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mayfieldss · 2 months

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Your needs, my needs - Thomas Shelby

Summary: after a particularly rough day, tommy needs you more than ever.

Warnings: mentions of blood and slightly suggestive content.

The day was coming to a close when Thomas finally found enough peace to walk home. The light from the sky was falling slowly from view, and the gravel beneath his feet held no comfort to any of the steps he took, but he traveled on nonetheless, back home to you.

He was desperate for it, your touch. After the day he'd had, he craved it like a drowning man prays for oxygen, and he pushes himself through your front door with such a force you'd thought a gunshot had been fired.

"Y/N!" Tommy calls, his voice echoing in the empty stairwell. He's about to make his way up said stairs, when you appear, a look of concern upon your face.

"Tommy? What's happened?" You take each step quickly, stumbling down the last few in your rush, but Tommy is there and ready to steady you. The instant his hands meet your body, he can feel each nerve in his muscles loosening. As if his hold on you releases their hold on him.

"It's good to see you." Tommy mutters, eyes raking over your features, fingers digging into your sides soft enough for you to be comfortable, but strong enough for him to know you're really there.

"Thomas, your bleeding." Your hand comes up to his forehead, the cut there leaking red slowly, though Tommy doesn't care. How can he when your eyes are on him in such an affectionate way, as though he isn't the monster he's painted himself to be? You make him feel like maybe his pain is just that. Paint, that he can wash away, and as it runs down the drain, maybe then he will be good enough for you.

He brings one hand up to the back of your neck, thumb grazing over your earlobe as he feels a shiver run through you.

"Tommy, you're hurt. You're not thinking straight." You're being stern with him, but your touch says otherwise, and you both know it.

"I'm thinking perfectly well, sweetheart." He's never kissed you before, never touched you in the way he is now, but he's thought about it long and hard for months, wondering when his resolve would fade. Perhaps today is that day because his eyes can't help but flicker downward to your lips. Yours do the same to his.

"You're an anchor," Tommy moves closer as you lean into the touch of his hand on your cheek. "And I'm a fucking shipwreck."

"I didn't think Thomas Shelby was a man that could be tied down. He's always on the move, isn't he?" You're whispering, breath fanning over him, and you can feel his hand on your hip slide round to the small of your back, begging you closer, hoping you'll take the steps.

"Perhaps some things can change."

You don't believe him in the slightest. Tommy can't be still. He can't simply love you in the way you could him if given the chance. And he might try, but his efforts end up wasted, washed away by the fact business is the forefront of his mind.

"You don't want to change, Tommy. That's the last thing you want."

"I think I can be the judge of what it is that I want." He's feeling dizzy, his body swaying briefly without his permission, and you pull back from him when you notice it.

"You need to sit." Tommy doesn't have a choice in the matter because you've taken him by the hand and are leading him to the living room. You'd decorated it nicely, wooden furniture and a quilt covered sofa that you force him to sit upon.

"Rest, Tommy." You say when he tries to coax you back toward him. He can still hear the ringing in his ears from the gunfire earlier that day, the wet thunk of his fists on bloodied flesh.

"Dont need rest, love." He's pushed himself up from the sofa, closing the gap between you. His chest rises and falls opposite to your own, and his hands have found your hips once more. "I know what I need. I think we both do."

"What you want and what you need are very different things, Tommy. You need to rest." You tell him again, though he's being more distracting now. His lips have come down to leave a kiss below your ear, his voice gravelly and quiet

"Right now, I just need you fucking close to me." He takes a few steps back, allowing himself to fall into the sofa, and with his hands on your hips he guides you into his lap.

You allow it and stare at him from the new position, concern crossing your features. Concern not for Tommy now, but for whether you'll be able to stop thinking about him if you give in. You'd thought about it nearly as much as Tommy, but you held more restraint than the peaky blinder that now had a hand running through your hair.

"Tommy—" you don't know what else to say, stopping to think about it. Not that it's easy to think with his lips on your neck.

"If you want me to go, say it. But I've had a rough fucking week, and something tells me you have too." His eyes seem a harsher blue than before, they glow in the low light of the room, and you can't deny yourself of this. At least not now.

So you kiss him, and allow his hands to roam. You let yours do the same, tugging at his coat, his vest, his shirt. And Tommy loves every minute of it. It's like the snow the boys are so addicted to, seeping into his bloodstream, and he's high on energy again, even after the long day. He was right, you were the cure he needed to empty his mind, to bring him back to the present. The waiting game he'd played with you for so long, has melted away, and with every lingering touch Tommy knows his place is here. Until the next fight he has, the next pile of business he's forced to battle his way through, he can tangle himself up in you, and allow himself the affection he so rarely receives.

AN: I didn't know where this fic was going, so i ended it here. No plot, just vibes. Slut era.

PEAKY BLINDERS TAGLIST:

GENERAL TAGLIST: @candywh0r3 @caplanreadss @hiya-itsamber @s00buwu

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outoftheseine · 8 months

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- THOMAS SHELBY FIC RECS PART 2 -

alexa, play jealous girl by lana del rey | note: some fics are 18+ so minors DNI. be aware of canon trigger warnings (blood, violence, death, guns, etc)

main masterlist | part one

SERIES - MULTI-CHAPTERS

the royal wedding of small heath • thomas shelby x fem!reader part 2

↳ by @sneakyblinders (fluff, slightly explicit)

protection • thomas shelby x reader

↳ by @writers-hes (angst, death, mentions of abuse)

romantic escape | romantic capture • thomas shelby x fem!reader

↳ by @anonymooseforever007 (fluff, slight angst, overprotective!thomas)

immune to his charms • thomas shelby x american!reader

↳ by @readyouforfilth (love their banter so far, can't wait for updates)

happy birthday, my love • dad!thomas shelby x reader

↳ by @teenwolf-theoriginals (so so so fluffy)

safe with me • thomas shelby x reader

↳ by @kgficz

a man with a reputation • thomas shelby x reader

↳ by @kadwrites (arranged marriage trope)

your house | our home • thomas shelby x wife!reader

↳ by @vintunnavaa (angst, fluff, mentions of infidelity, looved it)

the cigarette girl • thomas shelby x reader

↳ by @huntingingoodwill (very angsty, thomas is mean)

ONE-SHOTS - BLURBS - HC'S

i got you • thomas shelby x reader

↳ by @madame-wilsonn (panic attacks, hurt/comfort, mentions of a loved one's death, fluff)

gentle love • thomas shelby x wife!reader

by @vintunnavaa (fluff)

what could've been • thomas shelby x reader

↳ by @toms-cherry-trees (angst)

love is sweeter than vengeance • thomas shelby x fem!reader

↳ by @pherelesytsia (angst, blood, death)

the secret garden • thomas shelby x reader

↳ by @celticmelody (very angsty, domestic violence, blood)

the layers of thomas shelby • thomas shelby x fem!reader

↳ by @theonewiththefanfics (angst, mild fluff)

november • thomas shelby x reader

↳ by @moral-terpitude (fluff, a little angst)

you reap what you sow • thomas shelby x reader

↳ by @springsteens (mentions of abortion, angst, fluff)

ain't she sweet • thomas shelby x reader

↳ by @look-at-the-soul (angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, injuries)

love will keep you up all night • thomas shelby x reader

↳ by @look-at-the-soul (very fluffy)

girl dad • thomas shelby x reader

↳ by @runnning-outof-time (fluff, fluff, fluff)

men with blue eyes and dark hair • thomas shelby x reader

↳ by @dandelionprints (angst, blood, name calling, fluff)

little you's and i's • thomas shelby x reader

↳ by @multific (fluff)

a small mishap • thomas shelby x reader

↳ by @gypsy-girl-08 (mention of violence, injuries, fluff)

thomas shelby as a father • thomas shelby x reader

↳ by @fanficwrit3r (very fluffy)

wailing teapots • thomas shelby x reader

↳ by @oddaodd (angst but happy ending, mentions of abuse)

as if you are still here • thomas shelby x reader

↳ by @speckledemerald (so. much. angst)

do you get déjà vu • thomas shelby x fem!reader

↳ by @calummss (fluff and humour)

venus rising • thomas shelby x fem!reader

↳ by @ay0nha (angst, this one is 🤌)

the sapphire ring • thomas shelby x reader

↳ by @kitixie (angst, but fluff)

the brother that always wins • thomas shelby x reader

↳ by @runnning-outof-time (fluff)

business and dates • thomas shelby x fem!reader

↳ by @princessofmarvel (fluff and slight angst)

#thomas shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby x imagine #thomas shelby x fem!reader #thomas shelby x wife!reader #dad!thomas shelby #thomas shekby angst #thomas shelby fluff #fic recommendation #fic rec #cillian murphy

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motherofdogs1010 · 2 months

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Letters to Juliet & Romeo II (Thomas Shelby x Reader)

Summary: Heartbroken and in the midst of the Great War as a nurse, Y/N L/N writes to a person she never expected to write to before... her brother's friend, Thomas Shelby... But the war's over now and it is time to face the letters...

Warnings: angst, wartime talk, fluff, reunion, pre-Peaky Blinders Tommy, solider!Tommy, nurse!Reader, chubby!reader, age gap (everyone is of age)

Italics: contents of letters

🪖 Dividers by @firefly-graphics 🪖 Banner by @vase-of-lilies

June 1918, 5 Months before Great War Ends 4 Years of Letters

I picture what my life might be like when this war ends, I picture how I will ever continue to go about life after seeing the worst of men...

Y/N read Tommy's newest letter, she could see the dirt on it and the smudged thumbprints he left as he traced it; they were flooded today in the camp ever since they moved further onto the field. It was night now when she got to reading his letter, she wondered too how her life was going to be like when she got home.

I picture you there by my side, I imagine us together... I imagine you in my arms, holding you at night. You are the only one that knows me, the me that this war has crafted and spat out...

