#tommy shelby angst
Text
Afraid
Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader
Synopsis: Tommy’s wife finds out about his diagnosis
Warnings: Angst, insanely depressing, tears, allusion to tuberculoma/illness, depiction of anxiety, tension, mentions of death, nothing happy in this at all
Author’s note: Derived from Season 6 when Tommy gets diagnosed with a terminal illness (I do use some dialogue from Episode 5)
The heels of your black t-strap shoes clicked against the wooden floor, echoing through the expansive halls of Arrow house. You approached Tommy’s dimly lit office in hopes of retrieving a book. He was into reading poetry lately, and you thought you’d borrow from him.
“Tommy?” You peeked your head in, surprised to find his office chair vacant. He must have stepped out for a moment.
A grand library lined the walls of his office, adjacent to his desk. The titles jumped out at you as you walked towards it, turning your head, and scanning over the names: Frost, Hughes, Fitzgerald. A cloud of dust swirled in the air as you pulled one off the shelf, holding it open in your hands and flicking through the pages.
You invited yourself to sit down, sighing as you settled into a plush, velvety red lounge chair. After looking over the book for awhile your eyes flicked up to his desk. A manila folder stood out against the dark wood. In curiosity, you got up, setting your book down and walking over to it.
You rounded his desk, flicking your eyes over the unlabeled folder. With a furrowed brow you opened it, running your painted fingers over the documents.
The thumping of familiar, confident footsteps grew in volume, nearing the office. Tommy’s figure entered, dressed in his usual attire. His eyes widened in surprise and horror to see you standing there. “What are you doing in here?”
“I was looking for something..” You defended absentmindedly; your attention engrossed in the files laid out before you. A sinking feeling brewed in your stomach as you observed the papers.
“What is this, Tommy?” The question came out in a shaky whisper. You chewed on your lip, thumbing through the doctor’s note and the x-ray, pulling it off his desk.
A curse fled him with a breath. He didn’t intend for you to find that. His jaw clenched as pulled the door closed behind him.
As your flickering eyes examined the black and white image, your hands started to tremble, trying to decipher its meaning as if there was an alternative one. “Tommy.. what- what does this mean?”
Silence filled the room as he walked over to the bar cart, pouring himself a drink. He was self-medicating. He didn’t even realize he was doing it. You watched him with worried eyes, waiting for him to say something. He was silent, taking a large drink of whiskey with an expressionless face, letting out a withheld breath. He didn’t even taste it anymore. Didn’t feel it’s warm burn going down his throat. But he did feel the cloud of turbulent emotions swelling in his chest. That was something he never got used to.
“Tommy?”
“What?” He shouted suddenly, making you jump. “For Christ’s sake, what??”
His chest rose and fell with his labored breath, running his fingers through his hair as he looked at you with raised brows.
“Are you..” you choked, swallowing the lump rising in your throat. “Are you ill?”
Silence again. You held yourself in anticipation, smoothing your palm over your neck, pulling at your necklace to gather more air.
“Yes! Alright? Yes. I’m fucking dying. What does it fucking matter anyway..” he scoffed, reaching urgently into his pocket for a lighter.
His insensitive, casual air of speaking made you tremble with nerves, anger, and confusion. You threw the papers down on the desk, striding across the room to meet him. His detached expression illuminated from the flame of his lighter, casting aglow the pale blue eyes hiding from yours. He took in a drag, letting it out and raising his head to look at you. Internally, he was repelled by your sympathy. As if you were a nuisance for caring about him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” You cried, blinking back tears. “How could you keep this from me?” Your heart was pounding as a sense of hurt and betrayal came over you.
“It wasn’t for you to know.. alright?” He explained in his usual placid tone, gesturing a hand out as he spoke. “I was developing a plan, making sure everyone is taken care of.” A breath of gray smoke entered the air with his exasperated breath.
Tommy didn’t know how to take care of himself. He avoided it. He knew if he looked inward there would be too many problems and not enough time to solve them. So, he made everyone else his project.
You let out a painful scoff, taking a few steps back in disbelief. “You and your plans Tommy!” An aggravated groan came from you as you rubbed your stressed fingers over your face, trying to ease the building pressure in your head.
“When everyone is taken care of financially, I’ll take myself away..”
Your hand fell from your face, blinking at him in shock and confusion.
His expression remained unchanged at your display of protest. “Before that I will be going to Canada, to collect payment for a shipment worth five million pounds.” The tip of his cigarette dragged over his lips as his brow furrowed in thought. “Which I will share among the Shelby family..”
A gray cloud of smoke followed his moving lips, standing out in the amber light, swirling in a haze. It reminded you of the fragility of human life, that in one moment it can disappear like a whisper, dissolving into the air.
“And that will be my legacy." His gaze split from you as his jaw clenched, internally at war over speaking his next words. "Instead of me, there will be money. Because to most of the people close to me that is what I am!" He raised his voice with his rising adrenaline, pointing a finger in emphasis. "Fucking money.”
The statement felt like a punch in the gut, taking your breath away. “What? Tommy that’s not true..”
“Eh?”
“That’s not true Tommy..” the nerves made you tremble, holding your stomach with your hands to settle the sick feeling.
“All them bullets that missed. It’s funny. It’s funny is what it is! Made it through fucking France- all of it, and fucking tuberculoma is what takes me. Christ.” He turned from you and poured himself another drink, indulging it quickly. A bead of liquid spilled down his chin, which he wiped away with the back of his hand. He leaned forward, holding onto the edge of the table. The tendons in his hand twitched as his frustration grew.
“You’re afraid Tommy.”
His temple jumped from the pressure of his clenched jaw as he turned in your direction, straightening his posture. “What?”
“You’re afraid..” you whimpered sympathetically, tip-toeing towards him with woeful eyes.
“When you’re afraid..” you whispered sadly, venturing to stroke his temple with your fingers. “You over-explain yourself..” the pad of your thumb stroked his skin softly, damp with sweat. “you talk and you don’t stop..”
The tension in his shoulders eased from the warmth of your touch. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. He felt trapped. You knew him too well. Knew him more than he knew himself sometimes.
A surge of empathy came suddenly over you like tidal wave that couldn’t be reasoned with. You could feel his grief, weighing on you against your will. It’s feeling began in your stomach, rising to your throat, when you finally broke the silence, letting out a choked sob. Your fingers came over your mouth, trying to stifle the sound.
You took a few careful steps towards him, breathing shakily as you dared to close the space between you, sliding your delicate hands around his neck.
“Fuck off.. fuck off..” he whimpered at your attempt to embrace him, pushing your arms away. His strong hands grabbed hold of your wrists, resisting your touch.
“Tommy..” you whispered sadly, fighting his attempts to flee. You cried, struggling to wrap your arms around him.
“Get the fuck off me..” he whispered harshly, looking at you with watery eyes. His pale blue eyes glistened with tears as he looked over you, his brows knit together sadly, resembling the look of a scared child.
You sniffled in response, thumbing his cheek tenderly. The warmth of your touch coaxed a bead to slip from his eye, rolling down his face.
He knew he couldn't win this war. The grip on your wrists loosened as he let go of your arms. With defeated steps he closed the space between you, dropping his head into your chest. He took in a shaky breath, fanning your skin, before letting go completely, dampening your blouse with his tears. It’s been bottling up in him for so long. He tried to hide it. Tried his best to keep it a secret. To stay strong for you. But he couldn’t. You always gave him a safe space to be weak.
“Oh Tommy..” you wept, your voice was ridden with grief. For the fact that he was bearing all of this on his own. That he was dying right in front of you, and you didn’t notice. You didn’t notice and you hated yourself for it. He was so good at hiding.
Your hands rubbed up and down his back, as he tightened his arms around you, holding onto you like you would dissolve if he let go. Trying to imprint the feeling of your body in his mind to remember it in the next life.
You cried with him, holding his shaking body against yours. “We can.. we can find a doctor Tommy we can find someone.. we’ll bring you to church Tommy.. we’ll pray.. Polly will pray with us.. I know it..” the words tumbled from your lips, unable to stop yourself as you stroked your fingers through his damp hair.
“I don’t want any of it Tommy. The cars, the fancy clothes, the- bloody house, my jewelry.. I’ll give it all away.. I just need you.. I’ve always only needed you. You’ve always been enough for me.” A painful cry came out of you as you held onto him, needing his support as much as he needed yours.
There was never enough time. Always so many things. Things that end up in land fills, that don’t bear the erosion of time. It was all worth nothing to you now. The one thing that mattered to you most was dying.
He sniffled, letting out a groan and raising his head from your chest and looking at you.
“Y/n..” he whispered, thumbing your face, and making you look at him. “y/n.. look at me..”
“There must be, there must be something we can do Tommy..” your lip trembled as you spoke, placing your hand over his. Your fingertips ran over his knuckles, soothed by the strength of his hands.
His forehead rested against yours, speaking in a low whisper. “These things happen sweetheart. Can’t stop time. Some things we can’t control..” he spoke clearly now, collecting himself and thumbing your cheek.
“You can’t leave Tommy.. you can’t leave me..” you hiccupped tears, swiping your under eyes with your fingertips. “I’m sorry Tommy.. I don’t mean to cry..”
“Shh.. it’s okay love.. I’ve had more time with it.” He soothed, brushing away the wetness with his thumb.
“I can’t do it without you Tommy.. I’m nothing without you. I’ll be half of a person without you Tommy..” you gasped for air, feeling like your head was going to explode from the pressure.
Sensing your distress, he tried to comfort you. “I’m still here sweetheart.. alright? Just breathe with me. I’m still here. We’re together right now. Can you feel my hands on you? My voice whispering in your ear? Eh?” He whispered, smoothing his warm hands down your back.
You nodded, sniffling, feeling your breathing slow.
“There you go.. it’s alright.. it’s alright.. come ‘ere..” his firm hands guided you into his chest with little effort, cradling your quivering frame. He settled his chin on your head, letting out a shaky breath and kissing your hair, breathing you in.
“You don’t have to face it alone Tommy.. for Christ’s sake please don’t let your ego win this war.” You whispered against his chest, nudging your head against him. “You need someone to burden this with you and a thousand times I would.”
“I know sweetheart.. I know.. I know..” his familiar, soothing voice vibrated against your ear as he spoke.
“Stay with me Tommy..” you whispered sadly, memorizing the rhythm of his heartbeat, and the soft sounds of his breathing. “Don’t let me go.. please don’t let go..”
He swallowed sadly, tightening his grip around you. “I promise, I’ll stay with you every second love.. I won’t leave you..” he sighed shakily, his pale eyes glazing over with a distant expression, “not yet."
Taglist: @kmc1989 @pacifymebby @shelbydelrey @call-sign-shark @peakyswritings
#thomas shelby#cillian murphy#tommy shelby#peaky blinders#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby angst#tommy shelby fluff#tommy shelby x fem!reader#tommy shelby fanfiction#x reader#x you#fanfiction#irish men#irish actors
202 notes
·
View notes
Text
“morning mr. shelby.” — tommy shelby x reader ⋆｡˚
tommy shelby x fem!reader
you meet tommy as a nurse during the war, but happens when he realizes that he’s known you all along? (loosely based around some s1 plot points, but all set before the war)
18+ minors dni please! angst, fluff and smut
cw: mentions of war, shooting, stabbing, suturing, ptsd, friends to lovers, eventual smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!), slight breeding kink
word count: 5.4k+ (sorry lmao)
a/n: ahh first fic alert!! i’m so excited for you guys to read this! don’t be a ghost reader and lmk if you want to be added to my tag list for future tommy/cillian stuff!! 💌
you met tommy shelby during the war. he was a soldier, you were a wartime nurse. before the war, you had obviously heard of him. tommy shelby, leader of the fucking peaky blinders. arrogant bastards.
you lived in small heath, and everyday you’d pass him on the street. and everyday, you’d smile and say, “morning, mr. shelby.” and everyday, he would barely look up at you. you were sure he wasn’t even aware of your existence. prick.
your parents had always told you to stay away from the shelby boys. your dad would say that “they’re dangerous and make whores out of innocent girls” and your mum would make some comment about “the shelby men and their stupid cocks and their stupid judgements”.
they were the most intimidating people in all of small heath, possibly in all of birmingham. truth be told, there was a certain charm to them that you couldn’t shake off. well, to one of them. tommy shelby. you couldn’t tell if it was because he was your age, or because he was powerful and strong, or simply because he was strictly off limits. or because of his piercing blue eyes.
everyone in small heath knew tommy. but you knew tommy. he didn’t know you, though. you could tell if was him by the way he exhaled or by the sound of his footsteps or by the way he held a cigarette in his hand, the peaked cap on his head, a hand in his coat pocket. you despised tommy shelby, but god, was he fucking irresistible.
when men were drafted for the war in france, it was common sense that they’d need someone to tend to their cuts and bruises. you’d decided to volunteer, and after a couple weeks of training, you were right there, in the field. practicing on dolls and bags of rice and flour was nothing compared to what you saw. what you heard.
your first day in france was… eventful, to say the least. some commander had led you to the medical tent, and you were welcomed by the screams of hurt soldiers, blood and panic. you were immediately assigned to a patient, who’d been shot in the chest. you tried your best, did everything you could have, but ultimately, he had just lost too much blood. you didn’t sleep that night, haunted by the bloodshed, by the pleas of the soldier to keep him alive, by the feeling of someone else’s blood on your hands. over time, however, you grew accustomed to having your pristine white uniform soiled with blood and mud.
a month or so after you’d started, you heard shouts outside the tent. “help! someone HELP, for FUCK’s SAKE!” this was a regular occurrence, but the voice the shouts came from didn’t sound wounded. you felt an instinctual need to go see what it was.
what you saw, though, was something you never expected to see. tommy shelby, with a comrade’s head in his lap, putting pressure on a wound in his shoulder. without hesitating, you helped tommy drag the soldier to a vacant bed in the tent. “what happened?” you asked, hurriedly. tommy was visibly panicked. “i- he- um, he got st-stabbed by… one of the germans… his name’s danny- daniel.” you looked in tommy’s eyes, trying to give him some semblance of comfort. “he’ll be okay.” you applied pressure on the wound, and luckily, the blood stopped flowing soon. you cleaned the wound up and looked to tommy. “i’m gonna have to disinfect the wound with alcohol, you might want to hold daniel down for this.” daniel was still delirious from the blood loss, but the pain would be excruciating. tommy braced himself. his hands firmly holding down daniel’s. you nodded before tipping the bottle over on the wound. danny thrashed around on the bed, screaming and cursing, struggling against tommy’s hold. you heard his voice over danny’s. “you’re alright, lad! y’er gonna be fine!”
tommy sat by his friend’s bedside as he came to. you tended to other patients in the meantime but eventually went over to talk to him. “i want to keep him here for the night, mr. shelby. make sure there’s no infection.” he looked at you, surprised you knew him. “you know who i am?” “of course i do, all of small heath knows you. what i didn’t expect was to have a run-in with you, here in france.” he scoffed at his own misery and spoke. “you don’t belong here. you should be home.” you rolled your eyes, even in his state, he managed to be cocky. “if i wasn’t here today, mr. shelby, who would save danny?” that seemed to shut him up. he was about to speak, before you heard your name from the other side of the tent. “y/n, we need you!” after having helped a soldier who looked like he had been mauled, you looked out to see it was nightfall, and tommy had left.
a couple days later, at about noon, john shelby, the youngest of the shelby brothers walked in, clutching his arm tightly. “do you need help, mr. shelby?” you called out. “yes, i-i’ve been shot.” he all but whispered. you rushed over with a tray of distilled alcohol, forceps and bandages. after an afternoon of agony and pain, you had finally managed to pull out the bullet form his arm, john’s face a clear representation of his relief. “oh my god love, if we were home, i’d marry you right now.” you laughed at the proposition. “mr. shelby, i think you’re still a bit delirious from the anaesthesia. besides, i’m your brother’s age.” he looked shocked. “what, you’re arthur’s age? really?? you look nothing like that old prick.” you couldn’t help but laugh yet again. “i’m not that old, jesus. i’m tommy’s age.” he sighed. “marry him then. lord knows he needs a girl.” you giggled as you gathered your things and walked away. “you amuse me far too much, mr. shelby.”
it felt like ages had passed before you saw tommy again. your back was towards the tent entrance but you knew who had walked in. his breath trembled and his footsteps felt a bit unsteady, but it was undoubtedly him. you waited to turn until he called out your name. “y/n, is it?” you turned around, to find his face and shirt covered in blood. “mr. shelby! what happened?” you rushed over to him, taking his hand and sitting his down on a bed. “i- i… killed a man today, y/n.” he looked down, he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. you didn’t respond, simply got up and grabbed a stitching kit and a bowl of warm water. “is all this blood yours?” was your first question. “no. most of it is his.” you sighed and searched his face to find a cut on his cheekbone, the source of his own bleeding. “i’m wiping away the blood now, okay?” tommy gulped and nodded, his eyes still trained on the ground. “mr. shelby, i want you to look at me.” it was as if he didn’t hear you. you spoke again, softer yet more authoritative this time. “tommy. look at me.” he finally brought himself to look into your eyes. in his eyes, you saw guilt, regret and fear. in yours, he saw compassion, love and a warmth that could engulf all his pain. “good.” you whispered. you wrung out a washcloth and began wiping the blood away from his face, using your other hand to hold his chin in place. his arms found themselves wrapped around your waist, in an attempt to ground himself. you didn’t say anything, but your eyes told him that you didn’t mind. in that moment, you saw a different version of tommy shelby. you didn’t see ‘tommy, the criminal’, ‘tommy, the gangster’ or ‘tommy, the womanizer’. you saw tommy, a good man, an honest man. you felt his arms tighten around your waist as you pulled your hands away from his face, as if he was afraid you would dissipate into thin air. “tommy.” you whispered. “i’m gonna have to stich that wound up. it might hurt.” but he didn’t mind pain, not if you were the one inflicting it. “okay.” he spoke, his voice deep. he rubbed circles into your skin with his thumbs, the pain making him hum. “sorry, almost done.” you finished the last stitch. “there. you’re all fixed.” tommy held you like that, his hands around your waist, icy blue eyes staring into yours. your arms rested on his shoulders and you leaned down to whisper to him. “tommy. people are staring.” “so? let them.” eventually, he reluctantly pulled away from you. “it’s time for dinner, and then lights out.” he smiled as he spoke, and slowly exited the tent, catching a glimpse of you as he left.
needless to say, you only grew closer over the next few weeks. you were inseparable. whenever tommy had free time, he’d make his way to the familiar tent, and talk to you. it was wartime. you were left hurt and traumatized and so was he, but you both found solace in each other’s company. you told him how you knew him, and how you’d wish him good morning every day, only to receive complete silence from him each time. he chuckled and apologized. he told you about the peaky blinders, what they did, how they ran their business. you bonded over your shared hunger for knowledge and stories. you told him everything you knew about art, history and literature; and he told you stories of fighting gangs in the streets and stealing contraband. his stories were always more thrilling than yours. you’d try to set each other up with people for fun. you’d introduce him to every nurse, telling them how he was fighting for his country, and of course, they fell prey to his charming eyes and dashing smile. they’d ask what he did back home, and as soon as you said the words ‘gangster’, they’d run in the opposite direction. he’d done the same for you. introduced you to other soldiers, and when you spoke to them, about art and literature, they’d call you ‘unladylike’ or ‘too ambitious for a man’. you both secretly liked it this way, it was like you were his and he was yours.
when he became sergeant major, you both celebrated together. he’d brought you a bottle of whiskey, and you spent the night, talking and giggling drunkenly. but soon, he was assigned to be a sapper and dig tunnels. you both knew that the germans were going to dig their own tunnels, and at some unfortunate point, the tunnels would converge. both of you realized the danger it held, but he had to do it. you tried to talk him out of it, though. “tommy, please!” “y/n, calm down.” “goddamn it tommy, think! you’re gonna get yourself killed! what the fuck are you doing?” “i’ll be alright.” “no, you won’t! what if you get hurt? what if they shoot at you, huh? i won’t be there underground to make sure you’re okay!” “y/n, i have to serve my country. i have to do this.” “tommy. i’m begging you, don’t do this.” he simply sighed and kissed your forehead and held your face in his hands. you held tightly onto his wrists as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. “shhh, i’ll be alright. in fact, i’ll write you.” you seemed to calm down at the idea of him writing you. at least you’d be updated on his condition.
the morning he went down to the tunnels, he came to see you. you were sorting gauze and bandages when you felt his presence near you. you turned around and ran to hug him. he buried his face in your neck and breathed you in. you could feel tears brimming your eyes. neither of you knew why you felt like this. you were just friends, right? “tommy michael shelby, i swear to god if you die, i’ll kill you myself.” you heard him chuckle. he took a step back and caressed your cheek. “you take care, darling.” you wished he wouldn’t leave, but in your heart, you knew he had to. a few hours after, you found a letter tucked under a book on your desk. you curiously pulled it out and opened it.
dearest y/n,
i know how much you hate that i’m going to be a sapper now. i want you to know, no matter what happens down there, i care for you, and i love you, unconditionally. i’ve loved you since the day i first met you. i can’t believe i was looking for love in whores and prostitutes when the love of my fucking life was saying the sweetest good morning to me every morning. i’ll protect myself, and i want you to protect yourself too since i can’t do that for the time being. if we survive this wretched war, i want to take you home, ask your father for your hand and marry you, sweetheart. you take care of yourself, alright?
all my love,
tommy shelby.
you couldn’t help but gasp at what you read. he loved you. tommy shelby loved you. the same tommy shelby that was too arrogant to say a word to you, the same tommy shelby that your parents told you to stay away from, the same tommy shelby was head over heels for you. you immediately looked for a piece of paper, a pen and some ink. you wrote a letter back and sent it with one of the workers heading down to the tunnels. you didn’t know what it was like down there, but you hoped your letters would keep him sane. meanwhile, tommy received your letter and opened it with the same enthusiasm you showed his letter. however, he was also filled with nervous energy. he had confessed his love for you, which was so incredibly out of character for him, but with shaky hands, he proceeded to open the letter.
dearest tommy,
to say that your letter was shocking would be an understatement. i never knew you felt this way for me. like i’ve told you on several occasions, my parents always told me to stay away from ‘your kind’ and as a good catholic girl, i obeyed them. but tommy, in these few months, i’ve seen a side of you i can’t ever forget. i love you too tommy, the real you. the honest, raw, genuine tommy that i get to see on late nights and in random moments on busy days. i’d love to marry you, just make it out alive of that damn tunnel, you prick.
only yours,
y/n.
tommy felt his eyes welling up as he read the words you had penned on the paper. it had been so long since he’d seen you, or heard your voice. he wanted you. he needed you. to keep him stable and sane. as the days passed, your and tommy’s letter exchange became more and more frequent, and you felt like even if you were in this goddamned lawless land of blood and chaos, you had tommy. and he was all you needed.
that was, until the letters slowed down. you kept writing him, but to no avail. he hadn’t sent you a letter in days, or weeks, you weren’t sure anymore. you’d almost lost hope, and spent entire nights grieving him. trying to remember the sound of his voice, the feeling of his hands on your waist, the smell of his cologne. you hadn’t heard his breath or felt his footsteps in a long time. the pain was almost unbearable, and some days felt like decades. but the only thought that kept you going was that you saw tommy in all the wounded soldiers you treated. they were someone’s tommy. and they needed to get home alive.
4 months. 4 whole months since you heard from tommy. you were convinced he was dead now. you spent your days bandaging and stitching wounds, yet you could never fix the wound tommy left in your heart. it was one of the hottest afternoons, the french sun blazing unmercifully. you were insanely busy with patients today, the war was almost ending, and the soldiers needed to be fixed up before they could go home. yet, no sign of tommy. you sighed, cursing yourself for holding out hope now for someone who would not return.
