” you purr, pulling him close, hands smoothing over his fresh shirt. “See it’s when you raise your voice, Alfie, when you get defensive of me, too. It does things to me, that voice of yours.”

He looks quietly thrilled at that. You don’t quite know how one can raise an eyebrow with cocky intent, but Alfie nails it every time. “Yeah, that right, love? You like the sound of my voice? Why don’t you sit on my cock while I talk to you, then?”

Grasping his shirt, you pull him close. “That’s exactly what I had in mind, Alf.”

Your lips meet in a slow tempest, all heat and honey, his hands beginning to glide where his eyes have already roamed, touring your bare flesh keenly. When his mouth follows, you whimper, each kiss sinking into your skin, the soft of his beard coaxing tickles over your flesh. Hot hands adorned in cool gold knead at your thighs, fingers slipping between.

The sweet sting of him toying with your clit radiates, little pricks of pleasure trickling down your spine, puddling at those clever fingers, his teeth sharp at your neck. “Always did love my hands, didn’t ya, dove?”

You hum in appreciative response against his tongue, mouths locked, those fingers you do indeed love so much thrusting within. He opens you, pushing greedily, his raspy chuckle low and self-satisfied at each little mewl that pours from your mouth like wine, your cunt clenching around each rotation as he roots those thick digits, so inordinately deep.

“Fuck, get in the chair,” you pant, hands moving to slide his braces down, undoing his trousers. “I need to ride you. Now.”

He chuckles, his thumb rolling over your clit sending sparks to skitter wildly. “Ain’t half a demanding little mare tonight, aint’cha?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, Alfie letting his trousers and undergarments fall to pool at his ankles, sitting down in the chair and guiding you astride him. “But then I always did know what’s good for me.” Taking him, you squeeze the thick of his rigidity, pushing him to your glistening opening and dropping down until you’re full.

You can feel every inch of him pressing your soft walls, thick and heavy, his hand weaving into your hair and pulling until you arch for him, bending like a crescent moon. “Fuckin’ ‘ell, look at that body bow for me. Can’t wait to watch these pretty little tits bounce while you ride me, darlin’.”

His mouth devours you, nipples sucked and bitten, his free hand grasping your hip as you begin to roll against him, his girth sending sensations to flutter up your spine, fizzing like champagne bubbles, the hint of teeth upon the peak of your nipple sending glimmers to join them. “Ain’t even half started properly yet, and this sweet little cunt is like a fuckin’ lake. Yeah, look at you. So fucking pretty for me, ain’t ya? So pretty and sweet, split open on me.”

His words mist hot beneath your skin, rising like steam, the torrent of seductive filth unabating. “Think I could have you like this on me for hours, and I wouldn’t get tired of watching you gripping tight on my cock. And you would, wouldn’t ya? Yeah, you’d keep giving, my beautiful, cock hungry little doe.”

His thumb stretches, and it sends a rain of pleasure pelting through you when he brings it to your clit, circling, your bundle twitching against the stroke, your toes gripping on the floorboards beneath as you begin to ride him with more determination. “That’s it, sweet. Show me how much you love this cock.”

The moan seeps from your lips, sweet and slow, like thick syrup, the clasp of your cunt tight upon him, the sound of him punching into the very wet of you lewd, mixing with the slap of your arse smacking hard against his solid thighs. It’s a symphony of utter sin, his groans adding delicious baritone, your tits bouncing, his hands moving to clutch them as his tongue swipes your cleavage.

His touch has lightning forking from nerve to nerve, your ministrations greedy in desperate need to come around him, wet his cock further with the dew of your orgasm, your hands fisting tight in his hair, a shift of his hips sending him deeper into the flutter of your cunt.

You sob his name, and he pushes even deeper, so heavy and overwhelming within you. “Come on, my beautiful little darlin’. Come pretty for me on this cock.”

Oh, how you do, the pleasure burning neon through your nerves, a sky of colours painted over you as it topples you completely. The scream it pulls from you has him twitching, and he becomes caught in the tide of it, cock pressed filthily deep into the rhythmic clasping of you, spilling hard, everything tense undoing and softening to fluid bliss. You both swim in it, adrift on the endless ocean, panting against one another.

