#peaky blinders x reader crack | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mydear-corinthian · 1 month

Text

Protection || Thomas Shelby x reader

Synopsis: You were protecting your son, Charlie when Billy Kimber's men ambushed your shared home. Pairing: Thomas Shelby x reader Warnings: ANGST w/ comfort, reader gets injured, gun violence, mentions of blood, swearing, Grace's being mentioned once - s2 spoiler Notes: Not proofread, grammatical errors, GIF is mine Click here to find the main masterlist. Click here to find the PEAKY BLINDERS masterlist.

As another regular evening took place, a sense of peace descended over Thomas Shelby and his wife's shared home. While Tommy was busy with his business and papers, you found yourself wandering the enormous area of the estate with your young son, Charlie.

Marriage with Tommy wasn't for the faint of heart. You were highly aware of the ongoing danger that accompanied his lifestyle, the circulating threats and enemies that followed your husband's every step. Despite the obvious risks your love for him remained strong. You treasured him not as an infamous gangster, but as the man who made you feel valued, protected, and appreciated.

There was nothing but silence in the huge home; you could hear the clock ticking and the curtains flapping as the breeze shook the cloth. It was a Saturday night, so the maids weren't working, leaving you and Charlie alone. Charlie's eyelids were going drowsy as you cuddled him, softly caressing his back and humming his favorite lullaby. Looking at the clock, you realized how late it was, and Tommy hadn't returned home yet.

You heard the main entrance door open with a loud bang. Although it seemed strange, you assumed Tommy was just returning from a stressful day at work. Charlie woke up from his sleep and let out a loud cry when you heard gunfires as you were ready to leave your shared room. You were so terrified that you thought your legs were paralyzed. Without wasting any time, you grabbed Charlie and put his little body against your shoulder, giving him a tight hug.

With Charlie in one hand, you dashed to the door, locked it almost instantly, and took out the Enfield No. 2 six-bullet handgun that your husband had given you as a birthday present from the nightstand's drawer. You grab the gun and duck into the shared bedroom's bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

The room was filled with the sound of the little Shelby's piercing cries, which seemed to come from every corner. You tried so hard to soothe him, cooing softly, but all it did was make his cries louder and more echoing through the walls. As you tried to calm him, your hands trembled with fear and your fingers stuttering, a sign of your growing terror running down your face. You felt powerless in the face of Charlie's constant tears, and you started to search for a way out of the mess.

You started nervously to pray while holding a child in your arms. Tears were beginning to fall from your eyes and the prayers were mumbling on your lips.

Charlie and you were found by whoever was in your shared room as you heard the door slam. Breathless, you lowered your son onto the empty, shallow bath tub behind you and spoke to him to stop crying. and that you will return quickly. When the toilet door opened, two armed men in a hideous black suit and a top hat appeared; they were Billy Kimber workers.

One of the armed men circled around you and exclaimed, "Aye look, it's Mrs. Shelby," as you aimed your handgun at him, your hands shaking with terror. You've never been skilled with a gun. Tommy giving you a gun like that surprised you. He would not stop stating, "You'll use that in the future."

and perhaps the future was today.

"Suprised a Shelby doesn't know how to use a gun. How about we gift Thomas Shelby the lifeless body of his dear wife?" the man laughed. You raised the gun without thinking, your hand steady from the rush of adrenaline pumping through you, and took aim at the man's skull. The bullet cracked sharply and shot out of the barrel, piercing the air and hitting its target with terrifying accuracy. With a bleak proof to your determination, fortune smiled on you as the bullet hit accurate, plunging into the man's forehead with fatal force and instantly taking his life.

Attempting to fire another shot to the other man, you missed.

Suddenly, you heard a bang go off but paid no mind. Attempting to shoot again, you finally succeded; three bullets all over the now lifeless man's torso. The sight of the lifeless bodies made you feel sick but you chose to ignore it as you dropped your used gun to go and grab Charlie and ask for help. You grabbed your son right away, immediately hugging him and kissed his little forehead.

Suddenly, you heard a familiar voice calling out your name; Tommy.

His voice reaching out for you made you sigh with relief. Your husband ran toward you as your legs found their way to the stairs to return to him. You embraced him, resting your head on his chest and taking in his manly scent as you exhaled. "Oh god, Tommy.."

She took Charlie out of your arms and gave you a minute to rest in Tommy's calming presence in Polly's comforting presence. Tommy's hand gently cradled the back of your head as you leaned into him, seeking solace from the chaos of the moment in his gentle, comforting touch. His voice, a comforting whisper that passed through the chaos, whispered, "You're safe now, love."

He felt a warm wetness on his dark blue vest, making him break the hug to see what it was.

Tommy's eyes widened in fear at what he saw, and he let out a gasp. Once an image of elegance, your immaculate white evening gown now had a scarlet stain of blood creeping across it, the color standing out against the fabric. The room seemed to spin in a dizzying twister, threatening to paralyze you as the color faded from your face, your face was pale and your vision seemed to spin like a twister.

"Did you get shot?" he worriedly asked. Confused by his question, you looked down at your stomach, seeing the color red slowly colonizing your white evening gown.

"I - I um.. Tommy, I feel dizzy.." your fragile legs gave up, his strong arms catched you almost immediately.

Your eyes were starting to drop, your body was slowly getting cold, your muscles giving up.

"T - Tommy, why is so cold..?"

Fuck, he mentally cursed at the sight that met his eyes. It was as if God had judged him once more. Grace - this seemed so familiar. His fingers were shaking with fear and worry, his eyes were beginning to water, and his heart had stopped.

"We need a medic!" Polly shouted.

He tries to calm himself down by caressing the strands of your hair before tucking it behind your ear. "Please, stay." he begged.

His frustration was boiling over and his impatience was burning in the way he spoke. He gave orders for the medics with a strong edge to his voice, desperation and anger infusing each word as he demanded their immediate presence.

"Tommy.." you softly called his name before darkness took you.

Your stomach hurt and your brain throbbed when you woke up. Beside you, you noticed your husband uncomfortably sleeping on the wooden chair. You noticed that the ash tray on the table stand next to you was filled with used cigarettes, indicating that you had been out for a while. You were trying to sit up and Tommy woke up to the sound of your pained moans. His bright blue eyes met yours. Eyebags developed under his eyes as a result of struggling to sleep due to the chance that you wouldn't wake up anymore.

"Easy, love." he said.

In an attempt to prevent him from harming you, he cradled your back so you could lie down peacefully once more—as though you were a piece of glass that would shatter the moment it was touched.

He deeply blames himself for what happened to you. If only he was there that night. If only he went home early, you and Charlie wouldn't be in this situation.

"Where's Charlie?" you asked right away, your eyes looking everywhere in the room to see if your child was there or not.

"He's with Aunt Pol, (y/n). He's safe with her, don't worry."

With both of his hands clasped around yours, he sobbed out loud in front of you, unable to stop himself from crying. He felt responsible, guilty, and like a terrible partner for failing to give you protection.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry.." he cried as he apologized, kissing your hands.

You smiled softly as you placed your right hand on his face for him to look at you.

"It's not your fault, Tommy. The good thing is that me and Charlie are safe." reassuring, you gave him a weak smile.

"I thought I lost you." he exhaled in exhaustion, standing up as he kissed your head.

"I would never leave you, Tommy."

"Please don't."

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #peaky blinders angst #angst with a happy ending #x reader

730 notes · View notes

your-nanas-house · 5 months

Note

I have an idea for a smutty dark/Dom Tommy fic if you're open to writing it! I'm not sure on a plot but involing him wearing and keeping on his leather gloves, thank you in advance!!!

Yessssss, love it. Thank you so much! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Not a virgin anymore

(credits to the owner of the gif)

◇ Pairing: Dark!Tommy Shelby X Finn's girlfriend!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, age gap (both off age), fingering, dry humping, mean Tommy

◇ Summary: Tommy checks if Finn's girl is as pure as he claims.

◇ Note: Sorry if it took me so long. A huge thank you to @mrkdvidal1989 that helped me so much, you helped me so much with my mood and the writing of this. Thank you 😭 Also It's pretty much a collab.

“I think I wanna marry her” Finn informed his brothers without being able to hold back a bright grin, his eyes scanning them as he waited for a reply, any advice or.. a comment of any kind at least.

He knew that he was quite young to think about marriage, since he hit adulthood just two years before, but the emotions he felt for this young woman were true.

As no one opened their mouths to say something, just continuing to glance at each other, Finn spoke up again ”I fookin’ love her” his mood still so eager and happy.. like a puppy in love.

Still nothing, everyone was mostly waiting for Thomas to say something, but the older man kept staring blankly at his younger brother, seated on his armchair.. legs open and arms resting there, supporting his head and cigarette as if he was lost in thoughts.

“Nothing to say?” Finn asked, getting impatient, his eyes glancing between the older ones, Tommy and Arthur.

As the youngest brother got clearly frustrated, Arthur cleared his throat.

“Hmm… you fookin’ know her for how long, eh? Nearly six months?” he reminded his brother, mocking him before being interrupted quickly

“SO? When John married he didn’t even know Esme’s damn name!” Finn quickly pointed out, already getting riled up by the situation.

Fin always did that. Hating how his brothers treated him because of the age difference, completely oblivious to the fact that he… was acting very childish too often for Tommy to see him as an equal to John or Arthur.

His poorly thought-out decisions and lack of discipline when it came to listening to orders of his older brothers were playing a huge part in how Thomas viewed him.

”Have you thought about the responsibilities that come with becoming a Shelby, Fin? Have you already introduced them to your chosen one? Risk Our ways and how we deal with things?.. Have you thought about that? Huh?” He pressed, leaning forward as his patience ran short with how snappy Fin was. Lack of respect was just another thing he despised in his younger brother.

”I-I…” The young man stammered out, looking for any line to defend himself.. unsuccessfully, making Thomas scoff while putting out his cigarette into an ashtray.

”What’s her name again?...” He rasped out, his now free hand tapping impatiently against the fabric of the armchair, his cold gaze piercing his brother's face without a hint of any positive emotions.

“Y/n..Y/n Y/l/n” Finn replied in a murmur, his older brother’s comments affecting him more than he wished they would.

The name kept repeating in Thomas’ head, before a cocky amused smirk cracked his serious expression.

“Now I get why yer want to marry her” he chuckled bitterly leaning forward, face to face with Finn.

“She’s as good as her mother, eh?” he asked mockingly, pouring himself a glass of whiskey “You don’t marry whores, you just tame them, Finn. Am I right?” he asked his other two brothers with amusement in his voice, not really expecting an answer.

His mischievous mood changed quickly as Finn suddenly got up from his seat.

“She’s not!.. She’s not like her mother.. She's a good girl, goes to church, helps around and works in the local bakery." The youngest Peaky Blinder informed them, narrowing his eyes at Tommy’s reaction. Watching with a clenched jaw as the older man hummed mockingly, gulping fast down the strong drink before he spoke again, not changing his attitude.

“A good girl, huh… I bet”, making the other laugh at Finn as well.

“It’s true! You… I’ll make you fookin’ meet her”

It took him just a couple of days to organise a meeting between them, inviting them all to her house. It was a pretty cosy, little, modest house settled in Small Heath. Nothing fancy but it was visible that the people living there were doing their very best to keep it nice.

The male part of the family of Shelby's stood on the porch on the agreed day and time.

Their expensive suits looking odd contrasting with the domestic and homey look of the building and little wooden decorations standing in the garden.

Finn was smiling, standing at the forefront of the group while Arthur and John kept joking back and forth, in front of Tommy, whose face remained serious and uninterested as he waited.

After knocking on the door, they didn't have to wait long before an old woman, probably in her 60s, appeared in the doorway. A friendly smile lingering on her wrinkled face that looked great accompanied by the dark pink dress she wore.

”Good morning, Mister” She spoke up seeing Finn, earning a polite smile from him. They clearly had met each other previously, so she wasn't very alarmed by the sight of four men in suits standing at the door. “Good morning, nana” Finn greeted, removing his hat for respect, cleaning his shoes before entering the familiar house, heading directly towards the living room.

John was the next to enter the house, along with Arthur, a smirk still on his face due to the jokes they were sharing previously

“Good morning, na— Mrs. Y/l/n” he corrected himself quickly as Arthur slapped the back of his head “Be fookin’ polite” he murmured under his breath, smiling at the older woman before kissing her hand as he bowed his head slightly “Good morning, ma’am, thank you for inviting us into your house” he stated, winking before following the direction Finn took, not noticing the weird side eye Tommy gave him as he cleaned his soles before walking in as well with the same unbothered expression.

”Mornin’” Thomas nodded, keeping his cap on. After all he didn't come here for a tea, he had his own purpose.

Purpose of proving Finn how wrong he was when it comes to little Y/n.

The older woman’s eyes widened as she felt the weird, intimidating aura surrounding the middle brother. Mumbling her greeting, she quickly disappeared into the kitchen, chatting with Arthur and John as she put the kettle on the stove.

As Finn tried to head towards the same direction, Tommy's calloused hand grabbed his shoulder roughly. Turning him to face him, he leaned to his level. The serious and business expression on his face.

”I’m going to have a chat with your little fiancé, eh? You stay there and entertain the old woman and your brothers while I check if she is who you say she is.” he stated harshly in a fierce voice, his eyes glancing at the older woman and back at him before messing up his hair as if he was still a child.

Ignoring completely the worried expression on his face, because Thomas was aware that Finn knew better than to ask questions.

The younger brother stood still for a moment before nodding with a resigned expression, turning around and slowly walking away towards the kitchen. Practically leaving his girlfriend in the lion's mouth.

It was Tommy’s first time in that house so he didn’t really know where to go, luckily for him Y/n’s soft voice led him to what it looked like a small studio. A pretty dark room, with only one window which was close, it was decorated with lots of books and a wooden desk where the young woman was standing behind, holding an old phone, busy talking with someone.

”Yes, aunty. I'll let her know” she replied with a smile, despite the fact that the person on the other side of the phone couldn't see it, her hand busy playing with the tiny golden chain with a cross. Her eyes moving from the spot she was staring at to move closer to the desk “I have to leave you now, we were supposed to have guests today.. I think they are here already” she informed her, glancing towards the door, getting startled by Tommy’s figure standing there as if he owned the place.

He didn’t say anything to interrupt her call, his gloved hands just woven together in front of him, his head tilted to the side as he watched the girl.

“I love you too, auntie. Bye” she murmured, hanging up the call to give Tommy’s her complete attention

“Mr Shelby— Welcome, I didn’t hear you come in…” she started, eyeing him suspiciously, her innocent girl facade. staring back at him.

“Nana doesn’t like when people wear caps inside of her house… it’s a way to show respect” she pointed out, already a bit annoyed by his attitude. Thomas chuckled hearing her words, as he adjusted the peaky cap on his head.

”Nana didn't offer me a cup of tea, which isn't really polite either, eh?” He spoke up with a hint of mockery before entering her room and closing the door behind, making sure to lock it.

“She’s probably still preparing it, we have fresh baked cookies, though.” Y/n pointed out as her expression softened. Her demeanour changed as she tried to keep her temper down. It should have been a calm day but a lot of things that set her off happened, so she wasn’t in the right state of mind to deal with Tommy fucking Shelby.

Be proper, Y/n thought just like she was always told. Plastering a small smile on her face, her eyes moving from Thomas’ face to the door and back. “They are in the living room, sir,”

Tommy chuckled at her words, walking slowly further into her room, looking around with a grin as he hummed.

“That's one way to decorate a girl's room, eh?” He scoffed, eyeing her suggestively, touching the colourful figurines standing on shelves. ”Definitely furnished to be a whore's own.” he casually pointed out, checking the books casually. “Guess they paid your mom good enough, huh? Family business it is, sweetheart?” the older man moved his gaze towards her standing form, smirking amused at her blank stare.

“Pardon?” she stuttered out through her utter shock, her head tilting to the side.“You here to disrespect a dead woman, Mr Shelby? If so.. You can fucking leave!” she spat out angrily, staring blankly at him for a couple of minutes before sighing and looking away, playing nervously with her cross while she headed to the door.