Y/N felt tears well up in her eyes as she read his profession, her lip wobbling as she read his letter before the tears soon began to fall down her cheeks as she heard some of her fellow nurses snore away into the night.

If we survive this war, I plan to make you a Shelby, make a honest woman out of you... dedicate my life to the woman who has held me together...

🪖

11 A.M., November 1918, the Great War was declared over... she could remember patching up a badly injured man when the gun fire stopped. She had looked up and saw the confusion on everyone's faces when they realized the total silence around them.

And now, the train she was on that was taking her home stopped, the conductor announcing their stop in Small Heath. She stood, grabbing her suitcase as she was still dressed in her ward uniform since that's what they were told to wear home. She wondered if Tommy had made it home first, she knew there was soldiers on the train, but she prayed he was somewhere.

She had written to her mother, who told her that her brother had arrived home first since he was one of the first to head home and that they would be greeting her.

As she stepped off the train, suitcase heavy as she saw the crowded train station, witnessing the reunions happening and she felt a sadness come over as she began to look around for her family.

"Y/N..."

Her eyes widen as she heard that familiar voice and turned around...

Tommy was dressed in his uniform just like how many others were as him and his brothers stepped off the train, immediately seeing Polly, Ada and Finn waiting for them in the crowd.

"There you boys are", Polly said, embracing them.

Tommy's mind wandered as he hoped Y/N was close by, he needed to see her, hold her just as anyone needed air to breath. He tuned out whatever the others were talking about as he looked around and his heart stopped as he saw her, the glimpse of her face as she was dressed in those damned nursing clothes.

Here she was, the woman he wanted to make his wife...

"Y/N..."

He watched as she froze and began to turn, but he had already begun to move, pushing past people and ignoring the voices of his family as he watched Y/N also drop her suitcase and began to walk towards him.

"Tommy", she said with tears in her eyes as finally, they embraced.

It was a tight embrace, one that felt as if one of them let go, they would never be here again. Tommy buried his face in his neck, his hand accidentally knocking off her cap as he squeezed her, feeling her tears wet a part of his uniform as little sobs escaped her.

He felt whole as if the missing piece he never had was returned to him as he lifted her off the ground for a few minutes as they embraced...

"So that's who the bastard's been writing to", Arthur mused, John chuckled.

"Don't be mad that he had a bird waiting for him", John teased as Polly rolled her eyes.

She watched as her nephew embraced the girl tightly, the two lost in their own world as Polly's eyes widen at who the girl was.

"Blimey, that's B/N's sister", she breathed, Ada squinted and saw it too.

"Looks like we've got a wedding to plan for, huh Polly?" Ada said.

Polly let out a little chuckle and thought that at least something good came out of this war...

TAGLIST

@calmingmelody96 @69your-best-night-mare69

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

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apollosdaydreams · 2 months

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Sexting?

Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warnings: Age gap!! Both are of age, Reader is about 26 while Cillain is 47 none just fluff :)

No hate to his family and his wife, Yvonne, this is purely fictional.

You were leaning in to Cillian wanting to be with him until he had to leave to film another scene. You both were just playing on your phone, enjoying each other's company when you felt Cillian’s chest begin to vibrate when he started to talk.

“What's sexting?” He asked.

You quickly turned around so you could be facing him, you were now slightly flushed. You could tell he was trying to hold back a smile. You quickly rolled your eyes at him, knowing that he knew what sexting was.

“I'm not having this conversation with you.” You said, while turning back around, leaning on his chest. He smiled into your neck, his hands rubbing up and down your body. His hands stopped on your hips, pulling you close to him. He glanced down at your phone to see what time it was.

“Well I have to go.” He said, while sitting up. You slightly pouted as he moved.

“I’ll see you later, love.” He said winking, walking out the door.

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cinewhore · 9 months

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The Wrath of a Mother

Pairing: Thomas "Tommy" Shelby x fem!reader word count: 3k warnings: violence, heavy angst, kidnappings, blood, gore, guns, fighting. summary: Thomas Shelby discovers his wife's past. A/N: more peaky blinders brain rot for you all. not much else to say. no beta cause I say so! Enjoy. Credits to the gif artist.

The chaotic melody of jazz was cut off by the sound of screams.

Tommy didn’t like jazz which is why you waited for him to leave before putting the record on. It had been a tiresome day, dealing with the children, being the lady of the house. You sent the majority of the staff away, with the exception of a few maids to help with your children. The girls were young and foolish, always giggling behind their hands.

You pay the shouts no mind, until they grow louder, the high pitched squeals of the girls being intertwined with the yelling of men.

Suddenly, a shot rings out. You instantly cut the record, dashing into the children’s room. Oliver wakes up with ease while Alice fusses. You hated disrupting them but had no choice, telling them they were going to have a special sleepover in the guest room.

“Now, mommy is going to go and grab some snacks. I’m going to lock the door, to keep the pesky monsters away! Mommy or daddy will come back to get you, ok?”

Your oldest nods, the best big brother to his sister. You press a quick kiss to both their heads, not daring to look back at them before shutting the door.

The world seemed to slow down after that. You weren’t aware of how much time had passed, couldn’t ignore the ringing in your ears, the exhilaration of shock and adrenaline coursing through your bloodstream.

It was enough to blind a man.

Someone was hollering your name but you couldn’t make out whose voice it belonged to.

Hands abruptly clasp your shoulders and you shriek, twisting your body in a way to fend off whoever dared to attack you next. You try to ram the knife into the arm of your assailant but another pair of hands snatch your weapon away, leaving you defenseless.

Tommy crawls on his knees in front of you, grasping the side of your face tightly. You squirm and squirm but stop as he shakes you.

“It’s alright! It’s me! It’s just me!” He could tell that you were trying to comprehend what was happening and that your body was moving on its own accord, still engaged in fight or flight mode.

“Arthur, let her go.”

The oldest brother shoots Tommy a look. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

Arthur drops his hold on you and you sag forward, arms wobbling against the wooden floors, hands drenched with blood.

“It’s alright, love. You’re ok, it's finished now.”

It was over. You had won, however, the thin veil between this life and the old one had been hastily torn down.

“Where are the children, hm?”

You shake your head, his words unclear to you.

“Our children, where are they?! Alice and Oliver, where are they?”

You raise a weakened arm and point towards the end of the corridor. “Guest room closet…I locked it-”

“Michael, go check!” Thomas shouts. His cousin takes off without another word.

It was all too much. The noise, the lights, the commotion. Pushing yourself up on your knees, you combat Tommy and the grip he held on you, dead set on getting into a place where you could shut it all out.

You stumble down the hallway and the flight of stairs, only tripping a few times before making it out the front door. You make it just past the hedges and collapse, stomach churning while you vomit.

Arthur was close by, tentative of his approach. He didn’t want to scare you off further. He advances steadily, arms outstretched to show that he meant no harm.

“It's ok, love. It’s just, Arthur. I’m not gonna hurt ya.”

You nod, wiping at your mouth. “There were so many-"

“Yeah. Yeah, there were. You fought them all.”

“I didn’t- didn’t mean to kill anyone-”

You let Arthur close enough so that he could hold your hands, uncaring of the blood smeared across yours.

“Listen to me, eh? You’re gonna have the shakes. Your hands are gonna feel like they’re made of fucking lead. S’all normal. I just need you to breathe cause it looks like you’re gonna faint.”

You mimic Arthur as he breathes in and out, slowing down your beating heart. You surge forward and hug your brother in law, catching him by surprise. He panics for a moment before hugging you back, rocking the two of you.

“You did good, sister. You did good.”

You didn’t speak about it for two weeks.

You knew that he wanted an explanation, you felt it every time the two of you were in the same room. There was a lingering stare he would give you that he gave to each of his enemies. It was menacing, calculating and ominous. You knew the longer it took for you to offer up clarification for your actions, the more he began to suspect that you were placed in his house, in his bed, based off of an ulterior motive. If that were the case, you would’ve killed him by now but Tommy was no fool nor was he new to this type of life. He knew when people played with their food before eating and he refused to be swallowed by you.

His lovely, little wife.

It was a pleasant Sunday morning. You figured after breakfast you’d take the children into the gardens, perhaps have them splash around in the pond to tire them out before lunch. Tommy’s side of the bed was empty and cold by the time you woke up, which didn’t surprise you.

The lack of boisterous noise coming from the children is what tipped you off.

You remain calm as your lady’s maid helps you dress for the day, swapping out your gowns for a nice riding outfit.

“Lily, where are the children?” you query the young girl.

“Mr. Shelby arranged for them to spend the day with Ada, madam. She collected them this morning.”

You rock your jaw, vexation settling into your features. He secluded you, tapered off the one distraction you wouldn’t be able to use against him.

“Thank you, Lily. Where is Mr. Shelby?”

“He’s awaiting you in the dining hall for breakfast.”

Nodding, you finish your last little bit of preparations before seeking out your husband.

Thomas was a sight to behold. He sat in the chair facing away from the window, the morning glow casting a hazy aura around him. He held the newspaper in front of him with rigidness, eyes covered with his spectacles, long eyelashes gracing his cheeks whenever he looked down or blinked.

You don’t bother clearing your throat, knowing your husband was programmed with an innate capability of being able to detect when he was no longer alone. He huffs out an exhale, flipping the pages of the paper.

Frances pulls your seat out for you and you thank her, watching as she pours you a cup of coffee.

“Shall I crack your egg for you?”

You shake your head. “No, thank you. I actually find that I don’t have much of an appetite this morning.”

“Shall I ask the cook to prepare something different for you? Perhaps you’d like some fresh fruit? We just received some apples.” Frances tries again.

You give a sympathetic smile to the older woman, always grateful for her thoughtfulness and warmth. “I’ll just have some water.”

Frances pours you a hefty glass, bowing slightly as she exits the room.

You take a quaint sip from the glass as Tommy folds the paper, tucking it underneath his plate.

“Are you sure you’re not hungry? The toast was quite delicious.”