“Fuck, that worked up a right appetite,” he finally breaths, kissing your neck as you roll your eyes.

“Do you ever cease thinking about your stomach?”

He chuckles, low and dirty. “Yeah. I often think about how good me wifey feels when she fucks me like she just did. And you can count on it, treacle, that I’ll be thinkin’ about it for the rest of the night an’ all.”

The way he keeps stealing heated glances at you all the way through dinner, you’re left in little doubt of that, too.

#alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons x reader #alfie aolomons x you #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons imagine #tom hardy #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy smut

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look-at-the-soul · 3 months

Text

Grandma knows best

Tommy Shelby x reader (+Grandma)

Summary: Thomas Shelby is a well known gánster, reckless, fearless, stubborn, restless… he might be a lot of things, but he wasn’t an inconsiderate man. Not specially with an elderly woman.

A/N: 🤷🏻‍♀️ grandmas definitely knows what’s best for us 👵🏻♥️✨ nothing but a fluff moment…

See the Grandma series here

Word count: 3,303

Taking off you coat, you tried to rub your hands to warm them up. Announcing you just arrived, barely noticing an unfamiliar voice.

But to your surprise, once you stepped into the kitchen, you found the least person you thought that could ever be there.

The Small Heath devil, Thomas Shelby.

“Oh darling, there you are.” You grandma greeted you with a wide smile. “I was just telling Mr. Shelby about you.”

“Grandma.” You were paralyzed, frozen in spot.

Giving you a subtle double look, he had to force himself to compose, nothing your grandmother had said about you prepared him. Your beauty was beyond words. And over the last hour he had heard nothing but compliments and good things, he had to admit he had been curious about that young lady that seemed to be exceptional.

A long time ago you learned walking alone once is dark is a bad idea, but crossing your eyes with that man was worse.

“We haven’t done anything wrong Mr. Shelby…” you tried to explain as the man stared perplexed, his man spread as if he owed everything in that house.

“Sweetheart Mr. Shelby helped me with the groceries and bread, the basket was heavy and he offered to walk me home.”

Noticing the terror in your eyes, he cleared his throat.

“My job is done here Mrs. Barwick, it was lovely to meet you, thank you for the tea.”

Standing up, he grabbed his peaky cap, the razor blade caught the light and shone in your direction. But your grandmother had a different idea.

“What do you mean you’re leaving? You’ve to stay for dinner.”

“Absolutely not.” You rushed to interrupt. Looking down at the tone you just used to answer your grandma you mumbled an apology.

“I really appreciate the offer bu-”

“This is absurd, you can’t leave until you’ve had dinner Mr. Shelby, I must insist, and I need to know the rest of the story of that caravan trip you did.” She replied scolding him just like she did with you, in that motherly tone.

Frowning you looked from her, to the well known gánster. There was no way back now, he was staying for dinner.

“Now, would you like some more tea?” She offered to him, as Thomas opened his mouth to say no, your grandma filled the cup again. It looked ridiculous in his hand.

The most dangerous man in the country drinking tea from a cup decorated with flowers. ¡In your bloody kitchen!

“Milk?” She offered, ignoring the fact that he could kill her anytime. You’ve heard all kinds of stories about him and the tortures he used among his enemies.

“Yes thank you.”

“Sweetheart, would you mind helping me here?” She pointed at the pot next to her knees, it was getting harder for her to bend down these days.

“I’ll get that for you.” He offered and in mere seconds he was crunching down to get it.

“Oh bless you.” Your grandma offered him another smile. “Why are you still standing there?” She called to get your attention.

Shaking your head a little, you were able to move past the initial shock, but still threw the man a side look just to make sure he wasn’t planning to blind your grandmother.

“Shall I cut these?” Mr. Shelby proposed pointing at the potatoes, after your grandmother nodded he produced a knife from his pocket, making you gasp. “Everything alright Miss Y/LN?”

“If you excuse me, I’ll come back in a minute.” She raised her eyebrows at you before she left.

“Listen it’s just the two of us alright? I pay the taxes and give money to church but I won’t pay you for protection.” You should have kept your mouth shut but for some reason, adrenaline made you talkative and you were nervous, afraid for your life, for your grandma.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not here to collect any money.” He raised his hands in defense. “Your grandmother is adorable.”