“My condolences… I’m here because of the sick idea you put in my little brother’s head” Tommy spoke in an emotionless tone, reaching for a pack of cigarettes in his pocket.. Lighting one without even asking for approval.

“Finn talked about you quite a lot lately, speaking about how pure, innocent, religious… and a good girl you are. You got him quite smitten, eh?” Thomas pointed out after inhaling deeply, his hand rubbing his chin “Well… what I was wondering about was how much of this is actually true.” He murmured, meeting her gaze with a smirk as he moved closer, hand reaching for her chin. “How much of a little saint you actually are, eh? Sweetheart.” he added, blowing out the smoke in her face, his fingers digging painfully into her skin as she looked into his empty, blue eyes.

Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed at his harsh tone, her eyes narrowing as her mouth remained shut. Struggling in his grip, she tried to free herself, unsuccessfully.

She was losing her patience quite quickly and it wasn't something that happened frequently… but there she was, angrily standing in front of what was the most feared man of Birmingham.

“I am.. I'm.. intact, if that's your concern, Mr. Shelby” She informed him in a sarcastically pleasant tone, a hint of harsh arrogance clear as day, caused by how annoyed she was by the conversation they were having.

Her small hands curling into fists, squeezing tightly when Tommy just nodded almost mockingly, his icy stare moving across her body slowly, carefully measuring each part of her body. Not worried about gentlemanly manners, Thomas stared, as if he was checking her out.

“Sure” he simply said, the tone of his voice intact, but the look in his blue eyes wasn't trying to hide how little he believed her. Putting out his cigarette, he threw it on the floor while keeping eye contact, showing disrespect to her words and the place she lived. Simply because he could.

Y/n gasped at his behaviour, quickly moving towards his silhouette as she pushed her finger against his chest, threatening.

“I fucking am, fucking check if you don’t believe me.” she whispered yelled, staring in his eyes boldly as he looked down at her, not a single emotion visible on his face. Almost like he was a statue carved from stone.

Tommy’s eyebrows raised slightly, his cold stare piercing her own, before lowering down to her chest which kept heaving with her deep breaths, caused purely by the anger she felt.

His hand moved to the edge of her dress, grabbing onto the fabric as he tried to raise it up, making Y/n realise his intention quickly and act impulsively… her hand made an impact with his cheek suddenly, throwing his face to the side slightly. Only after a second she realised what she's done, eyes widening in fear at the sight of his skin turning red.

The loud noise echoing in the room, as Tommy’s, now, dark gaze met her fearful eyes. Not a word was exchanged as his hands grabbed her roughly when she tried to escape from him, manhandling her smaller body harshly against the wooden surface of the desk. One hand kept her body flat against it, pressing painfully on the centre of her back, while his other gloved hand pulled up her dress.. revealing her white panties to him.

A hum of approval escaped his lips as he kneaded her flesh, ignoring her whimpers and pleads to stop. The view in front of him, so strangely innocent and pure, made his cock hardening in his pants, in a quite painful way.

Lowering his icy eyes with his hand he moved her thighs apart, rubbing slowly two thick fingers against her clothed folds.

”Look at that, already wet” he cooed mockingly as he moved his fingers, spreading her wetness by using the fabric of her panties.

His left hand digging in the flesh of her covered back, to hold her down and to keep his urges under control. It took much more self-control than he thought it would, not expecting that a girl that pretty would take interest in his inexperienced little brother.

Her eyes were tightly shut, forcing her mouth to stay closed, to make sure she wasn't making any noises. Her mind was a mess as his hands travelled down her heat, touching the places that nobody else ever saw.

As soon as his thumb pressed on her clit, her hips involuntarily jerked forward as she bit her bottom lip, trying to muffle the sigh that so desperately tried to escape her lips.

”So needy, eh? What would your grandma think?” Thomas chuckled, feeling how her body tensed, her hands trying to reach him, and push him off, unsuccessfully.

The young woman was so focused on trying to make him stop that she didn’t notice the moment when he pulled her panties to the side, allowing the cold breeze of the room to hit her wet bare pussy.

“No, please– sir!” she yelled in a moment of panic, Tommy’s free hand quickly covering her mouth as he toyed with her folds, opening her so that he could take a look that sent shivers down his spine. That sure was a pretty pussy, he thought while daring to move his index finger to her entrance.

Her sweet nectar wetting his gloved hand, making it even more noticeable “Look at you, sweetheart” he cooed mockingly again, as his finger pushed slightly deeper, in need to find out the truth.

Angling it slightly to the side, with a tip of his digit he could feel the thin barrier that was in the way of her tight tunnel.

Shaking his head, he leaned towards her, his wet lips brushing against the shell of her ear.

”So innocent, aren't you? Such a small, untouched cunt.” He breathed out, the urge to fuck her becoming increasingly stronger.

Letting out a breath, he pressed his index finger inside without even warning her… just grunting quietly into her ear, as she bit down his hand because of the pain.

So tight and warm, he thought. Tommy could feel how wet she was as he moved his gloved finger against her walls, biting on his bottom lip as he kept going further.

By the way she was moving it looked like it hurt her, as if she was feeling the burning sensation. One felt by a pure woman when her cherry was about to be popped.

“I guess you were right, honey” Tommy hummed, now circling her clit with her gloved hand, his middle finger helping his index one to feel her hymen before pressing against it harshly. Leather covering his hands caused his fingers to appear even thicker, stretching her pussy out so much that they both had to fight the urge to groan at the feeling.

Tommy's cock was fully hard at this point, leaking with precum into his underwear as his fingers explored the depths of her virgin pussy.

His eyes daring to close, so that his mind could wander in places it shouldn’t. The mere thought of his thick cock wrapped and squeezed for dear life by her pussy was driving him wild, making his finger start to thrust faster as he moved his hips against nothing, just unable to fight the fantasy that he was inside of her precious cunt.

“Fuck, that’s it, honey” he praised, moving his wrist in a quick motion, leaning closer again. His hot breath hitting her neck with each exhale. ”I knew you were a little slut.” He rasped out in a shaky voice, struggling to keep his composure while feeling her pussy clench down on his fingers like a vice.

“Can feel your filthy cunt squeezing my fingers. Yer fookin’ close, aren’t ye?” he growled in a low tone, parroting back mockingly her noises of pleasure.

Y/n cried out at the humiliation and the overwhelming feeling in her lower belly. Despite her desperate attempts to not give into it, she couldn't fight it as he kept fucking her with his thick, gloved fingers.

”Give it to me. Stop fighting it.” He commanded through his teeth, as he felt his cock throbbing impatiently in his pants, demanding attention.

”N-no!” She pleaded quietly, trying her best to suppress the tension that pushed her on the edge of her first orgasm. Breathing deeply, she caught his wrist, trying to stop him, but Tommy just laughed quietly.

”There you go” He whispered, leaving a small kiss on her temple before shoving his fingers knuckle deep, fucking her with hard and quick strokes, curling his fingers up to hit her g spot with each thrust.

His other hand was clamped over her mouth, which she ended up biting as he made her cum so hard, that just a couple seconds into the orgasm, her body shook and vision went blurry as her juices shot out on his hand, wetting his glove when she squirted for the very first time in her life.

Y/n’s eyes rolled in the back of her head as she trembled, muscles relaxing as the feeling got… way too much. She was too long gone in her pleasure to notice at first the sound of his belt clicking open, the zip of his pants being pulled down with the fabric, so that his cock was finally free.

After licking his gloves from her wetness, he grabbed a hold of her hips, pressing his rock hard cock against her flesh, hsi eyes fluttering shut when he started to move his hips. Grinding at an animalistic pace, his main goal his own pleasure.

He needed to rub his cock, keeping it squeezed tightly between their bodies, for a couple of minutes to finally shoot his load on her lower back.

As they both breathed heavily, he moved carefully away from her, gathering his cum with his hand to shove it in her mouth before fixing his suit and walking out of the room without a word.

He walked followed with the same powerful aura, at a fast pace towards the front door

“Let’s go” Thomas ordered his brothers while walking to the front door, patting Finn’s shoulder with a serious expression

“She’s not a virgin… anymore” he informed him as he stole a cookie and walked out, nodding at the old lady with a crooked grin.

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj @wife-of-magic-monkeys , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher, @sleepycreativewriter, @mrkdvidal1989

979 notes · View notes

lovelybucky1 · 9 months

Text

Dirty Money- Tommy Shelby x Reader

masterlist

warnings: very mild dub-con, guns, canon-typical violence, dom/sub dynamics, humiliation, degradation, clothed sex, office sex, semi-public sex, name-calling, unprotected sex, mentions of prostitution, rough sex

The chatter from the party room (if this occasion could even be called a party) lessened as you made your way down the halls of the Shelby house. The Peaky Blinders were having a celebration- another shady business practice gone in their favor, earning them a large sum of money. You are just a pretty face to the Blinders. You get in close with the arrogant, sleazy men who the Shelbys often have dealings with, get information, and maybe pickpocket occasionally, but that is the extent of your duties.

Your position means you don’t get any of the money they earn from deals; all they provide you is free drinks at the Garrison. The Blinders are just a stepping stone along your path. You knew they had money, and if you could get an in with them, then you could have access to some of that money. And really, who would notice if a small fraction of that money was taken?

Your dress flows at your feet as you creep down the hallway towards the boss’ study. When you reach the door, you press your ear to hear any voices; when you deem it safe, you twist the handle and push it open.

Thanking God the hinges don’t squeak, you shut it behind you and take in your surroundings. The room is dark, the light filtering through the windows from the street is barely enough to see by. You approach the solid oak desk that likely took the whole family to move into the office. Atop the desk are a few letters, a pen, a set of lamps, and a figurine of a horse. The rest of the office is similar; sparse with decoration, but bits of Thomas’ personality shine through.

You don’t know much about your boss, despite interacting with him frequently. You’ve been his date on various occasions, all with ulterior motives, of course. Even when he is acting vulnerable, you know it’s a farce. Everyone knows Tommy Shelby is all about business, and he never takes a day off.

You walk around to the other side of the desk and pull at the top drawer. Inside, only stationary, so you close it and try the second drawer, which is locked. You take a pin from your hair and bend it before inserting it into the keyhole. It’s been a while since you’ve picked a lock, but you eventually get it open without too much difficulty. When you open the drawer, you find two stacks of money sitting next to a gun and a pack of smokes.

You pick up one of the stacks and flip through it. Two stacks, each one thousand pounds. You’d be set for life with this amount of money. You could get out of this shit, smog-filled city, buy yourself a nice house in the countryside, a car. You could have everything you’ve ever wanted and more, and it was all in your hands at this very moment.

You were jolted from your fantasy about your future life by the lamp near the door clicking on. You whip around, money still in hand, to face the door. Illuminated by the golden light stood your personal grim reaper, the very man you were stealing from.

Tommy has his hands on his hips, eyebrow raised, and his weight leaned onto one leg. His stance screams what the fuck do you think you’re doing? Your stomach drops when you meet his piercing blue eyes, and a wave of fear washes over you. Tommy stares at you until the weight of his gaze makes you tremble, and only then does he speak.

“I’ve had many people try to get close to me for their own gain,” Tommy pauses just to make you sweat. “But none of them have ever been stupid enough to steal from me in my own home.”

“It’s not what it looks like,” you say as if there weren’t stacks of money in your hand.

Your voice cracks when you speak and you’d curse yourself for your lack of composure, but it’s hard to remain calm when you’ve just gotten on the bad side of a man who wouldn’t hesitate to kill you.

“No?” Tommy asks. “That’s a good thing then, because if you were stealin’ my money, then we’d have some problems.” Tommy stalks forward toward you, eyes never leaving yours as he crosses the room. He takes the money from your pliant fingers; you have enough sense of self-preservation to not put up a fight right now. He places the money back in the drawer and when you look down, you see his fingertips brush against the gun- a reminder. When you look back up, his face is inches from yours and he is looking down the bride of his nose at you like you’re nothing but a pathetic animal. “So why don’t you tell me what you’re doin’ in here, eh?”

You inhale shakily as you try to come up with a convincing lie. You figure that he will see through any of the bullshit you say, but it’s better than admitting your crime. “I lost my ring and I thought I might have left it in here.”

“You might have lost your ring… in my locked drawer?” He asks, tone suggesting he is simply humoring you.

“If you found it and thought it was valuable, I thought you would put it in a safe place,” you explain, trying your best to look innocent.

“I see,” Tommy says, putting his hand on the desk next to your hip and leaning on it. “Now, if you’re done lying, I’d like to hear the truth.”

You swallow thickly as you resign yourself to the fact that you were caught. “I was taking money from your desk.”

“I’m not fuckin’ blind, am I? What’s the money for?” Tommy asks, voice even and steady, though you know he must be simmering with anger.

“For me.”

“Two thousand pounds, all for you? You have no affiliations?” you shake your head. “You’re not working for anyone?”

“No, sir. I wanted all of this for myself,” you confess.

“Hm,” he considers your words. “I’m surprised you were able to put together this little plan, so I doubt you’d be able to pull off bein’ a double agent all this time.” The way he talks down to you makes you want to hide your face in shame, but in the position he has you in, you have nowhere to go. “What were you going to do with all this money?”

“Move out of the city. Find a place for myself. Start a new life. A good life,” you say. Your tone must have been sincere enough for Tommy to believe you because he seems to relax a little.

Tommy shifts on his feet and he looks distantly over your shoulder as if he is lost in thought. You stare at his face, waiting for the other shoe to drop. You wouldn’t be surprised if he killed you, he’s killed others for much less.

“So,” he starts, “You’re not working for anyone else, but you’re still a thief and a traitor.” His intense gaze is back on you and your skin crawls with anxiety. “I don’t think I have to remind you what we do to thieves and traitors.”

You shake your head, knowing full well the fate that all who have wronged the Blinders have met. They’re not deserving of a quick death; they beg until they are too swollen to beg, they pray until God has been beaten out of them, they break until there is nothing left whole, they bleed until they’re dry. A traitor to the family suffers. They’re a spectacle to keep all others in line.

“But that would be such a waste of a pretty face,” Tommy says, the unexpected compliment makes your heart stutter in your chest. “You always did do good work for me. The races, the parties I went to with you on my arm. Sometimes I wished they were for leisure rather than business.”

You furrow your brow slightly at the admission. “What do you mean, Mr. Shelby?”

“I quite fancied you,” he says with a slight smile. “But then I caught you in my study with my money, and I came to my senses.”

He stands up straight and reaches into the drawer, taking out the gun. You take a step back, frightened once again. He doesn’t point the gun at you, only holds it, but you are still no less threatened.

With a sigh, he speaks again. “I don’t trust you not to bring down the rest of us if I turn you in to the coppers. So because I held such a soft spot for you, I’ll let you pick. I could cut your hand off to make sure you won’t steal again, I can send you far away without a single penny to your name, or I could give you over to the Italians as a peace offering.”

Your stomach drops when he lists off your options. For some reason, you thought he was going to let you get away. But seemingly despite his soft spot, business comes first, as usual.

“Please, Mr. Shelby, there has to be something else,” you say, voice watery with held-back emotion.

“What kind of businessman would I be if I let my employees steal from me?” He asks eyebrow raised mockingly.

Feeling desperation cloud your mind, you take a step forward, despite the gun. You reach out and place your hand on his shoulder, the rough material of his suit jacket rubbing against your skin. He looks down at you, his face a mixture of shock and amusement.

“I will do anything, sir,” you say, voice vulnerable and weak, hoping that will appeal to his baser urges. You know it’s a bold and risky move, but you don’t have many other options.

A laugh escapes Tommy’s throat, a rare and usually pleasant sound when it’s not being directed at you. “Are you looking to add prostitution to your list of crimes?” he chuckles.

“No, sir. I am not a whore.”

“You’re offering yourself up to me like one,” he smirks. “Why don’t we make a deal, then?”

“What are the terms?” you ask, trying to add strength to your voice that you’ve lacked since you saw him in the doorway.

