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sneakyblinders · 1 year

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seeing clearly

A/n: part of my tommy and his darling wife au. warnings: breastfeeding a baby, alluding to smut but no smut. not canon.

You cracked the door to your bedroom open, eyeing your husband, sitting in bed, propped up with fluffy pillows, smoking a cigarette. "Good morning," you smiled. He gave you a weak smile. "Hello, Gorgeous," he said, head lolling to the side to look at you. You sat on the edge of the bed, fingers gently tangling with his. "How do you feel today?" you ask gently, pulling his hand to your lips. "Head hurts still," he rasped, eyes sensitive to the light. "I'm sorry, lovey," you coo. He readjusts himself beneath the blankets. You notice a discarded book on your side of the bed, narrowing your eyes. "Trying to read?" you ask.

Tommy lets out a disgruntled sound, tossing his cigarette into the ashtray on his nightstand. His lips are in a pout, debating on whether to divulge the truth to you or not. He knew you'd find out regardless, but didn't want you worrying unnecessarily. Especially with how much you'd worried over him the last year anyhow. "What's wrong?" you ask, dark eyes filled with worry. "Thomas, tell me," you tell him softly, squeezing his hand tighter. "I'm--" he struggled to say it aloud. "I'm still having problems seeing," he said hesitantly. "Oh, Thomas," you sigh, reaching up to touch his face softly. He leans into your touch, missing how you felt near him, around him, close to him. You'd treated him with such gentleness, such kindness, such care. He didn't deserve you, he knew that all of your lives together, but with you nursing him back to health, it solidified his knowledge. "What if you tried wearing glasses?" you ask. He huffed. "Me?" he looked at you, displeased at the thought. "I think not, my love." "But if it helps you see, Thomas," you try and reason with him. "Would you try it, please? For me?" He sighed, the fuzziness of your features bothering him. He squeezed your hand. "I will, my love."

A few weeks later, he was well enough to go to the doctor, who had given him a thorough eye examination and deemed him in need of glasses. He sighed, picking out a pair of gold, wire rimmed glasses. They were simple enough, not too much to attract a bunch of attention. He was eager to return to his home, to see his wife and new baby, Katherine. Peter was excited that his father was now well enough to walk down the stairs and see him for a few moments throughout the day. Thomas had missed them.

Simmons drove him back to his home, saying little. Tommy had his glasses in a case in his jacket pocket, still reluctant to wear them. When he walked through the front door, Peter ran to him, telling him of a new book he had just got from his grandparents through the mail. "I can't wait to see it," Tommy told him, smiling at his son. "Will you read it to me? Mummy says some of the words are too big for me," he asks, big blue eyes pleading with his father. Tommy takes a sharp breath in. "Of course, son. We'll read it tonight before bed, eh?" Peter smiled widely. "Where is your mother and the baby?" he asks. Peter led him up the stairs to the nursery. The door was shut, often an indication you were nursing. "Go find Frances and tell her that I'd like that chocolate pudding for dessert tonight, eh?" he tells his son. "That's my favorite, Daddy!" he says. "Mine too, son. Run along," he says, smiling as Peter bounds down the steps to find Frances. He knocks gently on the door. You call gently for him to come in. You were seated in the rocking chair, baby at your breast. His heart swelled. "Hello, Darling," you tell him, eyes bright. He sits down on the footstool in front of the rocking chair, eyeing his dark haired baby girl nuzzled at her mothers breast. He gently strokes the back of her head. "Daddy's home," you coo to the baby. "She's still so small," he says, in disbelief of this little tiny baby that was his. "But she's getting stronger," you tell him, a smile on your face. "How did the eye doctor go, my love?" Your husband sighed, shoulders sagging. "They gave me glasses." "Oh, let me see!" you said. The baby had decided she was done eating, and you raised her to your shoulder to burp her, pulling up the neckline of your dress. He hesitantly pulled his glasses from his pocket and put them on. "Oh, Mr. Shelby," you say, a devious smirk on your face. "You look quite handsome," he shakes his head, laughing incredulously. "I don't think so," he starts, but you cut him off. "I think you look very handsome. Dashing. Kingly." you tell him, and a smirk grows on his face as he looks up--able to see you clearly. And you're beautiful, he thinks. The baby burped, and you turned her to face her father, her little head resting on your chest. "Tell Daddy he looks handsome, Katherine," you whisper to the baby, who smiles at her father, her blue eyes beaming at him. He smiles softly. "Tell your mother she's ridiculous," he whispers to the baby, a goofy smile on his face, making the baby gurgle and clap her hands. He takes Katherine from your arms, cradling her against his chest. "Really, Thomas, I think you look most handsome. If they help you see, Darling, that's what really matters." you say, adjusting the top of your dress again. "I suppose," he grumbles, getting up and fetching a baby blanket, lying it on the floor, laying the baby on her stomach on the floor. "She is getting stronger," he observed. She was able to hold her neck up on her own finally, and getting better about it every day.

That night, you came to bed after feeding the baby one last time, Thomas not in bed yet. You walked back down the hall and found him in Peter's room, reading his new book to him. "Father, why do you wear glasses now?" Peter asked as Thomas shut the book. "After my injury, it was harder for me to see. I need them so I can see you grow up," Tommy said, standing from his seated position on Peter's bedside. "And to see your beautiful mother and sister. And to read you stories." "They're nice, Father." Peter tells him, yawning. "Thank you, son. Goodnight," Tommy tells him, flicking off the light and exiting the room, finding you standing outside the door. "Eavesdropping, my angel?" he asks. "Our son is so kind," you tell him, pressing your head to his chest. "He is, my dear, just like his mother," Tommy tells you, kissing the top of your head. Tommy eyed himself in the mirror of your vanity in your room with his glasses, still unsure of his appearance. "Thomas," you say softly, coming up behind him, hands on his bare chest. "Stop worrying," you press a kiss to his shoulder blade and goosebumps rise on his arms. "May I show you how handsome I think you look in them?" you ask, hand dipping beneath the waistband of his sleep pants. His response was a moan to your touch. You come in front of him and drop to your knees, your back to the vanity, so he could see in the mirror, something you'd learned a few years ago that drove him wild.

A few minutes later he was a panting, moaning mess above you, a hand tangled in your hair as he came down from his high of pleasure. "Believe me now?" you ask, pressing a kiss to his thigh. He pulls you up by your shoulder, gripping the back of your neck, pulling you against him, lips crashing to yours in a searing kiss. He pulled away, breathless. "I believe you." he told you, pressing his forehead to yours.

If he had to wear glasses for the rest of his life, it was a damn good thing his wife liked him in them.

#tommy shelby #sneakyblinders #tommy shelby x oc #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fookin blinders #thomas shelby #tom shelby

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crowleying · 2 years

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Tommy's Smile | m! reader

Date: 06.10.2022

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x m!reader

Reader’s pronouns: he/him

Words: 2.120

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Characters: m!reader, Tommy Shelby, Polly Gray, Ada Shelby, John Shelby, Arthur Shelby, Harry Fenton

Genre: Romance

Length: Oneshot

Warnings: Internalized homophobia, mention of war, mention of injury (nothing descriptive)

Requested: No

Prompts: No

Summary: Polly knows you and Tommy have been in love with each other for years, so she decides to take matters into her hands.