“You sent the children away without telling me.” You place the glass carefully on the table, using the condensation to wet your neck.

“I am their father, I can make decisions about where they go.” Tommy hums, rolling his neck to finally get a look at you. Even on low hours of sleep and no makeup, you were a natural beauty. You fixed your hair up in a way that he especially liked, the pins keeping it held firmly in an ornate fashion.

“You don’t send my children anywhere without me knowing about it.” You bite back coolly.

“Well,” He claps his hands together. “I figured we could use a day to ourselves. Frances has made us a nice picnic near the edge of the garden, our horses have been saddled and for the ultimate surprise, we’ll be shooting pheasants for dinner.”

You force out a grin, swallowing down the lump that was squirming its way up your throat. “What a perfect day.”

The picnic was gorgeous and you hated the way you tore into your food after skipping breakfast. Tommy made little conversation and you obliged him for the time being, willing yourself not to disassociate.

He was setting you up. While you remained neutral about the usage of guns and their place in the house, you always refused to shoot one if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. Tommy had given you one for protection and you kept it locked in a box, stored in the back of your wardrobe. The last thing you wanted was for the kids to find it.

Maurice, a stablehand, was already stationed near the edge of the forestline, a trap full of pheasants at his disposal. Tommy hands you a shotgun and the both of you prepare them for the task. He’s the first one to shoot and achieves a few hits, your duo of foxhounds sprinting to capture them.

You check over your gun once more, ensuring that it wouldn’t backfire and injure your shoulder.

“I’ll take four.” You tell Maruice and he gawks at you before straightening his posture.

“Are you sure, ma’am?”

Raising a single eyebrow was enough to get the young man to hush, nodding his head that he understood. “Be quick when handing me the other gun.”

“On your signal.”

You raise your weapon upwards, relaxing in your stance and emitting a low release of breath.

“Pull.”

The flapping of wings alerts your senses. Watching them disperse into the sky, you aim your gun a few paces ahead, striking two birds instantly. Rapidly swapping out guns, you anchor yourself a bit before plucking off the remaining two. The dogs are happy as they trot to gather the rest of the birds.

Maurice seeks to hide his amusement but fails. “Great fucking shot, Mrs. Shelby!”

“Thank you, Maurice. Hang two of them for dinner, please.”

You don’t say another word as you set off for the stream nearby, Tommy close behind.

You strip off your shoes and socks, placing your slightly blistered feet into the running waters. Tommy takes a seat beside you, lighting a cigarette.

“Are we going to talk or keep playing the silent game?”

“You’re the one who makes speeches.”

Tommy chuckles. “You’re a great shot.”

“I know.”

“I just want to understand how a woman such as yourself swore of guns but managed to take on six armed men with the precision and execution of someone who enlisted.”

You snap your head over. “What, so you think I’m a spy now, huh? Is that it? A Soviet spy sent to crush Thomas Shelby and his empire from within? Give me a fucking break.”

“I’m not picking a fight with you-”

“But you are! That’s what this is, isn’t it? A fight that has gone on for far too long.”

Tommy goes silent, like he always does. At this point the both of you realize that you were no longer referring to the conversation at hand but what was left unsaid in between the lines. You let yourself wallow in the anger for just a few more moments before exhaling deeply.

Absent-mindedly, you pick at the tiny blades of grass, ripping and ripping until they scatter out of your hands like confetti.

“I was framed,” you start. Tommy perks up at the sound, lighting a cigarette. He attempts to pass it to you but you refuse it. “I was young, barely a teen. An orphan.”

“The New Prospects Orphanage in the Netherlands.” Tommy comments and you nod your head.

“On Wednesdays, we would take walks around the city so we could be shown what proper ladies were like. There was a girl, Claire, who would sometimes sneak in our group and walk with us. We were friends. The older girls were vile and teased her. Pushed her down a flight of stairs. She cracked her skull.”

You stop at the mention of your old friend, rushed memories of that fateful day speeding through your mind at the speed of light. You remember the blood slowly leaking out from behind her head, staining the white hair bow she wore.

“I reached out to try and grab her, if anything we would’ve fallen together but she slipped right through my grasp. I was blamed and whilst they were discussing what to do with the police, I took off.”

You look at Tommy, who was already eyeing you with precision. “I apparently made some very bad fucking enemies that day.”

He began putting pieces together mentally, filling in the gaps of his research. From what he had gathered, you were at an orphanage until you were twelve, moved to the States until you were eighteen before making your way back to London. You remained lowkey, worked jobs mostly as a secretary and lived a bland existence until he met you a few years after being back from France.

You steal his cigarette, sucking on the stick like it was the last one on earth.

“Claire came from a notable family within the Netherlands. Her brother wouldn’t stop until he saw my head on a stick. They sent people after me.”

Tommy sticks his tongue out to wet his lips briefly. “Eli Delbeke.”

“Eli Delbeke.” you repeat.

He was one of the six bodies Tommy discovered after the carnage. He knew who you were, the woman you tried to hide behind. He hunted you until he cornered you in your own house, threatened to feed your children to his dogs. Eli had sent nearly every thug, gangsta, and man for hire after you. You managed to defeat them all.

You didn't like how easy it was for you to snap someones neck, hated the way blood circled the drain during a shower.

“He knew you were going to be alone.” Tommy concludes. “He knew about the rally.”

“As far as I’m concerned, there shouldn’t be any more of them alive. I survived the onslaught. And you want to know what lesson he could’ve learned?”

You put out the cigarette beside you, coughing. “Grief isn’t good for business.”

It happened so fast that you didn’t have time to blink. The foundation was in full swing at its grand opening, members of high society swarming all around you. You wouldn’t lie and say you were thrilled to be there but this was Tommy’s moment and as his wife, you had to play your part.

Photographs were taken and you smiled politely, Alice in your arms and Oliver hiding behind your leg. The boy was utterly shy and you hated placing him in situations like this. Balancing Alice on your hip, you shoot an apologetic look at Tommy and the others, awaiting a photo op.

You brush back Oliver’s hair, trying to coax him forward. “Come on, Oli. It’s ok! We’ll smile very quickly for a photo and then we can go wait outside for daddy.”

Tommy grows impatient and grabs Oliver, taking him by surprise. He begins to sob and thrashes around in Tommy’s hold.

“Shelby family, look this way!” The photographer instructs and you all oblige. The flash goes off and the crowd around begins to disperse. A woman in a maid outfit reaches for Oliver and Tommy hands him off willingly, eager to get away from the clamoring of chatty women. You were busy adjusting Alice’s dress, setting her back down on the ground.

You look around for Oliver, noticing you couldn’t hear his cries anymore.

“Oliver?” you call out to no avail. “Oli?”

Clutching Alice’s hand, you ask around the room if anyone has seen a little boy. All people shake their heads, your panic grows more by the minute.

Polly senses your agitation. “What’s wrong, dear?”

“It’s Oliver. We just took a photo, I sat Alice down but when I looked up, he was gone.”

Polly gives you a look you know too well and your face drops. “Oh, Poll-”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.”

Polly alerts other members of the family, sending them in different directions. She then escorts you out into a more secluded area of the building.

Ada and John join you, all with forlorn expressions.

“Nobody has seen ‘em.” John reports, Ada backing his claim. She places a protective hand on your back, guiding you to sit on a bench.

“Let me hold her.” she says calmly and you reluctantly let go of Alice.

Arthur and Tommy march up to the family, fists balled and faces set like stones.

“He was seen being taken in a car by some woman.” Arthur shares, eyes downcast. You stand up abruptly, stepping a few paces away from everyone else. Breathing becomes a difficult task and you clutch at your chest.

The familiar sensation of rage and anguish sneaks upon you, digging its sharp claws deep into the fiber of your being.

Tommy folds himself over you in an endeavor to console you. “This is all my fault. I will fix it. Don’t you fucking worry, I will fix this. Those fucking Italian bastards will not get away with this. It’s going to be ok, I promise.”

You cock your head to look at your husband, the only thing visible from beneath your hat was your red brimmed eyes. A lone tear escapes and you refuse to let any others do the same.

It was if you were possessed by the devil himself.

You straighten yourself up, sniffling quietly. “Ada, give me my child.”

Ada does as she is told and if you were being more observant, you might say that Ada feared you in that moment.

You were going to see to it that whoever took your child would die by your hands.

They weren’t going to fear you as Tommy’s wife nor as a Shelby but as a fucking mother.

#thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #Thomas shelby x fem!reader #Thomas Shelby x you #Tommy Shelby x fem!reader #fic: The Wrath of a Mother

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dinums · 2 months

Text

Secrets and Broken Hearts

--------------------------

"Why did you do that?" He said, voice unnervingly calm. Silence. Everything was silent for a few moments before she broke it with a sigh, "I told you. I stayed because we had a deal." She looked up at him, his stark blue eyes looking at her, searching for lies.

"You said you love him."

"I do"

"Do you still?"

As those words escaped his lips, her breathed hitched, 'love him, still?' Avoiding his gaze, she shook her head, finding no meaning in this conversation. "Love him or not. The deal is still ongoing. Once your 'love' comes back, I'll leave"

___________________________________________

Ms. Bennett, a woman of humble background, hides something from others. Though what would happen once faced with the mobster, Thomas Shelby himself? Time passed by, will striking a deal to get what they want help? Shall they stay or leave once their plan goes accordingly? After all, business is business. Vague as everything is, should the day come and everything will come to light.

Materlist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5 (coming soon)

#thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #x reader #peaky blinders #cillian murphy #thomas shelby x fem!reader #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine

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evita-shelby · 6 months

Note

Hi if its ok on the ask . Tommy shelby x reader

While tommy was out in doing his dirty work as a gangster even in hidden legal work he noticed his wife y/n sneaking somewhere so he followed only to see her assasinating a target . He likes this surprise

Fatal Attraction

Gif by @enchantingqueenkitten

He knows he shouldn’t have lost tail of Russell like that.