“You let me fuck you like the whore you claim not to be, and you get to keep your job with us,” he says casually like he’s talking about the weather.

“That’s it?”

“Well now, don’t sound so ungrateful. If you’d prefer, I could give you away to those animals out here,” he gestures towards the door. “I’m giving you a chance to keep that pretty smile of yours.”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “I am grateful, sir. Thank you.”

Tommy puts the gun down on the top of his desk and closes the space between you. His hard chest presses against yours as he brings his hand up to gently stroke your cheek.

“Greedy little thing,” he says, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. Your lips are parted just so, looking soft and pliant, just the way he loves. Tommy’s hand trails from your face down to your throat, where he plays with the simple goal pendant that rests against your skin.

Tommy leans in and brushes his lips to yours, making your heart stutter and your breath catch in your throat. You can feel a slight smile on his lips before he presses them together in a claiming kiss. He smothers you, stealing the breath from your lungs.

When you part, his lips are pink and glistening with a mix of your saliva. His light eyes are blown with lust and you feel small in his arms.

“Are you clean or am I going to have to fuck your mouth?” he asks, the dirty words a sharp contrast to his gentle hands on you.

“I’m clean,” you say, voice no more than a whisper.

The only response you get from him is a shark-like grin. He grabs your hips and pulls you flush to him. Even through the layers of your dress, you can feel the hardness in his pants.

It’s almost hard to believe that right now, Thomas Shelby is hard for you. You’ve imagined this countless times; when you were his arm candy, when he’d drink with you at the pub, and even sometimes in your own home. You never thought you’d actually get to have him in such a way, especially not when it wasn’t for business.

“What are you waiting for, dear?” he asks, looking into your eyes and then down at his trousers.

You lean back, putting enough space between the two of you to undo his belt and unbutton his pants. You take out his cock and give it a few dry strokes. The size makes you nervous; you’re no virgin, but you’ve been so caught up with work that you haven’t been seeing anyone.

Tommy shrugs off his jacket and tosses it haphazardly onto his desk chair, clearly unconcerned that he is wrinkling a very expensive suit. Taking his undressing as a hint, you ask “Should I take off my dress?”

“It’s not our fucking wedding night,” he huffs. He grabs your waist and pushes you towards the desk, You brace your hands on the surface and look back at him while he hikes up the skirt of your dress. He piles the bunched-up fabric on your lower back and bends down to admire the view. “Though these knickers suggest otherwise,” he chuckles, slipping his finger under them.

It’s humiliating to be bent over your boss’ desk while he looks at you like you’re a piece of meat, As much as you wish you were more upstanding, that this whole situation repulsed you, the burn in your abdomen is undeniable. You’re getting off on whoring yourself out to your boss.

Tommy grabs the waist of your knickers and pulls them down, letting the white satin pool at your feet. Now bare to him, Tommy inhales deeply, taking in the scent of your arousal. He swipes his thumb through your folds, gathering your wetness and smearing it on your thigh.

“Mr. Shelby, please,” you whimper.

“What’s the matter? You don’t like me teasing?” he chuckles.

He rubs his hand over your pussy, his cold fingertips burning from the heat of you. You wiggle your hips a bit, silently begging him for more, and in return, he gives a sharp slap to your cunt.

“You forget this is a punishment. I could leave you here desperately and wet for hours and there’s nothin’ you can do ‘bout it.”

You let your head hang between your shoulders with a sigh. You don’t doubt his threat; Tommy can be a cruel man and you wouldn’t put it past him to torture you in such a way. No matter what, though, this is better than the alternative.

You feel a long, thin finger prodding at your entrance and you force yourself to relax. Tommy slowly pushes his middle finger into you, and from behind you, a quiet groan can be heard. He pulls his finger out only to quickly replace it, along with a second digit. The fingers inside of you slowly work back and forth to loosen you. Despite Tommy’s rough exterior and degrading words, when it comes to the act, he’s more caring than you anticipated.

The slow drag of his fingers makes you dizzy, desperate for more to fill you as you open up. Seemingly have read your mind, Tommy pulls out his fingers and places his wet hand on your ass.

For a long moment, nothing happens. Tommy stands behind you, both hands on you, but unmoving. You look back to see him watching you expectantly.

“Do you think I’m just going to give it to you?” he asks. You furrow your brow, not understanding what he’s getting at. “Clearly you’ve never been properly fucked,” he huffs. “Beg me for it.”

Of course, how could you be so stupid? A man like Tommy Shelby loves power and control. He wants to own everything and everyone, especially his conquests. You’ve already submitted yourself to him, but he wants you to relinquish the rest of your pride for him.

“Please, sir, I want it,” you try, the idea of begging for sex unfamiliar to you.

“Surely you could do better than that, eh? I’ve heard the things you’ve told our associates. I know your mouth is dirtier than your pretty white knickers let on.” The smirk is evident in his voice and it makes you burn with shame. The things you tell whatever man you were ordered to seduce were all acting. You separated yourself from it, from them, but now you were doing to be deep in it.

“Please fuck me like the whore I am, Mr. Shelby. I’m yours to do whatever you want with. I want you to forgive me.”

The words feel foreign on your tongue and Tommy seems to recognize that. The grin on his face tells you the begging was more for your embarrassment than his enjoyment.

“That’s better, my little whore,” he says as he grabs ahold of his cock and rubs it through your folds. He pushes in slowly but steadily, easing you into it but not hiding his desire until the head is inside. Like a gentleman, he lets you accommodate the stretch before seating himself fully inside of you.

You lay atop the desk limp and pliant, like you’re a toy for Tommy. He grabs your hips tightly, possessively, before he starts to rock his hips against you. The friction of your ass against his hips doesn’t do too much to satisfy your sexual need, but the feeling of his skin makes you burn from within.

“When you first joined,” Tommy speaks up, “I had to make a rule. Don’t fuck the other members. Never had that problem before, but I knew the boys would tear you apart the second they got the chance.”

Tommy’s fingers press into your skin as he begins to slowly thrust into you. As he did with his fingers, he makes the drag of his cock slow, ensuring you feel every inch of his length. Your pussy gripped him like your body knew you were made for him.

You let out a small, involuntary hum when he reaches the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl. You had fantasized that Tommy would be a good lover, but you never imagined that he’d light all of your nerves on fire.

“Fuck, Tommy,” you moan as his steady pace builds up the pressure in your abdomen.

“It’s Tommy now, eh? Where’d those manners go?”

“I’m sorry! Fuck, I’m sorry, Mr. Shelby.”

You’re certain Tommy is going to kill you, despite your deal after you disrespected him. Maybe he’d be merciful since you let him have you… or maybe that would make torturing you even better.

“Say it again,” he says, voice gruff with lust.

“What?”

“My name. Say it again.”

“Tommy,” you whisper, hesitant.

His blunt nails dig into your skin, leaving crescent-shaped indents behind. The speed of his hips increases slightly, but he doesn’t slam into you like some previous partners have. He seems to understand your body; to be rough in some ways but caring in others.

“If I punished every thief like this, I’d have far fewer enemies,” he muses as he slides his right hand up your back, then rests it on the base of your neck. “But you’re lucky.”

The hand on the back of your neck moves to the side of your head, where Tommy presses down. There’s not much force behind it, but your head is pinned to the desk. It’s degrading to have him hold you down, preventing you from seeing what’s to come. His fingers twist in your hair and his trusts become increasingly irregular.

“Tommy,” you whine.

“This cunt’s divine,” he says, and for the first time, his voice has an edge of desperation to it.

“Tommy,” you say again.

“What?” he breathes.

“Fuck me.”

With an airy chuckle, Tommy pulls you closer to him by the hips so you can meet each of his thrusts. Your body jolts each time his thighs slap against yours, completely at his mercy while he fucks into you. You feel him shift behind you and suddenly there is a weight resting on your back. Tommy is leaning over you, holding you impossibly close with his mouth next to your ear.

“You’re my fuckin’ whore,” he says, his hot breath and gravelly voice making your skin break out in goosebumps. “You understand me?”

All you can do is nod, but that answer seems to satisfy him because he is standing back up and fucking you sloppily, a stark contrast to his steady pace from earlier. After a handful of strokes, he pulls out and you’re left cold and gaping on the desk, brain lagging to catch up with reality.

You hear a strangled moan from behind you, and then you feel drops of scorching liquid hit your thighs. You squirm on the desk once you realize what has happened. Tommy Shelby has just come on you, effectively claiming you as his own.

He rests his hand on your back as he catches his breath, chest heaving with exertion. He steps back, out from between your legs, and wipes the sweat off of his forehead with his sleeve. You look back at him with lustful, half-lidded eyes and he gives you a soft smile. You push yourself up so you can stand, and when you turn to face Tommy again, he looks confused.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“We’re done, aren’t we?”

Tommy chuckles and steps forward again, picking your skirt back up and pushing the bunched fabric into your hands to hold.

“You poor thing,” he says. “You haven’t gotten yours.”

His words surprise you. You wouldn’t say Tommy is a selfish man; self-interested is a better term. You expected this to be over once he was finished, but it seems that equal satisfaction is of importance to him.

He reaches between your legs and slips two fingers into your cunt, then rests his thumb on your clit. You gasp when he touches your bud, which is extra sensitive from the lack of attention. Tommy’s other arm wraps around your waist to hold you close, his lips brushing against your temple.

“Tommy,” you whimper when he curls his fingers inside you.

“So fuckin’ good for me. Guess all it took was a cock to keep you in line. God knows I would’ve done this ages ago if I knew. Think about all the times I could’ve had this sweet cunt when I settled for some whore,” he says, voice thick and sweet. “But now you’re mine.”

His possessiveness, combined with the perfectly placed touches under your dress, makes your head spin with pleasure. You let your head drop forward to rest on his shoulder and he pushes his face into your hair. You reach up to grab at his vest, needing something to ground yourself, lest you collapse into a puddle of pleasure on the office floor.

“I-I’m close, sir,” you struggle to get out between moans.

“What do good girls say?” he asks.

“Please.”

“Cum for me, dear,” he whispers.

As if he pulled a trigger, your release washed over you. Your muscles tighten and relax as the waves of pleasure rock you. Tommy rides you through it, not giving up his assault on your soaked pussy until you are squirming and pushing his hand away.

You lean back to rest on the desk as you find your breath and let your skirt drop down to the floor, covering up the mix of cum that wets your thighs. You watch as Tommy straightens out his clothes and fastens his belt, feeling slightly disappointed that you didn’t get to see more of him.

He joins you by the desk, reaching into the formerly-locked drawer and taking out the pack of smokes, as well as a matchbook from his pocket. He lights the cigarette and tosses the burnt match into his ashtray. He holds it with the two fingers that were inside of you and takes a drag, exhaling a plume of white smoke that swirls in the air in front of you. Tommy offers the cigarette to you but you decline with a shake of your head, and he doesn’t press.

“Do you smell that?” Tommy asks, breaking the silence. You sniff the air, mainly smelling smoke but there is the underlying musk of sex, as well as the intoxicating scent that Tommy wears. “That’s business,” he says, answering his own question.

“What do you mean?” you ask, turning to face him.

“We had a deal. I fuck you and you get to stay here, all your limbs intact.” You nod slowly, not quite understanding what he’s getting at. “I’d like to offer you a promotion.”

You perk up at that. Not an hour ago you were certain Tommy was going to shoot you where you stood, but now he’s offering you a higher-ranking position within the Blinders.

“I want you to be my personal assistant,” he says, a slight smirk on his lips. “No dirty work, no men. It’s an easy job, making my breakfast and bringin’ me whiskey, sorting my mail, writing my letters. Making appointments for me, keeping track of my calendar, making small talk with incredibly dull people I can’t be bothered with.”

“So I’d be your maid?”

“If maids get the added benefit of fuckin’ their bosses, then yes, you’ll be my maid,” he grins. “And you know what the best part is?” You shake your head. “You don’t get to lay a finger on my money.”

You look away from him, embarrassed. Tommy grabs ahold of your chin and makes you look back at him, his blue eyes boring into you once again.

“You can live in my house, I’ll buy you fancy things or whatever the fuck you wanted to do with two thousand pounds, and the only thing you’ll have to worry about is cleanin’ the blood from my shirts.”

You pretend to think over his offer, but really, there’s no question. This is better than any life you could attempt to start on your own, and you have the added bonus of being in the boss’ favor.

“I accept your offer,” you say with a smile.

“Good. Now let’s get out of here before you find another thing to steal,” he says, placing his hand on your lower back and leading you towards the door.

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

2K notes · View notes

works-of-fanfiction · 9 months

Text

The Love of Another - Part One || Cillian Murphy x actress!Reader

Summary: After meeting on the set of Peaky Blinders, Cillian and Y/N struggle to keep their relationship professional.

Warnings: Swearing, cheating (loose mentions of Cillian being divorced).

Word Count: 3.8k

a/n: I’ve been wanting to write for Cillian for a while, so I hope this reaches the right people! My blog has always been mixed so why not include some more fics with more people?

“I miss you too.” She sighed, sinking deeper into the bathtub with her phone balancing on the ledge. Dipping her head underneath the water, she missed her husband’s next words and came back to the surface with a small splash. The tub was filled just an inch too high, suds lapping over the edge and wetting the bathmat below. “I didn’t catch that last bit. What did you say?”

“I asked if Cillian had stolen my wife yet.” Her husband chuckled, the laughter trailing off when she didn’t immediately respond. “Y/N?”

She sighed, this time in frustration, as she reached with a wet hand to grab the phone. “I can’t even tell if you’re joking anymore.”

There was silence. Then a stutter. “What? Obviously, I’m kidding!”

“Are you though? These so-called jokes about Cillian are becoming a little too frequent…” She looked up to the ceiling, mentally recounting the three previous occasions in that week alone that he’d felt the need to bring her co-star into the conversation. “You call me to check in, but it feels like you’re really calling to see if I’m with someone else.”

“Y/N…”

“Don’t ‘Y/N’ me. This isn’t the first time you’ve been weary of one of my co-stars. I’m not here on holiday, I’m working.”

“I know – “

“So, please stop calling me and accusing me of something you know I would never do. I married you.”

As much as her husband had always supported her career, he’d never gotten used to seeing her play alongside different men. Kissing and romantic scenes made his skin crawl, and now she was a regular on one of the country’s most loved shows and spending a lot of time around the same man, his suspicions only grew. He was well-known to jump to the wildest of conclusions.

He mumbled an apology, and Y/N made an excuse to cut their call short, tossing the phone onto the pile of laundry on the floor. Huffing, she sank back below the bubbles and turned the tap with her foot, adding more hot water. “Marriage…” She muttered to herself, sniggering before closing her eyes and dunking her head beneath the water once again.

She scrubbed at her scalp, relieving tension from the day, and loosening the insane amount of hairspray that had been holding her hair down since eight o’clock that morning. Holding her breath, she stayed underwater for a moment, savouring the few minutes a day she could spend in silence.

The hot water showering her feet stopped and she sat up, pushing her wet hair out of her face. “What was that about marriage?” A familiar voice asked, and she opened her eyes, vision adjusting to the figure sat on the edge of the bath looking down at her. “Let me guess… It’s not all it’s cracked up to be?” He laughed, tugging at the knot in his tie. His hair was fluffy and messy from wearing a hat all day, his collar slightly dirtied from the face powder the make-up team had spent the evening reapplying beneath the hot, harsh lights of the soundstage. Still, he looked like he’d barely done a day’s work and the way that suit hugged his body made Y/N’s stomach flutter.

“Definitely not when your husband doesn’t trust you.”

“And what reason would he have not to trust you? Because…” He stood, slipping off his shoes and pulling the tie off, letting it join her clothes in the corner. “I can’t think of a single one.” He shrugged his jacket off and hung it on the door handle, unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling them up to his elbows.

She giggled as he lifted his foot and stepped into the bath, most of his clothes still on. The water lapped over the side and soaked the floor as he clumsily knocked the shampoo bottles over. She squeezed her legs together and he knelt over her, lowering his upper body towards her, but keeping a hold of the tub to steady himself. “Cillian!” She squealed, watching the water seep into his shirt and trousers.