“can i have a nurse here?” you could recognize that damn voice anywhere. the deep voice that filled your ears, smooth like honey, you’d recognize that voice at the end of the world. you turned around. tommy. “hi, love.” he smiled. but his smile quickly changed into a frown when he saw your sobs. you took him to a quieter corner of the tent. you stepped closer to him. he went to put his arms around you. you slapped him across the face. “where. the FUCK were you, thomas michael shelby?!” he was incredibly confused. “l- love, what?” “i thought YOU DIED, YOU BASTARD. where were you?” the time you spent apart had changed you, and from his response, you could tell it clearly changed him. “i was TRYING to fucking STAY ALIVE for YOU.” he raised his voice at you. he never raised his voice. neither of you spoke for a while and tension filled the air between the two of you. “i should leave.” he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. he left, and you let him.
after a few weeks, news broke that britain had won the war, and everyone went home. five years had passed since you last saw the familiar streets of small heath, and you were no longer a girl, but a woman. a woman who needed to get a job to survive in this city. you walked around and saw a flyer on the doors of the garrison. ‘BARMAID NEEDED.’ you walked in to find harry. he looked up pleasantly surprised. “y/n! haven’t seen you in a while, eh? what can i do you for?” “i’m here to get the barmaid job, harry.” he sighed.” y/n, this job isn’t suitable for a girl like you. these men, they’ve just come back from war, they haven’t seen a girl, let alone a pretty one like yourself, in ages. they’ll have you up against a wall within the first hour of your shift.” you looked at him desperately. “harry, please. i need this job, otherwise i’ll be out on the streets, which are surely worse than this pub. i was a nurse in france, i’ve dealt with these men. please?” he sighed again before nodding. “alright then, you start tomorrow.”
your first shift consisted of the usual alcoholics, men with ptsd, everything that was to be expected after a war. you hear the bells at the door ring as the familiar footsteps walk closer to the bar. without turning around, you ask, “what do you want?” he replies, “whiskey, scotc- y/n?” you finally turn around at the sound of your name falling from his lips. “yes, mr. shelby. so, scotch? on the house right?” he leans over so that just the two of you can hear. “don’t mr. shelby me. come on, love, talk to me.” “i have nothing to talk to you about.” as you poured him a glass of whiskey, he held your wrist assertively. “y/n. come.” you rolled your eyes and went to the shelby’s private booth. “what is it that you want, tommy?” “what the fuck do you mean ‘what do i want’? you, i want YOU. i need you. did ya lose your fucking mind in france like danny whiz-bang?” you felt your bottom lip trembling and your throat choking up. “i… i thought y- you were fucking dead. i mourned you. for MONTHS. i grieved over the death of the love of my life. of my future husband. of my future children that i’d have with him. and then, just as i’m making my peace with it, YOU have the fucking audacity to show up? you have some bloody nerve, tommy shelby.” the look in his eyes softened as he took a step closer to you. “no. don’t you dare come any closer to me, tommy, i’ll kill you.” you said, holding up the bottle of whiskey as a weapon. he embraced you, holding you tightly, his fingers stroking your hair. you resisted the hug and tried to push him away, only to find his grip on you getting tighter. “g- get away… from me, p- please… i- just” your voice came out muffled between sobs. tommy felt hot tears rolling down his own cheeks. “shhh, sweetheart. i’m okay, eh? i’m fine. i’m here, with you.” you dropped the bottle you were holding and it shattered into a million pieces on the ground. you stood there in his arms, crying for what felt like an eternity. you finally pulled away from him, and he wiped your tears with his thumbs. you laughed, but then lightly slapped his arm. “you scare me like that again, tommy, i swear i’ll kill ya.” “i’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.” he kissed your forehead, and you rested your forehead against his. he tentatively closed the gap between your lips and his, and you pulled him by the collar and kissed him with enough force to make him trip and fall. he managed to stay steady and kissed you back with equal fervour. he spoke between kisses. “i *kiss* spent *kiss* every *kiss* second *kiss* thinking *kiss* of you.” you giggled. “i missed you too, tommy.”
he told harry that you’d be leaving the bar early that day, and dragged you out the bar while holding your hand, a smile on his face for the first time in a long time. “the great thomas shelby isn’t embarrassed to have a barmaid as his girlfriend?” you giggled. “never. and those who think i should be embarrassed can suck me cock.” he spoke proudly. he opened the car door for you, and you sat inside and waited for him to turn the ignition on. “where are we going, tommy?” “i want you to meet my family, love.” during the countless hours you spent together chatting, he told you about his family’s idiosyncrasies and stories about them. how arthur needed to be protected the most during fights because he was just as likely to hurt himself as he was to hurt someone else, how aunty pol’s instincts about love were never wrong, how john once fell in love with a prostitute and everyone laughed at him, how ada was the most rebellious and married a communist (who happened to be in of his best mates), and how finn always pretended to act like tommy, doing whatever his big brother did. you were excited to meet them of course, but anxious. they would be your family one day too.
he held your hand as he brought you in, everyone sitting around a table waiting for him. “does everyone just sit together like this?” you asked. “uh, no i called a family meeting for 3 pm.” tommy replied simply. “how did you know you’d be able to have me here by 3?” he winked at you. “i have my ways. and i know how much you love me.” he spoke in a singsong voice. you rolled your eyes at his schoolboy behaviour and waited for him to speak. “shelby’s, this is my girlfriend and soon to be fiancé, y/n.” he held his arm around your waist proudly, and you leaned up to kiss his cheek. you recognized arthur and john immediately from your time in the war. you assumed that the older woman was aunt polly, and the younger with the baby in her arms would be ada, leaving the youngest member of the family, finn. john came up to talk to you first, while tommy spoke with polly. “you know i didn’t really mean the ‘marry tommy’ thing?” you laughed as you replied, “i didn’t either, but fate works in weird ways, eh?” he agreed with you before talking to tommy. arthur was the next one to see you. “you and tommy, eh? if it wasn’t for the war, you two would probably never have met. i s’pose war isn’t all bad then.” “perhaps you’re right. i did find your brother to be arrogant before the war.” “that he is, y/n. that he is.” both of you looked over at him, engaged in conversation with everyone else. you fussed over the baby in ada’s arms. “awww, he’s precious! what’s his name?” “karl, after karl marx.” you shot her a look. “it’s unconventional, i know. but freddie really wanted it.” “it’s lovely.” finn rushed over to you and kissed your hand. you gushed exaggeratedly. “what a gentleman you are, finn!” “if tommy wasn’t here, you’d be my girlfriend, miss y/n.” you laughed at his childishness and ruffled his hair. “sure i would, finn.” the only person you hadn’t spoken to yet was aunt polly, arguably the most intimidating person of the family. “i have one question for you, y/n. how you answer it will determine if you’re fit for being a shelby. how do you think i kept this business up and running during the war?” you felt put on the spot but tried your best to answer. “um, well, to be quite frank, i’ve believed that women are better at business anyway. we know how to settle deals with whiskey and not fists or guns. and you seem like twice the man than most men i know anyway.” her lips twitched up into a smile as she looked to tommy. “oh, i like her already.” he held your hand in hers, and addressed tommy. “she seems like a lovely girl, do not fuck this up tommy.” tommy shook his head and laughed. “i’ll try, pol. i’ll try.”
you ate dinner with the shelby’s before you headed up to his house. “you sure you don’t want me to walk you home?” he asked for the hundredth time that night. “no tommy, i’m perfectly content spending the night with you. unless you’d like me to leave?” you questioned. “no no, stay, please!” he said, almost pleadingly. you looked around his bedroom when you reached his home. it was obviously a house, but it didn’t feel like a home. you frowned at your observation. “what’s wrong, y/n?” “this house isn’t a home yet, tommy.” “that’s because i want my first home to be with you. with our children. and as far as i’m concerned, you are my home.”
“care to dance?” he asked, holding out his hand. you looked at the gramophone in the corner. “that doesn’t look like it works, love.” you placed your hand in his. “so what? we can dance without music.” he said, holding your waist close to him, your hand on his shoulder. you leaned your head on his shoulder, both of you dancing in the silence, listening to the sound of each other’s breathing. “kiss me, tommy.” you whispered. he obeyed probably for the first time in his life and kissed your soft lips.
things escalated and you were now on tommy’s bed, tracing the sun tattoo on his chest, with him on top of you. “fuck me, tommy, please.” “your cunt wants this cock?” he growled. you moaned in his ear. “fuck, yes tommy, make me yours.” he stretched you out in the most blissful way. of course, you had used your fingers before, but nothing could replace the feeling of his cock. “god, please!” you moaned out, words slowly turning into incoherent sounds. tommy chuckled. “god can’t hear you now, sweetheart. not here.” he pistoned his hips into you just right and it wasn’t long before he found the spot inside you that made you scream. “t- tommy fuck! right there, please don’t stop!” “i wouldn’t dream of stopping, darling. my girl, so pretty all spread out for me. take it, love. take that cock.” the feeling of your impending orgasm coursed through your entire body, making you writhe in pleasure. “god, i’m so close tommy!” “good fucking girl.” his hand reached down to rub circles on your clit while he fucked you so good. “oh god, tommy, i’m not gonna be able to walk tomorrow…” “that’s the plan, sweetheart.” he spoke as he kissed hickeys on your neck, matching the ones you’d given him earlier. “come on love, make a mess on my cock.” as soon as he said that, you felt yourself falling apart, the tight band in your stomach snapping, uncontrollable moans of his name falling from your lips. “thank you tommy, thank you so much.” you moaned, drunk on the feeling of his cock inside you. “such an angel. who do you belong to, sweets?” he said, still pounding your cunt. “y- you, tommy. i belong to you!” “that’s right, sweetheart.” he whispered in your ear, “i love you, darling.” you moaned as you felt your second orgasm approaching. “tommy, fuck! i- i love you too!” “god i’m gonna cum inside you! you’d like that, eh? me getting you pregnant, all nice and round with my baby?” you felt your orgasm pulsing through you at his words. “yes, tommy! fill my womb up, please! i need it!” you heard tommy’s loud moans as he came inside you. “oh, such a good girl. took my cock so well, love.” tommy stayed on top of you for a while, his cock still inside you. “i’ve wanted to do that for five fucking years.” he spoke, voice muffled since his head was buried between your tits. you laughed, but the laughs quickly turned to moans as your sensitive cunt felt friction from tommy’s cock rubbing up against its walls. he pulled out of you slowly, watching his seed spill out of you. he eventually got up to get a warm washcloth and a glass of water for you. you drank the water as he cleaned you and himself up and pulled you into his chest. you pulled the covers over both of you, feeling your body flush against his. “that was amazing tommy, thank you.” “the pleasure is all mine, sweetheart.” he kissed your forehead.
ever since tommy came back from france, he had these recurring nightmares every night. of his time in the tunnels. the germans. his comrades. how he had to kill people with his bare hands. he could still hear the shovels digging the tunnels when he closed his eyes. when he was with you though, he could finally fall asleep. or so he thought.
you were awoken in the middle of the night by the sounds of a gasping tommy, suddenly sitting up. you felt groggy for a moment, having just woken up, but quickly sprung into action. you sat next to him, rubbing his back. “tommy, what’s wrong?” he didn’t speak. but he didn’t need to. you’d seen enough cases of ptsd from your time in the war to know what was happening to him. “you still see it, eh?” he only nodded. you laid back down and pulled him into your chest. he protested. “what are y-” “shut up.” you could tell, he was still a bit frantic, his breath still heavy. you spoke to him in a soft tone and you played with his fingers, his head on your chest. “listen to me. listen to the sound of my voice. feel my body against yours. you are home. you are safe. the war is over. the nightmares are just parts of your mind trying to scare you. but you’re stronger than that, eh? i’m here with you, and you don’t need to be scared. alright? i’m here with you, always.” he hummed, heavy eyelids slowly closing shut. being able to smell the scent of your perfume helped ground him. “good job, tommy. now sleep. i’ll be here with you when you wake up.” you managed to get him to go to sleep, but somehow convinced your mind to let you sleep light enough that if tommy were to have another nightmare, you’d be up immediately. fortunately, he didn’t wake up during the night.
he woke up to the sight of a sleeping you, the sun rays hitting you just right. he swore he could look at you forever. you felt his gaze on you and slowly opened your eyes. “how’d you sleep?” you asked. “like i hadn’t slept in years.” he replied.
“morning, mr. shelby.” you wished him, as you did, every day before the war. except this time, you were in his arms, in his bed. you kissed his lips softly. except this time, he finally wished you back.
“mornin’, sweetheart.”
#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby smut#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy smut#thomas shelby smut#thomas shelby#tommy shelby#thomas shelby fluff#tommy shelby fluff#tommy shelby angst#thomas shelby angst#peaky blinder fanfic#peaky blinders#peaky fookin blinders#peaky blinder imagine#peaky fucking blinders#peaky blinder headcanon#tommy shelby headcanon#tommy shelby fanfic#cillian x reader#cillian x fem!reader#cillian series#cillian smut#cillian one shot#cillian fic#cillian x y/n#cillian murphy#cillian fluff#anna’s boys
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Business and dates
summary | when grace leaves, it leaves the shelbys with a heartbroken thomas. polly takes this as an opportunity to get him with the girl she's always wanted him with
pairing | thomas shelby x fem!reader
word count | 2.30k
genre | fluff! with just a tad of angst!
requested? | yes! thank you so much for your request! i had so much writing it, and i am kind of proud of this one, lol.
warnings! | mentions of bullying, and the reader not eating from being worried! and, i have not proof read this yet!
author’s note! | Hi! Thank you all for being so patient as I worked on this! Requests are open for drabbles, and headcanons only at the moment for these characters! And as always, I do I have really bad OCD that causes me to write in some random capitalization, and punctuation, But I think that we don't have to worry about that in this fic lol. And let me know if there are any mistakes, but please be kind!
No one knew what had happened that day. All anyone knew was that Grace was suddenly gone, and that she had left the Shelby family with a heartbroken Thomas. And the person left to pick up the pieces was his lifelong best friend, who has been in love with Thomas since the day they met back when they were just small kids.
Thomas was having a decent day, school had just let out and he was walking back home (alone because his older brother Aurther thought that it would be funny to run off before Thomas got out of class) when he saw a young girl getting picked on.
“Stop it! This is my favorite skirt!” Thomas heard her yell to the kids that had her on the ground, kicking dirt onto her clothes while laughing and taunting her. Thomas knew that these kids were practically afraid of him, so he knew he could get them to leave the girl alone. He also knew that his mother would scold him if she found out that he didn’t do anything to help her.
“Oi! Leave her alone, or I'll put a curse on you!” Thomas called out as he made his way up to the group, and pulled a razor blade out of his pocket. The kids practically scattered the moment they heard Thomas’ voice. Leaving just him, and the girl with dirt on her clothes.
“Thank you” He heard the girl say in a quiet voice as he put his hand out to help her back up.
“What caused that?” He asked, curious as to what the girl could have done to anger the other kids so much.
“I-I told them that I wouldn’t do their homework.” She said back to him, as she tried to get the dirt off of her skirt. Thomas told himself that he should have known it was something like that. There wasn’t anything serious that this girl could have done to upset them so much.
“Come on, I’ll walk you home, you live on Watery lane, right?” He said as he started walking, with the girl running a bit to catch up with him. He knew her name, he recognized her from school. She lived right across from him, but they never said anything to each other. She had been over to play with Ada sometimes, but they never spoke.
Neither one of them said anything as they walked, it wasn’t until they got to her home that Thomas spoke up.
“They shouldn’t bother you again, no one should.” He said as he stood outside her doorstep, seeming almost sorry since he knew his reputation, and how kids would stay away from him in fear of getting cursed.
“It’s alright, I don’t really have any friends anyways.” The small girl said, while rocking back and forth on her heels.
“Why don’t you come play at my house? I know my family won’t mind.” He said to her with a small smile. Truth be told, Thomas didn’t really have many friends either, and he saw an opportunity to make one.
Ever since then, the two were inseparable. They did everything together, they were even each other's first kiss. Her family was weary at first, but soon saw how protective the Shelby boys (and the rest of the Shelby family) were over her, and grew to like them. The two were like this up until Thomas was called to war
“Tommy, this has to be a mistake.” The girl cried into Thomas’ shoulder as he held her. “All three of you at the same time? What kind of cruel joke is this”
“The universe has a funny way of doing things.” He mumbled into her hair, his hand resting on the back of her head. “I’ll come back, sweetheart.”
“You don’t know that, Tommy” The girl said as she pulled her head out of his shoulder, and looked up at him, eyes red and puffy.
“You really think I'm leaving you yet? You think I'm going to leave you before you get married? Please, your future husband doesn’t get off that easily.” He said with a small laugh while trying to lighten the mood as he held her face with his hand. “Nothings taking me from you, not yet.”
“You better come back, Shelby.” She said as she looked up at him with glossy eyes. “Or, I’ll bring you back just to kill you myself.”
Thomas laughed and kissed her head, as the air in the room changed. He didn’t know why, but he leaned down and kissed her lips softly, all he knew was that he couldn’t leave without giving her a kiss, even just a light one. “You’ve got nothing to worry about” He said as he pulled away.
She believed him, she tried not to worry. She didn’t worry until his letters stopped coming. After a month of not hearing from him she worried so much she got sick. She wrote him everyday, sent him a letter at least once a week, if not twice. No word of his death ever came.
The day Thomas arrived home, she was sitting at the kitchen table with Polly. His heart broke when he saw her, she was paler, and her face was skinny, all signs to her not eating properly. Neither one of them said a word to each other for a week. It wasn’t until (Y/n) decided that she had enough, and stormed into his room.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” she shouted, growing red in the face.
“What are you talking about?” He asked, not meeting her eyes, already knowing what she was talking about,
“You! You come back, and are completely different! You’re cold, and mean to everyone, which maybe you were that way to some people before, but never to me! Never to your family!” As she yelled at him, she started to sway as if she was about to faint. Before she could hit the floor, Thomas grabbed her and set her down on the bed beside him.
“You need to eat something.” He mumbled, not looking at her which infuriated her more.
“I thought you were dead.” This caught his attention as he heard her start to cry. He finally turned to her. “You stopped writing.”
“I didn’t know how to write to you, you would ask me how I was, and I couldn’t find it in myself to tell you about how I had just watched a man die. I thought it better to not write.” He said, pulling her into his chest. “Why are you not eating?”
“You worried me, anything I ate just came back up.” She mumbled into his chest.
“I told you not to worry.” He said with a small laugh coming from his chest, the first in a long time.
“Tough shit, Shelby.” She mumbled back, while pulling her head out of his chest.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, just staring at the other, until Thomas finally spoke up. “I’m trying to get back to normal.” He mumbled, barely loud enough for her to hear, she wouldn’t have if they hadn’t been so close.
“I know, it will just take some time.” She said while she caressed his cheek. “And, I’ll be here to help you heal.”
After that day, nothing ever really went back to how it was before the war. But it was like that for everyone. Thomas had gone back to normal as much as he could. He had his moments, but everyone did. And, (Y/n) didn’t lie, she was there every step of the way, even in the bad times she never left.
The two never fought again until the day Grace left. She had tried telling Thomas before that something was up with her, but he just wouldn’t listen. The only other person that seemed to notice it was Polly.
“He’ll never go for it.” John pipped into the conversation. Polly was currently trying to figure out a way to cheer Thomas up, and the idea she had was to put Thomas with (Y/n). She already considered the girl a daughter, and she always wanted her with Thomas. To her, it was the perfect plan.
“That's why we don’t tell him! All we tell him is that he has a business meeting at the new restaurant, he’ll show up, expecting some business man to be there, but instead (Y/n) will come in wearing the most beautiful thing I can find, that he’ll just have to stay.” Polly explained to the boys and Ada.
“Alright, but how are you going to get (Y/n) there, dressed up, without suspecting anything?” Ada chimed in.
“We’ll tell her a boy stopped by and asked to take her out.” Polly said, as if it was obvious.
“Please, she’s not going to just agree to go out with someone, especially if she doesn’t even know who it is.” Arthur muttered.
"Actually she might.” John announced to everyone. “Just to make Thomas jealous, she mentioned it back when Grace was around.”
The Shelby’s set everything into motion that night. Polly told Thomas he had a meeting, then she told (Y/n) about the secret man that wanted to take her out.
So Thomas sat in his suit, waiting for this man to show, when he saw (Y/n) walk through the door, dressed like a vision in her red, drop waist, beaded dress, with an old pearl necklace to match. She looked around the room, until her eyes landed on Thomas.
“What are you doing here?” She asked him, as she walked up to his table.
“Business meeting, what are you doing here?” He asked, suddenly growing jealous at the thought of her being here for another man.
“A date, and what business meeting? I know your schedule, there wasn’t one planned, did you make one?” She asked, wondering who on earth Thomas could be meeting for business at this hour.
“No, Polly told me I had one, who’s the date?” He asked, his jealousy rising.
“Not sure, Polly told me-” A look of realization crossed both their faces “Polly” The two said in unison.
She decided to sit down, now laughing to herself. “You’re the date.”
“You’re the business.” Thomas responded, a small smile growing to his face.
The two sat there for a minute, before Thomas spoke up. “You do look stunning.”
“Polly picked it.” She said, with a small laugh.
“I bet she did.” Thomas said with a laugh, and a sigh. “She’s wanted us together for ages.” He mumbled.
“And what do you want?” The girl asked. Thomas had always had a feeling that (Y/n) liked him, he was just never sure how much, until he looked up and met her eyes that were filled with nothing but love and want.
“You in my life.” He said, keeping his eyes on her. “I thought a relationship between us would mess everything up. I couldn’t risk losing you.”
“Thomas.” The girl said, grabbing his hand across the table. “You could never lose me, even if we did have a relationship and it failed, I would still love you. But, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.”
“I have distracted myself from you for as long as I can remember. I wouldn’t let myself fall for you.” Thomas said, standing up from the table, (Y/n) following.
“It’s okay to fall, Thomas, who knows, maybe it won’t hurt.” She said, as she placed a hand to his face. Without thinking, Thomas leaned in and kissed her with everything in him, causing her to hit the table, his hands on the side of her face being the only thing to keep them from falling. The pair kissed until they needed air. When they pulled away, he rested his forehead on hers.
“Let’s give this a try.” He whispered, looking into her eyes.
The girl smiled and gave Thomas a quick peck, before they left the restaurant, her holding his arm. The walk back to the Shelby home was mostly quiet, until she spoke up. “Thank god for Polly.”
#thomas shelby#thomas shelby imagine#tommy shelby#tommy shelby imagine#cillian murphy#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby fic#tommy shleby fic#thomas shelby fanfic#tommy shelby fanfic#thomas shelby fluff#tommy shelby fluff#thomas shelby angst#tommy shelby angst#thomas shelby peaky blinders#tommy shelby peaky blinders#peaky blinders
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
MASTERLIST
Unchained Melody (Part One)
Summary: It had been almost two years since you had become overwhelmed by motherhood, fleeing from both your husband and son in attempts to escape the suffocating blanket of worries and self-doubt that had enveloped you. With a life now filled with poverty, you scrimp and save every shilling, every penny to make the costly weekly journey to catch a glimpse of your son from afar at the market. But your usual Sunday trip back to Birmingham suddenly turns your life upside down for a second time when you are unexpectedly faced with the presence of your husband and his refusal to let you do anything but return to Arrow house, back to him and your son.
Warnings: Language, angst, smut, mutual pining, postpartum depression
Word count: 4993
Authors Note: This series is inspired by another oldie but goldie, "Unchained Melody" by The Righteous Brothers. Tommy's feelings will be heavily influenced by the lyrics of this melodic and timeless song throughout the story. The song Y/N sings to William is an old British classic called "I do like to be beside the seaside" .
"Calling at Birmingham New Street ladies and gentlemen, Birmingham New Street " the ticket conductor shouted walking briskly along the carriageway, going from coach to coach announcing the last and final call. One year, seven months and fifteen days. You thought to yourself picking at the frayed upholstered chair you was sitting on as a single solemn tear slipped over the curve of your cheek down into your lap, escaping the pools of your eyes too quickly for you to brush away. Not now Y/N. Don't start. You scolded yourself, not wanting to bring your fellow passengers' attention to your escaping emotions as you let yourself sink into the guilt you had been keeping tightly against your chest for almost two years, keeping it hidden from the vicious judgment and critical eyes it was undoubtedly worthy of as you did every Sunday you made the journey back to Birmingham, every Sunday you desperately tried to get a glimpse of your son from afar. Brushing the steady flow of tears from your face, you turned your head to the window, wiping the condensation that had built up on the tempered glass to see your reflection staring back at you, cruelly forcing you to see what you had become. Ragged clothing, unkempt hair and chapped hands, reddened from the countless hours you had worked night and day laundering linen for people that resembled your former self. You were unrecognisable, a far cry from the woman you once were, the wife and mother you once were. Broken and beaten, you were barely getting by with the hand life had dealt you. How had it come to this?
Nineteen and half months ago...
"He's crying darling. Y/N?" Tommy said, walking into the nursery after a relentless day in the city to find you in the rocking chair, aimlessly looking out the window as your son wailed loudly in your arms. You were starting to worry him. He'd been so occupied trying to make things legitimate for his new family that the long days he had spent with his head buried in paperwork were slowly turning into long sleepless nights stuck within the four walls of his office. The birth of his son had ignited an unstoppable force within him to keep the two people he loved the most safe and away from the wickedness of the world he himself played a role in, all at the behest and advice of those around him. He just had one more thing to do, one more thing to finalise, then he would stop. He'd promised himself.
"Tommy..." You muttered, blankly looking up at him as he took William from within your hold, the sudden quietness from his father's comforting warm arms snapping you out of your trance-like state. "He's hungry" you said as you picked up the small brown bear among all the various necessities needed to care for a child of only four months. "He just...he won't feed properly. Won't settle" you huffed, internally blaming yourself as you wiped the front of your blouse, reaching for your son, then suddenly recalling, afraid if you took him he'd start crying again. Was it you that unsettled him?