But you had snuck off as you do on occasion and if he hadn’t seen you leave Churchill's office that day under an assumed name, he wouldn’t have followed you.

You were a mystery, one he liked to unravel as he got to know you better.

If you had come into his life sooner, perhaps his heartbreak would have been avoided, but he was a damn fool when it comes to love.

He follows you into the lady’s lavatory where he hears you flirt with his target with an Irish Accent reminiscent of Grace’s. In fact, Russell even calls you ‘Gracie’ before he begins to struggle with his assailant.

Tommy races into the lavatory, gun in hand ready to kill the bastard only to find you leaving the stall unscathed and looking only a little disheveled.

“Who hired you?” he asks gun still aimed at you even if he had no intention of shooting you. In fact, he was thinking of getting you a drink and rewarding you for a job well done.

“You first, Tom.” You hide your gloves in your handbag and turn your coat inside out.

“Pro-treaty Paddies and Churchill.” He supplied knowing you’d betray him.

“IRA. A bonus if I framed the one who killed two of their men in 1919. By the way, she will think you summoned her here with a note written in your hand. If I were you, I’d disappear before the race ends.” You order him around like no one’s ever done before and somehow, he doesn’t mind it.

And because there is nothing else left to say he shoots his gun into the stall and the both of you scream in terror like seasoned actors. The security fall for it, especially when the two of you give rather detailed accounts on the patsy chosen by those who hired you.

“I don’t know about you, but I could go for a whiskey right now.” Tommy offers you his arm as you go to the exclusive bar reserved for owners.

“How about champagne, love?” you suggest with a bloody red smirk.

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x fem!reader #thomas shelby x fem!reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders fanfiction

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slutforsilverfoxes · 7 months

Text

Cry, Baby

[A/N: I mean… did we really think I could have a month dedicated to kink without Thomas Shelby?]

🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x female reader (spanking, dacryphilia)

“How many times-” Tommy grits out, his hand cracking against your flesh and sending a jolt along the entire length of your spine, “How many fucking times have I told you not to come into my office when the door is closed?”

“I’m sorry,” you whine, choking on your apology when he slaps your ass again before roughly palming one of your cheeks.

“And what was it you needed, hm?”

“Just-ah!- wanted to see you, Tommy, love,” you answer, the blush blooming across your face matching your skin reddened by Tommy’s punishing right hand.

“You’re lying to me,” he responds easily, momentarily pausing on doling out your discipline to tug your panties aside and sink his middle finger knuckle deep into your soaked cunt. “And you know how I feel about that, pet.”

You let out a low moan before coming to your senses and pressing on, “Not a lie! I did want to see you.”

“And?” Tommy goads, curling his finger to massage your walls while you squirm in his lap, uselessly rutting against his muscular thigh.

“And-” You hesitate, your voice growing softer before confessing, “And I wanted you to fuck me.”

He laughs at that, low and deep in his throat, before slapping you again, lower this time so his palm comes into contact with your aching pussy, and simply responds, “I know.” You let out a sharp cry at the sudden sting of pain, and Tommy repeats the action three more times in rapid succession until he can feel your tears darkening his grey slacks and you can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing into your stomach where you’re folded over his lap.

“That’s it, pet,” he murmurs with a wicked grin, raking his fingers through your hair and yanking your head back so he can see your ruddy, tear-stained cheeks. “You know I love it when you cry for me.” You take in a shuddering breath that morphs into a hiccuped sob when palm meets flesh again, and Tommy lets out a low groan in response.

You feel debauched, degraded, and utterly fucking beautiful.

Turning your head to look up at your love, his brooding visage blurred through wet eyelashes, you smile at him and murmur, “I love you, Tommy.”

He leans down, his tongue darting out to catch a stray tear rounding the apple of your cheek before slipping past your lips in a heady, all-consuming kiss that leaves you breathless. “And I love you, naughty thing. Now, what are you going to do next time that door is closed, hm?”

With a cheeky grin, you ask innocently, “Come in and beg for attention?”

He lets out a sharp exhale in time with his palm striking your ass again, growling something under his breath vaguely reminiscent of incorrigible brat. Then he lets your dress fall back into place before lifting you into his arms, and you tuck your face into the crook of his neck, happily breathing in his familiar smell.

Tommy can feel your wet lashes brushing against his skin every time you blink, and his cock twitches in his pants at the thought of those teary eyes looking up at him while he fucks your throat raw. He opens the door to his office, reveling in your soft gasp when you hear the muttered voices of the men Tommy was meeting with obediently waiting in the long hall. Clearing his throat as he passes by with you cradled in his arms, he announces with a smirk, “Gentlemen, we’ll pick this up tomorrow.”

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prettypeppermint · 8 months

Text

the gift of silence. (how sweet the sound)

for t. shelby. a continuation of 'amazing grace.'

You weren't speaking to him. And it was slowly driving him up the wall.

Not that you were normally a chatterbox in the face of Thomas Shelby; you rarely spoke to him unless you needed something. You were always more of a looker; your eyes bore into his from across the room whenever you overheard something you shouldn't have; you studied his slight quirks and subtle movements and stared blankly at his handwriting when verifying papers; you looked when nobody else did. In a sea full of heads, your eyes were always turned against the tide--snowy sea glass amongst pebbles in a blinding summer's ocean. He noticed your gaze when you thought no one did.

Sometimes, wisdom lies in silence rather than words. You knew that above all others.

Come to think of it, that night was the most you had ever talked to him directly since he'd known you. It was the most candid he’d ever experienced you. And he was frightfully prepared.

It wasn't the fact you weren’t talking that bothered him--more so the absence of your voice--something he never thought to irk him until he realized just how much he wanted you to spare him a whisper. He wanted to see you all worked up the way women get sometimes; he wanted to watch you unravel. But you were always so tightly bound.

It's been days since he kissed you--touched you. Thomas was a man of self-control, and he knew it was both the first and the last time he'd ever be selfish with you again. He didn’t know it, but he yearned to wade a bit longer in the satisfaction of knowing you were at least a bit frazzled by him. But you seemed as much out of place as snow in December.

He didn't like how you were added to his long list of tasks and responsibilities. He didn't like how you weighed down his shoulders.

Even with all the help you gave around these parts, you were always just a burden to his mind--the way you smelled of a place far away, the coyly cold shoulders you gave and the moles on your hips. He didn’t like it one bit.

Because now he was the one staring at the back of your neck, at the way your ringlets bounced in a manner almost comical against your serious face. Everything about you seemed to be a paradoxical phenomenon: your coquettish features that rarely spared a smile for anyone, your soft eyes that revealed hardened thoughts, your bouncy curls and the ribbons that sometimes adorned your braids and the lacy little ensembles that complimented your loveliness.

You were so ironically unapproachable. You never missed the quips and spare jokes about it: that people could sense your presence because the room gets cold, that a smile would sit prettier on your mouth than all those cigarettes.

You appeared unperturbed by the smog-capped skylines and rubble-ruined streets of Birmingham; all the sins of the city never wore wrinkles between your brows or sowed smoky wisps along your hairline. It was almost as if you were preserved in that eternal Kilkee ruralness--as if you brought a piece of the Irish coast with you to this Godless city. Farmer's daughter. Fisherman's treasure. You were outlasting and evermore. You were something of the sea.

"I said I needed fifty hand-copies of last month's inventory on my desk by this morning," Thomas breathed matter-of-factly, leaning against the door frame as you indulged in your morning smoke, an old whiskey in his hand. He liked the way your bare shoulders looked as they reflected the breaking dawn--the way the sun collected in your collarbones and made your hair shiny.

It was his turn to stand at the doorway. It was his turn to bear his weight at the threshold.

"I put them on your desk two mornings ago," you responded, matter-of-fact, “Perhaps you forgot to look under your arse, Mr. Shelby.”

Where along the line had he become Mr. Shelby?When did plain, old Thomas leave your vocabulary? He liked it when you called him that--just Thomas.

You never intended to sound so coy all the time. Aunt Pol like to say you were just a pretty girl with a sharp tongue and a sharper mind--sometimes to your own doom.

At that, Thomas tossed a hefty stack of unsorted paperwork on the coffee table you were sat at. He watched as your rosy elbows wobbled under the wood and ash flitted from your slim cigarette.

"You forgot these, Ms. l/n." he rasped blankly, trying to see through to your eyes from the back of your head.

Without looking at him or the papers, you stood up and took your time neatening them up before heaving the stack into your arms. As you passed by his figure in the doorway, you discarded your cigarette in his whiskey glass.

He was left staring blankly at the empty scene before him--one that was once fulfilled with your presence--a sense of longing boiling up in his core. It was out of character to be so subconsciously infatuated with the idea of getting a rise out of you. It was almost ridiculous.

Mr. Shelby seemed to be a master at pushing good things--good women--away.

"A bit harsh on the girl, don’t you think?" Aunt Pol piped knowingly from behind him, emerging from her watchful shadows once you had retreated to Thomas's office.

"No different than I've always been," he said, eyes still trained on the spot at the chair that was once yours.

"Don't take women for the fool that you are, Tommy. I see the way you've been eyeing her--picking her apart. I'll have you fucking another whore before you sink your claws into another girl with a bright path ahead of her."

"Her path ends here, Pol. No girl who ever got tangled up in Shelby business ever makes it to London."