“Sorry, love. Forgot to ask. Can I join you?” He smirked, cupping water into his hand and dampening his hair with it. With flushed cheeks, whether from the humidity in the room or Cillian’s presence, she smiled at him, reaching out to run her fingers along his jaw.

“Wardrobe are going to kill you.”

“It’s a good thing they’ve got two more suits just like it then, isn’t it?”

“Hm, it feels weird seeing you dressed like that, sounding like that.”

“Would you prefer I talk like this, Mrs Shelby?” He adopted his signature Brummie accent from the show, instantly snapping into character and gazing at her through furrowed brows. She stifled back a laugh, unable to take him seriously with his soddened shirt and hands slipping along the bathtub’s edge. “You’re not supposed to be finding this funny.” His accent melted back to normal through the sentence, a smile creeping onto his own face.

“Sorry, I just don’t see Tommy Shelby diving into a bath on top of his missus.”

“That’s because he’d probably be the one on the bottom.” He teased, dipping a hand into the water and settling it on her waist.

“Don’t get too comfortable. Believe it or not I was enjoying my bath before a fully clothed hooligan decided to jump in.” She propped herself up and fiddled with his buttons, her wet fingers making it a little difficult. She started from the bottom and he gave her a hand up top, before he peeled the damp garment off his body.

“Is that better?” He quipped, as she stared at his character’s tattoo which had started to smudge from a mixture of water and sweat. Nodding, she ran her fingers over his chest, smearing the design even more. “Are you going to wash me? Is that it?”

“Well you need it. You’ve got more makeup on than I’ve had all series!”

“Then let’s get these trousers off too, eh?”

Lying on Cillian’s chest, Y/N listened to his breathing and heart beating. The low light in the bedroom made her eyes feel heavy, but she wasn’t tired enough to sleep just yet. His hand absentmindedly played with her hair, gently massaging her scalp with the very tips of his fingers, being careful not to scratch her. These moments behind closed doors away from prying eyes were their most cherished. They spoke about their days, the hours spent together and apart. Y/N praised Cillian for his performance in a scene earlier that day, and he tried his best to deflect the compliment and switch the subject to her scenes instead. “Will you ever accept my compliments?” She teased, poking him in the chest.

“I will accept your compliments if…” He started, stopping to think. She sat up, looking at him in anticipation. “If you let us finally talk about your birthday.”

“Cillian…”

“You know the studio are going to go all out. You can’t avoid it.”

“I’m turning thirty. I’m ancient! This is not something to be celebrated.” Covering her eyes, she shook her head and groaned. Cillian laughed, lightly swatting her hands away from her face.

“If you’re ancient, then what am I?”

“Men age better, you don’t count. Just let me enjoy my last few days of being twenty-nine.”

His chuckling made her frown twist into a smirk which she tried to hold back. Gazing at her with sleepy blue eyes, he scooted closer cupping her cheek in his hand. “I seem to remember your birthday being rather special.” He cooed, his thumb lightly stroking the soft skin below her eye. She sighed, remembering the moment like it was just days ago.

Thinking back to it with such fondness was wrong. She knew that. One moment on her twenty-ninth birthday snowballed into something so much bigger, and the lingering thirtieth celebrations reminded her just how badly things had gotten out of hand. The lapse in time made it impossible to take everything back. However, selfishly, given the chance, she knew she wouldn’t change a thing.

“Cillian…” She whispered breathlessly, his face still close and mouth still hot against hers. He drew back, his hands remaining on her cheeks, fingertips brushing the skin below her earlobes.

As her eyes fluttered open to meet his, he suddenly let go, catching his head in his right hand. “I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry.” He stumbled over his words, looking around the room in a panic, eyes darting to the door that was still clearly open, wide enough for anyone to walk past and see what he did. What they did.

“I shouldn’t have done that. Fuck, you’re married! What the hell is wrong with me?”

She stood there, hands trembling by her sides as she watched his gaze jump across the floor, his feet struggling to stay still. Her lips tingled and stung from the contact, almost desperate to kiss him again, to feel his hands on her body. They’d kissed a hundred times on set; playing husband and wife meant that physical contact was just another part of the job, but he’d never kissed her like this. So tender. So slow. Their onscreen kisses were robotic in comparison.

“No one has to know.” The words spilled out of her mouth before her brain could catch up, her arm reaching out for him. He dared himself to look back up to see her flushed cheeks and freshly kissed lips, plump and pink, glistening and hungry for more. Something twisted inside his stomach, and her lashes fluttered innocently in his direction like they were two teenagers in love. She felt as if she couldn’t breathe, like his stare could burn holes through her body.

“No one – has – to know.” She stepped closer with each word, her body making the decisions for her. This feeling and attraction towards Cillian was certainly nothing new, but she never thought he’d return her affection.

Cillian searched for reassurance in her eyes, making sure she really meant what she said as her fingers traced the stitching along his sleeve. Sensing his apprehension, she slipped her hand into his. He sighed, the heat from her fingers sending electricity through his veins, a feeling that felt so right despite how wrong it was.

“We should get back to your party.” He breathed, the muffled sounds of voices and music somehow growing louder as if they were getting closer to the door, closer to finding them together. “Your guests they… Well, you don’t want to keep them waiting.”

“Cillian.” She uttered quietly, pleading for him to look her in the eye and tell her she hadn’t just dreamt the past few minutes. She needed something, anything that would serve as confirmation that she hadn’t imagined it. That she hadn’t imagined his hands holding her face, pulling her to him, their bodies moulding together as their lips met for what felt like the very first time. This was no rehearsed kiss inside four cold white walls; this wasn’t in front of a crew of ten men with cameras zooming in on their faces. This was between the two of them. Raw and real.

Defeated, she dropped his hand and headed to the door. Gripping the handle, she went to pull it towards her until Cillian pressed a firm hand against the wood, slamming it into its frame. He cornered her, his intense stare making her neck hot and her cheeks visibly pinker.

The kiss was hesitant at first; their movements staggered and filled with doubt yet fuelled by longing and the sheer desperation to feel each other again. Once each were confident that the other wanted the same thing, they melted into one another’s grasp, Cillian’s hands tangling into her hair, Y/N’s fingers clutching onto his shirt as if he could disappear at any moment. It was feverish, like a craving had finally been satiated for them both. They knew there was no going back now. They were in this, and they’d have to spend every waking moment hiding it from everyone they knew, both mutual and individual.

“That means it’s been a year since…”

“Since this started.” Cillian waved his finger between himself and Y/N, a reminiscent smile on his face. She never knew how to react when they actually sat and talked about their relationship. It was undoubtedly easier for Cillian, being divorced and completely free to do and see whoever he wanted, but Y/N was still very much married and playing a dangerous game. Every day she lied to her husband’s face and made fun of his insecurities surrounding Cillian. Little did he know, he had every right to be worried about his wife’s co-star, considering he was the one who wound up in her bed at the end of most days.

Cillian opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself. He knew diving into the specifics of their affair made Y/N uneasy. She didn’t like to talk about her marriage; she preferred to pretend that what she and Cillian had was healthy and real. If she didn’t think about her husband, she could convince herself she wasn’t hurting anybody.

“We should get some sleep.” He said comfortingly, wrapping an arm around her as she laid back on his chest. Y/N knew he was trying to distract her from her thoughts, and she was all too willing to escape them, so she closed her eyes and begged for sleep to come quickly.

“Happy birthday!” The cast and crew cheered, clapping and whooping as Y/N stepped onto set. She grinned in faux surprise having been pre-warned by Cillian that they were planning something. A table littered with cupcakes and cookies stood at the side with some crew members already lingering, hoping for an early treat.

“Thanks guys! You shouldn’t have done all of this for me.” Y/N smiled, hugging various people and receiving more birthday wishes as she made her way around the room. Cillian stood by the cameras pretending to look busy, trying not to draw attention to himself. To the outside world they were just castmates, friends at a push. People praised them for their work and chemistry onscreen, unaware of the true feelings below the surface, and the two had grown very good at playing acquaintances around others.

Reaching Cillian, he gave her a quick side hug and a friendly smile. “Happy birthday, Y/N.” He said politely, pulling a small card out of his pocket. “It’s nothing special.” He raised his voice to purposely reach those around them.

“Thank you, Cillian. I’ll add it to the pile.” She beamed, knowing she definitely wouldn’t be adding his card to any pile for anyone else to see. She didn’t know what he’d written, but judging by the glint in his eye, it wasn’t a decoy card to keep up appearances. It was the real thing, and he was playing with fire bringing it into the studio in the first place, but she’d chew his ear off about that later.

When everyone broke off for lunch, Y/N rushed off to her trailer, Cillian’s card burning a hole in her pocket. Throwing the door open, she was surprised to be greeted by a large cake on the counter, iced in her favourite colours with an obnoxious ‘30’ in the middle made from chocolate.

“It’s hazelnut. Your favourite.”

She spun around, confused, only to find her husband sprawled on the sofa behind her. “Surprise.” He grinned, opening his arms for her. She gulped, taking a step forward and leaning down to hug him. He shifted on the sofa, giving her enough space to sit in his lap as he squeezed her tight, feathering little kisses on her cheek.

Her body felt stiff in his arms from shock. It hadn’t even crossed her mind that he would show up, but it made perfect sense. It was her thirtieth birthday, of course he was going to come!

Glancing out of the window over his shoulder, she saw Cillian engaged in an animated conversation with the producers, throwing his head back with laughter. She sighed, wishing there was a way out of this situation, wishing she could run out of the door and disappear with him, leaving the guilt and the pain behind. Hugging her husband felt wrong. She felt ashamed to be dreaming of another man whilst the one she’d sworn her love to was right there in front of her.

“Are you OK?” He asked, moving so they could sit side-by-side.

“Yeah, I’m just surprised!” She lied, her voice high-pitched and shaky. She felt Cillian’s card crumple in her back pocket, but she thanked her lucky stars she didn’t have it on show when she walked into the trailer.

“I had to come and see you on your birthday. What shall we do tonight?” His arm around her shoulder made her feel suffocated and she hoped the ground would somehow magically swallow her up. She shimmied out of his grasp, standing up.

“The crew have organised a night out. I can’t let them down.”

He stood up, his hand settling on her upper arms. “Then we’ll both go. That sound fun?”

Nodding, she closed her eyes, cringing as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I have another scene to shoot this afternoon. Will you be alright hanging in here for a while?”

“What? I can’t come and watch?”

“I don’t think it’s a scene you’d want to see.” Another lie. The scene was a simple conversation between two characters, no drama or romance involved, but it was easier to let him believe it was something he’d find unsettling. The first time he watched her kiss Cillian in a scene, he couldn’t shake the sickly feeling in his stomach all day. As harsh it was to use his insecurity against him, it was far easier than the truth.

I’m having an affair with my co-star who I repeatedly told you not to worry about, and you being here is complicating things further, so I’d rather not spend any more time around you than I have to.

Yeah… Lying was certainly easier.

“I guess I’ll just uh… Stick a film on then.” He shrugged, sitting back down.

“It shouldn’t take too long.” She hovered for a second, then remembered Cillian’s card again. “I’m just going to use the bathroom.”

“OK.”

Locking herself behind the toilet door, she ripped open the card, stuffing the envelope into the small bin beside her.

‘Meet me in the wardrobe department at 1. I’ve got something for you.

Happy birthday, Mrs Shelby.

Yours,

Cillian x’

Her heart fluttered, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she re-read it a second time, then a third. What started as a joke between them became somewhat of a term of affection; calling each other Mr and Mrs Shelby. Cillian could certainly be corny when he wanted to be, but she was no better.

Checking the time on her phone, she had ten minutes to get to the wardrobe department and see Cillian before their lunch hour was over. Remembering her company outside the door, she counted a few seconds before flushing the toilet and rinsing her hands in the sink. She hid the card, pulling her shirt over her trousers so her husband couldn’t see a bump in her pocket.

“I have to go to wardrobe and get into my next outfit.” She muttered, fixing her hair in the mirror and rushing around to avoid making eye contact with her unwanted guest.

“Your lunchtime isn’t even over! Come on, babe. Sit down, let’s chat.”

“You know me, I like to be punctual.” She flashed him a weak smile, pulling out her phone to show him the time. “Plus, we both know how long it can take me to get ready.”

“Fine. But I’m buying you your first birthday drink tonight.”

“I’d be mad if you didn’t.”

He stood to hug her, but she dashed out of the door before he could even get close. Speedwalking to wardrobe, her mind raced back and forth between her husband and Cillian. She was supposed to be happy that he’d traveled all this way for her birthday. She was supposed to jump into his arms and declare how much she’d missed him over the past couple of months, not pray for him to go away. No matter what she did, she couldn’t get Cillian off her mind. He consumed her, emotionally, physically, in every way possible. She never meant for it to go this far, to feel this way, but she couldn’t control it.

Entering the room, she spotted Cillian’s shoes through the racks of clothing. She could hear him mumbling something to himself, but it wasn’t quite coherent. Once he spotted her, his face lit up, eyes twinkling as he gazed at the birthday girl. “Hi.” He whispered, edging closer to her.

“Hi, Cill.”

“I see you got my message.”

“I had to come and see what all the fuss was about.” She smiled, noticing a box on the table behind him. “Is that for me?”

“Impatient, aren’t you?”

“Just curious.” She teased.

Taking her hand in his, he fidgeted with the wedding band on her finger. It wasn’t hers, but her character’s, and Cillian wore a matching one in his role as Tommy. Looking down at their hands, Y/N couldn’t help but think about the ring that was usually in its place, or should’ve been had she not taken it off weeks ago. She thought back to her husband, sitting in her trailer watching some straight to DVD movie on the TV, counting down the minutes until he could finally spend some time with the woman he loved.

Cillian stole her attention, tilting her chin up with his thumb. “There’s something I need to tell you. You’re going to tell me I’m cheesy for saying it on your birthday but - “

“Cillian.”

“No, let me speak, please.” He went over his words again in his head, and Y/N began to panic as his eyes explored her face, pupils dilating. “Y/N, I love - “

“Cillian, my husband is here.” She blurted, exhaling a deep breath. His gaze didn’t leave hers, but the adoration in his eyes quickly switched to shock. His hand fell from her face, and he awkwardly gripped onto the hem of his jacket, rubbing the fabric between his finger and thumb as a distraction.

“…What?”

Next Part >

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy oneshot #peaky blinders #cillian murphy

671 notes · View notes

noforkingclue · 8 months

Text

The Attic (dark!Thomas Shelby x reader)

Summary: you were told to avoid the attic because it was dangerous. But what happens when you finally stop resisting the pull towards it and ignore the warnings of your husband?

Author's Note: This was written for @zablife 2K celebration! I chose to write something for the attic! I made references to some of my other reader inserts but don't worry, you don't have to have read them to understand this fic.

(alternative title- Thomas Shelby and the Multi-Verse of Fucking Up You Life)

Hope you like the fic :)

Warnings: dark fic, reference forced married, murder

Peaky Blinders tag list: @stylesofloki, @ohshitisfenharel, @lenaskyler02, @elenavampire21, @swordofawriter, @zablife, @cillmequick, @polishcrazyone

Thomas Shelby tag list: @alreadybroken-ts, @darlingdevil, @lyrxbz, @watercolorskyy, @notyour-valentine

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

You loved the colour of Tommy’s eyes. So blue they reminded you of the sky on a warm summer’s day. You frequently found yourself getting lost in them as the two of you spent a blissful time in Paris.

Ah, Paris.

It was such a wonderful honeymoon but, as all good things, it came to an end far too quickly. Soon you found yourself back in Arrow House. Grand, beautiful, hauntingly lonely Arrow House. You knew that there were servants. Your bed was always made in the morning, food always hot and waiting for you, yet you never saw them. You heard the sounds of people moving around and yet whenever you entered a room you never saw them. Tommy said that his family lived with him, he had such a large house that it made sense. However, you had yet to meet any of them. Hushed whispers, the sound of rustling clothes, hurriedly retreating footsteps was the most you ever got to see of them.