A/N: It's my first time writing for Peaky Blinders and with a male reader. I’m sorry for the requests still waiting in my inbox, my inspiration is all over the place.

English is not my first language so feel free to correct any mistake and I would love to know what you think about it. If you like my works, please like and reblog them. REQUESTS ARE OPEN. I posted a List of prompts, so check it out! Let me know if you would like to be tagged in my works.

IF YOU LIKE MY WORKS, PLEASE REBLOG THEM

Masterlist

Ao3

[ID: a gif of Tommy Shelby smiling. End ID]

After the war, everything had changed. The men that had come back weren't the ones that had left. They were haunted by nightmares; they drank a lot more and smiled a lot less, especially Tommy. He used to smile all the times, so bright every room would light up. Now, however, he rarely ever did. At first, Polly had even thought he wasn't smiling at all, but then she started noticing. The first time it happened was just after she had scolded him in his office. As she was leaving, you walked in and greeted her. She had almost missed the childish, amused smiles you and his nephew had exchanged then, so similar to those you used to share back when you were fifteen and you had managed to do something mischievous. From then on, she kept a close eye on the two of you, but you were too lost in each other to notice.

You had grown together. You would always play together and were joined at the hip since you were little kids. You were like a son to Polly. She and your mother used to joke about the fact that if they called one of you, both of you would appear. Polly was convinced you were two bodies sharing one soul. She was sure of it when you started to fall for each other without even knowing. You were young back then, and she thought you would have time to get your shit together and admit your love to the other, so she didn't say anything.

When Tommy announced his intention to volunteer for the war, she had looked at you, expecting you to join him, and you were already standing, looking at Tommy.

"I'm coming too," you had said, when what you really wanted to say was "I'm coming with you, I'll follow you anywhere, Tommy." The two of you had been so lost in each other's eyes that Polly was sure you didn't even hear when John and Arthur said they would come too. She had prayed for all of you that night and every night and day until the day you came back.

The day you had left, while the women and little Finn hugged the Shelby brothers, Polly had taken you to the side at the train station to ask you to take care of Tommy, and taking care of him you did.

In France, you didn't let anyone come between you. A month in and every officer knew you two weren't to be separated. You would make sure Tommy was eating and would share cigarette after cigarette with him when he couldn't sleep. You still gave him reasons to smile. And you saved his life.

You were shoving him out of the way before even realizing what was happening. You didn't die that day in Tommy's arms, but it did change your life. As you were hit by the bullet aimed at Tommy, he was hit with the realization that life was too short to spend the entirety of it trying to ignore his feelings for you.

He didn't listen to any of the people who told him he couldn't stay by your side the whole time you spent in the hospital. He was finally left alone when John and Arthur convinced one of the officers that he would be of no use on the field if you weren't there by his side.

When you woke up in the middle of the night after the surgery, Tommy was there. And hidden by the dark, he kissed you for the first time.

Keeping your relationship hidden when living in such close quarters with so many people hadn't been easy. Coming home had meant you could finally kiss and hug and fuck. Nobody knew about your relationship, but you didn't mind and you understood why Tommy didn't want anyone to know. You respected that but dreaded the day people would start to get suspicious and he would have to marry some girl to avoid the rumours.

You had no idea someone suspected of your relationship, but Polly noticed it all: smiles, fleeting touches, glances, winks. She never thought she would see his nephew wink or you blush like that. You were Tommy's smile. You clearly made him happy. So she was having a hard time wrapping her head around the fact that her nephew had yet to make a move on you. It seemed like her intervention was needed.

It was the end of the day. You were sitting on Tommy's desk, laughing at something he had said. He was lounging back in his chair, relaxed as he could only be around you. A cigarette was being passed between the two of you.

Polly barged into the office. You jumped up from your spot and Tommy straightened in his chair.

"Thomas, a word," she demanded, barely acknowledging your presence.

"I'll see you later at the Garrison," you said quickly to Tommy, before disappearing quickly out of the door without even waiting to see him nod.

You were always included in family meetings, and your opinions were held in high consideration, but you didn't want to intrude on Tommy's relationship with his aunt, not when Polly was like that.

Tommy's eyebrows arched as he watched Polly carefully, trying to understand what had gotten in her this time. He slowly killed his cigarette in the ashtray.

"Polly," he started cautiously, but before he could continue, his aunt spoke.

"When are you going to put an end to this foolishness, Thomas?"

Tommy's heart skipped a beat. "What are you talking about, Pol?" he asked, trying to sound more nonchalant than he felt. He leaned forward a bit. His hands gripped the armrests of his chair, bracing for the impact. He knew the moment would come, sooner or later, when he would have to choose between you and his family. But the time was here and he wasn't ready. He would never be.

"Don't play dumb, Thomas, you know what I'm talking about... This," she gestured to intend the relationship between the two of you.

"I don't follow," he said.

He took a cigarette from the case you had given him before the war. It had seen everything you two had gone through. He stroked the cigarette on his lips before setting it between them. The motion always made you weak. He lit it up to keep himself busy and try to calm down. There was no way she could know. she had to be talking about something else.

"You two are grown men. I didn't say anything when you were young. I thought you just needed time to figure things out, but it's been a while and nothing has changed."

He slowly exhaled the smoke, giving up all hope she could be talking about anything else. "How long have you known?"

"Years. You were sixteen and no matter how many girls tried to win you over, you only had time and eyes for him."

"He was my best friend!" he spitted through gritted teeth.

"One day, after you had spent the whole afternoon together in your room doing God knows what, you came to me and asked what was the difference between friendship and love, Thomas. Do you remember?"

He nodded slowly and cursed himself. If Polly knew, other people might find out. You were in danger. He needed to make sure you were safe, and then he would think about Polly.

Before he could spiral, Polly spoke again. "When will you grow a pair and just tell him you love him?"

He was surprised, to say the least. He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand to stop him. "I know you are afraid people won't respect you anymore if they find out or that someone will try to hurt him to get to you. All I'm saying is you can be open with your own family, Tommy. He deserves this, and you do too."

He closed his mouth, then opened it again. "What if Arthur tells someone when he is drunk, eh? What if little Finn goes around telling someone thinking it's no big deal?"

Polly shook her head and smiled gently. "Do you really think you can hide that forever? With the way you look at each other? I don't think so, Tom."

She turned to leave, but before she could, Tommy's voice stopped her in her tracks. "Is this your way to say you approve?" he asked.

She looked at her nephew and for a moment she saw the sixteen years old he once was, with those big blue eyes, that were your damnation, wide, looking for approval. She smiled and left.

That was a lot and completely unexpected. Tommy fell back into his chair and ran a hand over his face.

When he walked into the Garrison, Polly was already there, sipping a whisky at the counter. He nodded at Harry to have his whisky in the private room. He didn't notice you sitting at a secluded table, uncomfortably close to a girl John had introduced to you upon your arrival. However, when he saw you weren't in the little room with his brothers, he panicked, already expecting the worst.

"Where is he?" he demanded. His brothers stopped laughing at something, to look at him confused and worried. "Who?" Arthur cautiously asked, irritating Tommy further.