Aunt Pol glared at his nape before leaving him there, sinking in his own wallows.

~~~

"Where're my copies?"

"I threw 'em out."

A moment of silence pulsated through his blood and rose to his brain. He had found you sitting and smoking in your usual spot, merely thirty minutes after his most recent orders. He slowly walked up to your lax frame, still dawned in your silky, lacy little thing of a nightgown.

"I trust that you know those were Mr. Kimber's papers, Ms. l/n," he rumbled lowly--dangerously, "Papers I won't think twice about having you dig through the trash for on the street in nothing but your slip."

"You've done worse," you responded calmly, taking another draw of your cigarette. Recently, you've been blowing through more than your daily 6, and he never failed to notice the little things.

He stepped even closer, his hands buried adamantly in his pockets so they wouldn't reach out for you. Why was loving Grace so easy, and loving you felt like a sour seed in his stomach? As if it would burrow holes in his organs and infect his blood until you did something about it?

"You're gonna get me those papers or I'll have you thrown out to the streets after happy hour."

With that, you stood abruptly from your chair and walked with brisk strides toward the wastepaper bin at the leg of the center table. You plunged your hand into it and pulled from the depths of millions of cigarette butts Thomas's precious Kimber papers. You slapped them on the table riddled with ash and peanut shells and flipped through each page for him, fully filled out and stamped with fresh ink.

Then you climbed atop the table, standing precariously on the splintering wood in your dainty, red dance heels so you could have the upper hand for once.

"You don't get to disrespect me because of your fragile, faulty, little boy of a heart. You don't get to disrespect me because I have an ounce of self-preservation in the face of a man with the power you have. And you don't get to disrespect me, because I am y/n l/n, and I don't work for men who lead with the brain in their cocks." It came out eerily steady, unlike any rage he'd ever been at the receiving end of before.

It was like a flash of soundless lightning; you were gone as soon as it happened, having stepped down from the table to retreat to your sun-spotted, smoke-stained corner. And he was left with the storm that came afterward, soaked in an alien feeling that hadn't made itself quite known to his heart yet.

But much like how most things rear their ugly heads at night--drunkards emerging from their taverns and whores from their brothels--Thomas Shelby's ugly little things were no exception.

Night changes a man; it shrouds him in regret and urges forced down throughout the day and lust unravished.

Night made Thomas hungry.

And so he found himself watching over your sleeping form folded at the waist and draped across the table you've been sitting at the entire day, where you've done nothing but stare out the window and let the smoke abuse your lungs. Your cigarette, now a measly stub, was still haphazardly pinched between your tired fingers. He found that smoking didn't suit you--it tainted your rosy face that otherwise emulated an ethereal countryside purity. The Irish foreshore was still fresh on your cheeks.

In sleep, you reverted to the girl you were born as: simple and lovely and kind as a bird.

He felt the sour seed growing.

He slipped his hand around your wrist and maneuvered your body onto his back with ease before carrying you to his room where he set you down on his sheets. His hand instinctively reached for the pipe on the nightstand, but it trembled before tightening into a fist that fell limply at his side.

What he hadn’t known was that you both experienced night terrors, but as he lay awake on the floor next to his bed with your writhing and moaning frame, it became abundantly clear.

He wondered what was haunting your conscience and digging its way into your sleep. Maybe you've been through a few wars of your own. None that men would know, anyway.

As his mind continued shifting and shuffling, he felt a warmth press into his back; you had stepped off the bed and laid down on the cool, dry planks next to him--back to back and facing away from each other. He could feel your silk stick to your sweat. Time froze, and within that time, so did the nightmares.

Seconds drawled into minutes before it all became a blur as shadows morphed into stories on the moonlit wallpaper. It stretched and stretched.

"Do you want to know what I dream of at night?" you slurred, breaking the industrial silence. Your voice was thick with an unrestful break from the world.

When Thomas didn't respond, you continued: "I dream of my home in Ireland: its salty mist and green softness all around. I'm standing there, on a plain, looking out over the ocean. I'm smiling. And each time the tide hits the rocks and recedes back into its basin, I see something emerge from the salt onto the rocks. They're people--bodies--their skin so bloated and fermented from the salt I can't even recognize them, but it feels like I should. Like I know them. And I'm stuck on this plain, trying to make out the faces of my mother and sisters and brother as they keep piling up. Over and over and over. I can't stop it. Because the tide always ebbs. It gets closer and louder, and I'm still smiling. And I pray I wake up before it gets to me and I'm the one on the rocks, rotting and unrecognizable. And I feel awful for it."

Another silence spanned, and Thomas realized he was foolish to ever wish it away. Because silence was how you both communicated. Silence was the language only the two of you were fluent in. Silence bridged the gap that words created. Silence was what he wished for when he heard the shovels chipping at the wall night after night.

"Thomas, you love me." It was a mere whisper, as if you too were scared of ending the silence--the gift of time.

"I love you," echoed Thomas. It was so low and so guttural, as if sprouting from that very sour seed that--within the span of the night--had grown into something pulpy and bittersweet instead.

With that, you both dozed off. And Thomas woke up without the sound of the shovels.

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crowwritesaway · 4 months

Text

Thomas Shelby X Female Reader

“What?” Davina scoffed, crossing her arms. “You know what you did.” Zoey shook her head. “I’m not a mind reader so unless you want to tell me.” Davina uncrossed her arms. She remained silent. You looked over to Thomas who rolled his eyes. You shrugged your shoulders and looked away.

“I truly don’t know what you want from me.” Davina balled up her fists. “That. That’s the problem. Your attitude.”

You inhaled and exhaled. It was an exercise that helped you contain your anger. You glanced over at the clock. “I’d appreciate it if you hurry up and skip to the reason why you called for me.”

“You were seen in London with your little friend Lilybeth. Specifically, in a club known to serve one of our enemies.” You scratch the back of your neck. “Our enemies. I see. Lilybeth needed me there so I went. I won’t go there again. There. Problem solve.”

Davina’s eyes went wide. Your dismissal tone upset her. You knew without looking at her that she was enraged. You moved to exit Thomas office. His sole purpose in being present was to be mediator between the two of you. Davina could be harsh and since you were young, they knew how far her temper would get especially with you.

“What friend?” Thomas asked, he was no longer amused. Your hand gripped the knob. “Lilybeth’s friend.” You replied, not wanting to give more details. You closed your eyes. I should’ve just said friend.

He hummed. “Davina. It seems like it’s settled. This is Lilybeth fault then. You can go now.” You twisted the knob. You wanted to leave. You had no business being in the shop. “It’s not her fault. I’m an adult and I know right from wrong. She didn’t know any better and me being me, I forgot to check the club name before entering.” You said with your back facing him. With that said, you attempted to exit his office once again.

Thomas eyes narrowed. She seems protective of Lilybeth. It seems like Lilybeth can’t even hurt a fly.

“Zoey, you stay. I’m not done talking with you.” You cursed under your breath. Why me? Lilybeth, you’ll hear from me. I told her this fun trip would come around and bite me in the face.

Your sister patted you in the back before leaving. You lifted your hand to smack her on the arm. “Zoey, take a seat.” You let her hand fall. Bitch.

You took a seat. “What is it?” You asked, your leg moving up and down. “This friend.” He poured himself a glass of whiskey. “What does he do?” You furrowed your eyebrows. “I don’t know. I barely know the fella. I just met him. And Lilybeth was with him, not me.”

He took in what you said. “Then who were you with.” You tilted your head. “Waiting on them.” You sighed, leaning back into the chair. You should’ve known. Someone must I’ve saw you wondering the streets at night. That shadow wasn’t something you imagined.

“What have I told you about walking at night?” Thomas angrily asked, taking a seat. “I’m not supposed to.”

“Exactly. So why the fuck did I receive at call about my Zoey wandering around in London?” He said, his eyes piecing into you.

“I can defend myself but I know that won’t lessen your anger.” Zoey told him. “Your safety comes first.” He said in a gentle tone.

You nodded. If I continue, he won’t shut up. “Got it. As I told my sister, it won’t happen again.”

“Good.” Thomas said, standing up. “If there’s any trouble, you come to me.” Thomas said, after taking a sip of his whiskey.

“I can handle trouble. You and everyone knows that.” Thomas nodded. “Nevertheless, you don’t have to. I can do it.”

“I know. I’ll listen. You won’t hear anything from me.” You smiled at him.

“Alright, you can go.” You stood up and dusted off your sweater.

Zoey left his office. With one goal in her mind, she nodded to herself. I need to leave before I lose my mind. I can’t stand their invasion of privacy. I know he’ll look into Lilybeth. I can’t have a normal life without him and not to mention John interfering.

Thomas rubbed his forehead. “Fucking Hell. She’s changing Zoey.” He sat back down in his chair. “I’ve left her choose her friend despite the risks. I underestimated her. She seems keen to take Zoey into dangerous territory and I don’t like that one bit.”

Stay around for more of Thomas Shelby x Female Reader

#thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby x ofc #thomas shelby x fem!reader #thomas shelby x plus size reader #thomas shelby x you #Thomas Shelby x female reader #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x oc #peaky blinders x y/n #john shelby x oc #John Shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader

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mayfieldss · 4 months

Text

Point blank - Thomas Shelby

Summary: When you are held at gunpoint by one of Tommy's many enemies, he must come to terms with his feelings.

Warnings: being held at gunpoint (obvi), blood, violence, language, suggestive content. Not spell checked at all so beware.

The cool metal against the side of your skull wasn't exactly the feeling you had hoped for as the night dragged on. You'd thought about many things, and many people that could bring you pleasure and fun, and you'd thought of a warm bed you would love to curl up in when it got too late to stay awake. But this, the gun pressed firmly to your head, had not been one of the sensations you'd hoped for.

"Call him outside," the man holding the gun shouted to a maid who had stumbled upon the scene. She'd clearly stepped out of the Shelby estate in the hopes of a smoke break, as had you, but was met with a more than shocking ordeal. Tommy's side piece, as many had called you, held at gunpoint by an angry stranger.

She ran ahead inside, and you knew Tommy would be out in a matter of minutes. This was a regular sunday for him. For you, though, it was not something you wanted to occur at all, let alone more than once.