You were allowed free rein of the house. After all, it was your home now as well. However, the only room you weren’t allowed in was the attic. When you questioned why Tommy wrapped an arm around your waist, pulled you against him and said,

“Floor boards aren’t stable, love. In the process of getting them fixed but I don’t want you to fall through. So just stay away from there alright?”

“Alright Tommy.”

“Good girl.”

And with a soft kiss pressed against your forehead the deal was done.

At least for now.

Despite your faith in your husband, part of you suspected he was lying. There were nights were you laid awake looking up at the ceiling. Sometimes you heard a creek, the sound of a footstep and you’d sit bolt upright in bed. It was strange, whenever this happen Tommy always seemed to be awake. A comforting arm was wrapped around you ready to pull you back down to his comforting embrace. Tommy would mutter something about a nightmare and for you to get back to sleep and somehow you always found yourself drifting off to a dreamless sleep.

Then there was the sleep paralysis. You had never experienced it before you had moved into Arrow House. Now it had become a semi regular occurrence. The shadowy figure that seemed to melt out of the wall and slowly approach you and your husband. However, it never seemed that interested in you. The focus of the creature was purely on Tommy and you could feel the hatred seep from it. It was enough to peel the wallpaper from the wall, crack the wood in the headboard and rot the floorboards. When you woke up everything was back to normal and Tommy hadn’t seen a thing.

And yet you found yourself drawn to the attic. If you closed your eyes and concentrated hard enough you could hear the hushed whispers high above your head. You long to be a part of them. To be accepted into the Shelby family.

Which was how you found yourself at the foot of the staircase.

You knew where it lead even though it was your first time seeing it and it terrified you. The staircase was shrouded in darkness but your goal was lit up. White light shone through the crack under the attic door, lighting your way into the knowledge you so desperately craved. You knew that you shouldn’t climb it. It wasn’t safe, you could fall and injure yourself. And yet you were pulled towards it like a magnet. You were helpless as you were dragged into the inky darkness which sealed you fate.

At first you couldn’t understand why Tommy was so adamant that you avoided the attic. Sure it was bit dusty and could do with a lick of paint but the floor looked sturdy enough. You ventured in, your anxiety disappearing with each step until you were in the middle of the room. You breathed in a deeply and immediately regretted it as a cloud of dust was drawn into your nose and triggered your allergies. You coughed and spluttered and then you heard it.

A soft voice.

Soft familiar and yet so strange.

A voice you thought you had heard a thousand times before and yet not at all.

‘Leave.’

Then another.

‘Run.’

And another.

‘Escape.’

And then they all came at once. Like a flock of angry, blood thirsty birds. Like a wave determined to drag you under and drown you.

‘Leave this place.’

‘Don’t come back.’

‘He’ll kill you.’

‘He’ll destroy you.’

‘Murderer.’ / ‘Murderer.’ / ‘Murderer.’ / ‘Murderer.’

That word. Repeated over and over and over again until it didn’t sound like a word at all. You crouched to the ground, hands covering your face, as hot tears pour down your face. You should’ve listened to Tommy. You never should’ve come here.

‘You never should’ve come to Arrow House. Leave. Run. While you still can.’

It was the longest one of these voices had ever spoken to you. You peaked through your fingers and wished that you hadn’t. A figure stood in front of you. Swirling dark mist coiled around it and other things moved in the background. The voices were now just a hushed whisper but they seemed to dominate your senses.

“W… what are you?” you asked shakily

‘A warning of what will be if you don’t run.’

“Run? From who? The Shelby’s?”

‘Tommy.’

“He’s my husband. I love him.”

This caused the mist to swirl angrily and the figure melted away. Another appeared in view. Its face was a dark swirl but its body was still recognisable. It wore a white blouse, well, a blouse that was once white. Red seeped into the fabric and it leant closer.

‘He said he loved me,’ it said, ‘until he tore my throat out.’

‘He said he loved me until he took away my son from his safe life.’

‘He said he loved me until he forced me to marry him.’

‘He said he love me until he killed my Oliver.’

‘He’s a murderer.’/‘Murderer.’/‘Murderer.’

“No,” you closed your eyes tightly, “No. I know him. We’re married.”

‘So were we.’

A thousands voices all at once. They sounded like leaves rustling in a storm. Like millions of pages being rapidly turned all at once. You gripped your hair in your hands and shook your head.

“This isn’t real,” you said, “You’re not real. It’s just a hallucination brought on by too little sleep.”

‘We are real.’

‘Because you are real.’

“That doesn’t make any sense. What are you?”

‘Incorrect question.’

‘Stupid question.’

‘They always ask that question.’

‘Always.’ / ’Always.’ / ’Always.’

‘Doesn’t make it stupid.’

‘An insult to them-‘

‘-is an insult to us.’

“What does that mean?”

The creatures seemed amused at your question. They swirled closer around you, a suffocating mass of something you weren’t sure was real or not. They dominated your senses and curled around your neck as they whispered,

‘You know.’

‘Because we know.’

‘You are we-‘

‘-and we are you.’

“Wh…what?”

‘Shouldn’t stutter.’

‘She’s confused.’

‘We all were when we were her.’

‘We are her.’

‘You know what I mean.’

You shook your head and tangled your fingers in your hair. You pulled your legs up to your chest and pressed your forehead against your knees.

“This isn’t real.”

‘It is.’

‘Run.’/’Stay.’/’Run.’/’Stay.’

“This is all in my head. All in my head. All in my head.”

‘Stay we’ll die again.’

‘Run we’ll die again.’

“Maybe it’ll be different this time. He loves me.”

‘He loved all of us.’

‘And he killed all of us.’

‘And those we cared about.’

‘My parents.’

‘My sibling.’

‘My Oliver.’

“Why should I believe you?”

‘Because we’re you-‘

‘-and you’re us.’

‘We’re the same.’

‘You should kill him’

‘Kill him.’/’Kill him.’/’Kill him.’

‘I tried to kill him.’

This caused the mist to swirl around violently.

‘But you failed.’

‘We failed.’

‘You failed.’

‘He manipulated you.’

‘Us.’

You shook your head before standing up on shaking legs. You swallowed thickly and turned around and tried to walk towards the door. However, the mist blocked your escape. You didn’t know if you could walk through it or what would happen if you did.

‘Kill him.’

‘Kill him and be free.’

‘Kill him before he kills us.’

“He won’t kill us,” you shook your head and gritted your teeth, “me. He’s my husband. He loves me.”

‘And me.’/’And me.’/’And me.’

‘He loved all of us.’

‘And he killed all of us.’

‘All of us.’

‘You know we’re telling the truth.’

‘Because you are us-‘

‘-and we’

You closed your eyes and shook your head violently. The attic creaked around you and your eyes flew open at the unnatural sound. Darkness surrounded you. Suffocating inky darkness that made it impossible to breath. You took half a step forward and the voices all spoke at once again,

‘You know what you need to do. Kill him and be free of him. Be free of this family. Free us. End the cycle. Kill Thomas-‘

“Love? Are you alright?”

You let out a cry of relief as Tommy almost seemed to glide through the darkness. You flung yourself into his arms and sobbed into his chest. Tommy rubbed comforting circles against your back as you continued to cry. You could hear the whispers of the voices in the background and it took you a moment to realise that Tommy had spoken.

“I… I…”

“Shh it’s ok,” Tommy pressed a kiss on top of your head, “it’s ok. It’s just your sleepwalking.”

“I’ve never sleepwalked before.”

“Yes you have,” Tommy pressed his cheek against yours, “yes you have. I was afraid this was going to happen. The doctor did say that your memory was going to be effected.”

“Doctor?” you pulled away, “we’ve never been to a doctor.”

‘We told you.’

‘He’s manipulating you.’

‘Run.’

‘Kill.’

“Shut up!” you hissed

“I haven’t said anything.” Said Tommy

“Not you. I wasn’t talking to you.” You hissed

“You’re hearing voices.”

“Yes. No. Yes. Maybe.”

“Love,” Tommy’s hand appeared on your shoulder, “You need help.”

‘You need to get away.’

‘Kill.’/’Kill.’/’Kill.’

“Get away from me!” you shrieked

You took several steps back, eyes wide as you looked at your husband. The man you loved so deeply that it hurt but now… now you didn’t recognise him. His eyes that once reminded you of summer had changed. Winter had taken over. Ice filled your veins and you felt like you were sinking into an icy lake, your escaped blocked off by the frozen top.

“Who are you?” you asked

“You know who I am.” Thomas took a step towards you, “I’m your husband.”

“No.”

“Love, you’re not well. The lack of sleep. The voices.”

“I know my own mind.”

“Love-“

“Stop calling me that!”

You took another stepped back and let out a cry of shock. Your foot didn’t land on the floor. Instead it swung back into open air and you felt your body drop back. Was this really how it was going to end? An argument and falling through the rotten floorboards you were warned about.

But as suddenly as you were falling, you were saved. Tommy had grabbed your hand and was holding you. You looked down and swallowed thickly at the drop below. When you looked back at Tommy you were horrified to see that winter hadn’t thawed.

“Tommy,” you said, “Please.”

“Shame,” he said, “so much work yet again wasted.”

As he let you go.

#fanfiction #peaky blinders #reader insert #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #dark

204 notes · View notes

weaponizedvirtue · 9 months

Text

The Face I Hide Behind, Pt. 1 {Peaky Blinders}

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary: You met Thomas Shelby as Eli Carter, your hair shorn short, your chest bound, the Royal Engineers crest proudly adorning your uniform. You find him again as discarded Marie Tillerson, a woman shamed but remembered.

Notes: I discovered recently that many woman enlisted in the world wars disguised as men. It made me wonder what being in a high-stress environment like the tunnels would be like as a woman, especially if you were trying to hide that secret from someone like Tommy. Soft Tommy, implied romance, reader can be viewed as gender fluid or female with gender norms defied.

Part two can be found here.

"Carter?"

You know that voice. Like the back of your own hand, you know that voice. You turn sharply and sure enough, pale blue eyes and squared shoulders stoop to meet your own.

"Shelby. Jesus, haven't seen you in awhile."

He lifts his eyebrows at that, his gaze still piercing through you like a spotlight. You’d almost forgotten how unyielding the man’s focus could be. His silence says more than he does, shouting and cursing at you even when he won’t. You rock back onto your heels, gesturing behind you with a shake of her thumb. You know what comes next, know what it looks like just before the dog bites, and your knees ache with anticipation.

“I can go. Sir. If you’d prefer.”

Thomas blinks and it cracks the smooth glass facade of his face, something of a tell that you’d always tried to drag out of him before. He considers you carefully, tapping his cigarette back against the palm of his hand before shaking his head.

“You still drink?”

It’s unexpected, though certainly not unwelcome. You nod and wonder if he even knows the half of it, then open your mouth to ask him the same question. But Thomas moves again before you can, his cigarette disappearing between his teeth with practiced precision. He turns, confident as always that you’ll follow without question, then strides back towards the outskirts of town.

“Come on then.”

The Garrison. He's as strategic as ever, it seems.

Your eyes rove slowly across the sign in the window as if there's some other message inside of it. You can feel Thomas's eyes watching you, but he always did know the importance of pacing. When you glance back at him, he opens the door a little wider and beckons you inside with a jerk of his head.

As you enter, you mark each and every detail down in an invisible ledger- three haggard customers, one a good deal younger than the others, four dimmed lamps, eleven tables, give or take, and a waitress sweeping in and out of view as two drunkards sling cards across their table.

It's comfortable, somehow. Lived in, loud enough to be familiar, soft enough to be ignored.

"What'll it be, Tom?"

The bartender leans forward with a smile, running a hand towel across the bar counter as you and Thomas settle behind it.

"Whiskey. And a scotch for Marie."

Your heart jolts to a stop and you turn to stare at Thomas. Normally, you'd have been annoyed at a man ordering you a drink without consulting you on your preference first. But a former sergeant major is a step above the regular smitten drunk at the bar and besides the point-

"You remembered."

"You have odd taste."

You don’t dictate that with a response, your eyes frozen on his face as you try to jumpstart your own heart.

"My name, Mr. Shelby. I didn't think you'd remember my n-"

"You were a special case. And it's Tom." His eyes flick over to you for the briefest of seconds as you open your mouth to protest, a command unto itself.

"You're in Birmingham now, not some hole in the mud. It's Tom."

"Tom. Okay."

The use of first names seems too personal somehow and for a moment, you miss the familial barking of last names and orders and swears that you had become used to on the field. There is a sealed promise of companionship in such actions and a wall of formality to hide behind in the absence of confidence. Here, you’re exposed.

The bartender returns quickly with your drinks, blessedly oblivious to your conversation, before disappearing again. You and Thomas sit in silence, sipping slowly at your glasses, and a loathsome wave of longing rolls through your gut. You’ve missed this. The comfortable camaraderie of someone you know simply inhabiting the same space.

“Thought you had family in Shere. What’re you doing in Small Heath, mm?”

You swallow, a long-stowed explanation waiting to spill from your throat. You want to admit just how poorly the past few months have gone, want to lift a mirror to Thomas’s face and ask if he thinks he’s done any better. You want to search Thomas Shelby’s pockets and pluck out a medal or two, just for penance, just for something to keep for yourself.

But it’s a flood of anger you know he doesn’t deserve and it tears out of you in cascading waves and a crashing tide to consume everything in its path. Instead, you take another slow sip of your drink and focus solely on the taste as it passes over your tongue. The torrent in your stomach slowly settles and you shrug instead, your eyes circling over the lip of your glass.

“Shere is small. People talked.”

They’d done much more than talk. They’d whispered and shouted and scowled and you’d grown tired of it quickly enough. You had stood at the base of your parent’s house and they’d spoken to you like you were a stranger, guarded and grieving as if their child hadn't really come back from the war. And there had been a moment, somewhere between your mother drawing the curtains and your father’s quiet request for you to leave, that your chest caved in on itself. Some part of you had clawed at the thought, screamed and cried and pleaded with him inside the walls of your mind. But you’d given too much of yourself to the tunnels and to a team who no longer considered you one of their one. Some part of you had wondered if it was just a consequence you should have expected.

So you’d nodded, swallowed your pain, and the next train out of town had carried you with it.

“England is plenty big enough. I can go somewhere they don’t.”

You can feel Thomas’s gaze, as pointed as it ever had been, but you can’t bring yourself to check if it’s sympathy on the man’s face or the smug understanding of a disappointed parent.

You both fall into silence again, but the quiet itches against your skin this time, a drenched blanket too heavy to remove from your shoulders.

There are things you’ve meant to say, words that demanded to be spoken, and if the universe was kind enough to lend you his company even one more time, it would have to be enough.

You frown, flinching in nervous anticipation, then down the half glass of scotch you have left. Liquid courage, they called it. Your hands clench around your elbows and you drag in one last breath before turning your body to face your former officer completely.

His chin lifts, somewhere between confidence and curiosity, and he takes a sip from his own, slow but no less invested than your own.

“I didn’t get to say goodbye to you.”

Your hands flutter forward, aimed for Thomas’s own for a fraction of a moment before the muscle memory of the past two years kicks back hard. You hesitate, swallow back the need for physical comfort, and stow your fingers flat beneath your thighs.

“I’d wanted to say goodbye, Tom.”

But you hadn’t. Hadn’t been allowed to say goodbye to anyone really.

Your last day is still hazy in your memory, another battlefield mess where time didn’t work the way it should, where every element of reality bled into the next. You remember a hissing. A warning, half forming in your mouth, and then a flash at the edge of your vision. The earth collapsing around you and someone’s hand, grabbing at your collar and yanking you forward. Dust and grit filling your lungs where the oxygen should be. There was no goddamn air. No goddamn air and the heat and the damp and the darkness crowded around you like smog.

The path leading out of the tunnels had locked shut with a boom and something large and heavy had collided with the back of your head. The surrounding torches had gone out in one quick burst, swallowing up the world in black.