"Your lover is sitting on the other side of the room with a girl your brothers so kindly introduced to him," Ada piped up from her spot, a fake smile on her face and her arms crossed. Her eyes bore into him. She knew too. Damn, the women of that family.

Arthur and John's faces were comically confused.

Tommy stormed out of the room and spotted you. Your head snapped up when you heard the door bang open. Your eyes widened as he made his way over to you with long steps. He looked unstoppable and scary. That was probably what anyone else saw when they laid their eyes on Tommy Shelby. Everyone was looking at him, trying to understand what was going on. Harry winced behind the bar, already picturing the place after the fight that would very likely take place there in a matter of minutes.

Ada, John and Arthur had followed their brother out of the room and had stopped at the door to see what would happen.

He came to a stop in front of you.

"Tommy," you uttered, trying to find the words to explain the situation. You had tried to convince John that you didn't need help finding a girl, but Shelbys would never take no for an answer.

"Mister Shelby," a sickly sweet and flirty voice interrupted the staring contest. The girl next to you leaned forward to introduce herself to your boyfriend, whose complete attention was on you. He pushed her back into her chair. She let out an outraged cry, but he ignored her in favour of grabbing the front of the suit you were wearing, one you had bought together, and pulled you into a kiss. You didn't hear the gasps and murmurs coming from around you. You relaxed and your hands fell to his hips. You kissed him back until you both needed to breathe. You gave him the brightest smile, winning one back.

He wrapped an arm around your hips and turned towards the onlookers.

"This man is mine, and if any of you fuckers tries to take him away from me or says something nasty about him, I'll cut you personally."

The room was so silent you were sure you could have heard a pin drop.

"By order of the Peaky fookin' Blinders!" Arthur roared from the other end of the room.

Polly and Ada smiled.

"Fucking finally, Tom!" John chimed in, grinning. And just like that, the tension in the room dispersed.

"Harry, open that bottle of champagne!" Arthur boomed, making Tommy laugh. You loved seeing him so happy and carefree. You promised yourself you would do everything you could to make sure he would always be like that.

You two made your way over to the private room to join the other Shelbys on the celebration. John patted your back. "Welcome to the family."

"Are you implying I wasn't part of it before?" you asked, pretending to be offended.

"No, of course not, you know..."

"Relax, Johnny boy, I'm just messing with you." You pulled his cap down his face, making Ada laugh.

She pulled you into a hug.

Tommy and Polly observed the exchange amused. "You were wrong about one thing," Tommy told her. His eyes didn't leave you.

"What's that?"

"We've been together for some years now."

She looked at him surprised. "Thomas Michael Shelby, you..." She slapped his arm, making him laugh.

"Let's make a toast," Arthur said, after filling the glasses and handing them around. Tommy wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer.

"To Tommy finally getting his shit together." Ada raised her glass and you laughed.

Tommy kissed your temple.

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somethingthing · 2 years

Text

Freshly baked scones and flour fights

Thomas Shelby x reader

Warnings: not many, some implied smut towards the end + some minor angst, other than that just fluff and cuteness

Word count: 1346

A/n: Probably some bad grammar cause I’ve looked over this too many times to notice anything now gahahah (Thomas was also really hard to write for some reason, hopefully it’s still okey <3)

The arrow house smelled of freshly baked bread and your clothes and face was covered in flour.

“Charlie! Put it down!” The little boy was holding flour in both his hands, threatening to throw it your way at any moment. Instead of listening to you he leaped towards you, swinging his arm forward and letting the flour hit your already covered trousers.

A high pitched laugh left his mouth as he made himself ready to throw the rest in his other hand. You quickly turned around to make a run for it, making the boy chase you through the kitchen and in to the hall.

“Alright, you can’t throw that here, your father won’t be happy, the kitchen is messy enough” you get out between your laughter, shaking your head at Charlie who had you cornered. He giggled and slowly approached you with his fist full of flour in the air.

You’d been looking after Charlie for a while now. With Grace’s passing almost a year ago Mr. Shelby, or Tommy as he insisted on you calling him, thought it was best you stayed at the house. At first it was solely for Charlies sake with Tommy neck deep in grief and work, but after a few months something had started to grow between the two of you. Now you were more or less a happy family even if you and Tommy weren’t official to anyone else than yourselves.

Charlie had stopped in his tracks when he heard a car roll up outside. You peeked outside the through the window and saw Tommy heading up to the door. That’s when an idea hit you.

“What do you say about giving you dad a nice welcoming gift?” You asked and gestured at his raised fist. Without having to say anything more Charlies face lit up “Yeah you think that sounds good? Come here” you lifted him up to rest against your hip as the door opened.

With smug faces you watched Tommy enter the house “What the hell have the two of you been up to eh?” He took his coat and cap of.

“Oh you know, just the boring stuff” you took a couple of steps closer to him, hearing Charlie giggle at your ear. “But then we decided to bake some bread and your son here thought I looked like good target practice” you say trying to hide the mischief in your tone .

“Good lad” he says and ruffles the boy’s hair “Looks like he was good at it too” he chuckles letting his eyes scan your clothes.

“He’s really good at it, but I’m sick of being the victim and your clothes looks way too clean to me, what do you think Charlie?”

“Flour flour flour!” He happily exclaims before opening his fist over Tommy’s suit. He swings his legs back and forth, forcing you to put him down on the floor again and he runs towards the kitchen laughing.

A low and long sigh leaves Tommy’s lips and for a moment you worry that he’s mad, but then a grin creeps on to his face. “You’ll regret that” is all he says before launching himself towards you.

You let out a squeal and make a run for the kitchen just like Charlie, who’s now standing in a corner with his hands behind his back. Feeling Tommy come up behind you for an attack, you panic in all the laughter and slip in some milk you dropped earlier. Dragging the man down with you and you both end up in a pile on the floor.

Charlie, still with his hands behind his back, shifted and slowly revealed the bag of flour that earlier had stood on the counter. You and Tommy stopped laughing for a moment.

“Don’t you dare Charlie” you scolded him, not succeeding to keep a serious tone. The boy shifted again.

“Listen to her boy, put the bag down” Tommy’s voice was more stern, but you could still hear some amusement. Refusing to listen he creeped closer with his arms out and flour bag away from his body. “Charlie, put. It. Down.” Is the last thing Tommy gets out before there’s even more flour everywhere.

Now a small amount of flour is easy to handle, maybe even fun to throw around, but a whole bag results in a decent sized dust cloud. Coughing and wheezing you try and get up from the floor but moving only made it worse.

“Still, still” Tommy tries, pulling you back against his chest in an attempt to minimize the dust.

Charlie who has realized the consequences of his actions started to cry. You and Tommy carefully got up. “Oh darling, everything is fine” you say as you once again pick him up. His cries only intensifies as he reaches his arms out towards his father.

“Come here” you hand the boy over to his father, Charlie’s head instantly finds Tommy’s shoulder where he falls asleep almost immediately. “I’ll get him to bed”.

“There’s a fresh set of pajamas in his drawers, I’ll change his sheets tomorrow so no need to wake him up for a wash, okey?” Tommy only nods and heads upstairs.