"Mathison," Tommy calls, accent thick as a small fog accompanies his words. The night is cold, and everyone that dares speak becomes a dragon. "I doubt this is nessacary." His hands are raised in a disarming gesture, but you know Tommy well enough. In his eyes, there's concern, worry, and that does not at all ease your nerves.

"You said you'd pay me, give me the money for my family, Tommy, you promised." The man that stands behind you grips tighter to your body, your back flush to his chest as the barrel of the gun digs into your skin.

"You'll get your money in good time, I'm an honest man, Mathison, now let the lady go free." He spares a glance to you, and you can tell he wished he hadn't as soon as it happens. His eyes darken as though he won't be able to scrub the memory free of his mind. Not that you matter that much to be remembered. Not to someone like Tommy. You were just a woman he met in dark corners, after all.

"I want the money now!" The mans shout beside your ear makes you flinch, and the gun shakes in his hands. "It's been weeks, and I want what I was promised!" The man is not at all stable, and with his finger so close to the trigger, you aren't confident in your survival rate.

"Tommy, give him the money. Please." You shouldn't speak. It could earn you a number of consequences, but the fear is stronger than rational thought.

Perhaps the same goes for Tommy because you swear you see him think it over. He flexs his hand at his side, trying to stretch out the tension writhing within him. He is a man of business, not of love, and time and time again that four letter word has ruined him. But seeing you, under threat of harm, stirs a particular amount of concern.

"I don't take kindly to threats against my family. And it looks as though you may be threatening me? Am I correct?"

The man behind you doesn't say anything. His hand still shakes and his grip on you is painful, but he knows that to say yes is to mean consequence, and to say no, would be to lie to Thomas Shelby, which won't end well either.

"Right. Well, I'm having a fucking party inside, one that I would be hosting if I wasn't needed to deal to this. I think the best course of action is for you to put the gun down and leave the premises. You will get your money tomorrow, Mr Mathison." His words sound so final. You can almost believe the man that has a hold of you will listen. Perhaps he is listening because slowly, the gun isn't as close to you anymore.

The gunshot is loud, deafening, and your ears ring with the sound of it. You would have thought that was because you were bleeding out, were it not for the loud scream that fell from your lips at the same time as the sound. If you had, in fact, been shot point blank in the head, you would not have time to scream.

The man that once had a hold of you tumbles backward, and you, in shock, fall to your knees in relief, as well as an attempt to lower the chances of being hit by another stray bullet.

Your first mistake was to look back, eyes locking on the blood pooling around the now fallen mans head. You could have been in the same position just moments before.

"Look at me." Tommy's hands come to grasp the sides of your face, not giving you a choice in the matter. He's on his knees in front of you, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows. "Are you alright?"

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut despite his order, and begin to cry. It's embarrassing to do so, but there's is no way you couldn't bring yourself to. Tommy pulls you into his chest, and despite how mad at him you are, you let him.

His heart races as the sound of the gunshot echoes in his own mind, and the feeling of your heavy breaths taken between sobs while devastating, is the most reassuring action in the moment. You're breathing, which means he's kept you safe for now.

Later that night, you are sat on the edge of Tommy's bed, still reeling from the nights events. He'd left you in order to send the party guests away and had only just returned.

"I lied before." You mumble as he enters the room, shutting the door behind him. "I'm not alright."

Looking at him fills you with the deepest anger, how he can stand there, and undo his tie with hands that don't so much as quiver.

"You are a dangerous man, Thomas. I could have died tonight, all because I was foolish enough to get in your bed."

Tommy nods, and you hate the minimal response. "I wasn't going to let him shoot you."

"He could've shot me whether you let him or not!" Your voice is raising even as you don't want it to. He's too calm in the face of this, and that says all it needs to. "We're done, Tommy."

You stand to leave, ignoring the way your muscles feel, still tense even after the ordeal is over. The door is one step away by the time Tommy decides to speak again, but you're already in the hall before he can make a point.

"I did what I had to do to keep you safe." He's followed you out, looking more disheveled now with his tie long gone and shirt half unbuttoned.

"Am I safe with you, Tommy? Because it doesn't feel like it." You're unable to face him, eyes locked on the staircase you so desperately want to run down.

"I can't promise peace if that's what you're askin', but I won't let anyone hurt you. Not as long as I'm alive." His hand on your shoulder is what makes you turn, and you stare him down with what courage you have left.

"Do you love me, Thomas Shelby? Because if you don't, I can't understand why I'd be worth the trouble." It's more of a dare than a question because you're sure he'll say no. And once he says it, you'll have more than enough reason to leave him and never return.

Tommy exhales harshly, and you can smell the cigarettes on his breath, mixed with whiskey from the party. It's not a unique scent among men you've met, but somehow, on Tommy, it's more of an indulgence.

"I thought you knew that already." He mutters, lips closer to yours than they were before. "But I'm sure I can clarify a few things." His hands fall to your waist, a daring gesture but one that isn't uncommon for the both of you before his lips are on yours. Your anger is forced out of you in the form of a kiss, one that is messy and desperate in a way you've only known with Tommy. His breath mixes with yours as do other elements of him, until finally you push him away.

"I'm not forcing you to say it, Thomas. But for fucks sake tell me straight. Do you or do you not love me?"

Tommy grunts in frustration, running a hand over his face. He's an honest man in his own opinion, and he wants to be honest with you, but in doing so he has to do the same for himself. That's harder than most things Tommy does for a living.

"Love is more dangerous than I am, sweetheart. And believe me, my love isn't something you want."

"Yes or no, Tommy." You've pushed back every tear within you and stand like a soldier before him, ready to march away. He clears his throat, loud in the silent hallway.

"Yes. Yes, I fucking love you. now can we please go back to bed?"

You don't answer, but simply wander past him to his room. It's dimly lit, and the sheets look more than inviting after the day you've had. You turn back to him once inside, catching his eyes on your figure.

"I love you too, Tommy."

Slowly, a smile creeps onto his lips, and his eyes cloud over with a look you know too well. "Let's go to bed."

GENERAL TAGLIST: @heliads @candywh0r3 @caplanreadss @hiya-itsamber @s00buwu

PEAKY BLINDERS TAGLIST:

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lovingbradshawafterdark · 8 months

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Love for the game

Thomas Shelby x fem!Reader (Assassins Creed Au)

Summary: The Templars gave you the goal of seeing if Thomas Shelby is the assassin known as the rook. You didn't mean to fall in love and carry something within.

Warnings: betrayal, p in v sex, unprotected sex, blood mentions and blades, attempted assault. Pregnancy. Canon typical violence.

Word count: 1.3k

A/n: I haven't written anything in forever so I'm sorry if this is bad

Trying to trick Thomas Shelby was probably the worst decision you ever made. The pay from the templars, however, was something you needed to survive, they worked in secret and didn't make their presence known. The goal they gave to you was to see if Thomas Shelby and the other peaky blinders were a part of the brotherhood of assassins, the one known as Rook, who hid in the shadows.

You worked as a humble barmaid in the garrison, and it worked. You caught his eye all those nights ago. The simple things were told to you: a blade hidden under his clothes near his arm and a small brand on his finger. The only blades you saw were sewn into their caps and you couldn't find any brand, Yet here you were, pushed against a wall as he undressed you.

“I’ve been waitin' all fuckin day for this,” he groaned as he kissed your neck while you tried to drag him into the bedroom. He had warmed up to you quickly, not suspecting anything.

“Tommy~” you moaned before he pushed you onto the bed. His blue eyes watched you like you were only a small animal before he finally managed to get your dress down and reveal your nearly naked form.

“I’m going to fucking ravish you,” he growled while he straddled you. You let a small gasp before he gently grabbed your chin. “You’re beautiful.”

“Fuck me, Tommy,” you whispered as you freed him from his boxers. His hard cock is already twitching in your hand. “Hard day?”

“Yes,” he breathed while you pumped him, his throat tightening as you reached toward his face.

“Then be rough with me. Take what you need,” you say before bringing him down against your lips, his teeth nearly biting your lips. He groaned again before moving your hand away and pulling off your knickers.

“Oh, I’ll be rough with ya.” Thomas licked him before pushing against your entrance. Your body trembled. “I have the best cock, after all.” he didn't give you time to adjust before widely thrusting into you, the words that would fall from your mouth being reduced to ohs and ahs.

“Tommy, I'm gonna cum!” you slurred as he grunted while furiously fucking you in a way you hadn't seen before, like he was a wild animal. He barely gave you time to breathe before you came around him, your walls squeezing him harshly.

“Fuckin hell!” he hissed as his eyes rolled back and spilled inside you. He breathed and stayed inside you momentarily, only pulling out when you were too sensitive.

“I have something to tell you,” you breathe out after pure ecstasy. Tommy only smiled before looking down at your hand. You forgot to remove your ring—the ring the templars had given you.

“Where did you get that?” His tone shifted as he grabbed your wrist.

“W-what?” Your heart raced as he squeezed tighter. His blue-loving eyes filled with hatred.

“The ring…” his eyes narrowed and the Thomas Shelby they had warned you about came out.

“Tommy-” you tried to free yourself from his grip, yet he pushed you against the bed. You hyperventilated as you heard him grab something, a gauntlet that hid under his sleeve usually. You cringed as it unsheathed and was brought to your neck. Your throat filled with bile as he stared back at you with hatred you swore you'd catch on fire from his look alone, his eyes blue but felt as though they were red with anger. Yet he only held the blade to your throat, unable to do the act, your blood was the only thing to make him sick. You both were stuck there for several moments, your heart threatening to pound out of your chest.

“You’re an assassin…the rook…” your heart ached as you had pleaded he wasn’t one…wasn’t the man you were told to fear. The silly lies you told yourself were false. Every report you have from the Templsrs was false.

“Get out…OUT!” he yelled before letting you go as you started to cry. Thomas threw your clothes at you. “Templar whore!” he spat as he shoved you out of the room. The only thing covering you was your clothes in your hands. The comfort was the moon.