A snap sounds loud and sharp inside of your ears and you startle; the Garrison slides back into place around you. Air rushes back into your lungs, spinning through your bloodstream so fast it makes your head spin. Beside you, Thomas lowers his hand from your face, his fingers slowly relaxing from where they’d clicked together.

“Hmm.” It comes out as more of a burst of air than an actual word. You blink back at him for a moment, breathing in through your nose, picturing your heart beating slower and slower until it returns to an almost normal pace. “General was there when I woke up. Said I didn’t have time for goodbyes. Said ladies shouldn't be on the field and that I was being sent home. Honorable discharge.”

It’s strange, that you can’t remember an explosion or the pulsing moments of fear in all the life or death situations you’ve faced. Yet each and every expression on your fellow soldiers’ faces as you crept from the medic’s tent would forever remain stamped on the back of your eyelids. It had been a moment you’d prayed to avoid- that the war would end with you still standing and the fury and shock and silence that came with an exposed lie would pass with no consequence.

Thomas Shelby could have remained the man across the fire. He could have stayed the companion who shared the little food he had while you were on watch, the friend who had muttered playful barbs and quiet encouragement to you after your first week in the tunnels, the confidant you trusted with all but one secret.

And you could have avoided the look of solemn judgment chiseled into his face as you pulled the car door shut behind you.

“I was angry with you.” There's pain in Thomas's voice as he speaks. His eyes glance down at his glass and he takes a long, slow draw of his whiskey.

The words burn, though you’d guessed at the fact months before. You nod, swallowing back something like a sob, and tuck your chin down sharply.

“Had the right to be. I wanted to tell you. If I’d told anyone, it would have been you. Was just… scared you’d turn me in.”

“I wouldn’t have.”

He could shatter bones with his words, you think.

A quiver of sound sits in the back of your throat and for a moment, you allow yourself to imagine what it would have been like. It still would have been difficult, to hide your true identity for the sake of being able to fight for what you believed in. But you wouldn't have been alone. Would have been protected in the way only sharing one's secrets could ensure.

And there would have been Tom, walking beside you, where before you'd taken the road alone.

You stare back at Thomas, searching for the tiniest hint of a lie, the flicker of a fuse igniting him into cinders. You wait for the rage, for the silent dismissal, but it never comes. A breath of shocked disbelief breaks from behind your teeth and you lean forward into your hands.

"Jesus, Shelby, you always did know how to render us speechless."

"It's Tom."

It's Tom. Even after her fall from grace and the bruising lack of trust she'd placed in him, it's still Tom.

Your eyes flutter back to the man and something like hope blossoms inside of your chest, warring with the shame that churns in your stomach.

"Tom. I'm sorry."

"I know."

He does, you think. His voice is just as quiet as your own, just as soft and calculated as it used to be around the torchlight of your camp. His lips curl neatly around each word, purposeful and focused, and when he looks at you like he does, accusing and forgiving all at the same time, it feels like your cracks seal up just enough to consider yourself solid.

It’s easier after that. The two of you fall into conversation, the kind that you remember from before, where you talk of nothing and everything and the hours pass like seconds. The glasses pile up quickly enough and the walls begins to tilt just a little to the left. The glow of the lamps around you softens the ache in your bones and the room seems to shrink to the bar alone, to the two seats you occupy, and the cocksure figure of the man sitting across from you.

By the time you look around again, the bar sits almost empty, only a straggler or two hugging onto their tables or so deep into their cups that they won't recover till morning.

"It's late."

There's hesitance in your voice, an unwillingness to leave what you've missed for so long. It had been easy enough to convince yourself since your discharge that you were fine alone, happy with solitude, but the idea of losing Thomas’s company so soon is startling.

“You got a place to stay?”

You shake your head, shrugging. You’ve been traveling long enough now that you’ve learned the alternatives to a roof over your head. There are places to go, groups you can fit yourself into if it just means a place to sleep for the night. Summer is on its way anyhow and you always did enjoy being out underneath the stars.

“Right.” Thomas slaps his hand against the counter, his expression resolute. It’s one you’ve grown used to, a look that says something is an order and not a suggestion. You don’t disobey orders. “My place then.”

The offer still isn’t one you expect and you hurry to get to your feet as Thomas adjusts his coat and heads for the door.

“It’s not necessary, Tom.”

He slips out of the bar quickly, his gait focused, and you hurry out after him. Your feet shift unsteadily beneath you as the street tilts slightly, but you manage to slide forward to stand in front of the man. Without thinking, you drag both hands up onto Thomas’s shoulders, as much to keep you standing as it is to give him pause. You blink for a moment, admiring the scratch of wool against your palms, and a chuckle sounds in your ears. Fingers slowly pluck your own from Thomas’s jacket and his hand squeezes around your wrist.

“Come on.”

Thomas’s tone leaves no room for debate, but his stance does, and appreciation rolls slowly back to you. For all his insistence, he’ll still wait long enough for the decision to be yours.

Still, you’re afraid you’ve misunderstood. Afraid he wants more than you can give or means less than you could hope.

“By stay, you just meant-” You roll your balance onto your heels, well aware that the action could have tremendous consequences with the amount of liquor you’ve consumed over the past few hours. “-to… stay, yeah? Not…” The words escape you and heat rises into your cheeks.

“You never were very good with words.”

Your right arm jerks upward almost by habit and you clap your left hand down across your bicep before you can stop yourself. A bark of laughter escapes from Thomas’s throat and a traitorous grin climbs onto your lips. The man’s moods are alarmingly infectious.

“I like numbers better.”

Light from the nearest streetlamp glances off of Thomas’s face as his expression softens; he takes a slow inhale from his cigarette and the tip sends a flare of orange over his cheeks that sets your skin alight.

“Respite from the storm. That’s all I’m offering, Tillerson.”

“Mmm.” You consider him carefully, wishing you had the courage to tell him that he had been just that a hundred times already. Instead, you nod, and follow him home.

It’s a modest flat, smaller than you can imagine Thomas Shelby normally fitting into. But that’s Thomas to a tee, carefully remaking himself to match his surroundings. And it’s quiet and warm and if that’s not reminiscent of home, you’re not sure what is.

“It’s not much. Not yet.”

“But it’s something.” You turn and smile softly back at him, grateful to even somewhere that’s warm and dry.

“Bed’s all yours. I’ll take the floor.”

He sheds his jacket off with a shrug and his knees bend as if to drop out from beneath him. Stubborn insistence rises inside of your chest and you pat the spot on the bed beside you, shaking your head.

“Tom. How many nights have we slept beside each other?”

“This is diff-”

“It’s not.” A yawn forces its way out of your throat and you blink sleepily back at the man. “Come on, mate. It's still me.”

Thomas remains standing for a moment, his lips twisting as he watches you stretch towards the ceiling. Your hand pats the bed again and without waiting for his response, you turn over on your stomach, pressing your face into the sheets. The day’s events catch up to you suddenly, dragging you under in a wave of fatigue; it’s been too long since you’ve found yourself in a safe place and sleep beckons.

Slowly, so slowly you're not sure it isn’t a dream, a weight settles on the bed beside you. A body comes to rest at your back and with a pleased murmur, you fall asleep.

#peaky blinders fic #tommy shelby x reader #female soldier #world war #writing

284 notes · View notes

shewrites444 · 5 months

Text

earned it part 2 [thomas shelby x mafia reader smut]

[ apologizes for not posting in what seems like ages. i've been working and in school so i haven't had much time, but here is a continuation of one of my old thomas shelby imagines i managed to finish up. i loved this trope so much i needed to write a part 2. check out part 1 here ]

word count - 2.3k

[ summary - following the events of part 1, the reader abruptly meets with the peaky blinders at the races to discuss their unfinished deal. thomas takes note of her unkind, frustrated nature, and intends to loosen her up. ]

[ warnings - dirty talk, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex ]

the front door was opened for me by one of my guards, the ballroom guests granting me several admirable stares and nods, but nonetheless, eyes still coated with fear, given everyone in the room knew who i was. if not, they were about to.

i sigh, reaching into my purse and pulling out a small revolver and holding it towards the crowd.

"i don't plan on shooting any of you, i don't even know you." i begin, hearing the doors shut behind me. "i'm just making a point. i need someone to direct me towards the peaky blinders."

a shorter, scruffy man, who seemed to be the ballroom assistant, walked towards me with his hands up, gesturing me to follow him to another room, down a long hallway, to a shut, windowless door on the right. he opened it for me as i flag off my men to stand outside.

the door opens to a view of thomas and his two brothers, smoking cigars with three glasses of whiskey on the table and a bottle closest to the one brother with the thicker mustache, who i assumed was the oldest, given his drunken look and far more aged face. the three of them look to me, thomas displaying a bit of confusion, while the others smirk, the oldest nudging the other.

"i didn't know they sent us up a whore, johnny boy!" the oldest chuckled, setting down his cigar. "she's a pretty looking one, too. i didn't know italians worked around this area."

thomas coughed to stop his brother from speaking any further. "this is [y/n] [y/l/n], arthur. leader of the sicilian mob. please, have a seat, [y/n]."

i grin, looking to his brothers as their faces redden with embarrassment, their laughter stopping in quite literally, half a second. i sit next to thomas, taking a cigarette and letting him light it. i sigh, looking to his brothers.

"nice to meet the two of you." i say, setting my purse on the table. "i am armed, so i don't mind shooting either of you if you call me a whore one more time."

thomas chuckles, glancing down to look at me, up and down, observing the silk red dress and the black coat that complemented it. he took a sip of his drink. "to what do we all owe the pleasure, miss [y/n]?"

"i think you're a bit late on our agreement, mr. shelby." i look up to him with a serious face. "i wanted you to talk to those men, get them to my state, and it all goes away, hm? that would make life so much easier for our families, wouldn't it? if you did your job. i can't do mine until you finish yours, you know."

he smirks, putting out his cigar. "i think we could discuss this later, don't you think? my brothers and i are sorting through completely different business at the moment."

"well, it seems to me that business was waiting for a woman to suck off each of you. at least, that was their business." i stand up, grabbing thomas's half full glass and sip it nearly full, setting it back down and grabbing my purse. "i would say it's been a pleasure, thomas and thomas's brothers, but it has not. have fun at the races."

i open the door and walk out, back towards the ballroom. arthur immediately looks to tommy, shaking his head and nudging john on the side, the two of them cracking up with drunken laughter.

"you fucked her, didn't you?" arthur leans back, watching tommy look down with a flushed grin. "i'm impressed. i didn't think mob bosses went for peaky fucking blinders. i've got to find myself one now, eh?"

thomas chuckled, glancing down at his empty glass and tapping his ring softly against it. “good luck with that, arthur. last thing she’d want is you.” he stood up, filling his glass before getting out of the booth. he held it up to his brothers. “i’ll be back, boys. business.”

arthur and john laugh, gesturing their glasses back towards thomas before he shut the door. thomas sipped down the whiskey as he walked down the hallways, his eyes darting around the room to search for myself, unknowingly aware that i was in the bathroom fixing the pins in my hair.

it seemed he must’ve talked to one of my guards because the door was soon knocked on and opened before i could even respond. i glance over to thomas, rolling my eyes as he leans against the frame with a smirk. i tuck my hair behind my ears, facing him with a blank expression.

“you are aware i came here for business and business only, mr. shelby. i didn’t mean to interrupt you and your brothers, or accidentally share more information than what was given to your family beforehand, but this needs to be taken care of soon.”

he smiled at me, never breaking eye contact during my words. he gestured his glass towards me before taking a sip. “i hear you loud and clear, miss [y/n], but you’re not the only person i have agreements with, eh? i’m a pretty busy man.”

“and i’m a pretty busy woman, mr. shelby. you’ve mentioned it yourself, in our previous encounter, that i was quite a powerful, driven woman, hm? i’ve got other deals to fulfill other than ours, but i can’t do much until you’ve done your part.”

he walked closer to me, his free hand locking the door behind him. he set the glass on the bathroom counter, stepping close enough to corner me into the countertop. i sigh through my nose, crossing my arms. “just do your job, mr. shel-”

“i will.” he interrupts, leaning down to cup both my cheeks, lifting my face up to lock our eyes. “why don’t you let me do something else for you in the meantime, eh?“

i take his hands and pull them off my face, shaking my head and step to the right towards the door. “i told you i came here for business.”

thomas snaked his arm around my waist and pulled me back towards the counter, his grip still soft enough for me to pull away if i wanted to, but i didn’t, feeling him press me against the counter. he leaned down to kiss me gently, which i returned, feeling his hands slide my coat off in the process of it all.

i reach down to unbuckle his belt, then unbutton his pants, sliding my hand down his boxers and onto his forming erection, lightly stroking his cock while he reached behind me to unzip my dress. he slides it off my shoulders and it falls to the floor. i step out of it and scoot it to the side, now left in nothing but my underwear.

he broke the kiss, looking down to my nearly nude figure as he wrapped his arms around me, picking me up and sitting me on the cold countertop. he slipped off his jacket, unbuttoned his white dress shirt, and removed his pants, until he too was left in his underwear.

to my surprise, he leaned down, onto his knees, beginning to kiss my lower thighs, trailing his lips towards my inner thighs, softly licking and kissing and biting my sensitive flesh, until he was inches away from my already wet pussy, which was already visibly coating my white underwear.

“you know, i can’t seem to get the taste of you out my mouth, miss [y/n].” he began, reaching his right hand up to push my underwear to the side. “spread your legs for me, won’t you, love?”

my cheeks redden my stomach tightens and i begin to do so, but hesitated after a moment. it seemed this would be more entertaining and worth while if i presented him with a challenge. “what makes you think i enjoyed it the last time?” i smirk, looking down at thomas. “or better yet, what makes you think you deserve it?”

he chuckles, leaning up to face me again, eye level, and kisses me again, his hands holding me by the shoulders. “oh, is that so? just imagine how i’m going to talk to you when you’re on your knees before me, miss [y/n]. you’re going to be begging me to touch you.”

thomas takes me off the counter and gestures for me to get on the floor, which i do after a few seconds, watching him pull his underwear down, exposing his large erection, my face going red as i look up to him nervously.

“no touching you until i cum, so go on ahead.”

i lean closer, opening my mouth wide and sliding him inside and i begin to suck him off, looking up to lock eyes while i pump his cock with my right hand, which quickly collected spit from my mouth. i feel his hand hold the back of my head, pushing me towards him as his cock shoves itself down my throat, making me gag unexpectedly, while he thrusted himself towards me.

he pushes himself deeper down my throat, and i blink, stimulated tears rolling down my wet cheeks as he throat fucks me, my own pathetic gargles and gags weakly muffled through his cock. he smirks as we lock eyes once again, his balls slapping against my chin as he continues, his free hand reaching down to wipe the tears.

“you want to act like you’re so deserving and so authoritative, miss [y/n], but you’ll let me shove my cock down your throat in a minute.” he chuckles, no break in his rhythm. “you’re gonna swallow every last bit of me, eh? well, you don’t really have a choice with my cock so deep inside your mouth anyway.”

he releases his orgasm down my throat, pumping himself through it as he swallow every last drop. upon pulling himself out of me, i gasp, regaining air and weakly standing up with his help. he leaves no time to waste, kissing me passionately and quickly turning me around, pressing me against the countertop and angling my body towards him, pushing his cock into my folds after coating it with my wetness.

i moan loudly, feeling him reenter my warmth, and it feels just as good, if not better, than the last time. he reaches his hand over to play with my clit, which only causes me to arch my body more towards him, sinking him deeper into my pussy. i glance over into the mirror, his face resting aside me own on my shoulder, locking our eyes through the glass.

he presses a kiss against my cheek and snakes his other arm around my waist, pushing himself deeper inside of me, earning a gasp from my wet lips. he grins at my response, leaning my body up a bit to where i could see below my waist. the mirror that sat on the countertop was tall and long, providing me with a view of thomas’s cock thrusting in and out of me, along with his fingers as they played with my already swollen and overstimulated clit. i stare, my whimpers coating the the room while thomas groaned, fucking me so hard that i could feel the tip of his cock in what felt like my lower stomach.