The kitchen truly was a mess, flour everywhere with dishes piled on the counter from the previous baking. You grabbed the front of your blouse and yanked it off from you body a few times to get rid of some flour and brushed your hand over your trousers. It didn’t help much, but at least you didn’t create your own cloud when you walked to the cleaning closet to grab supplies.

You heard foot steps behind you and spun around. Tommy had come down the stairs, now in new non-floured clothes. “Bread for dinner eh?” He snickered as he walked over to the basket full of scones.

“It’ll go well with the marmalade Mary made last week” you give him a half smile. Sometimes you didn’t know how to feel about your and Mr. Shelby’s relationship. You liked him, you truly did but seeing how destroyed he’d been after Grace, that still wasn’t too long ago, you sometimes felt like an intruder.

This was her home, her child you looked after and her husband you shared a bed with more often then not lately. But it wasn’t hers anymore, because she wasn’t here and she would never come back. So why did it still trouble you?

”Love? Don’t shut down” he was now heading towards you cupping you face in his hands and tilting your head up “What’s going through that head of yours ey?”

Sighing and slightly smiling once again you take your hands and put them over his “Nothing, I’m okey” you assure him but all he does is click is tongue in disapproval. “I just…you know how I feel sometimes and I know you think it’s stupid”

“Mhm” is all he says before taking a step back looking down at your clothes. “It’s stupid, but not as stupid as you look covered in flour” he says as seriously as he can.

“Excuse you Mr. Shelby but I’ll have you know that this,” gesturing at your clothes “is all you son’s doing” you say pretending to be shocked and lightly hitting him with your palm on his chest.

He gave out a low chuckle “What do you say about a bath? We’ll bring some bread and marmalade, whisky and then we’ll let Mary clean this tomorrow” his voice had dropped and his hands had made their way to your hips.

“Now while all of that sounds nice, we’re NOT leaving this to Mary, she’ll have a heart attack” you lecture him trying to hide how tempted you were to just leave it.

“Start to run the bath and I’ll be up in a second, alright?” Even if it was posed as a question you knew it was more of an order. You nodded an “okey” and gave him a quick kiss, but he had other plans, He pulled you closer to deepen it, giving you a good idea of what he actually intends with the bath and alcohol. It’s not to relax you, well not for a while at least.

——————————

Thanks for reading! <3 I’ve had this laying in my drafts for a while not sure if I like it or not but I have nothing else to post for the moment. There MIGHT be a part 2 to this if I figure out how to be comfortable with writing smut, I want to, buuuut we’ll see :’) (edit: a part 2 is in the making, don’t know when I’ll be done cause it’s slow BUT it’s happening)

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x y/n #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #tom shelby #tommy shelby x you #thomas shelby x you

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peakywitch · 2 years

Text

Ten years calm - Tommy Shelby

Asked by @runnning-outof-time

Hi there! Hope you’re doing well! ☺️ I’m not sure if your requests are still open, but I stumbled upon your prompts list and I absolutely love them! I was wondering if I could request something fluffy with Tommy using prompt #32 from the list? I’m an absolute book lover and would love to see what you’d create. Thanks in advance if you choose to write it! 🥰

TW: slight mention of father figure passing away, war. Tommy being the world's best husband ever.

A/N: I had the time of my life writing this, my mum cried when i showed her a specific part, the ending. So, grab a tissue! Also, THIS is the painting i'm talking about in the fic.

If you like my content, please reblog! although likes are greatly and deeply appreciated, with reblogs i can reach more people <3

1k words, just like i love my tommy shelby: short and sweet, haha.

Masterlist

The warm mug of chamomile tea was the perfect partner for a cold evening like that one. Tommy’s office was always on the colder side, even though the fire was always on. He was writing something with the typewriter, while she was keeping him company and reading a dark romance novel. The constant ticking of the machine had a sedative effect, and the way it merged with the crackling of the fire, made everything feel more like home. The typewriter reminded her of the noise that John made when writing the bets down with the chalk, he was always quite a loud writer, and the fire of Arrow House reminded her of the fire in the living room in Watery Lane, the same fire they used to fight for in the winter.

Without noticing right away, the typing stopped, and Y/N looked up the second she found out. Tommy was staring into the air, trying to grab a hold of an idea that was getting further away from him by the second.

“Love, are you okay?” Y/N asked, when the expression of her husband turned into one of slight annoyance. Without even blinking away, Tommy asked:

"Can I borrow that book of yours?” He spoke, softly and quickly.

“Um, sure Tom. What book?” She marked the page she was on, left the book in the tray by her side and walked towards the library that Tommy had installed for her there, in his office.

The library was a big one, ten different shelves, almost two metres tall, and the most beautiful dark brown you could ever find. It wasn’t alphabetically organised, nor colour coded or style of writing. They were organised in a particular way. The way she liked them. The first two, top to bottom, were the “I liked them” type of book, the Iliad was there. Third and fourth row were the “to be read” or “reading” since they were at the height of her eyes, so she could navigate through the current reads with swift. Fifth and six were the favourite book shelf, where you could find Gone with the wind, and the Brönte sisters. Seven and eight was the place where you could find the “not so good, not so liked by me”, where the book that Ada gave to Y/N various christmases ago, Ana Karenina and that damned manifest. In the last two rows, you could find the books that had not been read yet, some were still intact, awaiting to be read.

“That book in-” He said, and started to light up a cigarette but got interrupted.

“The book in the tray?” she asked, walking back again to the chair, but changed the course of her steps when he spoke again:

“No, the one in the middle of your favourite. That book I want you to lend me.” He breathed out a fairly dense cloud of smoke, and his eyes stayed in her, studying every movement.

The very centre of the shelf.

It could be easy, if she was an easy reader.

But she was not.

She enjoyed the troubles that authors put her through, the agony of losing a character and the forbidden fantasy.

Sure, she could most definitely choose Pride and Prejudice. A book in which a man, just like Tommy, fought against his better judgement, the smart thing to do and his heart for quite some time.

But she knew that the true answer lied in a book written almost a century ago, a book that had a painting, and that painting was in their ballroom, not only showing off how much money Tommy actually had, but showing off he’d do anything for her, for Y/N, for his wife.

So, she took a book that was viciously damaged from how many times she had read it. Sure, it wasn’t a book many would categorise as “romantic”, or even “adequate literature for a woman”, but it was the last gift his dad had for her, before war. It kept her company in all those lonely nights, where Tommy was away. It was also her company when she tried to escape the world when the telegram that had her father’s name arrived.

It wasn’t everyone’s first choice.

But it was her first choice.

Just like Tommy.

And that’s what mattered to her. What she liked.

“If you break this book, Tommy Shelby, I will-” she started, with a serious tone in her voice.

“Kill me?” he asked, finishing up his cigarette.

“No,” she said, “cry, actually. That book means a lot to me, even if you don’t believe it, you know? So…”

She started to ramble about the book, and kept on talking for a few moments, while Tommy was trying to hide a soft smile.

“Y/N,” he got up from his leather chair, left the now dead cigarette in the ashtray and after walking up to her, both of his hands rested on her shoulders. He felt how addemat she was about lending that book, he knew how she would save the book before coming to get him if there ever was a fire in the house. “‘s okay, darling. I’ll tell you what. You tell your favourite quote.”