***

“She's working with the Templars. She had a ring,” Thomas spoke lightly as he smoked his cigarette. Polly listened as he tried to hold back his anger and hurt. “Probably ran off to London by now.”

“If she was working for the Templars and they found out about this relationship, they surely would hunt her down,” Polly said calmly as she poured them a drink.

“What?” Thomas looked hurt for a moment as fear rose inside him. While the Templars worked in secret he knew their practices.

“She came over here, said her goodbyes, and apologized…she begged for forgiveness.”

“Where is she?”

“In Templar custody,” Polly said, finally looking at him. “They are most likely going to torture and assault her.”

“No…” He shot up and ran out as he pulled up his good, ready to strike. The final piece to the puzzle was the rook, after all.

***

You were pulled out into the middle of an alley, your eyes already black and your face bruised slightly. The group threw you against the ground as they ripped the ring off your finger.

“Maybe we should purify you with our own seed…” one man said as he approached, already touching your skirt. You gasped before screaming and kicking as he tried to grab at you. You fought against more and more men before hearing the click of a gun.

“Fine…best hope you aren’t going to hell. The rook can’t save you now,” one said as they aimed it at the back of your head. You sobbed against the dirt as they fell to the ground, your once beautiful dress ruined, as you heard the gargle of blood in their throats. You curled up and waited for the painful death he would give you.

“Get up,” a voice behind you said, yet you wailed as you heard the footsteps come closer. Thomas had made his decision.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you pleaded as you sat up, looking behind you as Thomas stood. His eyes only being obscured by the hood covering his face. You stood to your feet and stumbled as you raised your hands.

“Turn around.” his voice was emotionless, hollow as you did what he said.

“Tommy, I’m sorry, please just-“

“You’re going to leave…and never come back here.” There was a tremor in his voice, making you look back at him.

“Thomas, I-“

“The templars will see you as a traitor, and even then, coppers will see you as a criminal,” he sighed and pulled his hood down, “and the assassins will too…both of them will try and kill you.”

“Tommy, please, I can’t leave!” You cry at him and hold his face, a small blood splatter on his cheek. The man whose eyes were once loving were now empty. “I can’t leave.” You rest your forehead against his and wait.

“You will do as I-“

“I’m pregnant…I’m pregnant,” you sobbed again and nearly fell to your knees, his arms holding you and mouth gaping out of shock.

“What?” he stumbled back with you as he tried to understand. You only sobbed and held onto him. “Did they-”

“No…I wouldn't let them,” you said softly as you hugged him, the moon shining down on you both. “I never wanted to hurt you…I never wanted to be with the Templars.”

“They will see you as a whore…I can't stop that it what they might do to you.” The softness in his voice made you shiver; it wasn't like him.

“I'm not leaving. The child needs a father,” you say, rubbing a thumb along his cheekbones.

“We’ll figure it out…we have to,” he said gently as he held you, the softness of his voice evident as he looked into the night sky.

#peaky blinders #thomas shelby #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x fem!reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader

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imawaterbottle · 3 months

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help finding fanfic

so this is a peaky blinders fanfic I read on tumblr.

Here is the plot: A girl from our time one day finding herself on the streets of small health, she encounters the main cast and is able to win them over after some time ( there was also a scene where she was drugged and almost rapped) and therefore started living with them. I dont really remember if she died in the original world or not. In the household she came from she was almost rapped as well.

The finale pairing is the oc x thomas. And the oc falls in love with him early in the story, but as for thomas he falls for her a bit later because of the age gap between them, but we can really feel the platonic love he had for her before that. The oc know some part of the series, so there is a lot of angst . Thomas genuinely fell in love with grace , but the difference from cannon is that when he meet her again after some years he doesn't sleep with her, and return to oc whom he is now in love with.

Around the time that grace first leaves, the oc becomes some sort of assassin , that happened after an oc female friend of hers almost got raped and defended her from her rapists. Said friend is also attracted to oc.

Another thing to note, is that oc tried to kill herself on a hill with a pistol, deciding to fire one bullet and her luck to chance. She failed and returned to the shelby home. Tommy knew but never spoke of it.

This is all I remember from the fanfic.

Thank you very much.

I'm tired.

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apollosdaydreams · 3 months

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Money

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Thomas: *Angrily presses y/n against the wall* "WHERES THE MONEY?!?!"

Y/n: "Are we about to kiss-?"

Authors note: Sorry for being so inactive, college has started up again and that has taken up all my time and motivation to do anything. I hope to be back to writing full fanfics soon!!

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lxve-and-lxght · 3 days

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overture/and all that jazz

pairing: thomas shelby/ reader

warnings: afab! reader, jazz, booze, murder, all that fun stuff. eventual smut perhaps?? slow burn?? idk what i'm doing with this sorry

a/n: i'm going to attempt to make a chicago-esque fanfic all about thomas shelby falling for a jazz girl who's going to be a mix of velma kelly and roxie hart because truthfully if i try to write them as their own characters it'll just be chicago that you can read lmao. possible series if there’s any demand for it

birmingham 1921

it’d been a busy night, practical hell and yet you were rushing down the alley behind the garrison pub and it shouldn’t have been your first thought but the show had to go on. you pushed open the back door and ran inside shuffling upstairs before harry kent could see you and it’d almost worked till he did, in fact, see you.

“whereda hell ‘ave you been?!” he demanded to know, chasing you halfway up the stairs. “you’re supposed to be up there now! where’s your sister?!”

“she couldn’t make it!” you hollered from atop the stairs, slamming the door behind you. you froze against the door for a second and took a breath before you drew the gun out of your dress coat and threw it in a drawer. you rushed to wash your hands and undress for the show but you could hear harry banging on the door over the jazz band improvising as a means to stall the crowd.

the garrison was a popular spot for the remaining boys who’d fought in france and the working men in small heath. they were an unruly crowd that was for sure, and you didn’t know how much longer they could be held off before drunken boredom resulted in a fight. but despite that fact the garrison was always good for a decent show and they had been extremely good to you and your sister when you needed a quick check, after the peaky blinders had bought it out from underneath harry of course.

you pulled the flapper gown up your hips and the straps over your shoulders. taking an aspirin and shaking out your hair then going back in with a lip pencil to fix the smudges your ex husband had left on your face. you took a final look in the shitty mirror hung on the wall before you pulled the door back on harry.

“let’s do this.” you said pushing past him and running down the stairs. your heels clicked on the wood when you entered the crowd and stood center of the band and the other performers. the lights of the pub dimmed when the band quieted before your first number.

“ladies and gentlemen, the garrison pub is proud to present birmingham’s most dazzling dancing duo, two jazz babes moving as one.” the bandleader announced for the crowd.

the spotlight suddenly beat down only on you. not your sister. not the band. no one else. just you. there was a faint applause when the light hit but the crowd settled as the beat began to swing. thomas stood at the bar with arthur.

“come on babe, why don’t we paint the town?” you sang.

“didn’t we pay for a sister act?” arthur asked, taking a swig of a bottle.

“that we did, brother.” thomas said, his voice cold and gravelly, but still they watched as the single dancer began her act. thomas, like all the others, couldn’t help himself from staring. no one could. of course that’s what he was paying her and her sister for. something to distract the crowds from the over policing government growing in small heath, but she was quite the knockout act on her own nonetheless.

the trumpets sang in staccato when she stomped down and snapped her garter at the crowd, still singing and dancing for the drunken masses. her dress thrashing against her thighs when she spun around.

“where there’s a nightly brawl and all that jazz.” the crowd sang along. thomas watched solemnly as the showgirl leaned down to take a flask out of one of their patrons hand and drink it down on stage.

thomas had just barely looked away when the devil’s idle hand himself, inspector campbell, walked in surrounded by uniformed men. he approached tommy by himself.

“like her, do ya?” the inspector asked, nodding at you. there was a beat of silence shared between them before tommy addressed him at all.

“— she’s our headliner tonight.” thomas said, taking a drag from his cigarette.

“well then…” campbell chuckled, “it’ll bring me great pleasure to tell ya, she’s just shot and killed her husband and sister.” thomas looked away from the inspector and back to you, still dancing on stage, campbell patted a rough hand on thomas’ shoulder. “… she’s going hang before the year’s up. you really know how to pick ‘em mr. shelby.”

thomas didn’t offer campbell the satisfaction of any response. he just watched as he retreated back to his uniformed men. he watched them wait for her number to end so they could arrest her and when it finally did and the lights of the garrison came back on, the crowd was cheering her on as the police shoved their way through, manhandling her off the stage and into a pair of handcuffs.

pt. 2

#cillian murphy #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy smut #thomas shelby #thomas shelby smut #peaky blinders #chicago #chicago musical #velma kelly #roxie hart #peaky blinder fanfic #thomas shelby x fem!reader #afab reader #jazz #booze #all that jazz

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dinums · 25 days

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The Unexpected Visit

Thomas Shelby X Reader

This is part 3! Make sure to read the first few parts

Sumarry: The Lee brothers raided the Betting shop, Thomas gets closer with the reader, but what more can he do if she herself admits to not love a man in this time?

Word count: 2327 words

"Wait, so what did you guys do in the races?" I asked, wanting to clarify with Arthur as we sat in the private room at the Garrison, where we were currently playing poker. John was the dealer, so he sat on the stool in front of us, while Thomas was seated between me and Arthur. I was on his right, with Arthur on his left.

"We've beaten the Lee's! Cut their bloody brains out, that's for sure!" he said, as if it were the most normal thing to do. They seemed to notice how tense I had become by my reaction, which made John cough a bit.