"He dropped his bear love, that's all. Maybe getting some teeth as well, ey little man?" Tommy said, looking at William as he tried to diffuse the criticism you were undoubtedly burdening yourself with. "Hey, c'mere" Tommy sighed, pulling you into his arms, pressing his lips to the crown of your head as tears welled in your eyes. You were slowly drifting away from him, he could feel it. But with Tommy being a man true to his time, he felt powerless as to what to do, what to say. Stiff upper lip, keep calm and carry on. The British way...maybe the wrong way. You'd pull through, wouldn't you? "We'll fetch him some warm cow's milk or a wet nurse, so you can get some sleep"
"No. No Tommy!" You angered quickly at the mere suggestion of anyone but you feeding your son, determined to battle through whatever it was that had a grasp on you without aid. "You think I'm a bad mum, don't you? You think I can't look after him?" you sobbed, your temper and fatigue spilling over into an angry display of pointing fingers and high emotions. You knew you were being unfair, you just...you couldn't help it. You needed an outlet for your mounting frustration, and unfortunately for Tommy he had the unlucky pleasure of being at the receiving end of it.
"Darling, I never said..." Tommy huffed, before you took your son back into your arms and your position in the rocking chair, your eyes fixing on a small light in the distance beyond the grounds of Arrow House as Williams bottom lip wobbled and his whimpers resumed. What would he do without you? Tommy reflected, a sudden feeling of guilt washing over him for all the nights he had spent away as he watched you in admiration, humming a soothing tune to his son, your fingers stroking gently over the curve of his ear and massaging the soft cushioned lobe until his cries quietened and he fell asleep. You were just tired, the small surprise weekend away in Blackpool he had planned in a few days time for the three of you would see an end to your worries. Sea air and sandy beaches, just what any doctor would order. Then he'd stop, he'd try harder. He'd promised himself.
" Fuck baby...you feel so good" Tommy moaned against your ear, his labored breath hot against your skin. "Let me make you feel good eh?" He said breathlessly, sliding his finger down between you both as he pressed on the small bundle of nerves swollen from his thrusts. Just relax. You told yourself. And for the love of god, stop fucking thinking too much. You berated yourself once again as you closed your eyes, a feeling of guilt pooling in your stomach from the little attention and affection you had given your husband since the birth of your son. One month since you were last intimate, one full month since you had let him get close to you. Had he been with someone else? Your brain quickly panicked at the thought of him with another woman when a hard thrust from Tommy had you moaning into his shoulder, your hands threading through his soft hair as he kissed down your neck sending a ripple of goosebumps over your body.
"Wait...Tommy not there" you pulled his head up as his tongue swiped over your nipple. "Shit" you huffed as a trickle of milk flowed down your cleavage whilst you frantically scrambled for the freshly laundered sheets to wipe away your embarrassment.
"Y/N, darling, it's ok" Tommy chuckled, kissing tenderly around your swollen breast as he rocked his hips into you, his thrusts suddenly intensifying when his eyes darted down to between you both. "Stop. Let me see you" he said, pushing your self-conscious hands away from shielding your stomach from the small scars you bared from nine months of carrying his child. " Fuck sweetheart...look at you" He moaned watching himself drive in and out of you, his wet length glistening, the sight sending a surge of pleasure through his throbbing cock. He's so into it. Why? Was he just saying these things, was he thinking of another woman? Your mind plagued you as you reluctantly kept your hands by your side. You felt like shit, looked worse than shit. That and your mind was elsewhere, to a never ending timetable of feeds and nappy changes you seemed incapable of getting right. As the room filled with the moans of your husband and the sound of his body basking in the awaited comfort of you he'd been patiently longing for, your eyes drifted over his lean shoulders to your suitcase covered by the netted curtains of your grand bedroom window. With the sudden fear that you had already made your decision, you turned your head to your husband, crashing your lips onto his as you held tightly onto his broad frame. Would this be the last time? The last time you felt the weight of his body on top of yours?
"Tommy..." you whimpered, a tear falling down the side of your cheek, desperate to tell him how much you were struggling as he gasped at your sudden eagerness, unaware of your inner turmoil in the throes of his own pleasure as a surge of electricity fueled by adoration pumped through his body, his imminent high quickly approaching. With every part of you clutching onto him, tightly clenching you both to a daze of heightened arousal, you let go, loudly crying your husband's name.
" Fuck...i'm gonna, Y/N I'm..." Tommy moaned incoherently into the curve of your neck as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thigh and his hips came to a sudden stop, releasing the built up tension he had been desperate to be rid of inside the tight warmth of your body with a shaky groan leaving his lips. "We've still got it eh?" Tommy chuckled breathlessly moments later as he settled down beside you, pulling you into his strong hold.
"Still" you replied quietly as you turned your head to look at him." I love you" you said longingly, your voice catching in your throat as you buried your face into his chest, hiding the shame in your eyes of the choice you knew you had made.
" I love you too. Y/N what's..." He said, tilting your chin up to look at him, cutting his words off and what he really wanted to ask, as the glazed over look in your eyes sent an uncomfortable heavy feeling of worry to the pit of his stomach. The far-away look in your eyes frightening him more than any enemy he had ever come up against. You were just tired, he'd call Polly tomorrow morning to come and help you with the baby. Tommy reassured himself as he held you tightly in his arms, his hand cupping the side of your head as he pressed a yearning kiss to your temple. This weekend would fix everything.
" Y/N...baby's crying..." Tommy mumbled half asleep as he rolled over, so used to you being the first to bolt up and hurry to your sons' whimpers. A dairy cow in human form, a living comforter to aid your son to sleep. You couldn't help but feel as you rubbed the fatigue from your dry eyes, another surge of guilt hurtling your way for thinking such things.
"Shhh darling, mummy's here" you said flatly as you approached his bassinet, picking him up and cradling him in your arms. "Please William, please stop crying. I'm so tired, I'm..." you sobbed, caressing his soft skin as you placed the tip of your finger to his mouth for him to suckle on. "What do I do? Help me William" you cried quietly in desperation, rocking him back and forth in your arms as you looked up at the ceiling, tears streaming down your face, your mind absent from the fact you were doing it, you were doing everything any mother would do in an attempt to soothe their child. Why couldn't you see it? "I don't know what's wrong with me" you sobbed to yourself, sniffing away the tears as you looked down at your son, his finger holding tightly onto yours as Frances the housekeeper listened outside the nursery door, her hand firmly enclosed around the handle, every part of her wanting to enter and magic your distress away. The thousand yard stare, they called it. She had seen it with her sister after the birth of her niece and then she saw it with you, the moment Tommy returned to work, popping your little bubble of the three of you lying in bed blissfully happy within the comfort of one another. She'd talk to Tommy in the morning. She promised herself as she backed away from the door, and back to her duties. She promised.
"Oh I do like to be beside...the seaside. Oh I do like to be beside the sea" you sang quietly, your bottom lip wobbling with each passing word. "I love you, I love you so much" you cried as you placed your son back into his cot, pulling out your handkerchief with your name embroidered delicately in the center for him to hold, hoping the scent of you engraved into the light fabric would comfort him in your absence." I'm sorry William, I...I can't be the mother you need " you sobbed as his little fingers clutched around the small piece of cotton. "Daddy will look after you, better than I can" you said as you bent down, placing a tender kiss to his head. "I just need a little break, a small one. I'll be back, I promise" Your voice broke, tears streaming down your cheeks as you gently glided your finger over his ear, caressing his soft skin and gently lulling him into sweet dreams and slumber. "Goodbye my love, my sweet, sweet boy" you cried, turning to the door and shutting it as a searing pain shot through your chest, through your shattered heart and the unbreakable bond a mother shares with her child, tearing and fraying from what you was about to do. Would you ever be able to come back from this?
"Come back to bed darling..." Tommy mumbled as you stood beside him, running your hands through the top of his hair, a quiet moan escaping his lips in response to your gentle touch as he lazily reached for your hand before his weighted eyes and tired body drifted him back into a heavy sleep.
"Soon Tommy..." You replied, muffling your sobs as you picked up your suitcase and turned to the door, glancing back one last time to your husband, to the love of your life. Meters away, it may as well have been miles. You thought to yourself as you came to the end of the long driveway of your home when the light of your son's bedroom suddenly turned on in the far distance and the loud call of your name from the depths of your husband's lungs resonated throughout the grounds. There was no going back now, it was done. They were better off without you.
Present day...
"Fuck sake" you mumbled quietly, hiding your face in your shoulder as you frantically wiped your tears away from the memory of the night when you abandoned your family and your former self. As you cursed yourself for being being so weak, so feeble, the small girl seated opposite you scrunched her brow in confusion, her little thoughts plagued with worry as to what had you so upset, as her mother, who looked as tired and weighed down with her own misgivings, sent you a sympathetic knowing smile.
"Hardly the time and place to let one's emotions get the better of them, this is public transport not a woman's bloody wash house" a man seated next to you clothed in the finest of suits grumbled rolling his eyes, begrudging the fact the train was not divided by class when the engine suddenly came to a stop and the mother ushered her daughter out of the carriage giving the gentleman a stern look, all while her daughter conveniently stepped onto, rather than other the pompous man's foot dirtying his perfectly polished loathers. "The little..." He spat as he folded his newspaper in half, turning to face you as if you had a role in the small girls worthy retribution. "Thiefs, whores and murderers. What would one except from this dump they call the second-biggest city in England" he seethed looking at you from head to toe as you stood to leave when he crassly stuck his foot out, causing you to fall face first onto the grimy train floor as a satisfied scoff left his lips. You were nothing to him, a beggar, the scum of the slums of the city he reluctantly found himself in. With no will or want to confront him about what you believe you undoubtedly deserved, you stood up, wiping the front of your dress down and adjusting your hat with only one thing on your mind...your son.
" Excuse me...please, excuse me" you said, pushing your way through the bustling market. You were already late, and with only the briefest of opportunities to get a glimpse of your child until another full seven days passed, and he made his Sunday outing with Frances again, you were desperate to see him. Standing by a stall filled with seasonal fresh fruits and juices you adjusted your woven hat, pushing the knotted strands of hair behind your ears in attempt to make yourself look proper, more presentable. Who were you kidding, you were but a ghost in a crowd full of people. Your disheveled appearance your only shield and cover from any potential sightings of yourself that could be relayed back to your husband. If he cared to know. You thought to yourself as you raised your head, your breath suddenly catching in your throat. There he was, your William. Watching from a distance, you followed his small wobbly steps, his hand holding tightly onto France's as the sun beamed down on them, heading with determination to the market stall he made a beeline for every Sunday. Perching yourself on a large wooden barrel next to a shelf of neatly stacked bottles of cider, you smiled as your shaky fingers came up to cover the joy on your lips as your former housekeeper picked up your son and showed him all the various jars of sweets and lollipops his wondrous eyes were beaming at. "Barley Sugars" you whispered, a small laugh leaving your lips as he pointed to his favorite and only choice of sweets whilst Frances tried to coax him into trying something different, when a smartly dressed man stood beside them turned around. Tommy.
"Barley Sugars again, eh?" Tommy chuckled, nodding to the stallholder as he reached into his pocket for a penny, smiling lovingly at the boy that resembled you more with each passing day. Wha...what was he doing here? You panicked at the unexpected sight of your husband, the last time being the night you had left him sleeping soundly in your shared bed. With shaky legs and your panicked eyes darting frantically around the market for any of his men, you slid off the barrel stumbling backwards into the shelf of cider, causing a small commotion of crashing glass and spilled beverages.
"You'll 'av to pay for that, miss" The seller frowned, waving his finger at you as he came marching around his stall to your trembling body frantically picking up the shattered glass, apologising profusely for the days' takings and mess you had made. With unsteady feet you stood up, your eyes cast down at the muddied ground, unable to meet the piercing stare you could already feel boring into you with every stifled breath that left your lips.
"Y/N..." Tommy whispered as he steadied himself against the wooden frame of the market stand, his knees buckling, his eyes widening in disbelief as time and everything around him suddenly slowed to an abrupt stillness, his ears deafening him with a piercing high-pitched whistle. "Y/N" he voiced louder, as the sound of the teeming market entered his muffled eardrums and your sheepish eyes finally met his." Y/N" Tommy called your name again as he pushed through the crowds of people, his eyes fixed on you as you started walking backwards, tears welling in your eyes from the panic firmly setting in."Y/N Shelby!" His voiced boomed into the crisp spring air, gaining everyone's attention, his brisk pace turning into a quickened run as he stumbled past people in a frantic attempt to get to you. "No! Don't you dare!" He bellowed, fear tightening in his chest as he watched you turn and run out of the market when he misplaced his foot and fell forward, tripping over the curb of the path as the end of your dress glided behind the corner of the bricked wall and out of sight.
" Shit...shit!" You sobbed running through the cobbled streets as you scanned the neighborhood in a frenzy of labored breaths and hysterical cries for somewhere to hide. What was he doing here?
" Hey, hey!" Tommy said, turning the corner onto the street you had been on mere seconds ago as he grabbed the arm of a young boy running past him with a hoop and stick in his hand. "Have you...have you seen a girl, in a...a dark red dress" Tommy asked breathlessly, whilst his mind frantically tried to make sense if what he saw was real, if you were real.
"That way, Mister" the rosy-cheeked child replied, pointing to a back alley leading to a row of terraced houses before running off to his friends that were patiently waiting for him at the bottom of the street. With shaky steps Tommy ran across the road, raising his hand in apology to a car and it's horn blaring at him from the near collision his dazed state caused. With his hands trembling, and his breath held within the tight confines of his burning lungs, Tommy turned the corner. And, there you were.
"Tommy..." You sobbed, backing up against the roughness of the slabbed wall as he stood in front of you, his own eyes welling with the unspent tears he'd been holding in for the past two years in an attempt to push away the reality of your absence.
"You're dead...I..." he said, his voice catching in his throat as he stepped closer, his brow furrowing in confusion at the acceptance he had surrendered to, now thrown into a disarray. " I.. I thought you were dead" he muttered in front of you as you shook your head, the back of his hand coming up to gingerly stroke across your cheek as the soothing coolness of his wedding band he couldn't bare to part with brushed along your delicate skin. But as the initial shock slowly started to fade, Tommy's jaw suddenly tightened and his gentle touch dug into your skin, his fingers twisting in anger as the creases of his brow deepened and the fury of feeling fooled took over. "I thought you were fucking dead!" He snapped through gritted teeth grabbing your chin, his grip painfully pushing into your flesh as he pressed his forehead to yours and his own tears spilled over between the curves of your cheeks. "Fuck!" He bellowed pushing your face away in disgust as he stumbled back to the wall opposite you, pulling his peaked cap from his head to cover his face as his body forced the contents of his stomach up onto the bricked floor. For months he had believed you had killed yourself, thrown yourself in the cut. And for months he blamed himself, burdening his body and mind with the responsibility of your death. The realisation and shock of you being alive was too much for his body to comprehend, even for someone as hardened to life as himself. " I thought you were dead..." Tommy wept quietly as he turned his head away from you, his reserved demeanour crumbling apart, leaving a man broken and tired from two years of heartbreak in its wake.
" Tommy I'm sorry, I..." You sobbed, approaching him as he put his hand out to stop you.
" No. You don't get to do that. You don't get to fucking say sorry" he sniffed back his tears cutting off your meek attempt to apologise as he stood up wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his disheveled hair hanging over the perspiration sticking to his forehead." Why?" His voice wobbled barely above a whispered as he searched your eyes for an answer, his back pressed firmly against the brick wall to stop his legs from finally giving in as the adrenaline that had been pumping furiously through his veins slowly dispersed and fatigue took over.
" I couldn't do it anymore Tommy, I..."
" Mummy!" a little voice caught your attention as you turned your head and your eyes widened in disbelief at the sight of your son in Frances' arms mere feet from you, his little hands reaching desperately for you as Tommy watched your panicked reaction, a scoff catching in his throat when your eyes sheepishly darted away from your son and back to him.
"Mrs Shelby..." France's voice broke as her hand flew to her mouth and tears pooled in her eyes at the sight of you standing before her. For she believed as everyone else did, that the poor Mrs Shelby had succumbed to her troubles and parted from this world, now free of her tormented mind.
" Take William to the car, Frances" Tommy ordered turning away, adjusting his coat and demeanour as he breathed heavily through his mouth, every part of him desperately trying to regain some form of composure.
" Mummy! Mummy!" Your son wailed as your eyes brimmed with tears, and you apprehensively stepped towards him with your hands out when Tommy hurried between you both, and you came face to face with the remnants of his anger firmly etched on his face once again. He didn't trust you. Your initial reaction to seeing William not good enough of one for your husband who was now evaluating your every move, your every word.
" Mummy's coming, isn't she?" Tommy said, grabbing you by your arm as he waited for a response, his jaw tightening at every passing second as his patience grew thin, unwilling to let you go, unwilling to give you an option. "Isn't she?"
" Yes" you whispered, nodding your head as Frances hurried to the car with William wailing loudly in her arms.
" Look at you" Tommy said, glaring at you from head to toe, his words laced in disdain as he took off your hat, throwing it to the muddied ground with despise. Disheveled clothes, matted hair and muddied fingers. He had given you the world, given you a warm home, anything you could have wished for and yet you chose this, a life of labor and poverty over him and your son. With a mind clouded with fury, Tommy was doing what he promised he'd never do to all the gods he had prayed to, all his ancestors he had pleaded to if they would just grant him one thing, and bring you back into his arms. He was judging you.
" Wh...why is he calling me mummy?" you said, sobbing as you hurried alongside Tommy's quickened pace, his hand still painfully grasped onto your arm, dragging you with him to the car. William was only four months old when you left, he didn't know who you were, did he? " Tommy?"
"Just fucking move Y/N" Tommy said, opening the car door and pushing you in, slamming it behind him with enough force to frighten William into tears again. " Frances, please" Tommy sighed pinching his brow, his elbows resting on the steering wheel as William cried loudly in the back of the car. As Frances tended to your child, searching for his brown bear she feared he may have dropped in all the commotion, you kept your eyes fixed firmly ahead of you, your hands clasped in your lap not daring to look at anyone as shame engulfed you and reality hit home that you would now have to face not only what you did but everyone in your life you had left. Tommy had now plunged you head first back into a world you had abandoned without an ounce of sympathy or understanding, the anxiety of what awaited you was becoming unbearable.
Pulling up to Arrow house, the confines of the car were silent, and had been for the majority of the journey with William now soundly asleep in France's arms, the only audible noise being that of the muddied driveway of your forgotten home and the sound of Tommy's flesh gripping tightly onto the stirring wheel. He was furious, the moment he could have only dreamed of as he sought solitude in the pits of grief now engulfed with hatred. As Tommy and Frances exited the car, you stood seated, panic suddenly enveloping you, your body unable to move as you watched the familiar faces of the grounds men coming to a halt as they squinted into the car and at your face they thought they'd never see again. You wanted to run, not from the heavy weight bearing down on your heart but run from their critical eyes and the things you were sure you could hear them saying.
" Get out" Tommy said opening your door, pulling you out and marching you to the front of your once, shared home.
" Tommy" a lady beamed upon seeing him as she waited in the foyer, her dark brown locks cut into a bob bouncing on her shoulders with every step she took as your husband stormed through the grand entrance with your arm grasped tightly between his fingers. "And who's this?" she frowned looking at you from head to toe, her assumptions of you firmly setting in stone from your appearance alone. A thief no doubt, or a whore. She thought turning her nose up at you as her crimson nails curled into her palms as she crossed her arms, ready to have you thrown off the grounds or better, dumped in a ditch. You had no place in this grand house, in the house she was now not only the governess of, but a woman that the maids and workers believed had wormed her way into ruling the manor Tommy had abandoned his interest and care for to the grief of losing you. " Well, who are you?"
" She's my wife"
PART TWO
Tag List: @garrison-girl-08 @call-sign-shark @red-riding-wood @look-at-the-soul @lau219 @peakyswritings @babaohhhriley @naevisct @galactict3a @satanhauntedmytorment @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @kmc1989 @latorsgatorz @garfieldsladybird
#unchained melody#tommy shelby#thomas shelby#tommy shelby x reader insert#tommy shelby x you#tommy shelby x y/n#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby x fem!reader#cillian murphy#tommy shelby fanfic#tommy shelby series#tommy shelby fanfiction#peaky blinders#peaky blinders series#peaky blinders fanfic#tommy shelby smut#tommy shelby angst#thomas shelby smut
855 notes
·
View notes
Text
shattered. | tommy shelby x reader angst
He promised you.
tommy shelby angst. because my heart aches.
"Where is he?" You demanded, glaring hard at Arthur.
Thomas' brother avoided your eyes, muttering to get back behind the bar at the Garrison. You reached out and shoved his shoulder, knocking him back against the bar, catching him off-balance.
"Don't ya fuckin' lay your hands on me, woman!" Arthur yelled at you, getting in your face.
"Tell me where Tommy is!" you yelled back, feeling dozens of shocked eyes boring into you.
You weren't afraid of anything, not even the Shelby's. You had been looking for Tommy, who had promised to meet you at the train station. You'd waited for him on the platform, suitcase in hand, waiting to be whisked off to France with Tommy.
Thomas Shelby had promised to take you to France.
.
"Tommy," you called to him, walking into his office.
You climbed onto his desk, sitting in front of him as he leaned back, taking a drag from the cigarette between his full lips. His large hand came down to your thigh, squeezing gently and rubbing your leg.
"Come to bed," you whispered, lips hovering over his cheek before pressing a kiss against his warm skin.
"I'm workin'"
You shifted, moving the straps of your slip off your shoulders, the delicate fabric fluttering down to gather around your waist, tempting Tommy with your bare upper body. He leaned back, taking a good look at you as he smoked, dark blue eyes drinking in every inch of you.
"But I need you," you whined, parting your thighs and pulling back the fabric to show him your sex, dripping with desire for him.
"Jesus fucking christ," Thomas swore, pushing your knees open as you tried to close them, teasing him.
"Come to bed."
He stood so abruptly you jumped, the mobster towering over you. After putting out his cigarette, Thomas lifted you up under your knees, carrying you upstairs naked, leaving your flimsy slip on his desk downstairs.
Within minutes, you were writhing on his sheets, pulling hard at his ink-black hair as he ate you out mercilessly. His hot tongue lapped up everything you had to give him, tasting you until you were reduced to ragged screams.
The first time you came on his tongue, but he promised more, moving over you to bury his cock in your soaking pussy, pounding hard and deep as you clung desperately to him. Your nails dragged red lines down his freckled back, your face buried into his shoulder, muffling your moans as his hips connected with yours.
He kissed your neck as you threw your head back, unable to stop a second orgasm from shattering through your body, squeezing tightly around him, pulling Thomas into the chasm with you.
"Don't, don't," you begged hoarsely as he tried to pull out, grabbing his arm to stop him.
"What? You want to warm my cock?"
"Please, stay inside me for a little longer," you begged, exhaling as he settled down, halfway on top of you, buried inside.
"I want to get away from here," you whispered, brushing his hair from his eyes, his head lying on your chest.
"I want to take you away from here," Thomas confessed, squeezing your waist, burying his face in you, fantasizing about taking you away from all of the violence of his job, to live happily together somewhere west of Paris.
"It will be perfect. We'll have horses, I'll paint your barn red," he promised, his fingers gently stroking your bare skin as he spoke.
"I've never wanted anything else other than to be with you," you confessed.
"I'll get you away from here, I promise."
.
You had waited at the train station, and he never came. You watched the train to Paris come and go, shattering the pieces of your heart and dragging them away with it. Your throat was raw as you made the long walk back to the Garrison to look for him, to figure out why the hell he had stood you up and left you alone.
"John! Where the fuck is Tommy?!" you shouted, looking at his younger brother, turning away from Arthur after getting nowhere with him.
John looked at his feet, refusing to answer you. You picked up a glass off the bar and threw it at the floor, watching it shatter - just like your heart.
"Stop it, right now."
You knew the commanding voice anywhere - Tommy walked out from the back, his eyes hard as he stared you down.
"Where were you?!" you demanded furiously, your chest heaving as you forced back sobs.
"You will not continue to make a scene in my bar," he spoke with unwavering authority, stepping back and opening the door, silently instructing you to follow him.
"You will not tell me what to do!" the words burned your throat, your heel hitting the wooden floor with a resounding crack that sent a wave of certainty up your spine.
You could tell he was fighting back emotion as he walked up to you and grabbed your elbow. He was careful not to hurt you, but dragged you into the privacy of the back room.
"Let go!"
He released you, leaning back against the closed door so you couldn't get past him, trapping you in the room.