“What for? I have philosophical, love, war-type, friendship-” she started to count and was interrupted with a forehead kiss.

“The one you will ramble to our kids every day, darling. That one.” She blushed.

Even though they had been married for almost ten years now, Tommy had recently declared he would like to start actually trying, and the conversation always made her blush, even in the slightest way. Not in a shameful, “this conversation about sex makes me uncomfortable” type of way. But more in a “this is how i express my love to you” type of way. She always blushed when Tommy was this soft type of man, it gave her endless butterflies.

“Okay.”

That same night she found her quote in a letter lying in her nightstand. A letter so beautiful many would have thought was written by someone who had experience in the art of poetry and romantic writing. But no one, not even the best poet, could compare to the soft and wisely chosen words of her husband.

In the middle of soft phrases that were dedicated to her eyes, her heart and to her knowledge only, she found the quote from War and Peace:

“We are asleep until we fall in love. Yet I find myself calm in the touch of your hands, in the warmth of your hugs and in the kisses of your lips. When I got to know what being awake and alert was like, I only longed for the softness of your touch, and to be able to sleep again with you in my arms. Even if it meant one night and my death by sunlight. Happy ten years of anniversary to the one I get to call my wife at every minute of my life.”

#tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy x reader #tom shelby #tommy shelby headcanon #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby headcanon #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby fic #thomas shelby #tommy shelby fluff #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fluff #tom shelby fluff

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gulnar-huseynova · 2 years

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#peaky blinders #peaky fucking blinders #love #tom shelby #thomas shelby

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ricelovejacob · 10 months

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#assassins creed syndicate #peaky fucking blinders #jacob frye #tom shelby

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strayrockette · 2 years

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Thomas Shelby Masterlist

Series

Give Me Peace Over War- A young girl struggles to accept her new reality and attempts to find a way out by any means necessary

Prologue ● Chapter 1

Haunting At Arrow House - Reader moves into Arrow House and tries really hard to ignore all the red flags

Part 1

She Should Know-she's waited almost her entire life for Thomas Shelby to realize his feelings for her. But with an upcoming opportunity on the horizon, she's decided to go after better and brighter things

Part 1

One Shot

The Promises We Keep (One Shot) (For K's halfway to 2k celebration)- Tommy intends to keep all his promises. In return, he hopes he can ask for one promise to be kept for him

Save Yourself-Reader is inconsolable because Thomas Shelby broke her.

Unexpected - Reader finds herself saving a man she's grown to love

Fuck 'em All (M!reader)- Tommy needs a hug

Gentle Angle(M!reader)-Tommy and reader have a talk

Limbo

A Daughter's Letter Y/N has some daddy issues but can a soldier help her find clarity and peace?

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enchantingqueenkitten · 2 years

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Thomas Shelby - Peaky Blinders - Seasons 1 - 3

#peaky blinders #peakyblindersedit #thomas shelby #thomasshelbyedit #tommy shelby #tommyshelbyedit #tom shelby #peaky blinders season 1 #peaky blinders season 2 #peaky blinders season 3

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mrs-fuckin-shelby · 8 months

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He’s the chosen one.

‘I am chosen?’

‘I’m chosen.’

‘Can the chosen one smoke?’

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sneakyblinders · 1 year

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the drunk lunch

A/N: this one follows directly behind chocolate cake and followed by the greatest honor. i take no credit for the gif, i just imagine this is how he’d look towards the door during the night scene.

warnings: language, sexual themes (we run into a lil kink the mrs and Tommy have) , alluding to smut but no smut, alcohol, smoking, more grace. not canon. a part of my tommy and his darling wife au <3

Grace knew she needed to get close to you to get close to Tommy—to get close to what the company was doing. To get close to the guns. But she was struggling with finding out how to do it.

Every time you were in the Garrison, you were on Tommy’s arm, the two of you inseparable. You worked in the office together, and when Tommy had other business to attend to with his brothers, you stayed behind in the office, managing other projects on the legal side of things that he had asked you to attend to. He made sure you only dealt with the legal side of things, never wanting to endanger you. It often made you angry how he would not tell you of the other side of things, but he insisted he kept you in the dark for your own safety. In the event that people came around asking for information, you would not be able to give them anything, simply because you had no idea.

So one afternoon when you walked into the Garrison alone, Grace saw it as her opportunity.

“Mrs. Shelby!” She called out to you as you walked towards the stairs, where Tommy’s office is. He had asked you to grab a few files and bring them back to the betting shop office.

“Good afternoon, Grace.” You said, eyeing her suspiciously.

“You—you may find this quite odd, but, since I’ve been in town, I haven’t made very many friends,” you threw her a compassionate smile. “And I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go to lunch one day. So we could get to know one another.”

Your jaw clenched, and her demeanor changed. She held a towel nervously in her hands. “I’m busy most days, Grace, but I could potentially find an opening.”

A smile crept on her face slowly. “Oh—okay. Just, let me know when you have time. I know of a new restaurant that just opened down by the docks on the other side of town.”

“I’ll get back to you.” You said, walking up the stairs to Tommy’s office.

That evening when you crawled in bed next to Tommy, you decided to tell him of the barmaids invitation. He was reading his book, nearly finished with it now, brow furrowed in concentration.

“Thomas,” you start, getting into bed beside him. He set his book down in his lap and looked at you softly. “The barmaid asked if I would go to lunch with her sometime.”

He dog-eared the page of his book before setting it down on the nightstand and reaching for a cigarette. “And that’s a bad thing?”

You pondered his question as he lit his cigarette. “No, not necessarily I don’t think.”

“Then what’s the problem, my love?” He asked, exhaling smoke.

You pulled the blankets farther up your body, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Nothing really, I suppose. I just find her odd.”

“You find most people odd, my dear.” He chuckled, taking another drag on his cigarette.

You knew he was right about that. “She said she didn’t have very many friends, and after I thought about it, I realized, I don’t really have very many friends here, either,” you said, leaning back against the headboard. “I have you and your family, and my family, who are miles away now, but I don’t think it’s the same as a friend who you can confide in, don’t you think?”

“What happened to Betty?” Tommy asked.

“She got married and hasn’t talked to me since. Not sure why.” You said, sad at the thought of losing a lifelong friend.

“Hm,” Tommy mused.

“Who is your closest friend?” You asked him, genuinely curious as to what his answer would be.

“Arthur.” He said quickly. “Arthur has always been my closest friend.” Your heart swelled. They did have a special relationship, the two of them. An interesting dynamic, certainly, but a good friendship. A solid brother bond. “I don’t think it’s a bad thing to have friends, Darling, I just want you to choose them for the right reasons, that’s all. We’re a powerful family and people want to get close to us for lots of various reasons, and I don’t want you getting hurt.” He said, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lips.

“I’ll be okay, Sweetheart.” You assure him, curling into his side.

“Then go out with the barmaid. You can clear your schedule whenever you like. You have good connections with the boss at work,” he smirked, stubbing his cigarette in the ashtray on his nightstand.