"Well, not really their brains... um, just, you know, enough to get business done," John explained, trying to lighten my mood a bit. I nodded, trying to dismiss it.

"Ah, yeah, sure. I mean, I guess," I said, looking at my cards. I didn't want them to think that I thought less of them because of this, so I felt the need to explain myself.

"Sorry, I guess I'm not used to all of this, you know? Am I making this worse? Uh, I don't—"

Feeling the three of them looking at me, I made myself small in my seat, hiding my face behind the cards as anxiety rushed through me.

"How did you live your life before, hm?" Thomas asked, finally speaking. Glad that I could explain why I tensed up.

"Well, I was pretty sheltered. The most I heard of beatings were drunkards in our neighborhood fighting at night, but that was it. There really weren't fights that led to really bad situations, unless it was in the movies." They all nodded, though I knew they didn't understand the last bits of what I just said, and that was it. We decided that was the end of that part of the conversation. After a round of poker, the tension from earlier died down and I chimed happily, putting the money on the table inside my coat pocket—my winnings.

"Guess I win, hm?" I giggled, earning a groan from Arthur. When the barmaid came, she took the empty bottles and asked us if we wanted more whiskey. I looked at the men, and Thomas just nodded, waving her off. Before she left, she looked at me, as if examining who I was. I couldn't blame her, though—I stuck out like a sore thumb when placed beside the Shelby brothers. It was evident I didn't look like I belonged here. That thought made me sad, just a bit though. I knew It was the truth and that I had to leave soon. Then suddenly, a thought came to my mind. Thomas went on a date to the races with a barmaid. If my intuition serves me right, then that must have been the barmaid in question.

"I'm guessing that was the woman you went out on a date with?" I said, looking at Thomas with a smile. She looked pretty and acted like one too. If she liked Thomas, then I can bet that after a while the feelings can be reciprocated.

"Drop it." Thomas grimaced as I just chuckled. John, however, smirked as he decided to join in the teasing.

"I'm afraid Tommy here has eyes for someone else, love. Ain't that right, mate?" That piqued my curiosity even more, nudging Thomas to make him look at me.

"Really? Is she pretty?" I asked. Arthur just nodded as he patted Thomas' back. Thomas kept a poker face, but I could tell he was pretty annoyed by the way his jaw was clenched. When he looked at me, he didn't look angry at me, though—at least he wasn't annoyed enough to glare at me.

"You're bloody right she is! Quite smart too!"

"But if Thomas likes her, why didn't he take her to the races instead? Wait, are you leading that barmaid on?" I frowned, waiting for Thomas to reply as I pointed an accusing finger at him. The thought of someone I considered a friend playing with a woman's feelings like that just didn't sit right with me.

"I told you. That was business." He sighed as he shook his head, he took my hand that was pointing a finger at him and placed it down. Deciding to just believe him, I finally dropped the topic. John then asked me.

"How about you? Has someone caught your eye?" I looked over at John, feeling that the focus was on me once again. I nodded, smiling a bit, unaware that both brothers were checking Thomas for any kind of reaction.

"Well, of course!" I answered, that caused Arthur to smile, raising his glass to take a drink.

"Who is it, then?" John asked again, another smirk playing on his lips. I guess everyone was suddenly curious about my love life.

"Yer not gonna tell me he's in this room, aye?" Arthur asked, leaning closer to the table to look at me. I chuckled nervously, shaking my hands in the air.

"Oh, no. You guys are great, but..."

"But what?" Thomas asked and I explained that the man I liked wasn't from here, that he was from back in my time. And that hes a gentleman who kept to himself, that I started to like him because of how passionate he was with his work, how I liked that he was funny and was always there for me.

"Well also, I can't really like someone from here, you know? I'll eventually leave. I can't just stay for love, right? I really miss my old life. You lot understand, right? I'll break that poor man's heart."

I said all of that while looking at Thomas for any form of understanding. He didn't reply; he just leaned back and nodded. After that, he didn't look at me anymore, drinking his glass of whiskey as he fished out some cigarettes.

"Another round, eh?"

///

Thomas didn't talk to me much after that day. Whenever I approached him, he would still have time to talk, but not like before. He'd make an excuse that he was busy, that there were things he needed to do, to brush me off. Understanding his situation, I just let him be.

Around midday, Scudboat and I were left inside the betting shop, counting money as the Shelby family decided to have a family meeting at the Garrison.

"Do you think John will be back soon? Thomas did say he'd be back in five minutes," I asked Scudboat, to which he just shrugged. When we heard a noise, Scudboat was the first to call out.

"John?" When no one answered, I was the one who asked next.

"John, are you there?" When the doors to the betting shop opened, however, it wasn't John but a group of men with guns pointed right at us.

"This is for Cheltenham! We're just taking what's ours!" the man said. Before I could even react, they smacked my head with a rifle, just like they did with Scudboat.

Everything was a haze as I fell to the ground. All I heard were the footsteps of men, rummaging through drawers, shouting. My head hurt, and I felt some of them step on my hand, kicking my body whenever i got in their way.

Mama asan ka mama? Kuya? Kuya, you'll protect me, right?

When I woke up, I heard Arthur's voice as someone placed me somewhere comfortable— it was John.

"You alright, love?" He asked, my mind still being a little foggy from earlier events. Hearing his voice, I tried to give him a small smile and a nod, to reassure him.

"Bloody hell! What happened here?" Polly said. I groaned. When I tried to look over at them, my vision blurred a bit. The betting shop, the house, everything was thrashed.

"Polly...? Men. M-men came, I don't know how..." I tried to explain to them what I knew. Polly sat beside me while Scudboat explained for me. That was when Arthur came back up, holding wire cutters.

"Wire cutters? Why would they leave wire cutters?" Polly asked. The boys seemed to tense up as Thomas asked Scudboat to leave. He went on to explain how they would set traps for the Germans back in the war and place wire cutters as part of the joke. Polly began to panic, walking over to the kitchen as I pulled my knees close to my chest, an act of self-preservation.

"It's not here, alright? It's not here..." Thomas said, sitting next to me on the couch. I looked at him, tears threatening to fall down my eyes. I had never been in a situation like this. Everything was so overwhelming, my body felt so heavy, as if I was Atlas carrying the world.

"They pointed a gun at me... even stepped on and kicked me like an object..." I mumbled before burying my face in my knees. I don't want to feel like that again.

"Oh, love..." Polly said as I heard her walk towards me.

"Oh, I'd like to find them, Tom. Oh, that id do. That id bloody do." Arthur said, balling his fist as he saw my state. I felt weak. I couldn't protect myself. I didn't know how.

"I want to go home."

"I know, (Y/N). I know."

///

Thomas didn't know what to say to her. He was seething with rage, but she came first. She would always be first. He grabbed a clean cloth and saturated it with alcohol. The family saw what was happening and understood that Thomas wanted to take care of her alone, so they knew better than to interrupt. Before they left, Thomas asked John and Arthur to inspect the family car, using the word "tampered" so as not to frighten (Y/N) even more.

"Hey, look at me, aye? Come on, up you go. Up," he demanded, gently cupping her face. When that was done, he began to clean the wound on her head. Whenever she winced, he would make sure to try and be gentle. He didn't know how, he just tried. As he cleaned off her wounds, their eyes met.

"It hurts," she mumbled, flinching as Thomas accidentally applied too much pressure to the wound. In that moment, she instinctively grasped his hand, attempting to stop his actions even for a small amount of time. Then and there, he stopped. This was all new territory to him. Back at war, when he would clean the wounds of his comrades, pain be damned if they got to live. But she... she gets hurt, so he needs to try harder, be slower, gentler—anything that would spare her from inflicting pain, pain that he had caused.

"Sorry," he replied. Thomas tried his best to help her, disinfecting the wound slowly as his free hand cupped her face. He was apologizing for everything. Guilt seeped into his bones. If it weren't for him picking a fight with the Lee brothers, she wouldn't be hurt. Maybe if he took her with him and Polly to the Garrison, then...

"It's not your fault," she said, interrupting his thoughts. He didn't answer. What was he supposed to say? He couldn't agree. He felt shame.

"Thomas, it's not your fault. I can see it in your eyes." This time, it was her turn to cup his face. She cradled it like it was something precious, like he was something precious. (Y/N) smiled, a comforting smile as one of her thumbs caressed his cheek. He found himself leaning into it.

"I know you feel guilty. Yes, I could blame you, but why should I when you're here as gentle as a lamb with me? So smile, yeah? Even just a bit?"

How can she do that, he wondered. How can she easily wander her way inside his heart? It was so easy for her. Everything seemed so easy with her. Thomas let out a smile, nodding to her.

"There you go."

"Your hands are soft," he said, changing the subject. She only chuckled, putting her hands back in her lap as he sat next to her on the couch. They both decided to take a break from cleaning her wounds.

"Yours aren't," (Y/N) said, taking his hand in hers, feeling the calluses and roughness of it. After a while, she continued, their hands now interlinked. "And I think it's nice."

"How is that nice, aye?" he scoffed. These very hands had killed thousands.

"It's nice because it tells me who you are. A hardworking man who has clearly seen and been through shit. Me, on the other hand, I actually have very soft hands because I never did hard labor," she said, her face flushed in embarrassment, which he secretly found endearing.

"I actually found it rather embarrassing when I got here. When I was young, my relatives would feel my hands and say, 'Dika tumutulong sa bahay, noh?' Or 'Tamad ka siguro.'"

"What did that mean?"

"The first one means 'Youre not helping with household chores, are you?' The second one meant 'I bet you're lazy.'"

She chuckled, shaking her head. After a bit more moments of comforting silence, Thomas decided to finish cleaning her wound. When that was done, he helped her go upstairs to his room.

"Hey, Thomas?" (Y/N) asked as he sat her on the bed. He only hummed to let her know that he was listening.

"Why were you avoiding me before? Like, after our little poker game at the Garisson. Was it because I kept winning?" She asked, playing with her blouse. Trying to suppress a smile, he licked his bottom lip, hands on his jaw as he shook his head.

"That was a provision— once you leave."

"Mhm? What? Why?"

"To get used to feeling like yer not here, eh. Now none of this, aye? I'll ask Pol to help you change." That was all that was said before he left.

@optimisticsandwichgladiator

#cillian murphy #peaky blinders #thomas shelby x fem!reader #x reader #cillian murphy characters #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #cillian fluff #thomas shelby fluff

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