"Why, Tommy?" you asked, your voice shaking.
"I had to accept an engagement deal to the prime minister's daughter. It's for business, we need it to-"
You stepped back like you'd been slapped, a sharp pain exploding through your chest.
"For your business? Last night, you promised to leave it all behind and get away with me," you were unable to stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks.
He leaned forward to touch you, but you drew away, backing against the opposite wall, putting as much space as he could between the two of you. Tommy brought his knuckles to his mouth, exhaling a wounded sigh into his hand.
"I have to do this, for my brothers."
"You promised me, Tommy. You slept inside of me last night! You said you loved me!" you screamed, breaking down into full-out sobs, crumbling into pieces.
The pain in his eyes was evident, but it only made you angrier. He had chosen his business over you, a loveless marriage over you - over all of the promises he made under the moon. Years of love and sex and memories shattered in a day, and you were left with no idea how to pick up the pieces.
"It's not just about me, it's not just about you."
"That's a weak excuse," you hissed, slapping his hand away when he reached out to touch you.
"I do love you," he whispered.
"You broke my heart, Thomas Shelby."
#tommy shelby#thomas shelby#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby angst#tommy shelby imagine#tommy shelby smut#peaky blinders#peaky blinders imagine#cillian murphy#cillian murphy x reader#cillian x reader
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
The Layers of Thomas Shelby - Frozen Fear (one-shot)
Synopsis: Fear was an emotion Tommy elicited in others. He never thought he'd feel it himself. Not like that. Never like that...
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!Reader
Genre: angst, slight fluff
Warnings: graphic descriptions of blood, injuries, kidnapping, swearing, death not sticking to canon whatsoever :)
Word count: 3028
Fear was something Thomas Shelby was intimately acquainted with. He elicited it and made others tremble to their very core with just a glance or a whisper of his name from someone else’s lips. Fear was as much a shadow in his life, as his daughter who followed him around wherever she could.
But fear was also what he felt in that exact moment as he stared at the bloodied napkin on his table, the silver locket he’d gifted Y/N when their child had turned one inside it, a simple note of “For Angel” attached to it.
Sadie was tight asleep on his chest when he’d received the damned box. Y/N had taken her to Ada’s so she could have the day to herself, get her body pampered, do up her hair and maybe spend a bit of money on some new shoes or a winter coat as a birthday present from him. If she’d asked, Tommy would’ve bought her the Eifel tower, and she’d bloody well deserve it. Valentine's was coming up, after all.
He was so proud of her. Despite the certain things that’d happened, he wouldn’t want anyone else to share a life with. She’d picked up the broken pieces Grace had left his heart in and mended it with gold. But gold didn’t matter at that moment when he didn’t know where she was. Where her body was.
When Frances had brought in the box that’d been left by the doorstep, Sadie had been softly snoring on his shoulder for the better part of an hour while he ran tired blue eyes over the logs of the previous week.
He thanked her, his voice a whisper to not stir his toddler, before cautiously examining the square. When he opened it, Tommy swore his heart stopped beating. Or he wished it did. Because it wasn’t like that time when Grace’s boyfriend had taken Y/N, or like that time she’d gotten mugged behind a shop. No. This time, he knew she was dead, and he wished he was too.
It took all of his self-control to ring up his brothers and tell them to get to Arrow House right that second. It took all of his restraint not to shout or scream, the only thing tethering him to earth and sanity his pride and joy asleep in his arms.
When Arthur and John got to his home office, Tommy simply threw them the note, his eyes trained on the small oval locket, thumb tracing the inscription upon it, smearing blood more and more over his own hands.
“Find her.” Those were the only words he uttered.
For a brief second, he’d glanced up and saw terror rush through the eyes of his brothers; he knew how much the two loved his wife, they loved her like they loved Ada and Polly, so without a second to spare, they ran back out, no doubt to gather every Blinder and search every nook and cranny while he clutched the brown-haired girl to his chest, the silver locket clutched in his other palm.
He wasn’t a religious man, didn’t even necessarily believe what his gipsy ancestors did or even his aunt Pol, but at that moment he turned his head to the ceiling and prayed to whoever might listen, old gods and new, Norse and Greek and Slavic – anyone that would hear his pleas.
Tommy thought back to every time Y/N had smiled at him, had laughed and filled his world with light. He even thought back to all those insane moments where he felt like his jaw would snap with how hard he’d been clenching it because of some stupid thing she’d done. He wished he’d appreciated those moments more because when two hours later Arthur came back to the house, the coat his wife had been wearing that morning in his hands, soaked and dripping freezing water onto the Turkish carpet, Tommy knew she was gone.
***
Her whole world consisted of cold, nothing else. It was the only thing she could feel, taste and sense. Was there anything to sense? Y/N didn’t know. She didn’t even fully believe her legs were still attached to her body, but somehow she was making her way across the field.
Time had become a concept she couldn’t comprehend, and the only thing that showed it had passed was the ever-changing position of the moon - her only companion through the long journey.
She had stopped shaking a while back, which it didn’t take her being a genius to know meant trouble if she didn’t find a way to get warm, but even that didn’t matter. Nothing but getting home did. If she had to die, she wanted to do it there, not somewhere in a ditch let alone beneath the frozen surface of the lake where Luka Changretta had dumped her.
He thought she’d been dead. He’d slit her throat, but not before ripping off the beautiful little necklace Tommy had gifted her.
“So he has something to remember you by,” the Italian mobster had given her a mocking smile before taking a knife from his side and slicing it across her neck.
The pain had been blinding, knocking all sense of reality out of her mind. She knew it would be the end. When her body lifted above the chair she’d been tied to, when her back greeted plush leather seats, her blood staining them forever. She knew she would die sooner or later. Then sweet blackness greeted her.
But death was a lot more painful than what it’d been described to be like in all the books she'd read and edited, especially the wound in her throat. Her breaths were white-hot knives dragging down her oesophagus and her lungs were on fire with each shallow take of air.
Through a haze, Y/N heard Italian being spoken before two rough hands grabbed her by the ankles and dragged her out of the car.
Her body hit the frozen ground with a thud, and it took every bit of remaining brainpower not to whimper from the pain. The winter air stung every piece of her body inside and out, caressing her with icy nails.
Slowly her mind was coming to, the cold sobering her up, but when someone took her wrists and another took her by the ankles, setting her flying, it was the frozen surface of the lake she cracked through that awoke her completely.
Y/E/C eyes flew open, murky depths of the water greeting her while every nerve and cell in her got shocked. Instinct told her to swim up, get a breath, and get out of the water before it pulled her under, but with the mightiness of a Norse goddess, Y/N suppressed all that and allowed the lake to gently pull her down, and her mind finally started to understand what’d happened.
They thought she was dead and decided to throw her body in some lake, probably hoping it would freeze over before she floated to the top and would remain that way until the very spring, prolonging the pain for her family.
The thought of her family grieving her was the only thing keeping Y/N from not trashing below the still surface. Instead, she slowly slipped her arms out from the coat and let it move to the top, while she sunk lower and lower.
Soon enough her feet touched the slimy earth below, which is when she once more opened her eyes and glanced up. There wasn’t really anything to see, apart from the light of the moon streaming in through the broken place where her body had been thrown and two retreating headlights.
Y/N waited two more seconds her whole being in shock and begging to get out and away from the cold when she pushed upwards and broke the surface. She gulped the air down in greedy takes, not caring about her split neck or the trembling of her body - at that moment all she cared for was air.
Her teeth were chattering so hard she pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, afraid it might get caught between them and she’d bite it off. Swishing her head around, she looked if the ice had broken anywhere else. Out. She needed to get out. And to whatever god had taken pity on her after everything, underneath a small makeshift pier where kids would come and fish, the ice had cracked right to the very edge.
She knew every second spent in the water was a second closer to hypothermia, so as quick as her frozen limbs would allow, she swam to the land. It was a hand’s stretch away when another pair of headlights came into view. Y/N cursed and instead of getting out of the lake, she ducked underneath the wooden planks, pressing a palm to her mouth, so whoever it was wouldn’t notice the air steaming up in the air from her mouth.
Her ears were ringing, so Y/N couldn’t hear whatever the men were talking about, only see how they fished out her coat and took it with them. They left another minute later, and she swore at whoever it was for costing it to her. Home. She needed to get home and fast, but she couldn’t be seen, couldn’t let Changretta know he’d half-assed her murder and she’d survived. He wouldn’t do so again, so Y/N waited another bone-chilling minute, checking if any car passed by again.
And then she got out, her dress clinging to her body, hair against her face, matted with seaweeds and blood, one heel of her boot snapped off – a wraith come to life and ready to haunt.
The first step was agonising, and Y/N collapsed underneath her weight, needles piercing her feet. Her knees bruised and scraped raw against the stony earth as did her hands, but she welcomed the pain, let it ground her, and used it to remind herself – pain meant she was alive. No pain would be the real problem.
Y/N wrapped her hands around her body, digging her nails into her biceps, each step an arduous labour. Small pebbles cut the soles of her feet; she’d lost her shoes somewhere along the way; her bones ached from the very inside and each breath was a task, the wound in her neck, although scabbed over, split with every small movement, small streams of blood trickling down and staining her white dress.
Lights were visible in the distance, even as her vision blurred more and more, the small bright dots becoming stretched-out beams before everything tilted and she was staring up at the sky.
The stars were magnificent, she thought. You couldn’t really see them shine like that in the city. Even with Arrow House being further away from the centre, the beauty of it didn’t compare to that of the open field.
Her mind went back to Tommy, to how they met, how they used to bicker about every single thing and to that first morning she’d woken up beside him and instead of finding his pillow cold, a strong arm had been wrapped around the middle, his nose hidden in her hair.
Neither mentioned it a few hours later at breakfast, but it’d been the day things slowly had started to shift. Then she’d gotten shot, and the switch had completely been flipped. All those glances they’d shared, the soft smiles and tiny touches were no longer hidden, but out on full display. His hand now always gravitated to touch any part of her, they fell asleep facing one another, most times Y/N using Tommy’s chest as a pillow. And then someone else came along and used his chest as a pillow, his heartbeat as a lullaby and his eyes as the ocean to pull them in and never let go.
She’d been scared to become a mom, but even with that, she’d never seen Tommy so absolutely terrified. When Y/N had gone into labour, she thought he would pass out, but he swallowed the fear and stayed with her. Despite Ada being adamantly against a man being present during “women’s business”, she’d threatened to break her neck if she so much as looked at Tommy, Polly snorting beside her.
“He put me in this position, and by God, he will be here,” Y/N had sneered at her sister-in-law before a contraption rippled through her body and she almost crushed her husband’s hand.
But then the pain went away and a small wriggling person was placed on her chest. She’d never seen Tommy fully break down before that.
“Huh,” Ada had shrugged. “So he does have a heart.”
She’d promptly received a smack from Polly and Y/N for that comment, but Tommy had chuckled.
“No, I don’t.” He’d leaned in and pressed a kiss to his wife’s temple. “These two stole it a long time ago.”
After that day, it wasn’t uncommon to find Tommy either in his office or even in their bed with Sadie sound asleep on his chest. She just about melted each time.
But now all that stared back at her was the cloudless winter sky. Y/N wanted to sob at the thought she’d never see Tommy’s blue eyes anymore or fix the way Sadie’s curls framed her face, but every little movement was agonising, so she just laid there, staring at the cosmos and waiting for that black void to get her.
***
When Y/N came to she was confused as to why there was so much yelling when being dead, why her head was pounding and her body was racked by violent shivers.
“You undressed my fucking wife!” A deep voice boomed from somewhere very far away it seemed while at the same time, the noise echoed in her skull, rattling her brain.
“Oh, would you have liked me to have left her in that frozen fucking dress?” A deep, gruff one replied. “She was already hypothermic, but by all means, you’d rather no one saw her in her knickers than be alive.”
“Shut your fucking mouth, Solomons!”
That name being said snapped her eyes open, which was a big fucking mistake, as even the warm light from a candle by the bed and from the fireplace was enough to make Y/N feel like she was looking directly at the sun and burning her retinas.
Another horrible shiver went through her frame, her teeth chattering nonstop. Pins and needles were running all over her skin and Y/N curled up in a ball as if trying to not let any of the heat she’d managed to get back escape, but that only made her feel more pain, a groan escaping her mouth. That small noise was enough though for the door to be busted open and for two men – one lean and tall, the other a burly, beard-covered menace to rush inside.
Tommy was by her in an instant, a careful palm placed on her cheek.
“Don’t try to talk,” his own voice was that of a whisper. “The wound’s pretty rough.”
If it didn’t feel like it’d hurt like hell, Y/N would’ve just rolled her eyes, but all she could do was squeeze them shut as shivers went through her body. When Tommy saw that, he was instantly on his feet, going for the fireplace and adding more logs to the dwindling flames.
When he turned around, Y/N had slid her shaking hand from underneath the duvet and extended it to him, a silent plea for him to come back.
It didn’t take much more than that for Tommy to take off his jacket and suit, not caring about the company in the room, his trousers following until he was in his breeches, sliding into the bed, wrapping her frozen body with his own warmth.
A groan escaped her mouth, as she clung to him, Tommy releasing a string of expletives when sensing just how cold Y/N actually was.
“Bloody hell, woman,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to her forehead and tucking her face into the crook of his neck.
Gently, he intertwined her legs with his, and his fingers went to card through her matted strands, the motion more so calming him down, than her.
He’d put their daughter in bed after calling for Polly to come, with the thought Y/N was dead, his whole being a numb void. He’d thought the only time he’d ever get to see her again was after her body was found, that was if it’d be in a recognisable condition, so he’d take her frozen feet against his calves, her cold lips against his chest and stiff fingers digging painfully in his sides, as long as it meant she was alive.
At some point, after Alfie and Tommy exchanged words, Solomons left, and they spent the whole night and early morning like that, tangled in one another until Y/N was no longer cold or more appropriately would snap her tongue off if she so much as opened her mouth. She still couldn’t speak despite how Alfie had cleaned and stitched the wound in her neck, but she could write.
Alfie had brought a pen and paper upon Tommy’s request so they could communicate and the first and only word she scribbled was “home”.
“We’ll go home soon,” Tommy promised. “Arthur’s just… taking care of a few things.”
To that Y/N just nodded; she didn’t need any more explanations.
She took the pencil again and flipped to a new page. “Alfie has shitty sheets.”
Tommy chuckled, tightening the grip he had around Y/N’s waist. “He does, doesn’t he? You’d think the fucker could afford silk by now. Did he even change them before he put you in the bed?”
She just smiled and nuzzled closer to Tommy pressing her no longer cold nose to his chest and breathing in his scent, as he cradled her nape.
Y/N could hear the rapid thuds of his heart. When he'd first joined her in the bed, it'd been racing like one of his horses, stuttering and trying to find a beat, but now it was a steady song, matching her own.
No longer were they afraid.
Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):
Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstranger
Thomas Shelby tags: @datewithgianni @captivatedbycillianmurphy @screemqueen @mrsmalfoyshelby @theamuz @lyarr24
A/N: sooo, it's been a while, hasn't it? Just wanted to drop something for the upcoming Valentines :)
P.S. hope you liked this :)
P.S.S. please don’t plagiarise my work and repost it/ translate it on other platforms (wattpad etc). re-blogs are very welcome
#Peaky Blinders#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinder imagine#peaky blinder fanfic#Tommy Shelby#tommy shelby imagine#tommy shelby smut#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby angst#cillian murphy#cillian x reader#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy x you#cillian murphy angst#thomas shelby imagine#thomas shelby#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby smut#thomas shelby angst#tommy shelby x you#tommy shelby x y/n#thomas shelby x you#thomas shelby x y/n
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
Toy Horses Outside the Brothel
You always knew Tommy as the cheerful boy who took care of you. He always knew you as the smart girl that he visited by the docks. The daughter of a prostitute, the son of a deadbeat father; a soldier who protected his country; a whore who protected him; a gangster who controlled Brimingham; and now, a wife. War changes people, you just didn't realize that war could change you both. (angst, depictions of abuse, poverty, prostitution, canon-typical themes, death, war, time jumps)
A/N: This is dedicated to @runnning-outof-time ! Thank you for giving me guidelines and for reading my work before anybody else did. You’re amazing and I wish I could write Tommy as good as you do.
Want to be tagged? navigation | main master lists | PROTECTION MASTERLIST
BIRMINGHAM, 1900:
Tommy first met her when his father took him to the docks. Arthur Shelby Sr. told impressionable young Tommy that there were kids he could play with by the docks. Tommy agreed, wanting to impress his father. On the way there, right outside of what looked like a house with many rooms, was her.
You were lonely and something in Tommy told him to play with you instead. Besides, the boys were too big around the docks. Arthur Shelby left him right outside the establishment and threw a shilling to you. You picked it up, stuffed it in your pocket, and looked at him.
He smiled at you widely, a tooth missing from his mouth and extended his hand towards you.
“I’m Tommy,” he said. You reciprocate the gesture, telling him your name and shaking his hand. You were more reserved, Tommy noticed. He was so used to the ruckus in their house that he expected every child to be as energetic as them. “Why did my father give you money?”
“He wants me to play with you while he’s inside,” you said. “I don’t have many toys but…I do have this,” you said, showing him your wooden horse toy. They were your prized possession, one of the few gifts that your father sent when he promised the world to your mother.
“Oh! I love horses,” he said. “Do you? I like watching horses,”
“Yes,” you replied. “My mother said that my father owned many. I’ve never met him though. Where do you watch horses?”
“That’s alright. Fathers hit kids. See?” he said, showing you a bruise on his side quickly. “My mother puts ice on it and it tickles. We watch it in the races. My mum takes me for my birthdays. She usednto ride a white horse before. She told me. Do you go to school?”
“No,” you shook your head. “But my mum taught me how to read and how to write. Sometimes, Big Johnny teaches me arithmetic. One plus one equals two,”
“You’re smart. Who’s Big Johnny?”
You hummed, making the wooden horse gallop on the murky ground. People in the house all told you that you were. If only poor Mary Magdalene had the means to send you to school. If only. You stop your movements and move your toy towards Tommy.
“Here,” you said. “Big Johnny is the man who runs this place. He’s kind,”
“You won’t have a toy,” he replied.
“It’s okay. I have more but they’re in my mama’s room. My father sent them. Sorry if it’s dirty,”
“Thanks,” he said. It’s the first time anyone has ever given him something without asking for it. He keeps it with him; keeps the memory of a girl who watched him intently while he played with a toy horse. That’s why when his father exited the house, with less money in his pocket, Tommy asked if he could come again next time.
-
When the house closed, you ran to your mother’s room. You usually had to stay out until five in the morning, sleeping on the sacks right in front of the brothel until your mother woke you up. She’s been seeing less men these days…always cooped up in her room, asking for you. She didn’t mind if you stained her bed with sweat and grease. She’d ask how your day was and you told him about Tommy, the boy you met earlier.
“I’m glad you have a friend,” she coughed into her white handkerchief. The blood stain was normal now. You were worried at first, but your mother told you to never tell anyone. You just never knew how serious it all was when you slipped once. You were talking to Big Johnny; he was teaching you how to subtract.
“If I help you, are you going to pay me?” you asked, perched on his lap. He had been the only father figure in your life. He’d help your mum surprise you for your birthdays and give you some money every now and then.
“Pay you? You’re robbing me,” he kids. “What do you need the money for?”
“I’m planning to buy mum a present. A nice handkerchief,” you said. “The one she has has blood—“
“What is it, bug?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing.
“Nothing,” you shrugged, smiling sickly sweet.
“You have to tell me,” he replied. “It’s your—your safety,”
It was your turn to look confused.
“But mum told me to never tell anyone,” you whispered, heart racing. What did he mean by it? “Why would I not be safe? I’m safe. I have mum with me,”
Big Johnny ran his hand through his hair, then his chin. You knew that it was a sign of his agitation, so you relented.
“You can’t tell anyone,” you whispered. “But mum has been coughing up blood for a while. She said it’s fine. You won’t take her from me right, Johnny?”
“Fuck, kid,” he sighed, stressed at the sudden turn out of events. “No more arithmetic today, okay? I’ll go talk to your mum. Just go outside or play or whatever,”
“Is everything okay?” you asked, panic rising in your throat. It constricts while you keep yourself from crying. “Mum will be so mad at me! Please don’t tell on me,”
“Do you know why she’s coughing up blood?” he asked, his voice serious. He knew that you had to be talked to in his “adult voice” for you to listen. You knew that he needed to be stern for you to listen.
“N-no…” your hair falls messily as you shake your head, picking on your nail beds.
“She’s sick, bug,” he said. “If we don’t do anything about it, you could get sick too. The two of you might die,” he explained. “Look, kid…you have a bright future ahead of you, alright?”
“What will you do?” you asked. “You can’t take her from me! Please, Johnny. My mum is all I have,” you cried, tears started flowing once the first one dropped.
Johnny couldn’t do anything else. He relented but locked your mother in her room. Whenever you went in, he made sure you had some face mask on to protect yourself. You only saw her for a few minutes every day. Parting her was painful and Johnny had to console you while you cried. He gave up his bunk and slept in his workspace so you won’t have to sleep with your mum.
A week later, your mum died of lung cancer.
It was too late, the doctor explained. Johnny let you stay in his bunk, never mind the fact that he had no space for himself now. He didn’t mind. You were his top priority. How is he going to raise a child in a brothel?
-
Your mother always told you that as long as you were with her, you would never be lonely. There was no burial, just her body being thrown and burned with the rest of Birmingham’s garbage. It made you wonder what your body would be like dead. You decided to never end up like her, one way or another you were getting out.
Tommy continued to visit you, but he knew that you were different now. It has only been a week and you’ve grown up so fast. When he arrived, a box of your toy horses was prepared for him.
“What’s this for?” he asked, eyes brightening up at the sight of the box. His father threw a shilling your way again.
“It’s for you. I don’t want to play anymore,” you said. “I kept one white horse for me but you can have them.”
“Why not?” he asked, galloping the toy you gave him last week. “Thank you. I don’t have my own. I always have to share with Arthur, John and Ada.”
“My mom died…you were my first friend and you never met her,” you said, tears falling on the ground. “I’ve been living in Big Johnny’s room,”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said. “My Aunt Pol says that friends are there for each other. I’m…I’m your friend,”
You smiled a teary smile, appreciating the underlying message behind his words. He’ll be there for you. But until when?
-
BIRMINGHAM, 1905
Fifteen, you were fifteen. You haven’t even turned fifteen for a week and you were working. The owner of the house told Big Johnny that if you wanted to keep living there, you would have to work too. Johnny had no place for himself, no house—his money all went to you. Your clothes, the books you’ve read, the food you ate. He'll get you a cake with a candle along with a pound for special occasions. If you were lucky, some of the girls would give you something. Tommy’s dad stopped coming and so was the shilling you got.
He stayed, though. He’d talk to you about school and how he wanted to leave.
“You’re lucky you’re in school,” you said, watching Tommy smoke a cigarette. You were never a fan if them, seeing as your mother died of fucking lung cancer. “You have to stay,”
“I’m not built for it though. They’re all so boring,” he said, blowing the smoke away. “If only I could work like you. Why are you dressed so nicely anyway?”
“The owner told me to work,” you shrugged, pulling the strap of your dress back on your shoulder. “Johnny asked the boss if I could help him with the girls and management, but he said no. Wanted me to work because it will bring more money in,” you bitterly replied. “I want to go to school but the fucking boss wanted me to present myself as a Cherry Girl. You wanna know what that is?”
“What?”
“A fucking virgin.” you shrugged. “Said many men will pay for someone like me. Today’s my first night and Johnny cried a little bit when he saw me. I’d kill and die to go to school, Tom.”
“Shit, love, I’m sorry. I was being insensitive,” he offered. “Hm, maybe you’ll bag one rich man you know? Some rich bloke from London and he’ll take you. Besides, at least you smell nice,”
“This shit is awful,” you countered, sighing. You blinked back the tears that threatened to spill. “Fuck, I said I wasn’t going to cry tonight.”
“Hey,” he said, sitting closer to you. He wraps your arm around you and lets you stay there. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll stay in school and do well, okay? I’ll study so hard; I’ll take you out of here. Let you live in a mansion with lots of space to run in. Fuck, I’m sorry, love,”
“It’s not your fault, Tommy,” was your weak reply. “I’m just…I told myself that I would never be like my mother and now, I am,”
“You’re not her,” he whispered, tightening his arms around you.m, never mind if the grease and sweat of his clothes mixed with your perfume. “You’re not her.”
-
BIRMINGHAM, 1906
“Fuck, Tom. You can’t stay here while I’m working,” you scolded. You were lying, you appreciated the fact that Tommy was here. He’ll wait until you finish your shift, until you meet your quota. It was always quick, though. You had a rich patron that covered your every living expense.