“I certainly do,” you smirk. “Did I tell you he bent me over his desk yesterday afternoon?”

“What a lucky bastard,” Tommy smirked down at you, before rolling on top of you and kissing you. You shrieked, a giggle escaping your lips as he tickled your sides. “What a lucky bastard I am,” he said, breathless as he began to kiss your neck, your shoulders, your cheeks, your lips. “Gypsy fucking magic that brought you to me, you know that?” He breathed against your skin as you writhed beneath him.

The next day you walked to the Garrison around noon and unlocked the door with your set of keys. “Grace?” You called out. Grace came from the back of the pub, a surprised look on her face.

“Mrs. Shelby! I was not expecting you, is everything alright?” She asked.

You stand in the middle of the pub, feeling quite awkward. “I was hoping that I could take you up on your offer for lunch today.”

A smile spread on her face and she nodded. “Of course. I’ll need to be back by five, but I’ve got a lot of the work finished already.”

“Oh,” you wave her off. “Don’t worry about that, I already ensured Harry would be here by four to finish everything up in time to open for the evening.”

“Oh, thank you.” She said, “Let me just grab my coat.”

The two of you walked through town, each of you telling the other the basic facts about themself. Age, education, family.

You sat down at the table in the new restaurant and Grace ordered the both of you whiskey. You began to refuse it, but she put her hand up. “Nonsense, this is going to be a fun afternoon,” she said. You normally didn’t drink, you said Thomas drank enough for the both of you, and that was true. But that day, you drank. A lot.

You were three whiskeys in, and feeling good. You and Grace were at the table in the restaurant still, cackling about something ridiculous when she decided it was a good time as ever to start prying. You were loosened up from the alcohol, and she had thought she had peeled back enough of the getting-to-know-someone layers, making you more comfortable.

“How did you meet Tommy?” she asked as you took another bite of bread.

“Oh, I ran into him in London one day. Literally, ran smack into his chest and he dropped a bottle of whiskey he had just bought. It got all over his suit and my legs. I thought he was going to scream at me but then he just sort of–looked at me.” you say, a far away look in your eyes.

Grace giggled. “He sort of just looked at you?”

“Yes,” you said sighing dreamily, thinking of your husband. “And then he asked me to dinner.”

“Is he good to you?” she asked.

“Oh yes,” you nearly moaned, drinking the rest of your whiskey. “Terribly good to me. He’s ruined me for all other men.” you tell her and she clears her throat uncomfortably at your crudeness.

“What do you do for the company?” she asked.

“I keep the books, help with the numbers. Write letters for Thomas so he doesn’t sound like so much of an ass when doing formal business proposals.” you giggled.

“What exactly does your husband do?” she asked.

You stopped giggling, and miracle of all miracles, despite your rather drunk state, narrowed your eyes. “You’re asking far too many questions about my husband's work.”

Her expression fell. “I’m sorry, just curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat, Grace Burgess.” you warn, signaling the waiter for the bill.

“Allow me, Mrs. Shelby,” she tells you, but your hand is quicker in reaching for the bill.

“Nonsense,” you quip, and her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean it in that way, Grace,” you try to recover.

“No, it’s quite alright. I appreciate your generosity.” she says as you hand the waiter enough to cover the bill, and a generous tip. “Let me ensure you get back safely.” she says as you stumble standing up, legs feeling a bit wobbly.

“I think I should like to be returned to the betting shop, Thomas won’t be gone yet.” you tell her, and she nods, holding onto your elbow as she guides you through the streets of Small Heath.

You knock on the door of the betting shop, too drunk to remember which damn key opened the side door. “Oh, Thomas!” you say in a sing-song sort of manner.

Polly opens the door, a confused look on her face. “Dear God,” she sighs. “What did you do to her?” she asks Grace in an accusatory tone.

“What did I do? She didn’t have to drink three full glasses of whiskey!” Grace said.

“She offered them, Pol,” you tell her, your words beginning to slur together. “Pol, Pol, where’s Thomas, I need to see him,” you’re slurring your words together, eyes only half open.

“He’s in his office, love. I–I think he may be a little upset at you being so drunk it’s only four in the afternoon.” Polly said as you nearly fell into her arms, brow furrowed, eyes blazing with fury at Grace.

“He’s never upset with me for long, Polly,” you say, a grin spreading on your face. “A wife has ways, you know.”

Polly shook her head in disbelief at you, guiding you inside. Grace followed behind, closing the door gently. “Thomas!” you call again, growing impatient. Shortly thereafter, you hear heavy footsteps upstairs and the familiar creak of the office door opening. “There he is,” you sigh dreamily as he appears at the top of the steps. “My husband.”

A confused look crosses his features as he comes down the stairs. “What the fuck–” he mumbled to himself as you threw yourself in his arms.

“Thomas, I missed you,” you tell him. His eyebrows shoot up as he smells the whiskey on you.

“My love, what in hell have you gotten into?” he asks, taking you by the shoulders to look you in the eyes.

“I just went for lunch with Grace,” you tell him innocently, eyes wide. He eyes the barmaid, who is uncomfortably standing in the corner near the door, shifting her weight between her legs.

“I see, my love. Do you think you can go upstairs and lay on the chaise in the office? Wait for me a moment? Hm?” he asks you softly, rubbing your arms.

You give him a cheeky grin, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “Will you fuck me when you come back upstairs?”

He let out a sigh of exasperation. “I’m afraid not my love, but I won’t be long. Go on, please.” he said. You pulled away with him, a pout on your lips.

“Thanks for lunch, Grace. I had a grand time,” you tell her before you wobble up the steps.

“I’ll go make sure she doesn’t break her neck.” Polly said, walking up the steps behind you.

Tommy eyes Grace angrily. “What the hell was she thinking?” he asks her.

“I’m not sure, Mr. Shelby. One minute she was fine, the next she was–several drinks deep.”

He narrowed his eyes. “She never drinks.”

She shifted uncomfortably again, heart beating quickly under his scrutinous gaze. “She did today, Mr. Shelby.”

“Curious that the first time my wife drinks since our wedding day is the first time she goes out with you, isn’t it?”

“I’m just simply trying to make a friend.” Grace told him, tone defensive.

“Well, next time you try and befriend my wife, do not, get her drunk.” he demands, wagging a finger at her. They both heard you wail Tommy’s name from upstairs and she blushed, embarrassed. “Don’t you have to be at the Garrison soon, Miss Burgess?” he asked, exasperated.

“Yes, I will be going now. I’m sorry, Mr. Shelby.” she stammered, walking out of the door. Tommy locked it behind her and watched as she walked down the street towards the Garrison.

He made his way back upstairs, to your shared office, where you were dramatically draped over the chaise, an arm over your eyes, crying. “What the hell, Pol?” he asked as Polly watched you in disbelief.

“This is ridiculous.” Polly said, annoyed. “Absolutely ridiculous, Tommy, how did you marry someone who cannot hold her liquor?”

Tommy shook his head. “She has nothing to drink about, Pol. Not a single thing. So why would she?”

“I’ll leave you to deal with her now.” Polly said. “I’m closing up and going home soon, see you tomorrow,” She turned to leave, but said over her shoulder, “Thomas, she did say Grace offered her all the alcohol. Don’t be too upset with her.” she said, closing the doors on her way out.