“What?” You asked perplexed, thinking of a possible way to get out of the house safely.

“You heard me, I’m not here to do any harm to you or her.” He clicked his tongue. “She said you’re a smart woman, you’ve nothing to worry about.”

“Then why are you here?” Confusion was written all over you.

“She offered me tea and cookies… oh! And dinner.”

“You can’t stay!”

“Y/N! Where are your manners? That’s no way to treat such a gentleman.”

You couldn’t help but scoff at her words. Thomas Shelby a gentleman. He narrowed his eyes, and gave you an offended look.

“Set the table, I’ll finish this.” She ordered.

Doing as she asked, you went to collect the plates.

“Not that ones! The fancy set!” She instructed pointing the spoon at you.

Tommy chuckled at your surprised expression, but quickly looked down to continue his task chopping the vegetables.

But he’s a criminal! He’s a gangster! You wanted to say. Yet, she wanted to use the delicate china reserved only for important occasions.

Placing the plates, you took then the silverware from the drawer. Seconds later you heard them laughing over something he had said, your grandmother’s voice praising him for his sense of humor. She had no idea who he was! Or what he had done.

“And what did he say afterwards?” He asked your grandma, you found him leaning against the sink, his body turned to face her.

“He said, I swore I saw you first, it had to be me the one who would make the first move.” Your grandmother stated proudly.

Here she was, seventy something years old telling the number one Birmingham’s criminal her love story with your grandfather.

“I told him, of course honey, you chose me. He always thought it was him, but it was me the one who chose him.”

“How long were you married?” He asked with interest.

“Over fifty years, most of my life. Can you believe that?”

“That’s lovely.” He admitted. The words sounded so wrong in his mouth, he should be cursing or shouting.

“Dinner is ready.” Your grandma announced. “Y/N help our guest.”

You wanted to roll your eyes.

“Food smells amazing.” He complimented.

“Would you like a piece of bread? Tommy?”

“Grandma!”

“What? He says I can call him that.” She defended.

“Please.” He smiled and you groaned internally. “I’m going to wash my hands.”

As soon as he disappeared, your grandma grabbed your arm. “You need to put a smile on that face my darling, can’t you see? An educated gentleman is visiting us, he smells nice, has a sense of humor, is polite and handsome… have you seen his eyes? It’s like a piece of heaven!”

“So what? He’s a-”

“You need to find yourself a decent man, Y/N.”

“He’s not a decent man.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Grandma, he’s an arrogant, selfish and dangerous-”

“May I have this honor?” He asked interrupting your little disagreement, offering his arm to your grandma, he guided her tenderly towards the table. He probably heard everything you said.

“So, Tommy what is that you do?”

“I’ve a business, we sell car parts in different countries.”He wasn’t lying.

“I’ve never used a car!”

“Then I should take you for a ride.”

You felt about to combust, he was charming your grandmother and she believed him!

Grinding your teeth, you placed the food on his plate.

“I really appreciate this.” He gave you a twisted smile.

Your grandmother’s hand came to rest on his arm. “I’m so glad I came across you this afternoon. It’s been lovely to share this meal with you.”

“I’m flattered you think that.”

“You don’t have a wife waiting at home, do you Tommy?” Your grandma asked bluntly and you almost chocked on your food.

“No, Mrs Barwick. I’m not married.”

“How is that possible?” She shook her head. “You deserve a good woman!” Then, looking at you she said; “what was that tale I told you to find a husband?”

“I don’t know grandma, I’m done with my dinner if you excuse m-”

But the look she threw in your direction, made you reconsider leaving the table. Sometimes she didn’t need to use her words. One look was more than enough.

You took a deep breath uncomfortable, and it only grew as you could feel Mr. Shelby’s eyes on you.

“Your grandma mentioned you sell books.” He asked to ease the tension.

“Yes.”

“Oh but show him! About that collection you got.” Your grandma encouraged.

“What is it about? Eh?”

“She’s a great seller.” She praised.

“Oh.” Mr. Shelby’s eyes sparkled. He was having fun. “Really?”