“My patron’s coming,” you told him, and he tenses. He remembered the way you cried to him after your first ever shift last year. How some old fuck didn’t even bother. He finished and threw you some coins. He remembered his rage when you told him about this new guy. He’s quite scary but he pays the most, you said. “He doesn’t like seeing me with other men,”
“I’m a man now?” he quips, a smirk on his lips. “It’s not like I can afford it. I’m broke. Besides, I’ll act like a bodyguard, yeah? All I ask for payment is a day out with you. Aunt Poll is cooking something on Sunday. Want you to eat something that’s not whatever is being cooked here. We can go on a picnic. I met a girl who worked at this mansion, and they have lots of flowers in the garden. Shit you’ll like,”
You offered him a slight smile, nodding.
“Will your aunt be okay with…me eating your food?” you asked. Tommy took notice of how insecurity laced your voice. His suggestions of meeting his family have always been met with resistance. He understood. Although Polly has been insisting on meeting the girl he’s been spending his time with, he couldn’t risk his father recognising you and then, treating you like trash.
“Of course. She’s been more annoying. Told my mum about the girl I’m seeing,” he said. “I’ll be the first boy to take you out, hm?”
“Shut up,” was your only reply.
Sunday comes and you asked your boss for a day off.
That day, Tommy took you to the garden with Polly’s chicken stew and his mum’s fig cake. Tommy didn’t let you work, he set down the food and opened the containers.
“The best meal you’ll ever have,” he said while you sat. “I should’ve done this earlier. What have you been eating?”
“I’m lucky enough to be fed. Johnny gets me some food out of the brothel sometimes.” you said. “Thanks for taking me here. I love it.”
“I knew it,” he said, spooning out your portion and giving it to you.
“I want to have a house with lots of flowers. Different coloured blooms all year round.” you said.
“The caretaker of the garden says that we can pick some flowers. Do you want to take some home?” he asked. You nodded, a flush on your face. How could someone not love him?
BIRMINGHAM, 1908
“How have you been my angel?” he asked, twirling your hair in between your fingers. “Can’t believe I missed you last week,” he mumbles, kissing your shoulder. You giggled. “I was in London and all I could think of was you,”
“I’ve never been to London,” you told him. “Are you going to take me there?” you asked, wide-eyed. He’s been your patron since you reached 18. He was quite younger than your usual customers. He always came to visit when you were seventeen but never looked at you. As if that made it better.
“You haven’t?” he asked. “I’ll take you there, Angel. I’ll show you the whole world. Hm?”
“You will?” you asked, faux excitement in your voice. He loved this; you knew. He loved that you were a fragile little bird in need of saving. He loved that you’d listen to him talk about his father. He’s the sappy kind. He liked to hold hands, talk, and make love. He’s paid you more than anyone else and gave you a hefty allowance. Big Johnny didn’t have to think about your safety anymore. “I want to go to the city! Buy everything that I see and just…breathe a different air,” you said.
“Fuck, baby, I’ll take you there and buy you everything you ever lay your eyes on. I’m not fucking around. I’ll take you there,”
“You will?” you asked. “I don’t like the idea of you leaving me. Did you know that? Sometimes, when you leave, I have to lock myself in my room and refuse everyone,” you lied. You locked yourself in because your quota was already met. You were just saying these things to keep him coming back. A little bit of pretending never hurt you. It meant a bigger tip, more money.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Of course,” you said. “You’re my hero…”
Somehow, you didn’t find yourself lying when you told him. You felt dirty, you felt like your mother when she thought your father would give her the world. But Simon paid big money to have you alone for multiple nights a week. No other customers were to ask for services.
“I’m your hero, alright…you’re my little bird. I’m dead set on taking you with me to London. Once I get my inheritance, I’ll show you the world and get you out of these slums.”
-
BIRMINGHAM, 1909
“You don’t have to do this anymore,” Tommy said. You were well enough to have your own place somewhere near the docks now. Johnny had given you some furniture that the house wasn’t using anymore, helping you fix the tables and the chairs that you would be using. You didn’t have to live at the brothel anymore and it was all thanks to Simon.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Tommy,” you chuckled. “Do you like my place?” Tommy looked around, flowerpots littered your house.
“I’m serious.” he asked. “I’ll have you safe in Small Heath,”
“And my job? What will pay for this place? I finally have enough space for my flowers.” you asked. “I can’t just leave. Come on, you have to see the view on my balcony.”
You dragged Tommy’s hand to the balcony to show him the view. You were a little far from the docks now but from your balcony you can see it. The blue water, the usual chaos…you were smiling so freely, so beautifully. Tommy stills, unspoken words lingering in the air. You could realise it too…you’ve been realising it slowly. The world was in your hands. You could seize it if you wanted it. It fills Tommy with determination. It pumps through his veins, and it rings in his ears. Determination, consistency, and power. Three things to play with the world…three things that he’ll have. He could get you a bigger house. If he played right, he could have it all.
“This is why I got this place,” you said. “I mean, there were others but the view of the docks…I used to think everything about it was so ugly, you know? So grey, so evil…so grotesque but from the vantage point, everything is different,” a soft smile played on your lips when you let go of Tommy’s hand. He already missed your touch. “I can’t leave my job now because I wouldn’t have this,”
“I’ll work for it,” he says proudly.
“Tom, I know you’re not happy with how I earn money. Fuck, I’m not happy too. I hate that job. I know you hate it when I turn down your offer. But I have nothing else. You have to support your siblings. Don’t you get it? We’re all whores, Tom. We just sell different parts of ourselves. Mine just so happens to be my body.”
It enrages him and you could see it. See his face fall apart, how his jaw ticked.
“I’ll do it.” he said. “I’ll fucking do it. You think I’m fucking around when I tell you that I’ll protect you? I will. I’ll make a name for myself and protect you. I’ll fucking protect you; I swear on my life.”
“I know you will, Tom,” you said, inching closer. “But can’t you just be happy for me? This once?”
“We could add a little chair right here,” he relented. How could he ever tell you how much he hated himself for not being enough right now? “I’ll bring some of Polly’s flowers. You’d let me stay here?”
“Only if you’re being nice,”
“What if I’m too tired to make the trip back to Small Heath? Can I stay here?” he asked.
“Sure,” you shrugged. “But only if you have food for me or something,”
“Or something? You’re not letting me stay for free? I’m your best mate,” he chuckled. “I mooch off you all the time,”
“You have more than I do. It’s time for me to mooch off on you,”
“Yeah? Well, I want yours,” he said. “I’m glad though…that you don’t have to live there anymore. You’re safer here,”
“Thank you, Tom,” you smiled, sitting by the railing of your balcony. “I’m glad too.”
“I’ll make sure you’re protected,” he promises.
“How?”
“I’ll protect you.”
-
BIRMINGHAM, 1910
Tommy gave you the number of his telephone years ago. You were shaking, something bad had happened and you didn’t know who else to turn to. Big Johnny was too busy breaking up fights in the bar beside the brothel. You walked home shakily. Tommy called the brothel earlier to tell you that he couldn’t make it tonight because of some gang business. It was fine, of course. So, you went to the market to buy some supplies. You just didn’t know that he would be there.
You were waiting for someone to pick up the phone, biting your perfectly manicured nails.
“Who’s calling?” a woman asked from the other line. Her tone was snippy, and you knew she meant business.
“Hi,” you cleared your throat. “I’m looking for Tommy Shelby?”
“Who is this?” she asked, confused as to why a woman would suddenly call Tommy in such a manner. She was used to Tommy’s girls calling, an embarrassment usually hinted when they spoke. But this new girl had no shame.
“I’m a friend of Tommy’s,”
“Tommy has many girlfriends. You’re going to have to be specific,” she said, intrigued.
“Oh, of course,” you said. You told her your name. “Is he there?”
“Tommy!” you could hear her voice call. “Some girl is on the phone for you!”
“What, Poll?” he asked, scowling.
“Pick up the phone, Tom. Your friend is asking for you,” she said, passing the phone to him. She didn’t leave the room immediately, sitting on the nearby chair instead to listen in.
“Tommy Shelby,” he says, and you breathed a sigh of relief.
“Tommy,” you whispered. “He was there…he was there.”
“Who, love?” Tommy asked. Polly noticed how his voice softened, how his stance relaxed. “Do you need me there?”
“He was one of my customers before,” you forced out. “He was always…rude and rough,” you choked. “I hate this fucking job, Tommy. I fucking hate it and he treated me like an object today just because he paid for my services years ago,” you sobbed. “I’m sorry. I know you were busy but I fucking hate it,”
“Shh…it’s okay, love. It’s okay. I’m going over there, and you could tell me,” he said. “Will that be alright?”
“I—yes,” you nodded, wiping your tears hastily. “I got some of your favourite fruit from the market today. Didn’t know you have an expensive taste,”
He chuckled softly.
“I’ll see you, alright?” he asked. “Keep the doors locked. I have my copy,”
“Okay, Tommy. Stay safe for me?” you asked.
“Of course.” Tommy put down the phone until he heard you end the line. He sighed and went to go get his coat until he saw Polly with an eyebrow raised. “Fuck, I didn’t see you there,”
“Who would? You were too lovestruck to notice anything,” she teased. “That’s the girl you’ve been seeing?”
“We’re friends, Pol,” he clarified.
“She’s the girl from the docks, then?” she asked. Tommy nodded. “Fuck, that’s rough. She’s a whore,”
“Don’t,” he said, an edge to his voice. “Don’t call her that. I’m trying to build something for all of us, Pol. For her. She hates her job…she fucking hates it and I can’t do anything about it,”
“You don’t have to save her, Tom. You can’t save everyone,” she said but she knew that Tommy was stubborn. Everything that she’ll say will fall on deaf ears.
“It’s all her,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ll get her out of there if it’s the last thing I do.”
The walk to your place was unnerving. Thoughts swarmed in his head. If he only had it in him to murder the man who dared to look at you. He’s never made peace with how you earned your money, but he still happily showed up after every shift. You never talk about your customers, and he didn’t like to ask.
“Tommy, you’re here,” you greeted. He could see how swollen your eyes were; how red they were.
“Of course, I am,” he replied. “Are you okay?” He hangs his coat on the coat rack and walks towards the couch where you were seated.
“I am now,” you sniffed. “I’m sorry for making you worry but this job…people reduce me to such an object. I didn’t even know his name, you know?”
“I know, love.” he said, his heart beating inside his chest. What was it? What was the beating?
“Tommy, I’m going to make a request. It’s absurd and we haven’t done it yet…”
“What?” he whispered, unsure.
“Can-can you hold me?” you asked. “You don’t have to but…I have no semblance of what it’s like to be loved anymore. I want to pretend. At least for tonight, somebody out there loves me.”
“You don’t have to pretend,” he said. “You’re my friend. Of course, I love you.”
You only smiled, snuggling closer to Tommy. You were his friend…only a friend. How else would he look at you differently? You still had to pretend because the love that he was willing to give was not the love that you were looking for.
-
BIRMINGHAM, 1911
Multiple knocks on your door woke you up. Someone was screaming your name outside and you felt yourself panic. You took the gun that Tommy gifted you last year and crept down the stairs. You opened the door slowly to reveal two men—one older and one younger. The younger one had a smirk playing on his lips while the other looked panicked.
“Who are you?” you asked, tightening the gun behind your back.
“Arthur Shelby,” the one with the beard replied. You nodded. “I’m Tommy’s older brother. This is John,”
“Where…where’s Tommy?”
“He asked us to come get you,” John replied. “We mean no harm.”
“What happened to him?” you asked. “Come in,”
The brothers entered your house and watched you lay your gun on the table. An unspoken threat.
“Tommy’s not in a good place,” Arthur replied. “Well, he’s asking for you. He’s having these…episodes. I don’t fucking know what thr fuck they’re called but sometimes, he calls for you when he shuts down,”
“It's even worse today,” John added. “Our mother died,”
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry,” you said, offering a small smile. “Will you let me dress better? I’ll come with you,”
You met the brothers outside of your house, your gun secured on your skirt.
“Are you Tommy’s whore?” John asked as you walked.
“John!”
“I’m not his fucking whore,”
“So, why is he always at the brothel by the docks?” he pressed.
“We met when we were kids. Your dad used to visit the brothel with him,” you shrugged. “I never understood why your father took him there all the time. It’s a dangerous place,”
“Why were you there?”
“My mother worked there. I was born there. I grew up there,” you shrugged. “Tommy was my only friend growing up. Your father stopped coming but Tommy still managed to show up,”
“I see,” Arthur replied. “You’re the girl who gave him toy horses when we were kids, then. He never let us touch them. Even now, he has them lined up on his wall,”
“Yeah, I was. I gave it to him a week after my mother died,” you recalled.
“I’m sorry for calling you his whore,” John said. He realised now that your relationship with Tommy was deeper. It was more meaningful than he realised.
“It’s okay,” you let out a small smile. “It’s a fair assumption,”
Minutes of silence passed by, and your group stopped in Watery Lane. You’ve never been in his house before; you never had the time to do so. You were also quite ashamed to show yourself. How could you prove that you weren’t after Tommy’s money if that's exactly what you are after men?
The door of the house opens, and you assume it was Polly. The same woman who you talked to on the telephone before.
“He’s in his room upstairs. Last door to the left,” she said.
“Thank you,” you rushed to where Tommy was. You didn’t bother to stay and eavesdrop. You were there for Tommy. You knocked on his door slightly.
“Stay the fuck away from my door or I will kill you,” he shouted. You cracked the door open slightly.
“It’s me, Tom,” you said. He rose from his bed and rushed towards you, flinging his arms around you. He pulled you closer. “Hi,”
“She’s dead,” he murmurs against your hair. “My mum’s dead. My dad left. I didn’t even like him, you know? He always hit the three of us. I thought it would be better if he just fucking left but my mum died because he left. Now, I don’t have her.”
“I’m so sorry, Tommy,” you said. You knew he was still struggling after his father left many months ago. He was shaking in your arms, trying to grasp you tightly. Trying to be closer. “I’m so sorry,”
“I…I don’t know what to do,” he said. “You never got to meet her. She’d love you; you know?”
“That makes us even,” you saw a small smile on his lips. “I’m here now, Tom. You could rest,”
“You’ll still be here when I wake up?” he asked meekly, like a child.
“I’ll be here,” you nod, caressing his cheek softly. He nods, yawning after he evened out his breathing.
“Shit, love. I’m so tired,” he yawned again. “Let’s both go to sleep. We deserve it. I’ll see you when I’m awake?” he asked, adjusting your position on his small bed.
“I’ll see you,” you confirmed, snuggling closer to him.
-
“Tommy’s playing a dangerous game,” Polly commented from downstairs. It has been met with no resistance.
-
BIRMINGHAM, 1914
“Good afternoon, Pol,” you smiled. You were invited for Sunday dinner, and you decided to bring cake from the bakery that Tommy liked. You’ve only met them last year, but you’ve become such an integral part of their family that people knew you were closely associated with them. Even Simon.
“Oh, you didn’t have to bring cake,” she said. “We’d rather you spend it somewhere,”
“It’s alright,” you said. “I wanted to do something nice,”
“Keeping Tommy levelheaded is nice enough. Seriously, what did you do?” Ada asked, chopping the vegetables. She was reluctant at first but now, she couldn’t go a week without ranting to you. Girls’ night is what she called them.
“I don’t know,” you chuckled. “May I help?”
“If you could kindly chop the carrots, please,” Polly said. You set yourself and rolled your sleeves, peeling the carrots first. “Tommy and the boys went out for a while. They said it was some business with the Blinders. While they’re out, how are you?”
“Oh,” you nodded. “Me?”
“Of course. Ada has been talking my ear off about some guy she’s so secretive about,” she scoffed.
“I’ve been working less,” you confessed. “I’m helping out on the counter. Helping Big Johnny with the money and the accounts. I work a few times a week now. Simon’s been frequenting the brothel and well, you know what Simon does. It helps that he doesn’t stay long. The brothel pays me for my assistance. I can buy you cake every week now,”
“Don’t do that. Finn will be spoiled rotten,” Ada says. “Besides, you deserve nice things for yourself, you know,”
“I know but I can’t help it,” you said with a soft smile. “I like doing nice things for you,”
The boys soon come through the door, spilling with laughter. Tommy makes a beeline towards you as soon as he spots you.
“How was the afternoon?” you asked, bumping your hips with him.
“It was good,” he said. “Finn got into a fight with some kids, and we had to deal with it.”
“Is Finn okay? I brought cake.”
“Just a bruised ego,” he chuckled. My favourite?”
“Of course,” you said. “But let’s pretend that it’s for Finn, alright?”
“It’s always for Finn,” he groans. “He has you wrapped around his finger,”
“He does. He’s such a charming kid,” you praised. “Where is he, anyway?”
“Taking a bath before dinner. You have me for now,” Tommy said. “Can I sleep at your house later?” he asks in a softer tone. He’s been sleeping at your place ever since last year. He said you make him sleep better.
“You know it’s never a problem,” you said. His presence made you feel safe. He made you feel secure. “Will we leave together?”
“Yes. I’d like to sleep as soon as possible,” he says, dropping his forhead on your shoulder. You only chuckled. “I’m so tired. So, so tired,”
“Who are they fooling?” Ada asked in whispers. “Are we sure they’re best mates?”
“They’ve insisted on it for years,” Arthur shrugged. “I don’t think they’re aware,”
“I don’t think so either,” John says. “But Tommy throws a fit whenever she has to meet that Simon prick. Calls him a rich bastard.”
“He is a rich bastard,” Ada nodded. “She says he just came into his inheritance. Ammunitions,”
“Shit. She hit the jackpot, then,” John commented. “Wonder how that’s gonna go?”
“There’s nothing to wonder, John,” Arthur says. John could only nod his head.
-
You stumbled inside your house around half past midnight. You were both quite tipsy, having drank Pol’s stocks of wine. The Shelby Company Ltd. has been gaining more popularity now, along with the Blinders. Hell, Tommy even posted two Blinders to guard you. “For when I’m not around,” he said.
“Pol’s going to kill me for giving Finn too much cake,” you giggled, leaning on him.
“I reckon you’re banned from Sunday dinners,” Tommy jokes, taking his shoes off. He takes note of how you’re dressed today. “You know you can remove all the fucking things on your body right? Rouge…the jewels. Where’d you get them? Is the rich bastard buttering you up?”
“I like it. Dressing up makes me happy,” you frowned. “I’m allowed to like nice things, right?”
“Right,” his jaw ticked. It should be him who's giving you these gifts…showing you a lavish life. He hated it. “Later?”
“Later,” you nodded. “When I’m banned from Sunday dinners, you wouldn’t let me be left out, right?”
“‘Course not,” he shrugged, pulling you to your bedroom like he owned the place. You didn’t mind. You were happy to see that he was comfortable in your home. “You’re my best girl.”
“That’s what you say to your horses,”
“You’ve got really good horse sense and you’re always on your high horse,” he says, peeling his coat away. He was rummaging in your chest now, looking for clothes he might have left until he settled on a simple white shirt and pyjama pants.
“Yeah, yeah. You and your horse wordplay.” You entered the bathroom to dress down. Just like Tommy, you settled in his shirt and pants. They were more comfortable than singlets and you certainly didn’t want to make Tommy uncomfortable.
He was already waiting for you on the bed when you came back. He pats the space beside him. You obliged. You were looking into each other’s eyes with small smiles, Tommy’s finger trailing down your arm absentmindedly.
“I…” words died in his throat before he could get them out. “I…”
“What is it, Tom? Are you okay?”
“I’ll get you out of here,” he rasps. “I’ll get you out of there and I won’t let you work a day in your life anymore.”
“Tommy,” you sighed. “I can’t—can’t leave this job. It’s all I have,” He tightens his arms around you, afraid that you’ll ask him to let go.
“I know but once I come back from the war—“
“The war?” you asked, removing his arms around you. “War?”
“We enlisted,” he clarifies, trying to gauge your reaction. “Once I come back, I’ll be so fucking rich. I’ll have you. I’ll keep you and you won’t have to lift a finger. We’ll live in a mansion and have servants. Just like what we used to talk about,”
“Tommy, you’re going to war?” you asked, standing from the bed. His eyes watched you settle down shakily on the single chair by the bed. “Fuck. You’re going to war. You’re going to leave me,”
“No, love. Come on, I—“ he grunts, sitting up from his relaxed position.
“It’s war, Tommy! They change people…I don’t want to lose you; do you not get that? Are you not happy here? Is that why you're throwing your life away?”
“I’m not throwing my life away,” he says, a frown. “We’ll be drafted one way or another because we’re poor. Might as well do it now than be forced. Some of my men will still watch over you every now and then. They’ll still make sure that you’re safe. We’ll send letters. Alright?”
“Letters,” you scoffed. “And what if the letters stopped coming?”
“Don’t say that, please,” he begs. “I’m doing this for all of us. The business will be handled by Polly and when I’m back, I’ll make it even bigger. Alright? You have to trust me,” You didn’t even want to ask about the business. You didn’t want to ask why more men wore peaky caps. You didn’t want to ask what the Shelby Company Ltd. really was. Not now.
“I know you will, Tom,” you said. “But I’m scared. For the first time since I’ve known you, you won’t be here. I’m scared,”
Tommy lays his hand on your shoulder. Words he couldn’t say lingered in the air. I’ll marry you once I step foot in England. He didn’t know what else to say; didn’t know if there was still something to say. So, he kneels before you and makes you look at him. You were crying. So afraid, so alone.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“When will you be leaving?”
“I have two more days,” he says. “Will I still see you?”
“Yes, of course,” you said. “You’ll come back for me?”
“Of course. I have a picture of you already in my pocket. I have to make sure to come back to you,��� he said. “and everyone else, of course.”
He fishes a necklace from his pocket, his mother’s locket.
“Here,” he said, showing it to you. It was one of the last pieces of jewellery she owned. “Mum gave it to me. You know I’ve always worn it. I want you to wear it now. Think of it as a loan, yeah? You’ll give it back once we see each other again,”
“Tommy, I—“
“I want you to accept it. I want you to see you wear it now. I want to see you wear it before I leave. But most of all I want for us to stay the same,” he says, holding you and kissing your hair softly. You couldn’t push him away. You’ve longed for this your whole life. To be held, to feel loved. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.
“I’m sorry. So, so, so fucking sorry.”
“I don’t think you’re wasting your life away,” you cleared your throat. “I’m so—I’m so proud of you and your bravery. I’m so proud of you but I can’t be fucking happy for you. I don’t want to wake up every day knowing that you’re not here. I don’t want to have to guess if you were alive or not.”
“I am,” he promises. “I’ll be alive. I’ll come back as your Tommy. Just…wait for me, alright?”
You clung onto Tommy two days later by the train. He whispered that he would come back. He said that he will make sure of it. He breathes in the smell of your hair—roses. He envelopes you in his arms once more and turns to leave, never looking back. You knew, in your hysterics, that if he comes back from the war, the same old Tommy you used to know would never be.
PART 2 PART 3
TAGLIST: @shelbydelrey @runnning-outof-time @duckybird101 @thenattitude @swordofawriter @litteltourtius @trixie23 @everythingelseisextra
#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shellby x reader#tommy shelby#peaky blinders x reader#peaky blinders#hurt/comfort#tommy shelby angst#thomas shelby angst#cillian murphy
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
If Speaking is Silver, Then Listening is Gold
a Turkish proverb
prompt: ( requested ) you require a bit of reprieve after the week you had, and Tommy's a gentleman.
pairing: Tommy Shelby x hard of hearing female!reader
fandom masterlist: Peaky Blinders
word count: 4.4k+
note: you hit me in the chest with this request. as someone who is hard of hearing (HoH) and progressively losing what they have left, this got personal.
warnings: author projects, mild angst, hurt and comfort, specified frustration, working with customers SUCK, mild violence, Tommy's a little OC 'cause he doesn't know what to do with emotion!
"Excuse me! God, the service here is terrible! Aren't you listening to me, barmaid!?" The woman with polished finger nails slammed her manicured hand to the bartop aggressively, glaring at you as if you had backhanded her mother.
The sudden slap made you jump slightly, turning your head to acknowledge her before deflecting, "In a moment, ma'am, I'm trying to listen to this man's order."
"I've been trying to get your attention for 10 minutes now!" She argued, the noise of the bar dialed up as the night droned on and the patrons drank more.
"And I'm busy assisting other customers, I'll get to you when it's your turn," you reminded her, blinking at the man in front of you. "I'm so sorry, sir, I, uh, what were you saying?"
He sighed, "You don't remember? Or didn't hear me?"
"I couldn't hear you over the woman yelling at me," you snipped, perking your brows. "Would you like to order or should I move onto another customer?"
He scoffed, "Just get me a fucking bourbon."