“i-i wanna watch you cum inside me, thomas. i wanna feel you inside of me.” i moan, my hands holding the edges of the counter. “please fill me up, fuck, please!”

he nodded more to himself, looking me in the eyes through the glass once more as he held me tighter, fucked me harder, and moved his index finger on my clit though a circular motion, the two of us reaching our orgasms soon in harmony, his filling up my insides within seconds of release. he slowly pulled out of me, my own wetness coating his cock and small remains of his cum dripping from my pussy, down my thighs.

i watch him grab a towel from the rack to the side of the toilet, wiping my cheeks and my mouth and then wiping off his cock. he handed it to me to wipe off my pussy, and i then tossed it into a basket of towels aside the rack.

“begging to finish inside of you now, eh? seems someone is losing up their high nature, miss [y/n].” thomas teases as he begins to get dressed.

i shake my head, biting my lower lip as i do the same, slipping on my dress and turning around for him to zip it up. “let’s pretend i didn’t ask you to do that, if you’re going to rub it in my face, mr. shelby.”

he leans down to hand me my coat, reaching into his pocket and grabbing a cigarette, gesturing it towards me and then lighting it for me. he begins to smoke as well, opening the door for me to leave first.

“perhaps the next time i’ll be the one on my knees, if i deserve it, hm?” he jokes, looking down at me with a smirk as i scoff, rolling my eyes.

“i wasn’t lying about that, mr. shelby. you want to taste me so bad, i’ll be the one fucking you like a whore, but that is an act i don’t think a man like you is quite ready for.”

he shakes his head, now upon reaching the room his brothers were still in. he takes my hand and kisses it lightly, his other hand on the doorknob. “i’ll finish my side of the deal this week, miss [y/n]. next meeting of ours, i’ll be ready to see what you have in store for me. i’ll see you then.”

“if you say so.” i grin, winking before i turn the other way and walk back towards the bathroom where my guards stood. i wipe my mouth and hold my head high as i walk down the stairs and towards the doors of the building.

i wasn't someone to give up authority so easily, but thomas shelby was something and someone else. i couldn't even imagine how our next meeting would be after our deal concluded, but whatever it entailed had to involve me having the upper hand.

#smut writing #x yn #x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic

112 notes · View notes

warnersister · 5 months

Text

“Your Lethal Hand” Michael Gray x Reader

Michael Gray x Reader, Thomas Shelby x Reader(platonic)

Extremely sad ending.

You looked up at Thomas Shelby from where you were sprawled on the ground. The man you’d once called a friend; a brother. Your cousin in law after your engagement and eventual conjoining in a holy matrimonial ceremony to his cousin Michael. The man that walked you down the aisle.

You couldn’t breathe. Your chest was constricted, trachea suffocating in shallow breaths as you drowned in the salty sadness of your own tears. The world around you was the way it was before you’d met Michael - a constant bleak midwinter. Cold and grey. Shallow and painful. He’d introduced you to a magnificent make-believe that romanticised every crack and crevice and every misfortune divot of imperfections in this world into something incredulously beautiful.

Michael had shown you how to live. He’d taught you to breathe after removing that metaphorical bag you had constricted around your own head in a suicidal fashion. He’d treated you like the princess your parents refused to humour as a child and would dress you up in lavishly expensive gowns and insist on doing your hair for you - to be paraded as his and only his. He’d encouraged you to run before you could crawl and goodness did you sprint. He’d taught you who you belonged to, who you were, your reason for living, he’d introduced you to yourself and for once in life you felt free.

“No one close to you makes a choice without your opinion, Tom.”

“You selfish bastard” you’d breathed out between desperate breaths.

“Not Arthur, not me, not Ada.”

“You satanic monster” your eyes were sore now from the chlorine-like waters that pooled in the overflowing viaducts of your eyelids.

“We can’t escape you!”

“I can’t live without him Thomas.” Your heard lunged out of your chest. “You killed my husband”

“Your lethal hand is always on our shoulders”

“He was my reason to live and you took him away from me for some stupid fucking Vendetta” you clawed at nothing.

“Give me the gun, Thomas.” You say and he calmly hands his pistol to you, now unarmed himself as he felt he owed you this much. You had done nothing wrong. You were mourning.

“Killing me isn’t the answer yn” you shook your head “you and I have been friends since you punched that lad for pulling my hair when I was befriending Finn” you say. “And when I met Michael and you introduced us. You weren’t like that then. Your eyes sparkled and you picked me up and spun me around when we announced our engagement.” The gun rattled in my shaky hands, hardly able to focus on the man before me through blurry vision.

“You walked me down the aisle, kissed my cheek, gave me away and cried. We got married in your house for goodness sake.” I shout, and he remained quiet. “It’s gone on long enough. John, Polly, Michael, Grace, the Italians; the Mafia, the Peaky Blinders.” I exhale calmly. “It’s all that ever mattered to you. Not your aunt. Not your brothers. Not your cousins. Not your wife. Nothing but business.” He looks down at his feet.

“Don’t you dare look away from me.” I seethe. “I understood, for our sake. It’s the family business for crying out loud. But Michael was the only thing I had in this world and my own brother from no blood took him away from me. I loved you Tommy.” I said, lip quivering. “Yn, I understand-”

“Bury me with Michael.” You say, turning the gun on yourself as the bullet accurately punctured the space between your eyes and you collapsed forwards, Thomas catching your lifeless body as you bled onto him. He screamed in pain, looking at the woman he called a sister as a tear ran down his cheek.

“I’ll bury you with him.” He slid down the wall, looking at the red brains dripping down the adjacent one. “A lovely plot near the tree we used to swing on.”

“I’m sorry yn.”

72 notes · View notes

look-at-the-soul · 8 months

Text

Behind the scenes- Peaky Blinders (Part 2)

Cillian Muphy x reader Part 1

BTS Series Masterlist

Request

Word count: 5,565

✨Here it is the final part to this fascinating character that caught my eye in a short video edited a long time ago… I hope you like this!

Once again I’d like to thank @notyour-valentine for sharing the request you got and tagging me, @heidimoreton for your endless support -and always saving me with you secret PB file-and fabulous moodboards @ forbidden-forest-witch for the chats, support and inspiration @holacia3 for all your guidance with horses and least but not least, each and everyone of you, the readers, the likers, their anons, the rebloggers, the ones who read in silence and are afraid to raise your voice. ♥️

Oblivious to the conversation Val and Cillian just had, Y/N walked back excited.

“Ready to go for a ride?”

Cillian nodded in silence.

”Y/N are you taking the horse out?” Asked Renny, Cillian had seen him from afar taking care of the horses, he was mostly shy and quiet, more like an observer.

“Yes Renny,” she replied in a soft voice, “do you want to join us?”

Renny shook his head nervously.

“Do you remember Mr. Murphy, right? He’s learning how to ride a horse.”

Cillian stared into Renny, but the man simply couldn’t hold anyone’s gaze, his fingers moved constantly, trying to touch something, anything.

“You take care of them Renny?” He asked in a soft tone, noticing the smile that cracked on the man’s face.

“Yes.” He replied touching the column. “It will rain again tonight.” Then after a few second, he repeated the same thing.

“Have you seen the filly? She’s beautiful.” Y/N asked with a genuine smile.

“She’s doing great, I’ll check on her again.” Renny left mumbling something to himself.

“Renny showed up one day and decided to stay, he immediately bonded with my horses and when I saw the way he treated them, I knew this was his place.” Y/N explained.

Cillian stared at her with interest. “Just like that?” She nodded. It was a surprise to learn that she took in a complete stranger.

“He never talked about his past, all he asked was a place to sleep and something to eat, in return I’d get someone trustworthy to be around the barn.” It was evident Renny had something, neurological perhaps. “Let’s be honest, he has more heart than any of us.”

Cillian raised his hands, in defeat. “I’m not judging you, he’s just one in a million.” Something he couldn’t name making his heart beat at the speed of a horse galloping when he saw her smile. He needed to speak to Steve about adding a character like him.

“Keep your back straight and your legs at a comfortable position… I know it’s not like we sit like this all the time.” She explained making sure neither Cillian or the horse were uncomfortable.

She then proceeded to explain the little pull he’d feel and her words got caught in her throat as Cillian’s energy changed completely, he positioned himself correctly on the saddle and everything changed; his posture, his energy, the look in his eyes.

Y/N thought he might get a bit shy or would hold onto the horn as if his life depended on it, but no, he was holding the reins on one hand while the other was resting gently on his thigh and she couldn’t decide who looked more majestic; Cillian or the horse. He had this imposing and mysterious vibe around him… it was magical as if he always belonged there, as if he knew the horse from a lifetime, as if they were one.

Cillian dragged his eyes from the back of the horse to see Y/N. “Ready to go.”

He nodded and she had to shake her head a little to focus again.

“If you press your feet gently, the horse gets the instruction to start moving, you can click you tongue too.” She felt a little bit ridiculous for telling him the obvious, but Cillian didn’t seem to mind.

From all of the people she had seen on a horse, nothing compared to him.

It was hard to comprehend what was happening so she decided she wouldn’t even try to explain it, but on her experience she knew you don’t see a bond like that everyday. It was the most natural thing in the world.

“Come on Angel, let him guide you.” She told the horse after walking out of the stables to let them ride around the ring for a while.

Cillian smiled at the name mentioned. “She looks like one, eh?”

Returning the smile, Y/N added: “and she behaves like one, more obedient than my son.”

Cillian chuckled at her statement, taking a moment to relax his shoulders and let this peace sink in, it was indescribable to ride a horse, to move around and feel that big body be an extension of his own. He never thought something like this would happen. But ever so slowly, he could feel as if himself was taking a step back, to let Tommy Shelby take over, and it was everything, his mannerisms, his critical thinking, the way he was falling in love with these horses, with every movement, his hands were now wrapped around the reins smoothly, his thumb rubbing absently the material.

Y/N walked close to them but giving the pair a little space as Cillian rode around. Still unable to comprehend the conection between Cillian and her horse and how he immediately got everything right about how to do it, as if he had done it before a million times.

He had been practicing how to stop the horse and make him take steps back, as well as the rest of the basics Y/N told him. Most of the work was done through his legs and the direction of the reins he gave, so physically it was making him feel sore, and on top of that he’d need to say his lines and take care of the angles.

As days went by, Cillian woke up early to join Y/N for a quick breakfast then, while she went to do her daily morning routine with the horses; greeting them, giving them breakfast and a good brushing session, after that, they’d go back to the ring to continue the riding lessons, adding a different task each time. And by that Cillian only felt more confident on the horse, he was amazed by the way the animal responded to his lead.

Being on a horse soon started to feel like a second skin to him, the connection to Tommy Shelby was now right on the surface… Cillian felt so attracted to each horse, he was constantly asking for their background story. And when he closed his eyes at night, he could clearly see a young Tommy Shelby, before France, before all the trauma and disappointment in an open field riding the most beautiful horse freely, galloping without an ounce of fear. He could also picture him resting with the horse next to the river, eating fresh fruit from a tree while the sun started to hide behind the hills.

Deep down he knew portraying this man wouldn’t be an easy task, not without being fully involved in every aspect, not only his physical appearance, but his mindset as well. That was the main reason why he withdrew to his room right after dinner, to focus on he script and his notes.

“Why aren’t you riding?” Arlo asked taking Cillian by surprise.

It took him all his will to stop looking at the sight before him. “Because I also learn a few things from watching.” Cillian explained turning his head towards Y/N once more, feeling like he was drawn somehow, with a natural force as the horse started galloping and she made it look as an incredible ease that made him even feel jealous.

“Did you know that when I was a baby she took me for rides?” Arlo asked quietly.

Cillian shook his head. “No, but it’s not a surprise either.”

Then Cillian remembered a few scenes with the youngest Shelby brother, he would be around Arlo’s age and he needed some kind of kids background.

“Do you like it here? Being around horses all day?”

“Yeah, but sometimes I was it could be like the other kids in my classroom, they have brothers and their Dads.”

Sighing, Cillian regretted his move, the last thing he wanted to do was stepping on the line of a private matter.

“I’m sure your Mum makes a great job on her own.”

Arlo nodded and then looking at the ground, he added something that’s been worrying him. “Yeah but when I go to school she’s alone.”

Bending down to look at the kid, Cillian explained how Renny, Brie and Val were around with Y/N.

“Not that kind of alone…” he added with a hint of embarrassment. “I gotta go to feed the horses!”

He wanted to ask how would a ten-years-old know but he was caught off guard.

And with that, he left Cillian by himself but not without planting the seed in his head about what he just said as images of Y/N riding flashed before his deep gaze. She was floating, in her element, the effect of golden hour highlighting her features, loose locks bouncing against her cheeks.

More than once his eyes would find her as she caressed the horses, or while she waited for the kettle to prepare her favorite tea. But he also needed to be honest with himself, it would be a huge mistake to start developing feelings at this point, when he was just about to start the most ambitious project of his career, the shooting would be demanding and he could feel it was taking a toll on him already, he was used to the rhythm by now, long hours on set, sometimes filming really early in the morning or until it was pretty late, small breaks in between for at least three months… who could possibly keep up with that? Even if she was willing to do so, it would be selfish to ask her to join him on set specially when she had a son and a job she loved at the sanctuary.

He needed to focus on Thomas Shelby and only that.

***

“This is the new payment plan. First one is due by the end of this month.” Y/N informed Brie giving her the folder with the information.

“I was thinking I could ask my husband to take some photos to upload them online, for promo you know?”

Cillian was about to knock but then decided to wait so he wouldn’t interrupt their conversation. But he saw the way she dragged her eyes from the papers to stare into the opposite wall in silence, considering it.

“I guess so…” she added absently clasping her hands together and leaning on her elbows.

“It will help us with an extra income!” Brie cheered.

“If you think it’s a good idea, I trust you.” Y/N agreed and finally noticed Cillian next to the door frame. Waving her hand, she motioned for him to come in.

As Brie gave him a quick glance, she struggled to hide the grin on her face.

“Is that your grandpa?” Cillian asked tipping his head towards the portrait of a man with a horse. He was holding his hands behind his back.

Y/N smile lighted her face. “Magnus.”

Arching his eyebrows, he realized of the resemblance between them. “His name sounds like a bloody emperor.”

Y/N chuckled and guided Cillian out, to try riding bareback.

Cillian’s hands against the coat of the horse’s neck, to let him know of his next move. Swiftly, Cillian sat on Thunder’s back relishing the sense of calmness he was greeted with.

“Okay… show me what you got, cowboy.” Y/N regretted the words right after they left her mouth and an evident blush covered her cheeks.

Cillian couldn’t help but to raise an eyebrow, surprised while a smile started to grow. “Are you sure you can handle it?” He flirted back.

Mortified, Y/N caressed the horse. “Whenever you’re ready.” Y/N took a step back, trying to keep her emotions at bay. She knew riding a horse bareback was something so intimate, so raw, so deep. Reserved only for a few privileged.

And once more, Cillian felt an indescribable feeling as the horse started walking.

This role meant a lot to him, more than he could express. He had been working out six days a week, gave up his vegetarian diet in order to bulk up, spent some time at a gypsy camp to learn about their traditions and language, read about the World War I… anything to make it right.

Cillian felt as if he was taking a step back in order to allow Thomas Michael Shelby take over… he was just an instrument.

He could feel Tommy’s essence in him, his fears, the things he loved the most, the memories and trauma achieved in France. He was so immersed that he never noticed Y/N left him to ride on his own and as she was watching from a few meters away, curiosity took over her, she couldn’t help but wonder what was crossing Cillian’s mind as he rode staring into the open field, she knew his mind was miles away.

He seemed so focused, so engrossed in his own thoughts that it felt so wrong to interrupt. But somehow watching Cillian riding also had a therapeutic effect on her.

Cillian was attractive, without a doubt and Val had insisted she should let her hair down, wear some perfume, even used the flirt shamelessly advice. It had been so long since she felt something, the last man she had been with was Arlo’s father. After him she gave herself entirely to her son and her business. With a tight schedule, hay in her hair and smelling like a barn, what kind of man would give her a double look? Besides Cillian would be staying just for a short period of time, soon he’d be back to film whatever project he was working on, throw himself into his glamorous Hollywood lifestyle.