He was the most irritating person you’ve ever met.

“It’s about the Greek mithology.”

“Fascinating.” He nodded. “Why don’t you stop by my office tomorrow? I’d like the entire collection.”

“That’s wonderful!” Your grandma beamed.

“All set then.” He ran his tongue over his lips and then, tilted his head. “You made me remember about my grandmother.”

“What was a she like?” Your grandmother asked, batting her lashes.

He had her eating from his palm deliberately.

Studying the man before your eyes, something changed inside you. How could he be so cold-hearted? He seemed like a total different person in that very moment, his guard was down, posture totally relaxed, he even had a smile on his face.

Catching you off guard, you had to look away from him.

“She was a gypsy princess.” His blue eyes filled with nostalgia. “Thanks to her I learned all about values like respect, loyalty. She showed me how to ride a horse and light a fire.”

“It must’ve been hard for her to be on the road.”

“Actually no, she loved to be free, said how nature provided us for everything we might need.” He explained all while his deep voice was dragging you into something you couldn’t name. “It’s getting late and I don’t want to keep you up. Thank you once again.”

“Thank you for a lovely evening Tommy, would love to have you again for dinner .”

He gave you another look, not so subtle this time.

“I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all, right Y/N?” She pressed her elbow against your arm. “Walk him to the door my dear.”

Offering his hand to her, she whispered into his ear; “She doesn’t trust easily, you’ll need to work harder.”

Tommy tried to disguise his chuckle, after winking at your grandmother he thanked you too.

“I really enjoyed it, hope to see you around?” He arranged the peaky cap on his head and placed his hand on your arm.

“Goodnight Mr. Shelby.” Was all you could think of saying, still confused by everything that happened.

“Goodnight Mr. Shelby?” Your grandmother mimicked your voice. “You’ll need to do better next time, fix your hair, wear your new shoes… a little something! Y/N I placed him in a silver tray for you and you only said two words to him. Sweetheart you need to do something to catch his attention.”

Opening your mouth to protest, but she continued rambling. “But be discreet, you must stand out from the other women, don’t throw yourself at him, leave him wanting more,” her eyes sparkled in excitement. “A hand on his shoulder, hold his gaze… or pretend to brush something from his coat and then look at his lips.”

“Grandma, stop.” You blushed.

“Goodness, I can’t do anything else for you! He was right here!” She took the plates to the kitchen. “A smile might help, you need to ask him about his day, fix his handkerchief…”

“He was only here because you didn’t give him another option.” A sigh escaped your lips.

“My sweet girl, you’ve everything he needs,” she cupped your chin gently. “But you’re too shy! He kept staring at you…”

“I think your imagination is wild.”

“Y/NY/LN,” you stopped midway as she called your full name. Oh oh. “I like him to be my grandson-in-law… so you gotta do something soon.”

And knowing her the way you did, you realized there was no way back now. Once an idea got into her head, she wouldn’t let that slip away.

“I’ve been praying for this moment for so long!” You heard her say from across the room and then she mumbled something about that blue dress that suited you so well.

As you were about to clean the kitchen you heard a knock on the door. Opening, you were surprised to find the most terrifying man on your doorstep once more.

Your heart rate went up immediately, he was standing with his hands crossed in front of his body, head hanging low, you could only see his lips under the peaky cap.

“I’ll be waiting for you Miss Y/LN, tomorrow ten o’clock, I’ll make sure to send someone to help you with the books.”

“That won’t be necessary, I can carry them by myself.” You insisted, still unsure about his intention.

“Fairly well, as you wish.”

As he turned around to leave, something made you stop him.

“I want to thank you for helping my grandmother.” Never, in a million years you imagined you’d be grateful for something he did.

Lifting his jaw to stare at you with those piercing blue eyes that could set anyone into stone, he gave you a smile.

“I just did the right thing.” He cleared his throat. “You’ve nothing to be afraid of by the way, don’t believe everything you hear.”

“I just learned that, you can be considerate and charming sometimes.”

“Then consider yourself lucky,” he winked at you, “that doesn’t happen too often.”

Looking past your shoulder, Tommy noticed your grandmother’s head poking, moving her hands excitedly towards you.

****

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