"One fucking bourbon comin' at'cha," you rolled your eyes as you turned from the people to grab the bottles of liquor lined up behind you. You poured the man his drink, set it in front of him, and pocketed the bill he slapped in front of you - not offering change as you instantly looked to another customer. He grumbled with displeasure, but you were asking the next person, "What can I get you?"
"Uh, no, I'm next, I've been waiting long enough," the woman with polished fingernails insisted, literally pushing the customer out of her way.
You sighed, "Know what? All right, fine, what can I get you, ma'am?"
At that moment, the doors swung open and a new wave of drunkards stumbled in; the bar roaring to greet the newcomers as the woman ordered her posh drink that had no business being ordered in The Garrison.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" You asked, staring at her mouth in the hopes of reading her lips. She repeated her order, but her tacky lipstick made her lips stick - making it hard to read. "What? I'm sorry, ma'am, it's loud, you're gonna have to speak up."
"Are you fucking with me right now!?" She screeched, making your eyes widen. "You're the fucking deaf - you can't hear a simple order!?"
"I only asked you to repeat yourself," You defended.
"You asked me three times!" She raged.
"So tell me a fourth and shut the fuck up!"
"Hey, hey, hey," Harry stepped in, hand to your shoulder when the woman looked ready to launch over the bar, "I got this. I'll man the bar, you go on - there's some tables that need bussing."
You sighed and stepped back, nodding, "Sure, Harry."
You hated when he did this. Instead of defending you and your inability to hear - something you have no control over - he would always just push you aside and send you to do other chores. It wouldn't cost anything to tell the customers to calm down, it was loud in the pub and you had a hard time hearing as is - but nope! The customer was always right, or whatever bullshit he would remind you.
You were constantly accosted at work for your difficulty hearing clearly. It wasn't that you couldn't hear at all, it was just difficult! Sometimes, you could hear bits of their sentence and just inference whatever words you missed, but that wasn't an exact science. You mostly depended on reading people's lips, always hating asking anyone to repeat themselves; but at work, it wasn't always possible. The people you interacted with seemingly took personal offense that you had a hard time hearing, and each of them made their displeasure known. Again, a great time for Harry to defend you, but the older man didn't like rocking the boat.
You didn't necessarily blame him, knowing the Peaky Blinders kept a close eye on the pub and would probably reprimand (cut) Harry for discipling customers instead of firing you. So, you kept quiet about your displeasure over your treatment because you needed this job - you never wanted to give reason or thought that you were difficult. Maybe that was why Harry would send you off to do other chores, he didn't want you to lose your cool and this job. Though, some of these people deserved a good tongue lashing.
Picking up a spare pail, you went around to a few tables and cleared them of empty glasses before using a rag from your bucket to wipe them down for the next set of people.
Apparently, in that moment, someone decided to move past you, and to their credit, they did say, "Excuse me, luv, behind yah," but you didn't hear him. So, when you straightened up from cleaning the table, you took a natural step back and bumped into a body; gasping when something wet splashed over your neck, shoulders, and down your back and chest. "Oh, fuckin' hell, lass! Watch where yer fuckin' goin'!" The man raged, his empty glass shattered on the floor.
You blinked in shock.
"What? Didn't fuckin' hear me when I told yah I was there!?" The man continued to reprimand you. "Gotta fuckin' listen in a pub like this, lass, you'll cause worse fuckin' accidents!"
"I'm so sorry," you offered meekly, shaking the ale off your arms and glancing at your front to see it trickled in alcohol. You needed to take a deep, long breath before turning to head for the bar.
"What happened?" Harry asked when you arrived, looking mild concerned.
"Another spill," you spoke through a clenched jaw.
"Oi!" The man who dropped his drink all over you approached the bar, barking at Harry. "It's not our fault you hired some deaf bitch! That can't fuckin' hear 'round her! She didn't move from my way, I lost me pint 'cause of her stupidity!"
Stupid...? Did this drunk asshole just call you stupid because HE bumped into YOU and spilled HIS OWN drink?
Maybe the money you made at the bar wasn't worth this...
Harry had no issue giving the drunkard another pint of ale as you tried in vain to dry off, but your dress, hair, and skin was completely plastered in sticky alcohol. You felt your eyes burn with stress, wanting to burst into tears and sob your frustrations out, but you didn't have the strength to break down right now. That's how tired and upset you were - you didn't even have the energy to cry.
You went about your evening, bussing tables and avoiding whatever customers you could; keeping your head on a swivel to avoid any other accidents. You felt a little better, but the stress still lingered around the bar; feeling as if the customers were glaring at you no matter what you did. When a natural lull came, Harry let you back behind the bar with the promise of staying near in case you needed him, but you were ready to drop.
Your final straw was about an hour after the usual Peaky Blinders and Shelby brothers had come in for the nightly round(s) of whiskey. You smiled at Arthur when he approached the bar, all too happy to greet you loudly - the lad never having an issue with speaking up when you couldn't hear. Arthur was always happy to accommodate you, having a soft spot for you since his brother, Tommy, had made his interest in you known that past year.
Speaking of, Tommy Shelby, notorious gangster of Small Heath and the head huncho of the Peaky Blinders, entered after his brothers and made an instant approach. "Harry," he greeted when he stepped around the bar.
"Mr. Shelby," Harry nodded.
"Love," he acknowledged you, pecking your cheek sweetly. "All right?"
"Hmm?"
"Doin' all right?" He asked clearly, being similar to his brother and not minding speaking louder, slower, clearer, whatever you needed to hear him better. In fact, Tommy wasn't know for being patient, but with you, he'd repeat himself as many times as it took - but only for you.
"Oh, yeah," you sniffled, trying to hide your frustrations.
"Why's your dress wet?" He worried, petting a sticky lock of your hair back, his concern mounting.
You shrugged, "Bit of an accident, 's not a big deal."
"Someone run into you, again?"
You nodded, "It's fine, though. He got a new pint and calmed down."
Tommy shook his head, gritting, "Who?"
"Tommy."
"Tell me who, love."
"No, Tommy, it's fine," you insisted, petting your hand down his chest in a show of affection; seeing another customer approach the bar. "I'm sorry, I'm working, love, can we talk later?"
He nodded, pecked your temple, grabbed a bottle of Irish whiskey and moved for the snug - where his brothers and Aunt Polly waited for him. You got back to work, and barely noticed the time ticking by... Until a new customer approached you with a sneer already marring his face.
"What can I get for you, sir?" You asked kindly, needing to raise your voice over the usual drunken yelling. So, you preemptively warned him, "Sorry, 's bit noisy tonight, you'll have to speak up."
The man ordered his drink clearly, but another few men in loosened slacks and disheveled button-ups stalked up to the bar; crowding around the other two men who stumbled over in obnoxious laughter. You felt your panic spike, already overwhelmed by them all trying to talk over one another.
You were bombarded with drink orders from them all, eyes flickering between them because you didn't know who to listen to first. You tried to get the drinks together at the same time, but in truth, it was overwhelming because the men changed their orders, but got mad at YOU when you didn't quite hear them clearly.
Their drunken words added to the bar's noise level sprinkled with you being hard-of-hearing just resulted in a cluster fuck. "This isn't what I fucking ordered!" The original man complained, glaring at you with distain. "It's really not that hard, girl, my God. If you can't get our drinks right, how you gonna make any man a decent wife? Gonna fuck up his dinners, too?"
"Jesus - I'm sorry, there's just a lot going on. Why don't you remind me your drink and I'll get it now," you offered as kindly as you could.
"I doubt you'll be able to get it right," he sneered, but you missed half his sentence.
"I'm sorry, what was that?"
"Are you fuckin' kiddin' me!? Just fuckin' listen - it's not hard!" He snarled, literally chucking his glass just past your ear so it shattered into the liquor bottles behind you. "You can't even get a fucking drink right! Fuck you doin' workin' here, then!?"
This caused a huge commotion, obviously.
The Shelby's don't play games, you see, and the moment the glass shattered, they were moving out of the snug to investigate. When they realized someone had offered you disrespect, it was a shit show as the drunkards clashed with the men with razors stitched in their caps. Still in shock from the show of violence, you felt something in your heart snap you into motion.
So, you silently untied your apron, grabbed your coat and home keys, then literally walked out the backdoor - while the men all scuffled. The moment you stepped outside, you let your emotional dam give out - sobbing into the stinging cold air as you moved up the street.
You weren't sure what emotion you felt - be it anger, disappointment, shame, fear... Crippling insecurity. Once at the Irish pub, The Black Lion, you settled at the nearly empty bar and ordered your own drink, something you rarely did anymore. Something about working with alcohol all day made you less inclined to drink, but tonight was different than previous nights.
"All right, lass?" The bartender asked, pouring the whiskey in front of you. "Look a bit put out, huh?"
"Just a long week," you answered. He hummed, nodding and asking something. You felt tears in your eyes when you asked, "C-Could you repeat that?"
Louder, he repeated, "Anything you wanna talk about?"
"Oh, no, thank you," you waved off. "Just... Customers being unruly."
He laughed, "Oh, don't I know it. What happened?"
You shrugged, "Nothing important."
"C'mon, lass, if it's made you come inta a place like this, searching for a drink, it's probably important enough."
You sighed, "Honestly, I think I appreciate the silence."
He smirked, "I can respect that. Here," he poured you a new glass, "this one's on the house. I deal with unruly customers, too, so, I know you'll need this second one."
You chuckled and grinned broadly when he went to walk away, did a double take, then left the whiskey bottle to your side with a smirk. He moved off to sit at a different table with some other older men, leaving you alone for the first time in what felt like a long time. It felt ironic for a moment that you sought solitude and silence, but you just wanted time to digest all that happened tonight and move on.
Why couldn't people understand that despite you being a public servant, you were still a human being? A human with human emotions, human disability, who makes human mistakes. Yet according to those entitled pricks that think YOU work for THEM, you were a second class citizen who was underserving of empathy. How dare you ask them to repeat themselves! How dare you misunderstand their order - and quickly replace it! How dare you have a disability past your control that affects your day-to-day life!
There was a heavy, looming feeling of being inadequate.
Being alive was hard enough as it is, more so when a bodily function most others take for granted malfunctioned within you. It made life harder; you had to work harder than everyone else just to operate on their same level. However, if you dare show exhaustion, frustration, any degree of weakness, you were quick to be labeled as "lazy" or "entitled" or your favorite, "dramatic!"
Those people can hear pins drop, they couldn't ever fathom what this felt like. It wasn't that you couldn't hear, you could. It just wasn't on the level other's could heard at, and for whatever reason, it seemed to frustrate everyone else more than you. You were the one dealing with the predicament, and yet, everyone else was seemingly the most inconvenienced! They thought it mortally offensive to be served by someone "like you", thinking your disability was unacceptable in their proximity.
Fucking assholes.
If only they knew the way your stomach knotted itself every time you asked someone to repeat what they said. Every time you said, "Huh?" or "What was that? What did you say?"
You were embarrassed because it made you feel as if you couldn't even be a human "correctly", and it's not like you chose for this to happen! It's not like anyone chooses to make the obligation called life ten times harder by putting you at a functional disadvantage. You felt like "damaged goods" because you felt constantly out of the loop; missing a lot of what's said if you're not paying explicit attention.
However, years ago, you had perfected the ability to read lips. Yet this was difficult when most people you couldn't hear were your customers, majority of who are slurring their words. You worked in The Garrison, meaning that on any given night, there was loud discussions that added to your frustration - but the tips were too good to quit. So you endured. You felt pathetic and borderline like a failure if you quit any job; feeling as if your disability had won by emotionally crippling you. So, while it didn't make a lot of sense to work in a noisy place when you're already hard-of-hearing, you remained at your place of employment simply out of spite.
It was difficult reminding yourself it wasn't your fault, that you were still doing a great job - no matter how many customers catch attitudes, get snippy, or throw full-on adult tantrums. You despised needing to be the "bigger person", but figured nobody else would be willing to accommodate you, so, if you wanted a semblance of peace, you had to be the one to create it.
You reached for the bottle of whiskey after downing your second glass. With a harsh sniffle, you glanced around the pub and realized how many people had arrived to fill in the place. You felt the hair on the back of your neck stand on end, acutely aware that you were so deep in your emotional tarpit that you missed the noise rising.
So much for a quiet night.
You poured a new glass, praying to whatever God would listen that you're granted deliverance from this empty, helpless feeling that was pitting your stomach and chest.
After hearing the glass shatter, Tommy and his brothers were rocketing to their feet to investigate. They saw a man, red in the face, yelling hatefully at you behind the bar - liquor dripping off the shattered shelves from the man's bout of violence. There was no thinking for any of them. Tommy recognized you were in a predicament; striding forward first, and the chaos began.
It'd been a good bit since the lads had a good fist fight. No razors, no guns, no advantages - just bare fists and bar furniture.
It cleared the place out, and when the drunkard was hauled off by his companions, Tommy was wiping the blood from his knuckles. Harry frowned at the sight of blood splattered on the floor, shaking his head before calling your name - knowing you had some secret to getting blood out before it stained. However, there was no response. The Shelby boys all looked around expectantly, waiting for you to reappear, but it was evident by the way Harry searched for you that you weren't in the building.
Tommy placed a cigarette to his lips, just lighting it when Harry returned from the back room, informing, "Her belongin's are gone, she must've left early."
This made Tommy whip around sharply to use his own eyes and scan the room. "Nobody saw where she went? How was nobody watchin' her!?" Tommy asked demanded. There were several shakes of different heads, Tommy's anxiety flaring in his chest. He quickly rushed to grab his coat and flat cap, tugging them on in haste, hearing Arthur question where he was going. "Gotta find her," he explained through his panting-panic. "City's dangerous enough for people that can hear properly. God knows what can happen when she's alone at this time of night."
"We'll help," John offered, nudging Arthur, Finn, and their cousin, Michael Gray.
"I'll find her faster," Tommy answered, already out the door.
Michael shared a look around the room, wondering, "He acts like this all the time or just with that one pretty barmaid?"
Arthur smirked broadly, "That one pretty barmaid is Tommy's girl. Don't get caught lookin'."
"He's like this with just her," John chuckled, "always has been, always taking care of her the way she cares for him."
"What did Tommy mean? She can't hear?" Michael questioned innocently.
"Nah, girl's got some hearin', just not a whole lotta it," John explained as if common knowledge. "Never thought I'd see Tommy so patient, so fuckin' doting. He doesn't mind repeating himself if she asks, in fact, he does what he can to talk to her how she needs."
"What's that mean?"
"Like," John paused, sighing through his nose, "he'll face her directly, speak slower to let her read his lips. He speaks up, he's clearer, he wants her to feel like she's not a burden if she can't hear like us can so he does it all organically."
Michael smiled softly, vaguely impressed by Tommy's show of humanity. Speaking of, everyone's favorite gangster was prowling through Small Heath; stopping in each and every open business, searching for the familiar sight of you, and moving on when he was unsuccessful. You weren't at the Shelby home, nor your apartment, church, or anywhere along the Canal - places you frequent when overwhelmed.
Tommy was beginning to get cold, but he wouldn't say that. His determination would keep him warm, and even as the snow began to fall once more, Tommy hiked through the wind. Luck seemed to be on his side because when he entered the third pub, one he doesn't usually step foot in outside of evident emergencies, there you were; sat at the bar looking miserable.
"Thank God," Tommy breathed in relief, straightening his jacket and swiping his cap from his head. He approached your side and reached a hand out to the bartop in front of you, minimally startling you by announcing his presence without words. "Hey, love," he greeted you.
"What're you doing, Tommy? Blinders don't come 'round in here."
"We do when one of our own goes missing."
Your eyes rolled, "I'm not missing, I just needed a break."
"I know," he nodded, "but I'm here to make sure you get home safe."
"I don't need an escort."
"I don't think you do, but it's dangerous at night. You know I care about you and that includes your well-being."
"Oh, don't tell me, you're trying to play the gentleman card?" You scoffed, taking another swallow from your glass. "C'mon, sit down, I don't like drinking alone," you commented, "makes me sad, leaves me alone with my thoughts."
"We can drink at home, love."
"I don't want to go home yet."
"Why?"
"'Cause I'll have to explain why I got fired."
"You didn't."
"Huh!?" You yelped.
"You didn't lose your job," he assured softly.
"No?"
"No, not fired."
"Oh," you mulled over your thoughts, "that's good, then."
Tommy sighed and pulled his coat off to take the empty barstool beside you. "All right," he decided, going through the motions to stick a cigarette between his lips and light it. Smoke wafted from his mouth as he asked, "What happened tonight?"
"You already know, I'm sure."
"I want your truth."
"Doesn't matter," you refused, downing the last of the whiskey in your glass. You went to leave a few bills for your tab, but Tommy stopped you and covered it himself. Your eyes rolled and hand snatched the nearly-empty bottle of whiskey before heading for the exit.
Tommy followed not far behind.
"Love, c'mon, wait up," he grit, catching up to you and tossing his coat over your form, "you're gonna catch ill."
"I'm fine," your eyes rolled. Truthfully, the consumed whiskey in your system acted as an internal heating mechanism; warming your blood, wrapping you in a fuzzy grip.
"Talk to me," he pleaded.
"I just - I'm frustrated, okay?"
"Sure, all right," he agreed, "but why?"
"You don't get it, Tommy," you felt emotional, rounding on him with tears in your eyes. "You don't know what it's like, you can hear just fine, you can still see, you don't know what it's like to progressively lose one of your senses! The way people get angry for something I cannot dictate - it's like they're the one being vastly inconvenienced!"
Tommy nodded, just listening.
"And they crucify me for it!" You sniffled, feeling defeated. "Like I'm some pariah that will infect them with my loss of hearing. They treat me as if - as if I've asked for this, as if I'm doing it on purpose!"
"What would help?"
"Honestly? I don't know anymore, Tommy, but this town is seriously lacking in their ability to empathize. I don't know what I'm supposed to say or do - I get so angry now. It happens more and more, people getting angry or frustrated at me 'cause I need them to repeat themselves. What am I supposed to do, huh?"
He smirked slightly, but the sight angered you.
"Oh, fuck off, Tommy!" You turned from him, moving back up the street. "I don't need to laugh at me like the rest of them - "
"I'm not!" Tommy insisted, reaching for your wrist to halt you, whip you around, face him again. Both his hands extended to hold the area above your elbow, speaking clearly, "Listen to me. I was going t'wait, but I think now's a good time."
"Good time for what, Tommy?" You growled, now just wanting to go to bed and hide from your emotions; hide from people; hide from reality.
"I have a new job for you, in the company," he smirked. "We're still getting things structured, but why don't you step away from the bar and come work for me now? Help us build what's left, and then transition into your company job?"
You paused, just staring at him in mild shock.
"You're kidding me, right?"
"Why would I joke?"
"You're... Offering me, what? Some job as your receptionist?"
"No, I was thinkin' something a little more paramount."
"Like what?"
"Like Chief of Operations?"
"COO?" You laughed, "For what company, Tommy?"
"Come home with me, we'll talk all about it," he bargained, "but if you accept, you've gotta quit The Garrison, love. We'll need your head in the game, no other distractions."
You felt something in your heart crack, asking, "What if you lot can't stand working with me, too?"
"Because of your hearing?"
"Or, you know, lack there of."
"Love," he smirked, "there's nothing you can do - intentionally or unintentionally - that would make any of us distance ourselves. If we get frustrated, it's not because you can't hear - it's never your disability, love."
"So, if you get frustrated, it's just, what? My personality?"
"More than likely," He grinned, arm snug around your waist again to walk down the snowy lane together. He laughed when your hand rose to pinch his side; squeezing his rib tightly, causing him to flinch and grunt lightly. "Hey, hey, easy with that," he chuckled, seeing your happy smile. "You all right, love? I know tonight was a lot, but... You feelin' any better?"
"I think so," you sighed. "The whiskey helps," you joked, raising the bottle to your lips.
"Mhm," he mused, taking the bottle after you.
"But present company helps more," you complimented softly. "You know, I'm sorry for today..."
"You're sorry that you couldn't hear a bunch of drunks in a packed-out pub?"
"Maybe?"
Tommy smirked, "Don't apologize, sweetheart. It's not your fault; like you say, it's not something you can control. I'm the one who's sorry you had to endure all of that... The lads got that guy pretty good."
"Good."
"And now you've a new job, yes?"
"After I hear about it," your eyes rolled in humor, taking the bottle back. "What's this big idea for a company anyway? What's it even called?"
"The Shelby Company Limited, and we're gonna change the whole of England, love."
requesting rules and masterlist
Peaky Blinders masterlist
#tommy shelby#thomas shelby#tommy shelby peaky blinder#tommy peaky blinders#peaky blinders tommy#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby x fem!reader#tommy shelby x f!reader#tommy shelby imagine#tommy shelby drabble#tommy shelby one shot#tommy shelby fanfic#tommy shelby fanfiction#tommy shelby angst#tommy shelby fluff#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby imagine#thomas shelby fanfic#thomas shelby x y/n#tommy shelby x you#tommy shelby x y/n#peaky blinders#peaky blinders x reader#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinders fanfic
674 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 ♡
In a world where trust is earned and betrayal met with swift and ruthless consequences, you'll do anything to protect your family, even if that means you'll have to do the unthinkable, marrying the criminal kingpin of Birmingham, Thomas Shelby.
Tommy Shelby x reader || Series playlist || Main masterlist
Chapter 1 Family Business coming soon
Chapter 2 Long Live The King
Chapter 3 Peonies and Razorblades
More chapters to come
#springtyme writes#tommy shelby#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby x you#tommy shelby x fem!reader#tommy shelby x f!reader#thomas shelby#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby x you#tommy shelby smut#tommy shelby angst#tommy shelby fluff#tommy shelby x y/n#thomas shelby x y/n#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders fandom#thomas shelby smut#thomas shelby angst#tommy shelby fanfic#thomas shelby fanfic#cillain murphy fandom#cillain murphy fanfic#cillain murphy characters#cillian murphy x reader#peaky blinders fluff#peaky blinders smut#peaky blinders#tommy shelby x afab!reader
407 notes
·
View notes
Text
Do You Get Déjà Vu | Thomas Shelby
masterlist
summary: thomas doesn’t come to pick up his daughter. you decide to take her home only to find a man of a table with a bullet in his chest and a lot of deja vu
pairing: fem! reader x thomas shelby
words: 1.6k
a/n: just fluff and comedy tbh… not my usual angst i promise also, this takes place in 1919 because season 1 tommy has my heart. helena is around 9/10 years :)
How you disliked summer. Sweat pearls dripping simply sitting and breathing. Delicate fabric sticking to you like a bee and its honey. It was simply too hot for a woman to be wearing layers of modest clothing but here you were, sitting in front of your desk; no countertop in sight, too many different documents sprawled across the surface, each waiting on your eyes and conscious to scan it and then evaluate whatever category it fell into.
‘Miss Verys?’ Katie’s voice pulled you out of your slump, yet your heart skipped a beat when you saw her come closer with an arm full of newer papers that acquired your attention.
‘Please tell me you are joking…’
‘I fear not, Miss,’ she pressed her lips together as she placed them onto the right corner, the surface area with less than ten documents. ‘But these are all for the week.’ She smiled.
‘Finally some good fucking news,’ you huffed, ‘Sorry,’ you tilted your head when you realised Katie was taken aback by your choice of words.
‘Also I don’t wish to add more to your plate but Helena is still present. It seems Mr. Shelby has yet to pick her up. Do you want me to stay and wait with her?’
‘Katie you are truly an angel, really, I am so grateful but you are being paid to work on from eight to three, I couldn’t let you do that. Legally and from my heart.’ You curled your lips, fingers rubbing against the sheet of paper you were waiting to flip. ‘Just tell Helena to pack her things and to come to my office. Since I will be busy reading through all of these I might end up staying for quite a while.’
‘Of course. And thank you, Miss Verys, have a good day.’
‘You too.’
Katie left and you were stuck in front of an ocean of paper. If you had known that directing a school was so strenuous you might’ve thought about inaugurating a school twice. But it was a lovely institute. A school for girls with the most brightest and innovative minds, no runner up to men but competition with finest ideas.
Momentarily Helena came through the door and patiently stood at the door frame, her bag in her grip.
‘Hello Helena,’ you smiled at her. ‘Your father is not here yet?’
‘No.’
‘That’s okay, just wait here with me. I have much work and since we’re the only ones here I thought company would be nice, no? Sit,’ you pointed to the chair, Helena still standing at the entrance barely having moved.
Helena hummed in response.
‘So,’ you grabbed one of your quills to start signing documents that needed your signature. ‘What do you like to do when you’re not at school or doing homework? I am pretty sure you like horse riding?’
‘I do.’
‘Something else perhaps?’
‘Recently we bought a family car,’ Helena had sat down in the chair, laying her bag beside her as she relaxed into the seat. ‘When we got it we drove through the countryside…it was so thrilling. The wind on my face felt different to when I am riding. Daddy looked so happy too. I like cars.’