He made his way over to where you were laying on the chaise, body bouncing with the most dramatic sobs he’d ever heard in his life. “My love,” he said gently, kneeling down to be eye level with you. “Sweetheart,” he said gently again, tenderly touching your arm.

“What?” you asked, removing your arm from your eyes. “You’re mad at me.” you said matter-of-factly.

“No,” he shook his head. “No, my love I am not mad at you. Not at all, I just don’t understand why you would drink this much when you were out with a complete stranger.” he said. You shuffled to lay on your side, making room for him to sit down next to you.

“She insisted today was a day for fun, wasn’t she drunk, too?” you asked, squinting up at him.

He licked his lips, sighing as he reached for a cigarette. “No, ‘m afraid she wasn’t, darling.” he told you, holding the cigarette between his lips as he lit a match.

You wailed, the tears flowing down your face again. “I just wanted to be friends with her,” you say in between crying.

“My dear, there are plenty of women to be friends with, I assure you.” he told you, lighting his cigarette.

“Tommy,” you say, which catches his attention. You always, religiously, since the beginning of your relationship call him Thomas. He was never sure why, but you always called him Thomas unless you were cross with him, in which you called him Tom, because it was quicker to get out of your mouth when you were shouting. He looks at you, concerned. “Tommy, I think she wants to fuck you.” you tell him and he chuckles.

“She can want to all she wants, my love. I am all yours.” he says, pressing a kiss to your nose. “I have a few things to finish up and then we can go home, yeah?” he says.

“What’ll I do?” you ask, trying to sit up as he stands.

“Nothing, you just lay there and rest. Fall asleep if you can. Alright? Just lay there and look pretty, hm?” he says, and in your drunken state, much to his surprise, you listen.

A couple of hours later Tommy was finished with his work and was ready to go home. He picked you up from where you were asleep on the chaise and carried you down to the car. You faded in and out of sleep on the ride home. He carried you in the house and laid you in bed, taking your coat and shoes off carefully before sliding you into bed.

He went back downstairs, where Frances had prepared dinner for the both of you. “Evening, Frances,” he said, entering the kitchen where she was.

“Oh, good evening, Mr. Shelby. I’m just plating up dinner for you.” she said cheerily.

“Frances, is it alright if I eat in here tonight? Mrs. Shelby won’t be joining me, I’m afraid.” he said, motioning towards the small table in the kitchen.

Her expression fell. “Oh, of course, Mr. Shelby. Is she alright?” she asked, handing him the plate.

“She’s uh–a bit drunk.” he admitted, sitting down at the table.

“That uh–certainly is out of character for her, sir.” Frances said, selecting her words carefully.

“I agree, Frances,” he said, taking a bite of his food. “Please, will you join me?” he asked as he noticed she was starting to clean instead of eating her portion of the dinner.

“Are you certain, sir?” she asked.

“Of course. I am intruding in your space, after all.” he said.

She smiled softly, getting a plate of food for herself before sitting down across from him. “You’re not intruding, this is your home after all.” she laughs.

He shrugs his shoulders. “My wife went out with the new barmaid at the Garrison today.”

Frances looked at him strangely. “May I say something, Mr. Shelby?” she asked. Tommy nodded. “I have a very odd feeling about her,” he gave her a look as if to say, do go on. “The night where Mrs. Shelby organized the birthday party for you at the Garrison, she asked me to bring the cake a little earlier so it would be there when the two of you arrived for the evening. And so, of course, I did. But the barmaid kept asking a lot of questions. At first, I thought it may have been to just get to know people a little better, but then she started to pry about you and Mrs. Shelby. Asked if it was a marriage of convenience. I told her absolutely not, that the two of you are absolutely in love with one another, because, well, you are,” she laughed uncomfortably. Tommy’s cheeks flushed, thinking of the things this poor housekeeper had seen and heard in the short ten months he and his bride had been married. “And she seemed rather upset about that. About you two being in love. She said she didn’t believe that being in love lasted long. I told her that no, this love between you and Mrs. Shelby was different, and she got mad and asked me to leave. So I did.”

Tommy sighed. “Frances, why didn’t you tell me of this sooner?”

“I didn’t think it was that important, just silly female things I suppose; jealousy, you know.” she said, throwing him an apologetic look.

“Anything else like that happens, tell me, Frances.” he said, a dangerous tone in his voice.

“Yes, Mr. Shelby.” she says.

They ate the rest of their meal in comfortable silence. “Thank you for dinner, Frances. I will be in my office. Please, leave a plate out for Mrs. Shelby, I think she may be hungry when she wakes. Please don’t wait up for her though, Frances.”

“Thank you, Mr. Shelby. Goodnight.” she says kindly as Tommy disappears into his office for the evening.

At nearly ten o’clock, you still hadn’t awoken and Tommy was sitting in the family room in front of the fire, sipping his whiskey, smoking a cigarette and reading his book. His suspenders hung off his shoulders, the braces hanging down to his thighs, his cufflinks and sleeve garters long discarded, sleeves rolled up to the middle of his forearms and the first few buttons undone on his shirt. He had just removed his shoes when he heard a knock on the front door. He hoped that Scout, your faithful protective canine, hadn’t heard, and much to his dismay, she did. He heard the clack of her nails as she came down the steps, and the low growl deep in her chest as she approached the front door. Her ears were peaked, fur on the back of her neck sticking straight up.

“Scout,” he whispered, taking his gun from the holster on the table next to him and padding over to the front door, trying to walk slowly so as to not slip on the freshly waxed hardwood floors in his socks. Scout’s attention did not waver from the front door for a moment. Tommy peered out of one of the side windows that flanked the double doors on either side and saw the late night visitor. Grace.

“Down, Scout,” he commanded the dog, who sat obediently behind him, still on high alert. He apprehensively opened the door, gun in his hand. “Miss Burgess,” he greeted.

“Mr. Shelby,” she said, a little too cheerily for this time of night. “I just wanted to check on your wife. She was a little–worse for wear when I last saw her.” she laughed softly.

“Little late, Grace,” Tommy rasped, Scout growling behind him.

“May I come in?” she asked, rubbing her arms. “It’s a little cold.”

He opened the door a little wider, against his better judgment. “Shouldn’t have come, then.” he let her slide past him, Scout standing immediately and letting out a vicious bark.

“Down, girl.” Tommy commanded, tucking his gun in the waistband of his pants, against his lower back.

“She’s a beautiful dog, Tommy.” Grace said, reaching her hand out for Scout to sniff. Scout apprehensively approached her, sniffing her hand before growling at her again.

“She’s my wife’s dog.” Tommy said, stroking Scouts back, hoping it would tame the low grumbles she was emitting. “I trust a dog's instinct, y’know?” he said, eyeing Grace carefully.

“Yes, they are very trustworthy animals.” she said.

“My wife is upstairs, asleep, hopefully still even after that loud bark,” he said, eyeing Scout, who looked up at him quizzically. “You shouldn’t be here, Miss Burgess.” he said, squaring his shoulders. “How did you know this was our home?”