“Mum can I ride too?” Arlo asked after approaching her quietly, making her snap back into reality.

Y/N noticed the sparkle in her son’s eyes, the same eagerness she had when she was around his age.

“Bring Goldie over, bet she’d love to join them.” She’d call Cia to pick up her mare. As her ten-year old rushed towards the stables, her eyes moved back to Cillian and Thunder.

She wanted to suggest a break as he had been riding for a while, but after watching Cillian so at ease, in his element, she decided to let him set the pace.

“That was a smooth turn.” She praised tipping her head, caressing Thunder’s neck. “I wish I could keep him forever.” Emotions took over her.

Cillian’s brows knitted together in confusion.

“I’ll have to sell him to pay a loan I asked the bank.” Y/N explained right after. “Raising horses it’s a beautiful thing, but I don’t have a long queue of people asking for riding lessons and tourists visiting on weekends only cover for the basic expenses and cheques.”

Looking in another direction, Cillian wanted to find a way to support her, but he was lost for words… not that she was asking him for help anyways.

“Mum, look!” Arlo called from a few meters away, but as she turned around to see her son, her soul almost left her body.

“Goodness! Arlo sit down!”

His giggles should’ve calmed her, but deep down she knew it was in his blood.

Cillian tried to hide his amusement by caressing the horse’s neck, he didn’t want to interfere.

“I know what I’m doing Mum.” Arlo defended.

“Yeah, sure.” She retorted with sarcasm and Cillian once again found himself smiling.

As they rode, Arlo showed Cillian a couple of tricks he had learned from his mother, but also a few personal insights, like a time after having a nightmare and he ended up sneaking out of the house to sleep in the stables. He also shared with Cillian that his favorite part was handling the snacks and his least, picking horse sheet, that last part Arlo lowered his voice so his Mum wouldn’t scold him.

“I love Thunder.”

“Why did you use white paint on his forehead then?” Cillian asked turning his head to look at Arlo.

The kid laughed, the purest sound of the world and it made Y/N’s heart fill with so much she felt she could explode any minute.

“It’s not paint! It’s like a more or a birth mark.” Arlo explained ceremoniously.

Cillian already knew that, he saw it in one of the books he’d been reading. Thunder’s was like a star.

“Oh!” His eyes then found Y/N’s, and is if he could read them, he saw gratitude and surprise there. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Anytime… I know loads about horses!” Arlo expressed excited, but then his features were shadowed. “But I don’t have anyone to talk about it except my Mum.”

That was a low kick in the stomach for Y/N, although Arlo was aware his father wasn’t around, she knew he wanted a father figure more than anything in his life.

“Think it’s time for you to do some homework young man.” She tried to brush away the discomfort.

With a pout he came down from the horse but obeyed right away.

“He’s a great kid.” Cillian admitted as they rode next to each other, after Y/N replaced her son’s spot.

“I’m terrified that one day this won’t be enough for him, he’ll go looking for his father and get his heart broken like I did.” But as soon as the words left her lips, she regretted opening up to him with something so personal, so intimate. “Sorry… would you mind if we go back?”

“Y/N, you have nothing to worry about, Arlo is a smart kid he’ll realize everything you did for him and his well-being.” Cillian assured her.

And for some unknown reason, Y/N believed in him. His words had a soothing effect in her soul.

“Thank you,” a tender smile decorated her face.

The attraction between them is undeniable at this point, they didn’t even realize how close their bodies were until Cillian’s words fanned over her lips.

“You’re an amazing woman, Y/N.” He whispered right before tilting his head and finding her mouth, tentatively, softly, giving into the feathery touch…

Everything happened so fast, one second his hand was finding the back of her head and hers his shoulders when Thunder got out of control right next to them, forcing them to break their kiss. Y/N took over gently, making the horse feel calm once more, she assured Cillian loud noises made him extremely nervous. And right after that, Renny asked her to check the filly.

The interruption taking away the spark that had been ignited.

Giving Cillian an apologetic look, Y/N went on to check what was the problem with the filly.

****

“He’s probably a bit shy, if you ask me…” Val trailed off as she got dinner out of the oven.

“But I wasn’t asking.” Y/N laughed out loud, Val following right after.

“Oh! But I don’t care if you ask me or not, all I say is… it’s been a while.”

“You haven’t been with anyone since Arlo’s Dad?” Willow asked from the opposite side of the kitchen pouring the popcorn she prepared for her and Arlo into a bowl.

“What are you doing there young lady? Listening?” Val asked her niece, she was staying at her place that weekend.

“You could use one of those apps.” Willow suggested.

“Enough, go and watch your movie.” Val took her by the shoulders to guide her out. “She’s right though, but I won’t let her know I agreed. So are you really sure there’s nothing you can do about Cillian?”

Y/N sighed, thinking about it. By the time she was done with the horses, Cillian was out reading something too focused to even notice her, so she thought it would be wrong to interrupt him. He probably just kissed her out of pity… either way she decided to not reveal that small detail to her friend.

“No, Val I swear I’ve seen him interacting with the horses, but he’s always so serious towards me.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know how to approach you.”

“Just leave it okay, I shouldn’t have been so involved that’s all.”

“Can’t you try to be a bit more positive?”

“And for what? He’ll be gone without another word, he just came here to learn how to ride… isn’t interested in having something with a Mum.”

“I’m convinced you’re wrong, there has to be an explanation.”

“Well, I will save myself from the embarrassment… he doesn’t want to deal with someone who smells like horses and barns 22 hours a day.” Y/N stated groaning at the amazing taste of diner.

Cillian paced later that night in his room, the script in his hand felt heavier than it really was. For the last couple of hours he tried so hard to focus, to repeat the lines the already knew so well but images of Y/N closing her eyes and responding to his kiss overshadowed any words Tommy Shelby could try to say.

It was so frustrating to remember the interruption because he wanted more of her lips.

He needed more of Y/N.

But now it felt so out of place to come down the stairs and say what?

Every single time he closed his eyes, he could feel her soft lips dancing against his, her sweet fragrance intoxicating him, he wanted his hands to explore her body, hear the little sounds she could make… all he got was a kiss for a mere instant, a small glimpse of what it could be.

And it was enough to shake him to the point where he couldn’t concentrate to rehearse his dialogue.

***

When Y/N knocked on his door the following morning curious when she didn’t saw him ready to ride, she was met by silence and an empty room. The bed was made and everything was in its place, but Cillian was nowhere to be seen.

Stepping into the room, Y/N called for him but after not getting an answer, she noticed a folded piece of paper on the night stand.

Dear Y/N,

I want to apologize first for leaving without letting you know, it’s still dark and I don’t want to wake you up. Then I want to thank you for showing me everything you know about horses, they’re truly fascinating creatures, with a pure heart, ready to give us all.

I came here with only one thing in mind; learn all about them, but as I got to meet you and see them through your eyes and the remarkable work you do in the sanctuary I got to face feelings I don’t know how to deal with at the moment. I know this is the worst way to express it, but I don’t feel brave enough to tell you while looking into your eyes, there’s this fire and passion in them that touched the deepest parts of my soul. Actually I was trying yesterday to run through the script but I wasn’t able to because I kept watching you whenever I closed my eyes… and it was too damn distracting for my own good.

Yes, this sounds terrible, I know. But I need to get this job done first and do it right, before my attention goes somewhere else, that’s why I want you to know how wonderful you are and how grateful I feel for everything you did for me.

If you want and if I didn’t mess this up, I’d love to invite you and Arlo for the first day of filming. Perhaps if you could see the dimension of this project, you could forgive me for leaving this way. And maybe we can see each other. I’d love to see you again.

I’m hoping you can give me the chance to properly explain the impact you had in my life.

Cillianx

Her brain went numb after that, everything was so confusing and she was torn between thinking he might like her but at the same time, Cillian didn’t show a clear interest because he needed to focus on his work.

But her confusion grew even more when she got a phone call requesting to rent several of her horses for a few months, they mentioned something about some kind of filming so she had to spend most of her day preparing the quotation to send it back, at least that saved her from having diner with Val, she wasn’t ready to answer the endless questionnaire about Cillian. And by the following day a group of actors were driven to her property to get riding lessons specifically from her, as well as a couple of stunt doubles that were casted, so they practically kept her busy.

So there she was showing the group how to ride horses while Brie helped her to direct the group from the ground, starting early and finishing once the stars started to shine, and just like she did with Cillian, she covered everything.

Two weeks later, Y/N was making sure her horses where in perfect shape, she had been caressing and brushing them in an attempt to calm her own nerves while she waited at the Black Country Museum for instructions.

“Hello, are you Y/N?” Asked a woman with a smile. “I’m Heidi, Cillian’s PA.”

Y/N blinked confused. “Yeah.”

“Personal Assistant.” Heidi chuckled. “They’re about to start filming, so why don’t you come with me, I got instructions to handle you these.” She then showed Y/N two cords with an all access pass.

“Nice to meet you.” Y/N smiled back.

“Wow! So cool!” Arlo took his immediately. “Let’s go Mum!”

This whole thing was so surreal to her, the lightings, the place, staff, extras.

“It can be a bit overwhelming, but after a while you get used to it.” Heidi explained as if she could read her mind. “Have you been to a shooting before?”

“Never.” Y/N explained shaking her head while her eyes were focused on a man talking to a girl, blowing something in his hand. Then, she spotted Thunder being guided by someone while Cillian was on top of him, he was wearing a suit and a peak cap, the back and sides of his head were dramatically shaved.

“First day is always the longest,” Heidi explained. “They’ll rehearse first the scenes and when they start shooting I need to ask you to be quiet because there’s microphones everywhere.”

“What are they doing?” Y/N’s gaze was divided between Cillian and Thunder.

“Look Mum! That’s Thunder!” Arlo squealed excitedly, pointing at their horse.

“It’s for the first scene, they put a spell on the horse….”

“They better don’t hurt Thunder.” Y/N warned, although she knew Heidi wasn’t responsible for her horse.

“Don’t worry, Cillian did a special request towards the horses… he was very adamant they wouldn’t get hurt.” She seemed to know everything. “If you guys are hungry, there’s food in the back, please feel free to get anything.”

“Thanks.”

She then started biting her lip. “Oh and Y/N? My boss asked me to keep a eye on you specially, he would like to talk to you after filming the sequence, so I’ll take your son for a tour if you don’t mind.”

That made Y/N extremely nervous, but she found herself nodding and looking once more towards Cillian who was riding Thunder bareback and he started to move back to the first spot again only to repeat the motion and stop right in front of the girl and the two men while the one with jacket started to blow something red into Thunder’s nose.

Then she heard Cillian say something she couldn’t hear from her place and children and women came out from the places they’ve been hiding.

“Perfect, we’re ready to start shooting, silence on set!” Called someone from staff.

And Y/N couldn’t stop staring at Cillian and how amazing all of this was, how immersed he seemed to be, but he found a way to caress Thunder between takes.

It took them several tries as a huge equipment followed Cillian and her horse, who now she knew was Monaghan Boy for the purpose of the story. She also learned Cillian was the leading role of this new series and how demanding it had been for him. The entire plot of the story resting on his shoulders.

“Cut! We’re done.” She heard in the distance and staff started a round of applauses.

Waiting in the trailer felt like she was trespassing, but Heidi insisted it was Cillian’s instructions once they were done with the scenes.

When she heard a click and the door cracked, her heart started beating faster.

As her eyes landed on Cillian her mind went blank, all the thoughts that had crossed her, all the worry that overshadowed her these past days, all of it was gone the moment she saw his smile.

“Hey…” Cillian stared at her.

“Hi.” She replied shyly.

“I’m so glad you came.” He took a step closer.

“Thank you for getting them to rent the horses for filming and the riding lessons for the cast.” She felt extremely grateful with him for doing that, the extra income allowed her to pay the loan she got from the bank without interests.

Waving his hand, Cillian let her know she didn’t need to thank him for that. “It’s the least I can do, after leaving the way I did… sorry about that.” Y/N was already shaking her head, but Cillian insisted. “Really, it was wrong but that was the only way to focus because you were so distracting,” he chuckled and she couldn’t focus on anything else than his velvety voice, “trust me, after that kiss…” subconsciously, his graze dropped to her lips.

Forcing herself, Y/N looked away from his piercing blue eyes.

She had been so confused for how he left and his letter, because other than the kiss he never showed an open interest in her.

“What is it?” Cillian asked when he noticed her expression serious.

“Just… something doesn’t makes sense…” Y/N folded her arms and turned towards the window. “I don’t belong on sets, I’m surrounded by horses all day.”

Cillian stayed quiet for a few seconds, trying to find a way to express his feelings.

“Y/N…” he touched her shoulders gently, tentatively turning her to see her face, “the second I kissed you, I knew it was you the one that I wanted but I was so scared at the same time by the intensity that it hit me with.” For a split second, Y/N looked at him “and I know it’s hard for you to trust… but to me this is the strongest I’ve ever felt for someone.” Cillian couldn’t help it but rest his palms on her cheeks to caress her skin with his thumbs. “Look at me and tell me you don’t feel the same.”

To say that she didn’t, it would be a total lie.

“I’m scared…” her voice was just a whisper, his was a soothing melody to her soul.

“That’s good, it means you care.” Cillian’s hands held her face firmly. “You know, while I was taking those riding lesson with an excellent rider… she showed me that no matter what we say or what we do, just like in a horse’s eyes… the answers are right there if you pay attention.”

The next thing she knew it was how different was this kiss to the previous one they shared, his lips moved against hers with a hint of security, firmly, kissing her with intensity… passion.

Her hands moved up to cup his face gently, fingers caressing the hollowed cheekbones and then up to the shaved parts of his hair while his locked on the small of her back. Barely breaking away the kiss to catch some air, Y/N smiled against his lips.

“Yeah? And what else did you learn from this horse trainer?”

Cillian growled, a wide grin decorating his lips just as in a surprising motion, he took Y/N by the waist to place her on the counter.

“A lot about myself,” he admitted giving her a small peck, “all about horses,” another kiss, “about life,” he tilted his head to kiss the corner of her mouth, “about love…”

“Hmm that’s exactly what I learned from certain someone who showed up in my place for a riding lesson, and it ended up being more like a life lesson.” Y/N brushed the fringe on his forehead to the side, for some reason it was a bold haircut, but she loved it how it looked on him. Adjusting her legs around his waist, to keep Cillian closer, his lips outlining her jaw. “I’m just worried about Arlo. You know my son is my world.”

Cillian looked at her with an eyebrow cocked. “I thought you knew I signed up for the premium lesson; horses, you and him.”

As they kissed again, she had to remember he was working. “I don’t want to distract you from your responsibilities.”

“It’s fine, I actually love having you here, would you like to join me tomorrow? We’re filming in an open field.”

As she nodded, Cillian sighed relieved.

And Y/N knew she had never been so sure of something like she felt towards Cillian. Because he understood her priorities and passion just like she was starting to learn about his for acting.

****

♥️ I hope you liked this two-parts mini series! I wrote it to celebrate the 10th Peaky Blinders anniversary 🥃 🚬 🖤

Thank you Heidi for the BTS photo!!!!! 📸

Bonus: The final scene 🎬 thanks Selene!

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @gypsy-girl-08 @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @forbidden-forest-witch @ange-thoughts @moral-terpitude @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @thenattitude @winchestergirl22 @zablife @elk96 @heidimoreton @imichelle-l-rigby @allie131313 @already-broken144 @peakyscillian @babaohhhriley @shelbydelrey @shaddixlife @sloanexx @sydneyyyya @adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @thomashelbyswife @darleneslane @everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @rangerelik @lovemissyhoneybee @ironpen @kittycatcait219 @shelundeadxxxx @speckledemerald @creativepawsworld @kathrinemelissa @polishcrazyone

#That’s what Cill said #cillian murphy fiction #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy characters #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders fan fiction #cillian murphy x you

90 notes · View notes