‘My my, what a riveting experience.’ You glanced at her from your work. ‘I remember my first time in a car. Felt exactly like how you described it.’
Helena beamed back you, her bright blue eyes gleaming with excitement, ‘My uncle Finn liked the car ride at first too but we had to stop because he got sick,’
‘And did you?’
‘No, I felt great. I love cars.’
‘I too think cars are the greatest innovation since the marvellous idea to roast and ferment cocoa beans to make chocolate.’ You let out a lighthearted laugh, infecting Helena with the same giggle.
‘I like chocolate.’
‘You do?’ Your lips curled. ‘Do you want one? I might have a bit stashed somewhere between all this energy-consuming work,’
‘I’ve only had it twice,’ Helena began another story, ‘It is very expensive and my father says it is bad for your teeth and that you mustn’t eat too much of it. He said that when he was visiting London he met a man outside of the sweet shop who became so round, simply for eating a lot of chocolate.’
‘Well best you have only one piece then,’ you put a piece into your mouth before giving her her piece. ‘This is my favourite. Got it from Cornwall. They make the best sweets.’
Taking the piece you handed her, she started eating it, her eyes in awe.
‘What about your father, Helena?’
‘What about him?’
‘What does he do for work?’ You asked, amusingly raising your eyebrows before taking the second heap of documents before you.
Helena hesitated. ‘I don’t think I can say.’
‘Why not?’
‘Family business…’
‘Family business?’ You looked up, Helena nodding her head in response. ‘I’m just curious that’s all. When you speak of him, you speak endearingly. You seem to have a very good relationship.’
‘We do.’ She ate the last bite, looking around the room. ‘If he wasn’t my father he would be my best friend.’
‘How sweet.’
With an easy lead conversation, time passed quicker than expected. But an hour later and Mr. Shelby still hadn’t come to pick up Helena.
With minutes passing you realised that Mr. Shelby wouldn’t show up anytime soon. It was also way past closing time so you had to start locking up the building. You thought it best to walk Helena home to see if anyone was there and if not you’d take her back to yours so she would have a safe place to stay until anyone got in touch.
‘Hello?’ You knocked against the door, the hard wooden door aching your knuckles as you repeatedly hit against it. ‘This is Miss Verys from Small Heath Institute for Girls. I have your daughter Helena with me as she has not been picked up yet.’ Your breath ricocheted off the door.
Seconds later you could hear the lock turning and were greeted by an older woman, her hair all over the place as her dark eyes burned into yours. Feeling as if she were about to take a jape at you, you quickly jumped back into your sentence. ‘I’m so sorry to intrude but I grew worried when Helena still hadn’t been picked up yet. I hope that all is well.’
Your eyes left her frame, seeing figures surrounding a table where there seemed to be a man laying down upon, quick huffs and puffs echoing from behind.
‘Arthur, shut up and just get this out of me.’
‘Drink this, Tommy. It’ll help with the pain.’
The unravelling scene before you had your full attention, completely forgetting the woman at the door.
‘I—oh no don’t do that!’ You raised your voice, pushing past her, now standing in the living room with three men staring at you. ‘I’m sorry to intrude but I was a nurse at the front and seeing you just stick your fingers inside his wound just rang my bells.’
The man on the table had blue eyes that protruded from the dim light within the room, his chest covered in dry and fresh blood, sweat dampening his skin and clothes. You overheard that his name was Thomas Shelby, Helena’s father.
You stepped closer and examined his wound. A bullet wound. Minimal surface damage and easily removed.
‘If someone could get me some bandages, an unopened bottle of alcohol and some tweezers with a bowl of warm water.’
‘I’ll get it.’ Helena walked past you to what seemed to be the kitchen.
‘The cheap one, Hallie,’ the light haired one yelled after her, his toothpick sitting between his lips. ‘If you open that rum from the Caribbean, I swear to you that I won’t give you any more sweets.’
‘You give her sweets?’ Thomas lifted his head.
‘Sometimes.’
‘Mr. Shelby if you could just relax for a short time longer. I will get that bullet out of you as swiftly as possible.’
Further taking in his naked chest you noticed his tattoo. Similar to sun rays just above his right chest. You had seen this tattoo before…
‘Mr. Shelby, can I ask you something?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you perhaps have a scar on your lower back? On your right just above your glutes?’
‘How do you know that?’ He stared up at you, holding your gaze as Helena came back with the supplies you needed.
‘Given it was a back injury you were transported to the tent on your stomach,’ you grabbed the alcohol to clean the wound, a hiss escaping him as you grabbed the tweezers, ready to pull out the metal embedded in his flesh. ‘I was the nurse that treated you. I was covered in ugly drapes and bloods, can’t say you could recognise me,’
Thomas winced as the ends of the tweezers dug around to grab the piece of metal, a small smirk on his lips. ‘You don’t say eh?’
‘I’m sure you’ll be having a déjà vu when I pull it out,’ you grabbed it and pulled it out, a loud growl escaping his lips as air pushed past his lips.
‘Thank you again.’
‘No problem, Mr. Shelby.’ You disposed of the bullet in a dish Arthur held out to you. ‘Next time Helena is not picked up I’ll bring her home and bring my first aid kit with me.’
‘That’s actually not a bad idea,’ he pulled himself up, grabbing a cigarette and lighting it. ‘Small Heath is starting you feel like a battlefield,’
‘Then I’ll be your nurse ready to care you to health.’
#tommy shelby#tommy shelby imagine#tommy shelby imagines#tommy shelby blurbs#tommy shelby blurb#tommy shelby headcanon#tommy shelby headcanons#tommy shelby fanfic#tommy shelby fluff#tommy shelby angst#tommy shelby smut#tommy shelby x you#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby x y/n#thomas shelby#thomas shelby imagine#thomas shelby imagines#thomas shelby blurbs#thomas shelby blurb#thomas shelby headcanons#thomas shelby headcanon#thomas shelby fanfic#thomas shelby fluff#thomas shelby smut#thomas shelby angst#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby x you#thomas shelby x y/n#peaky blinder imagine#peaky blinders
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Sold (Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader)
Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Gold's daughter!Reader
Synopsis: The coin lands on tails
Warnings: Smut 🔞(implied age gap, dubcon/noncon, virginity loss, p in v sex, rough sex, cursing, praise kink, sir kink, choking, overstimulation)
Angst (anxiety, crying, manipulation, blood loss)
Author's note: I thought of this on a whim one day and went with it. Definitely a darker portrayal of Tommy.. read at your own discretion.
CH. ONE CH. TWO
——————————————————————————
“I’m gonna spin a coin for your yard Charlie.”
“You goin’ what?”
“If it’s heads, Abe here takes all this,” Tommy explained with an extended hand, “with my blessing.”
“Tommy!”
“And if it’s tails,” Tommy paused, flicking his eyes to Aberama's cocked brow. “I fuck your daughter Mr. Gold.”
His face fell stone cold at the proposition.
“What’ll it be?” Tommy asked with a smug expression, dragging a cigarette across his lips. “Heads or tails?”
“Heads.” Abbie spat, straightening his posture to assert dominance.
Tommy’s expression remained unchanged as he twirled the coin between his fingers before tossing it in the air, catching it on top of his hand.
His pale blue eyes glinted as he uncovered the coin, facing tails up. In an effort to contain his amusement his tongue poked the inside of his cheek as his eyes flicked up to Abe.
“A deal is a deal.” Abe coughed, adjusting the collar of his coat, clenching his jaw.
Tommy nodded in acknowledgement as his face cast aglow from the flame of his cigarette. Behind the orange glare you could faintly make out the edge of his lips tugging into a smirk.
——————————————————————————
Expensive shoes crunched lightly against the gravel of Thomas Shelby’s driveway as you exited your lift. Your breath hitched in nervousness as the car rolled away behind you, disappearing into the darkness.
With a few hesitant steps you made contact with the door, knocking lightly against the wood. After a few moments a maid named Frances let you in, granting your chilled limbs a satisfying warmth in the lit up foyer.
Her hands fell open out of habit, prepared for your coat. The fabric fell off your shoulders with the shrug of your arms, exposing your skin.
She smiled warmly as she received it, turning from you to place it on a rack. With her back to you, you were granted the privacy to unhide your expression. The heaviness of shame dragged the corners of your mouth into a frown.
She turned to you, attentive with her posture and eyes. “Are you here to see Charlie? A sitter perhaps?” Her brows raised in a sort of put on friendliness.
You blinked, thumbing the beads hanging off your dress. “N-no,” you replied shyly, lifting your eyes to meet hers. “I’m here to see Thomas Shelby.”
Her warm expression melted at the realization, the falling of her lips communicated an unspoken sympathy.
You took in a breath, shaky with anticipation. “Might you direct me to his room?”
“Right, of course.” She shook her head in embarrassment, forcing a smile and guiding you with an extended arm.
As you followed behind her and up the stairs, your eyes flicked over the many paintings on the walls. A blonde woman caught your eye. She was beautiful; framed in a circle of moonlight pouring through a nearby window. Your neck craned, following her eyes, as they did you grew nauseous.
“It’s just down the hall there dear,” The maid directed with a pointed finger, dissolving your trance.
Your eyes scanned over the many doors, stopping at one furthest down the hall. An orange glow spread from under the door, illuminating a path on the embroidered carpet.
“Thank you.” You murmured, keeping your eyes down, and starting down the vacant hall.
She hummed as she departed, disappearing carefully down the stairs.
Hesitant steps carried you down the dark corridor. The shaking of your breath broke the stillness of the air as you grew closer to your fate. A throbbing commenced in your head as you stopped, hovering inches from the door.
Black shadows moved at your feet, indicating activity on the other side. Swallowing thickly, you raised your fist to hover against the wood. With a heavy breath you knocked lightly, 2 times. A stirring of bed sheets came through the door, making you freeze.
“Come in.” a masculine voice called out, increasing your heart rate.
With his instruction, you turned the knob, twisting it’s cool handle and pushing it open with a creak. Candlelight lit up his figure as you entered the room.
Your chest rose as your eyes flicked over his shirtless form, sprawled under white bed sheets with a drink in his outstretched arm. He was otherworldly. His taut chest was covered in ripples of muscle, decorated with a tattoo. His firm forearms twitched slightly as he thumbed the glass in his hand. Your posture stiffened as you closed the door behind you, not removing your eyes from him.
“So you’re Gold’s daughter eh?” He asked, although already knowing the answer. His eyes hungrily scanned your body as he awaited a response.
“Y-yes.” You subconsciously played with the hem of your dress as his piercing blue eyes drank you in.
“What’s your name?” The bed springs squeaked as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, reaching to sit his drink on the nightstand.
Your breath hitched at the quiet thud against the wood. “Y/n, sir.”
He was quiet for a moment, suppressing a groan at your pet name. “That’s a lovely name.”
Your eyes wandered to his shifting hips as he neared you, growing taller with every step. The thin white fabric of his boxers scarcely hid the print of his length.
“Y/n.” He repeated to himself, admiring you with parted lips. Your attention moved to him as your name dripped off his tongue. In closeness you could smell his cologne, almost taste it.
I’m curiosity he extended a finger out to brush your cheek, tracing your soft, youthful skin.
The contact made your face burn, unfamiliar with the feeling of a man’s touch.
He pulled away in surprise, studying you with furrowed brows.
His gaze was dominant, powerful, making you feel small and submissive in his presence. His proximity was arousing, close enough to feel his body heat warming yours.
“Are you a virgin?” His voice was low and gravely, making your stomach sink.
You couldn’t help your eyes from watering, both in embarrassment and fear. “Y-yes sir.”
“Fuck.” He groaned, clenching his jaw.
You shifted your weight on each foot, unsure if he was aroused or regretful.
“I’ve never taken a man Mr. Shelby.” With wide, innocent eyes you studied his face. His captivating crystal eyes, his prominent cheek bones, then down to his pink, plump lips, glistening with saliva as he pulled his bottom lip into his teeth.
You mimicked him subconsciously, growing in desire as you studied his masculine features.
His eyes met yours making you gasp softly.
Without warning he closed the gap between you, capturing your mouth in his.
The impact pushed you back slightly, if not for his hand on your back you would have stumbled over.
His breath fanned your cheek as his lips hungrily caressed yours, sucking at your mouth with his.
Your heart pounded with adrenaline, both in arousal and fear.
Your neck craned as you clumsily kissed him back, steadying yourself with your fingers against his shifting jaw.
He groaned at your touch, pulling away from you with a pop. Your eyes fluttered open at his retreat, finding his lust blown pupils, glistening in the amber light.
His hand slid up your back in eagerness, though not rushed, reaching for the top zipper. The feeling of his hands on your body send chills down your skin.
Your dress loosened as he pulled down, nearly exposing your chest if not for your hand catching the falling fabric.
“Wait..” your voice trembled, blinking in fear. His fingers loosened from the zipper at your protest.
“It’s just,” you breathed in, chewing your lip as to not grow upset, “I’m afraid.”
In amusement his mouth curled into a half smile, exposing his teeth, intrigued by your innocence.
Don’t worry love,” he leaned into your ear, muttering lowly with a gravely tone, “I’ve got the best cock in England.”
There wasn’t sarcastic tone in his voice, rather a seriousness, a confidence that rolled off his tongue. The thought made your stomach twist.
“Let me see you.”
You obliged, knowing it was a command and not a suggestion. Slowly, your hand lifted from your chest, allowing the gown the fall down your body.
It hit the floor with a soft thud, exposing your youthful figure. A chill raised on your skin at your bareness, causing you to shiver slightly.
He pulled back from your ear, taking time to admire you. His mouth fell agape as he took you in. Your slender shoulders, narrow hips, and pink nipples, erect in the cool air.
“Christ.”
Instinctually you covered yourself, hiding your breasts and core with trembling hands.
Your couldn’t face him, instead finding your gaze on the floor, watching your feet shift against the velvety carpet.
He shook his head, stepping towards you, bumping into your arms with his abdomen.
Your head tilted at the new angle, finding him looking down at you past his nose. “Don’t hide from me love.”
Your skin warmed as his large hands grasped your wrists, making your heart pound as he easily pulled them from your body.
“I need to fuck that little cunt.” He breathed to himself, exploring his hands up your skin, leaving goosebumps in their place.
Anticipating his cock inside of you made your stomach twist in knots.
His hands stopped at your shoulders, making you stumble backwards as he maneuvered you to the bed. The wood frame met your heels as you met the edge.
“Lay back love,” the force of his hands gently pushed you backwards, lowering you onto the mattress.
You sucked in a breath as the soft comforter swallowed your small frame, leaving you sprawled open. His eyes flicked over you with a predatory gaze, clenching his jaw in arousal as he scanned your body, ready to receive him. Your hair spread underneath you, rippling in soft waves across his sheets.
He worked his boxers down with his thumb, causing your chest to rise as he shuffled the fabric down his thighs.
A patch of dark hair exposed itself at the movement, before finally revealing his half hard cock, bobbing towards his toned abdomen.
Your lips parted in intrigue as he fisted himself a few times, growing hard as his thick fingers stimulated his reddened head.
He let out a withheld breath, dipping the mattress with his weight as he crawled on top of you, trapping you in with his outstretched arms.
Your heart was pounding at a dizzying pace as he closed the space between you. His body heat evaporated his scent, cool with lingering cigarette smoke and whiskey. You breathed him in, foreign to the musk of a man.
“I’ll take good care of you love,” he reassured, pulling your attention to him with a hand in your hair. “don’t worry..” he spoke against your lips, pulling you in for a long kiss.
Your eyes fell closed at the contact. His breath fanned your cheek as he tasted you, groaning lowly as he worked his soft lips against yours.
Imagining his skill made your thighs clench, knowing the amount of women he has been with.
Your squirming under him caught his attention, causing him to break the kiss, hovering inches from your face.
“Are you ready?” He asked, scanning over your face with an eagerness in his turquoise blue eyes.
“I have to be.” You mumbled in an uncertain tone, chewing the inside of your cheek.
He let out a heavy breath as he diverted his eyes from you, reaching for his length. You watched him attentively as he grasped himself, lining up with your open legs.
His other hand pinned down your thighs, making you stuck in a breath as he spread your soft flesh with his firm fingers.
With knit brows he pushed himself into your entrance, making you both gasp.
You fisted the sheets at the unfamiliar pressure, growing in intensity.
“Fuck…” He groaned as he worked into you, stretching out your tight walls with his thick cock.
You whimpered in pain as he buried himself inside of you, not stopping until his thighs touched yours.
He pulled out slightly, making your breath hitch as your insides burned.
The sheets wrestled as he changed positions, resting on his elbows to close the gap between you. His length bumped further into you, making you clench around him.
“Mr. Shelby.. I- I can’t..” you whimpered, writhing under him, looking to ease the feeling of fullness.
“Shh..” he soothed, hovering against your ear “It’ll feel good love, I promise.” His lips met your cheek softly, making you let out a breath.
With a concentration in his brow he pulled out slowly, making you gasp, empty and clenching around nothing.
His thick traps impeded your view, only giving you access to his shifting jaw and taut chest pressing into yours.
He plunged into you again with the bucking of hips, quicker this time, forcing himself inside of you.
You squeaked at the movement, feeling a pressure in your walls as he claimed you.
He began a steady rhythm, chasing pleasure with shaky breaths as he rocked in and out of you at a quick pace.
Your eyes squint shut as he stimulated you, sheathing you with his cock. The hair of his thighs tickled yours as he pounded in and out of you, rocking the bed.
He groaned lowly as you squeezed him, and began to pick up his intensity, harshly colliding with your body.
“Oh fuck..” he groaned with knit brows, fucking you hard. “Good girl, squeeze me like that.”
His praise withdrew a whimper from your throat, encouraging you to slide your hands over his back. Your fingers explored the muscles of his shoulders, shifting with his movements.
The continuous intrusion of his length nudged a spot inside of you, making your toes curl.
“Mr. Shelby..” you whined, holding onto his shifting shoulders for leverage. His body was warm and tough with muscle.
Your sounds encouraged him, and he rutted into you harder, repeatedly hitting that spot inside of you, sending bursts of pleasure down your legs.
Your nails dug into his flesh subconsciously, kneading his skin damp with sweat. He groaned, aroused by the pain of your nails in his flesh.
His breathing labored as he fucked you, fanning your face as his forehead fell against yours. You were spilling in arousal, squelching with his every movement.
Rapid breaths escaped your parted lips. Chasing the feeling, you arched your back, bumping into his chest. His sweat covered skin rubbed against yours as he fucked you.
“Are you close?”
Numb with pleasure your head nodded, unable to form words.
“Good girl..” he praised breathlessly, “good girl..” He rocked into you forcefully, moving your body back and forth on the mattress.
“I’m gonna-“ you paused, stunned by a wave of pleasure from his calculated thrusts, “Mr. Shelby..” your whimpered, helpless as your muscles tensed underneath him.
“Come for me sweetheart,” he panted, burying his head in your neck, “come for me.” His deep gravely voice pulled you over the edge.
“Oh fuck!” You yelped, convulsing as waves of pleasure wrecked through your body.
Your eyes squeezed shut in euphoria, mouthing incoherent words as he fucked you through your high, murmuring against your skin.
He moaned deeply as your spasming walls squeezed his length, making his pace waver for a moment.
“Fuck..” you moaned, wrestling the sheets with your squirming.
He didn’t stop, relentlessly fucking your overstimulated entrance with his thick length.
“Mr. Shelby.. it’s too much..” your nails dug into his back in pain.
“I’m almost there love,” he panted, red in the face as he neared his high.
His length continued to pry into you, deeper and harder as his desperation grew.
You squirmed instinctively, pulling yourself away from his cock.
He intercepted your resistance with a firm hand sliding up your throat. His grasp caught the breath in your lungs, making your eyes water.
“Fuck.. stay put love..” he groaned lowly, nudging his nose against your neck as he rutted in and out of you.
Your eyelids drooped at the pressure, lazily following the shifting muscles in his back.
“Ahhh..” he groaned deeply, flexing his core against yours. “Oh fuck…”
He came undone at last, emptying himself into you with a loud groan. “Christ..” he cursed with an open mouth, bucking his hips against yours as his warm seed filled you up.
His grasp tightened slightly as he tensed, unleashing a tear down your cheek and onto his hand.
His pace slowed to shallow rocking, as he came down from his high. Once satisfied, he pulled out with a slick wet noise, making your thighs shake.
His hand released from your throat as he caught his breath, lifting his head from yours to hover above you. His forehand fell against yours in exhaustion, leaving a bead of sweat on your face.
Without saying a word he leaned in, kissing your damp skin, removing the wetness with his lips.
You clenched your jaw, trying best to keep your emotions as bay as you turned your head from him, softly sniffling.
He pulled away from you, rolling to his back with a satisfied sigh as he reached for a cigarette on the nightstand.
While he was occupied you sat up slightly, pulling the covers over your exposed limbs.
As you did so your eyes caught a glimpse of red on the sheets. They wandered to your open thighs, widening at the sight of smeared blood.
You held a hand to you face, blinking in shock and turning to Tommy, “There’s blood!”
Your hand on his forearm turned his attention to you. “It’s okay love,” he took a drag of his cigarette, inhaling a fair amount of smoke, “It’s normal.” His free hand reached for yours, smoothing over your knuckles with his thumb as he let out a puff of smoke through pursed lips.
His touch unleashed a flood of tears from your eyes, which you quickly covered with your hand as they trickled down your face.
You sucked in short breaths, crying against your hand as your body shook.
“Eh, what’s the matter?” He asked softly, reaching for you.
You shook your head, refusing to speak the truth, instead letting it out in the form of tears, forming dark circles on his sheets.
“Talk to me love,” His voice held a tone of sincerity as he kept his eyes to your frame. “Please.”
You took in a shaky breath, swiping your face before letting down your hand. “I’m just a body to you.”
Your gaze was emotionless, frozen on the yellow wallpaper in front of you, dancing over each flower design.
With enough courage you turned your head to face him, pulling your watery eyes to his. “I don’t want to just be a body Thomas.”
The sound of his name on your lips made him freeze. It was vulnerable. Desperate. His cold expression fell, replacing with one of sympathy and warmth in the flicking of his eyes.
“You’re not.” He shook his head, putting his cigarette down and smoothing his other hand over your arm. You leaned into his touch, sucking in a shaky breath through your mouth and rolling onto his chest.
“You’re not just a body to me love.” He spoke against your hair, smoothing over your back with firm strokes.
You nestled against his chest, focusing on the sounds of his shallow breathing against your ear, slowing your tears.
“I’ll make you more than that.”
#thomas shelby#tommy shelby#cillian murphy#aberama gold#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby x y/n#peaky blinders#tommy shelby fanfic#thomas shelby fanfiction#tommy shelby smut#tommy shelby angst#fan fiction#x reader#x you#x you smut#daddy issues#oldermen#british men#british actors#peaky fookin blinders#bbc#netflix
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
An Ode to Ruination | T.S.
SUMMARY: Tommy was addicting. Chronic. His aura was intimidating. He was callus to those close to him. And yet, there was that desire to sink below that murky water—drown in him entirely when his want was so clear in his breath.
PAIRING: Tommy Shelby x f!reader
WORD COUNT: 2.5K
WARNINGS: ANGST, swearing, smoking, drinking, semi-preoccupations with thoughts of death/suicide, mutual pining, meanish tommy because his feelings are hurt, canon-typical things, protective!tommy, rushed ending, etc.
A/N: Yeah, yeah, I’m back on my bullshit. This is inspired by @zodiyack‘s request/post (here). HAD to get it out of my system, I mean look how pretty he is. This is a mix of Old writing I had to dust off the cob webs for mixed with new stuff, so be kind. Enjoy.
“You’re leaving.”
Tommy’s tone was sterile. It left little room for interpretation or defiance. The statement came without hesitation but held pent-up sentiment veiled by familiar poise. You vetted his blank gaze for proper determination of his upset.
The cracks behind his exterior were so deeply concealed you hadn’t thought anything could slip between. Yet, standing before him, your decision was the ice-pick that’s pressure had shattered him.
“Ada told you?” You hummed with formality; his presence clearly a response to the question. “London will treat me well.”
Tommy tracked your movements. You envied how he filled the space better than you. Perhaps it was the vulnerability in his presence. Regardless, you felt like a guest in your own home. You felt caught, exposed.
The air was thick, causing Tommy’s deep breaths hard to hide behind a crackling record that you had on a continual loop, never able to stand too much silence. Your bags were organized beside the door for the morning, causing your heart to echo against the empty walls.
There was an odd sense of pride you felt with his presence. It confirmed the distant admiration that Tommy held for years. That the shared affection wasn’t something fabricated but complex. You respected his drive, but your desires fell elsewhere. He carved space for you despite your protests, but you could never be the one to fill it—you could never be his.