“Your wife told me where you lived today. She said it was grand, but I didn’t think it would be this grand.” she chuckled nervously, eyeing the crystal chandelier that hung above them in the foyer. They stood awkwardly in the foyer before Grace said, “Well, your wife said you were a gentleman, but I don’t think a gentleman would let a lady wait this long and not even offer her a drink.” she smiled.

Tommy’s expression remained cold. “I’m a gentleman to my wife, and a bastard to all else, Miss Burgess. That is something you should know.”

She approached him apprehensively, carefully calculating her actions. “Don’t you ever wish sometimes, you could be a bastard to your wife, Mr. Shelby?” Tommy froze, as she approached closer. “Don’t you miss that old life you used to live?” she asked. Scout stood up, ears attentive as she heard the bedroom door squeak open. Grace froze in place as Tommys eyes widened in disbelief at the barmaid's words. “Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Shelby.” she continued, reaching out to put a hand on his chest.

“Thomas?” you called out, voice heavy with sleep, rubbing your eyes. Your eyes adjusted to the dim light and you froze when you saw Grace standing in such close proximity to your husband, her hand falling to her side slowly upon seeing you.

“Glad to see you’re awake.” Tommy said gently.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask Grace, who quickly backs away from Tommy.

“I came to check on you.” she said quickly.

“How did you know where we live?” you asked, confused.

“You told me at lunch, silly.” Grace said, giggling nervously.

“I don’t remember that,” you say to yourself quietly.

“I’m sure you don’t remember much, you were quite drunk.” Grace quipped back, moving to approach you. Scout let out a harsh bark that made your ears ring, head already pounding. Scout moved between you and Grace, teeth bared.

“I think it’d be best if you go, Grace.” Tommy said with that tone in his voice that, if the situation weren’t so odd, would have you on your knees in front of him in a matter of minutes.

“I think so too.” Grace said, gaze never leaving you. “Goodnight,” she said as Tommy opened the door for her and slammed it behind her, locking the deadbolt.

“How odd.” you muse aloud as Scout went over to the window, growling the whole way that Grace walked down the driveway.

“Odd indeed, my love.” Tommy says, putting an arm around your shoulders and leading you to the kitchen, where he warmed your food up for you.

You were quiet, mind whirring with questions, assumptions. He brought the warm plate of food over to where you were sitting at the table in the kitchen. “Thank you,” you smile weakly up at him. He sits down across from you, forearms on the table. “You look tired.” you observe.

“I am,” he admits, reaching for a cigarette.

“Why was she standing so close to you?” you ask, eyeing him, every insecurity coming to the surface.

Tommy sighed, not meeting your gaze. “I don’t know. She was–saying something about "don't I wish I could go back to my old life’.” he said lowly, lighting his cigarette.

“And what’d you say to that?” you asked, tone dark.

“I didn’t have the chance to say anything, you came down the stairs.” he said, exhaling smoke.

“So what would you have said if I didn’t?” you asked, raising your voice.

“I would’ve said fuck no.” he told you, expression serious, lips in a tight line, eyes not leaving yours.

You angrily stared at him for a while, breathing irregular, rage building. “Just as much as I am yours, Thomas Shelby, you are mine.” you tell him, jaw clenched.

“You’re absolutely fucking right,” he ground out. You stand up, taking your plate to the sink, mumbling that you weren’t hungry. He stalks over to you, turning you around, your back against the counter, a hand around your throat. “I am all yours,” he says slowly, his face close to yours. “And you are all mine,” he presses his forehead to yours. “For fucking ever.”

“Thomas,” you let out a breathy moan, a pool of heat forming between your legs. He had done this before–and it had both tested your trust in him and solidified the knowledge that he would never do anything to actually hurt you. Every ounce of strength and self-control he had in his body and mind was put to the test, and adrenaline coursed through your veins. You could see the lust in his eyes as he moved closer to you, crushing you further against the counter.

You had done this a few times since you had been married–this game of trust and brute force. You didn’t think you would enjoy it as much as you do. The first time it happened, it was by accident. The second time, you intentionally provoked Tommy, telling him you wanted to see the darker side of him, that you were tired of being treated like porcelain. He warned you it could end badly, but you were so lost in lust, you told him you didn’t care. Afterwards he held you, cleaned you up and whispered loving praises in your ear. You shook for a quarter hour after the second time the two of you played this game, your body wrung out from pleasure, all of your energy gone.

“I will never betray our love, do you understand?” he asks through gritted teeth, pulling you back in this moment. His grip on your throat tightened ever so slightly, just the way you liked. You were thankful Scout was asleep at the front door, not wanting this moment ruined.

“Yes, Thomas,” you moan, and he releases his hold on your throat to hold your face in both of his hands, his lips crashing to yours in a searing kiss. The kiss is teeth and tongue and lips and he’s swallowing your moans as he begins to tear your clothes from your body. His hands move to grip your backside and you throw your legs around his waist and he carries you up to bed for the night.

The next morning, you wake up and Tommy isn’t in bed with you, which is odd. You roll over, groaning at the discomfort you feel in your limbs, assumedly from being tangled up in him all night. When you go to wash, you notice bruises across your skin and smile softly to yourself, thinking of the previous night's activities. You deeply enjoyed all parts of who your husband was, and allowing him to bare the darker parts of himself to you only made you love him all the more. The strength he summoned daily to overcome that darkness filled you with a sense of pride for what a good man he is. What a good man he is to you.

He knocked on the bathroom door and you opened it, wearing only your dressing gown. You were toweling off your face from where you had just washed it. His fingers ghosted over the bruises he left on you, a downcast expression on his face. “I’m sorry, my love.” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Don’t be sorry,” you tell him, shooting him a naughty grin. “I quite enjoyed it.”

“Mm,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around you. “That’s a good thing I suppose.”

You gasped when he pulled away from you, noticing a mark you had left on him, just underneath his collarbone. “Oh, Thomas, I’m sorry!” you giggled as he moved to inspect what you had discovered in the mirror.

A disgruntled sound left his lips. “Well, Mrs. Shelby, guess we’re both marked as one anothers for the foreseeable future, hm?”

“You went to their house?” Inspector Campbell ground out at his meeting with Grace the next day.

“I had no choice.” she replied softly.

“You have every choice!” he exclaimed, surprising himself with how loudly he said it. “If you can’t get close to the wife, and you can’t seduce Thomas, how exactly do you plan to get the information we need, Grace?”

She bit the inside of her cheek. “I can do this, Mr. Campbell.” she said.

“I trust you know what you are doing. These are dangerous people.”

“I am aware!” she snapped at him. “I was aware when I was met at his door by a gun and a dog that was eager to tear me from limb to limb.” she said, jaw clenched. “I was close last night, he was vulnerable. And his brother, the one who is really the one in charge of the Garrison, he’s easier to get information out of. More trusting.”

“Then by all means, get as much information out of him as you can, Grace. But you must link all of this to Thomas Shelby.”

“I will!” she insisted, growing frustrated at the man's lack of confidence in her.

“Of course you will.” he said, demeanor softening. “I just don’t want you harmed is all.”

“I was trained for this. Now I’m running late.” she said, turning the corner and disappearing into the streets of Birmingham.

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