“A better life, eh?” Tommy mocked you, cigarette rolling over his lips with habit. “Fucks sake.” The confidence in his demeanor faltered. But he regained it quickly with a bitter laugh, “...I’ve given you everything, and here you are asking for more.”
With an instinct to comfort him, you wanted to reach for him. It spoke of your ability to read him and how exhausting it had become to interpret. He would miss you.
“Tommy—” You began. The calmness in your voice was deceiving. You could see it in his face, how expectant he was for you to tell him you’d stay. “—I’m not safe with you.” You paused, letting your admission sink in just as harshly as his words had, “I’m going to London.”
—
The bliss was idyllic.
Your wrist balanced on the windowsill as you lazily tapped the ash of your cigarette. The cool air caressed your arm and gave you goosebumps that reminded you that you were still alive. Human. Your senses were perked. The city outside kept you attentive as your head rested back. The day was long, but hearing the taxis carrying bubbling people made it worth it. You imagined how some were on their way to find warmth in their home while others were dressed for an endless night of laughter.
The living room was empty and quiet. You could no longer hear Ada’s shuffling feet above you, ushering both her and Karl to sleep. It was odd that you found such freedom with them. Protection of sorts that you could rely on as a necessary stepping stone. It caused a headache to form at the back of your head, reminding you of your lack of sleep.
Privilege came with the name associated that made your stomach churn. It was simple to push Tommy into a subconscious level. The task became daunting; an ache emerged from so deep within that it took months to realize from the start he was responsible. It was as though you could feel how his eyes were still on you.
It became a habit to remind yourself of your newfound safety. The distance created life: happiness and tranquility. You traded bloody nights for bedtime stories, sewing razor-filled caps for gin-filled gatherings, and Tommy’s scarcity of communication for peaceful nights like tonight.
A disruption was overdue. You answered the phone after the third ring.
“Ada?” The voice was unmistakable, even if it was whiskey drenched. It took him a beat to realize you were on the other end. “... ’m callin’ for Ada.”
Chewing on your lip, you debated silence and pretended like the call had never begun. But that incessant ache begged to be relieved.
“I can wake her.” Your voice was soft, promising something you were unwilling to do. It was nicety that filled the quietness you were met with.
“I—uh—” Tommy sighed deeply. The words were lost, jumbled behind an always racing mind. You could picture him well; his crisp shirt no longer having life as it was rolled up by anxiety, his tie no longer present, but still suffocating him, and everything around him reflecting how he moved with an intemperate haze. “—I’m drowning—”
“Tommy…” You refused to burst, but his name on your tongue tattered between warning and heartbreak. When he drank, he opened up to you, a foolish cycle. “Let me get Ada…”
The dark chuckle on the other end forced you to press yourself closer to the phone. “Sometimes, I wish I were dead so you'd think of me.”
A frown perked your lips. You were made out to be more heartless than the most heartless man you knew. It was a naive guilt trip that you almost slipped on. “Be fair to me, Tommy.”
There was a crackle on the other end, a cigarette lit purely by regret. The drag was long, trying to pull something thoughtful from a blurred mind. The reports he received from those he paid off weren’t enough. You were thriving with his absence, seen with a mix of people who, even acquaintances, valued you better. It elicited resentful envy. However, out of arms reach, you worried Tommy endlessly. The London associates sought blood, no matter who provided it. The paranoia was ruining him, and no answer could reassure him.
“You a communist yet?” Tommy cleared his throat with a vulnerability that was only reserved for this night. Maybe, you thought, it was an effort on his part.
“Almost…” The teasing comforted a dodged homesickness. “Think my card got lost in the post.”
“Shame.” He tutted with a gentle wit. There was a tender sadness he carried with him. It was almost as volatile as his anger. It was easy to blame it on the war, but it had latched onto him long before, never planning to let go.
You imagined how his exhaustion mapped along his body. His body probably mirrored your own; head back, limbs weakly sprawled, heavy-lidded eyes imagining the other beside each other, and a mutual worry that bounced between you.
“I am happy, Tommy…” Your promise was delayed, hardly believable. “Ada and I do miss everyone.”
I miss you.
Tommy hummed, “...have a funny way of showin’ that.”
“You haven’t seen our smoke signals?”
The laugh you were met with was small, light, and barely there, but it rushed through your limbs and heated your chest. You had a moment to catch your breath and slow your heart rate. Tommy was addicting. Chronic. His aura was intimidating. He was callous to those close to him. And yet, there was that desire to sink below that murky water—drown in him entirely when his want was so clear in his breath.
—
You knew Tommy would be there. For Ada—you reminded yourself. Yet, seeing him so closely caused your heart to lurch, your blood leaving your extremities with such fascination that you became light-headed.
“Drink.” Ada all but scolded you, crystal pushed into your hand. The instruction was welcomed, but it wasn’t enough to settle you. “Otherwise, you’ll clam up if Tommy bothers to find us.”
Tommy worked the crowd well. It was a feigned charm that he played into only for advantage. Although he claimed to be here for family, business always loomed. Ada hadn’t cared either way, the glitz far too intriguing to question his sudden presence in the city.
“Give him time…” Ada spoke openly to the air, her night’s indulgence tracing her words. “...always time with that one—wastes it, and yet, expects you to be there when he hollers. Does your head in, it does…”
The champagne bubbled down your throat. The night was meant to be celebratory, but you’d be lying if you said you knew why. It was a part of your distinction from the Shelby family that you questioned if ignorance truly brought you bliss.
“Surprised he came himself. Thomas Shelby in the flesh,” Ada continued with ease, mocking her brother. “Surprised he even lifted a pinky. Typically one of his goons—” She looked to you, her revelation cutting her off. “You do understand what you do to him, don’t you?”
“I don’t want to.” Your words were sharp. Your eyes filtered the crowd for the gloved waiter to replace your glass. “There’s nothing that I—I’ve put all that behind me.”
“That?” She pressed with practiced bits of patience. Ada’s smile grew comically. The shy glancing took years to turn into full sentences and Ada knew firsthand how to read her brother, and the way he lingered spoke volumes. He was past smitten.
It was all or nothing; you were it.
You were grateful how her attention shifted to her own relationship. You never tired of hearing how Freddie treated her and loved her since they were children. There was somberness in her eyes, but devotion carried in her words. You saw how she carried him with her; certain mannerisms mirrored not only in her but Karl. Love withstood.
There was a point in your life you believed you’d find something similar. You hadn’t faulted your growing mind; it was natural to romanticism your future at such a young age. Those around you promised there was something fruitful to look forward to. However, life proved difficult; men remained boys, and the only person that you regarded stalked toward you as if you were nothing more than a stranger.
“Ada.” Tommy approached his sister as if she were alone. He’d visited her in the city multiple times but never once shared the air with you. “Enjoying yourself tonight, eh?”
“Mothers can still have fun.” She teased him with a peck on the cheek. Even in her state, she ridiculed her brother’s behavior. With a shoulder pushed against his, Ada encouraged Tommy to acknowledge you. “Have you no manners?”
To others, his expression may have appeared vacant. However, Tommy wrestled with himself, unsure how to maneuver in uncharted territory. Stalling, his eyes danced the crowd as he languidly out his matches and carton. It denoted how natural his icy illusion became, and now he seemed able to practice it on you. Once he landed on you, you realized why he struggled to meet your eyes. It was his only form of self-defense.
“London suits you.” Tommy nodded, his greeting muffled through the newly lit cigarette. The small rush it gave him was enough to stay vigilant.
“It has its moments.” Your chest perked from the attention and chill, but Tommy’s eyes never faltered from your own. You were daring him to take your body in. It was the sole reason you chose a dress that cut low both front and back.
Tommy was never a blind man.
Nor was his sister. Ada excused herself, claiming whatever ‘this’ was, she wanted no part. You are no fun, she said. However, you weren’t sure who it was directed to. You held back from following her, but your shoulders remained open; you wouldn’t fold into yourself.
“I didn’t know communists could have fun…” Tommy mumbled to himself, eyes going to the crowd once more. Ada’s self-imposed isolation rippled through the family, only fracturing the stress of everyone’s well-being.
A scoff bubbled in your throat, “And what do you know about pleasure?”
“Pleasure?” Tommy became focused and pointed with his words. “Pleasure doesn’t exist.”
Eyebrows cinching with frustration, you stepped closer to be heard, “Don’t pretend like your pleasures don’t have names.”
That drunken call all those nights ago was a mistake. It showed you insight into a dream. In that dream, Tommy was free of what haunted him, light and present. Faithful. There his voice wrapped you in warmth with fulfilled promises. You never were as skilled at hiding your emotions. Your heart was broken on your sleeve.
“I’m going to—
There wasn’t a need for a protective air as those around Tommy knew never to challenge him. However, far and few between, there were those men self-entitled with such idiocy; they couldn’t recognize they were prey.
“Thomas Shelby. Birmingham man in London.” A hand clapped down on his shoulder, breaking the forming bubble around you. “Thought that was you! This must be the missus…”
“Not quite.” Your tone was bare, your hand extending with trained expertise. You could handle pleasantries. But the man was bold, leaving a damp kiss on your knuckles as if marking you.
Tommy was subtle, moving his body to act as a buffer. Fingertips brushy feather-bare against your lower back. You thought it would end there but held back a flinch when Tommy’s warm palm flattened where your back curved.
“Ah, understood!” The man replied with a boisterous cackle. It reflected years of unfiltered nicotine and a wet and sick penchant for bourbon. “I’ll have one of you warm my bed once all of this shit is over.”
You pinned your breath to the roof of your mouth. Your loss for words wasn’t due to the ill-mannered man. It was from the brush of Tommy’s thumb against your skin. It was a comfort and an apology for how he would have to agree with the man to keep him at bay.
It was all a part of the plan you were slowly catching onto.
“A good lay is a good lay, isn’t it, Mr. Shelby?” The man prompted again, a gauge to know if the future alliance would be worth it.
“Exactly right.”
You could storm off, cause a scene. Your anger steeped deeper than that. It lived in your bones, morphing into something vindictive. You stayed the course and played your part willingly. The morals you lectured Tommy on didn’t matter anymore when all along he had the upper hand.
To the man, you were a plaything, someone who the conversation held no standing. The information would be forgotten, implied confidentiality, as you’d move on to your next client. However, the further you orchestrated the conversation to continue, the more you learned.
The night was a business move, another party dosed in secrets and danger. You took in the man’s features, noting how he was aging, greys just starting to filter through his scalp. Your stomach turned, knowing there would be a bullet between his eyes by the end of the evening. The interaction was a courtesy.
Once alone again, you didn’t hesitate to move from Tommy’s shield. You felt dirtied.
“I can’t believe you.” You spat. “You’re incapable of—
“Enough.” Tommy’s words were low. He pinned you with a look alone, keeping you steady. “You want to run from me, but you can’t.” You battled with him until you lost. His face hardened like you were another associate. “It was him or you.”
#q#tommy shelby#tommy shelby angst#tommy shelby fluff#tommy shelby smut#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby x f!reader#thomas shelby#thomas shelby fluff#thomas shelby angst#thomas shelby smut#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby x f!reader#peaky blinders#peaky blinders fic#cillian murphy#cillian murphy x reader
845 notes
·
View notes
Text
Runaway
summary | thomas has made a deal with a man to help his business. thomas’s only condition? to marry the man's daughter. except she doesn’t want to marry him.
pairing | thomas shelby x fem!reader
word count | 1.98k
genre | fluff with some angst?
requested? | yes! i had so much fun writing this! especially since i have never written anything like this before! thank you so much for requesting! please let me know if you like it!
warnings! | arranged marriage? darkish thomas? (not really, i’m just not great at writing dark characters sometimes, lol) not proof read yet!
author’s note! | hey everyone! this main character was written with poc in mind, i have tried my best, but since i am not a person of color please let me know if there is anything i can change to make it better! i hope you enjoy your request! please know that if you have requested something, i promise that i will get to it soon! And as always, I do I have really bad OCD that causes me to write in some random capitalization, and punctuation, But I think that we don't have to worry about that in this fic lol. And let me know if there are any mistakes, but please be kind!
Thomas knew what was happening today, hell his whole family knew. His future bride was coming to birmingham. He struck up a good deal with her father about helping her fathers business about a week ago, then he saw a photo of the man's daughter. The only condition Thomas made? To marry his daughter. Once they agreed, the man said he needed a week to get his family there. By the time they got there, Thomas had already got everything set up to make damn sure the man would be successful in birmingham. Which included a few fights, but Thomas would do it all over again if it meant he could have her.
They weren’t to meet until the wedding, something her father insisted on. So Thomas stood in a room of the church getting ready, when his brother John busted in.
“They can’t find her Tommy” was all John said as he huffed as if he was out of breath.
Thomas’s mind began to race. What did he mean they couldn’t find her? Has something happened? Had one of his enemies found out about today and took her?
“She was getting ready, and asked for a moment to herself, when her mother came back in to check on her, she was gone.” John added as he leaned on the closest chair.
Thomas stood and took in his brother's words for a moment before he left the room. His future wife was out in Birmingham in her pretty white dress, with no protection and no one was doing anything about it. Her family may not know this city, but Thomas did. He knew what could happen to her if she stayed out there too long. This won’t be an issue when they’re married, and she has his last name. She could kill someone and get away with it then, but right now no one in Birmingham knows who she is. All they know is that she is a pretty girl in a white wedding dress, and the thought of what could happen to her made him sick.
Thomas looked everywhere he could think his fiance would be. He couldn’t find her anywhere, the only place he hadn’t checked was the Garrison.
He walked in to see his bride to be, standing behind the bar making herself what looked like her fourth drink. He walked in slowly, making sure not to scare her.
“(Y/n)?” He asked as he walked up to the bar. She looked up at him as she continued to make her drink. “I’m Thomas Shelby, your future-”
“I know who you are.” She said, cutting him off.
“Well, we're supposed to be getting married right now.” He said matter of factly. “So what are you doing here?”
“I’m not marrying you, thought you would have figured that out by now.” She said as she took a sip of her drink.
Thomas looked at her, making sure to not show how shocked he was that she was speaking to him that way.
“And, why not?” He asked her, now intrigued.
“I don’t want to, I don't know you.” She said as she finished her drink.
Thomas moved to be behind the bar where she was. He took her drink from her hand and placed it on the bar.
“(Y/n)” He said as he towered over her. “Your father has already given me your hand.”
“I know, I don’t care.” She said as she grabbed her drink back from Thomas.
Thomas just took a moment and stared at the girl as she took her drink back. It was the first time he truly got to look at her. He got to take in the color of her eyes, and the curl of her hair, she truly was beautiful.
“Why exactly are you so against marrying me?” He asked as he stared at her.
“I want to be my own person, not defined by my father or my husband.” She said not missing a beat.
“I think I can help with that.” Thomas said, starting to get closer to the girl. “I have a certain reputation, if you’re married to me, you’ll be untouchable.”
“That's still me being defined by my husband.” She said, cutting him off with a small eye roll.
Thomas took the drink from her and set it back down, but this time, she didn’t turn away from him, she just stared up at him, waiting for him to continue.
“As I was saying, you would be untouchable, and if you wanted a role in peaky blinder business, you wouldn’t just be “Thomas Shelby's wife”. You would be “(Y/n) Shelby, most feared woman in Birmingham”. You have an opportunity here, the choice is yours.” Thomas said, staring her in the eyes. Normally he would never offer this to someone he just met. But there was something about (Y/n), just the look in her eyes, the way she wasn’t scared of him, how she held herself, how she looked at him with the same amount of intensity he looked a her with, how she didn’t care she was defying the most feared man in birmingham. "Don't let your pride get in the way of a smart decision."
Thomas watches the girl stare at the wall for a moment, him taking in her side profile. Until she finally looked up at him.
"I won't be reduced to just your little wife?" She asked with a small glimmer of hope in her eyes.
"I'll let you take care of anyone who says you are" He said with a serious look on his face.
The girl gave him a small smile, it was obvious that no one had ever believed in her the way Thomas was right now, that they all thought of her as some weak little girl and nothing more.
"Fine, I'll marry you" She said as she looked up at him with a small smile.
Thomas wrapped her arm in his and led her out of the Garrison. He held the bottom of her white dress up away from the dirt as he walked them back to the church.
“You know, you’re not supposed to see the bride before the wedding.” She said to him with a small laugh. “It’s bad luck.”
“I won’t let anything ruin this marriage, trust me.” He said as he opened the church door for her and let her walk in first. Thomas watched as her family whisked her away, knowing that this girl was truly something he had never expected her to be, and he loved it.
#thomas shelby#thomas shelby imagine#tommy shelby#tommy shelby imagine#cillian murphy#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby fic#tommy shleby fic#thomas shelby fanfic#tommy shelby fanfic#thomas shelby fluff#tommy shelby fluff#thomas shelby angst#tommy shelby angst#thomas shelby peaky blinders#tommy shelby peaky blinders#peaky blinders#thomas shelby smut#tommy shelby smut
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
MASTERLIST PART ONE
Unchained Melody (Part Two)
Summary: Thrown back into the life you abandoned, you are left to find your own way in your former home as Tommy's refusal to say what needs to be said leaves a heavy tension between you both. With your husband's avoidance and unwillingness to talk, you quickly learn for yourself the many things that have changed in Arrow House, and of the Governess you believe has taken your place. Do your worries hold any weight? Or are they simply the fears of a woman trying to recover who she once was?
Warnings: Language, angst, postpartum depression, mutual pining
Word Count: 4359
"Your wife?..."The Governess laughed, a scoff catching in her throat as her eyes darted to Tommy and away from the disgusted look she was giving you when her smirk suddenly dropped at the unamused glare your husband was sending her. It took mere minutes for the news of your shock return to make its way around the vast estate of Arrow House, each and every worker peering into the foyer of your former stately home to get a glimpse of the woman that had returned from the dead. You could feel every stare, hear every whisper. And as your eyes cast down to your muddy shoes and those of the pristinely dressed woman in front of you, shame engulfed you and your legs slowly buckled. The only thing keeping you up, being that of your husband's tightening grip, warning you not to create any further commotion.
"Tommy?" the woman looked to him, her brow furrowed, the tone in her voice abruptly changing from one of disbelief to irritation. "Mr Shelby" she corrected herself when Tommy cocked a brow in response to her lapse in formalities, formalities that had already been blurred in your long absence. For just as shame and regret engulfed you whilst you stood there leaning into your husband's hold, Tommy found himself scrambling for some form of professionalism with the Governess he had hired, as his own guilt quickly weighed heavy on his already burdened shoulders.
"Mr Shel.." she voiced again as Tommy walked you forward, a grunt shuddering past her lips as your husband's shoulder crashed into hers in passing, unwilling to answer questions from anyone, questions he himself did not yet have the answers for.
" Move" he commanded, pushing you forward to follow behind Frances and your sleeping son cradled warmly in her arms as she made her way up the long staircase, every step followed by the piercing stare of the Governess as she slowly turned around and watched you from below in the foyer.
" Get back to work!" She barked at the employees of Arrow House, glaring at each and every one of them as she stormed through the entrance heading for the library, the loud echoing of her heels resonating through the walls of the grand home coming to an abrupt stop when she slammed the door of the study firmly behind her.
" Quiet now William" Frances gently hushed your son's movements from the sudden noise briefly awakening him from his deep slumber, your husband's insistent grip tightening once again as his irritation with everyone's reaction continued to be taken out on your already sore arm.
" No. You stay with me" Tommy said when you went to follow William and Frances into the nursery, a surge of panic quickly engulfing you seconds later when he pulled your trembling body to the bedroom you once shared and William left your line of sight.
Letting go, Tommy stretched the strain from his fingers as he watched you kneed circles into your bruised flesh. Had he hurt you? He silently asked himself as he clenched and loosened his fist from the throbbing pain shooting through his bones. Why didn't you say anything? He thought to himself as he watched you with a furrowed brow, troubled as to why you didn't tell him to stop, why the woman stood before him hated herself so much that she had surrendered to the acceptance of pain without once flinching, nor uttering a word. Did you think you deserved it?
"Everything...everything is as you left it" Tommy sighed as his fingers came up to pinch his brow and the frustration growing within him for how he had behaved, everything but how he imagined he would've reacted in the lonely nights he had spent without you. What the fuck was wrong with him? He cursed himself once again. Never once had he laid a finger on you, never once had he wished you harm, and yet in the space of a few minutes he had done just that.
Willfully pushing down his anger through gritted teeth, Tommy watched you as you looked around the room, your fingers gliding over the satin bedsheets, your hands gingerly reaching out for your once cherished possessions carefully arranged like a shrine in your wake. He wanted to shout, he wanted to show you the depths of the darkness your absence had plunged him into. But instead, for the briefest of moments, Tommy found himself gazing at you, lost in your movements as the fading sun over the grounds of Arrow house cast a dusky orange glow around your body through the netted curtains.
As the memory of your last night shared together came hurtling back to him, tormenting him with time lost and moments stained, Tommy quickly span around, swallowing his mounting emotions and forcing them back from whence they came." Frances..." He said clearing his throat as he stood firmly with his back to you, adamant on you not seeing any more of the pain he had kept locked away for almost two years. "... Frances will run you a bath and burn those rags in the fire" he said sniffing back his tears, reaching for the door handle as his spite quickly returned.
" Tommy I..." Your voice drifted to him, cutting yourself off as you watched his firm grip on the brass knob tighten, feeling as if you were overstepping a line into his broken heart.
" Just tell me one thing Y/N. Was it because of me? Was I the reason you left?" He asked, his voice quiet, uncertainty and worry laced in every word, his restless thoughts as to what had you leave still fogged in a cloud of confusion and self-blame.
" Tommy no, of course not..." You assured as you hurried to him, abruptly recalling as you came face to face with the solemn heaviness weighing down his tired features and the loose tears pooled under his lashes. Had he really thought that? All this time? You asked yourself as you stood there in horror that he would believe such a thing, that you had let him believe such a thing. " Tommy wait, please!" You pleaded as he swiftly opened the door and slammed it behind him, leaving you in your own pool of tears as you sank down onto the bed.
Steadying himself with clenched fists around the landing banister, Tommy chocked out a cry as a sudden release of weight lifted off his shoulders. " Fuck..." he breathed heavily, resting his forearms over the wooden staircase as his fingers laced through the top of his hair, his body draining of the blame he had condemned himself with as your sobs echoed through the halls of Arrow house.
Thundering down the stairs and away from the sound of your cries luring him back, Tommy headed for his office, stubbornly enclosing himself away from the desperation of wanting to hold you and the will to let the fortress he had built around his heart come tumbling down. Stiff upper lip, keep calm and carry on. The British way. And what Tommy would soon learn, the wrong way.
" Thank you, Frances" you said handing her the last of your clothes as you dipped your foot into the heated bath whilst she lovingly folded them one by one into a neat pile, ignoring Tommy's orders to have them thrown on the fire he had already lit in the master bedroom.
" Everything is here for you Mam, fresh towe.." Frances said when your frustrated sobs caught her attention.
" Fuck sake" you began to cry as you tried to pull the comb through your knotted hair, surrendering to ever recovering your luscious locks as you then began to frantically scrub the dirt from your skin until your flesh turned bloody.
" Mrs Shelby! You'll scrub the skin of your bones" Frances hurried to you, gently taking the sponge from your trembling hands as you reached for her arm, clutching it in desperation.
" He's disgusted by me, with what I did, how I look.I...I cant...I can't get the knots out" your panicked voice tried to make sense of your hectic thoughts as you looked down at your marked skin.
" Would you like me to stay, Mam? And help?" She said taking your shaky hands within hers as her gentle smile looked down at you. Nodding, you let go of her arm as she pulled a wooden stool to the side of the bath and began to brush through your hair, gently loosening your matted locks. " Always did have such a beautiful crown of hair" she said combing through each section as you bit your trembling bottom lip.
" You don't have to be nice to me, Frances" you said as your hands flew to your face, hiding the barrage of emotions that was seconds away from flooding down your cheeks.
" And why ever not?" She said with a furrowed brow as she came to a stop.
" It's ok, I deserve it. You can say it. Everyone is thinking it" you cried, pushing your tears away as your chest filled with a shattering pain, and you began to sob into your hands.
" Mrs Shelby..." she sighed, her own eyes filling with tears for the sweet woman that had always treated her and everyone else who worked in the manor with the upmost respect and care. "Every worker here on the grounds of Arrow House has nothing but fond things to say about you. And not one judges you for the torment we all saw you battle through"
" You're very kind Frances, but...but I'm afraid my husband doesn't share those sentiments. He hates me " you cried looking down at your ring finger, the indent from where your wedding band once sat still visible to this day, a reminder of the abandonment you had committed and the marriage you had left behind.
" He blamed himself Mam, as men often do when their heart is breaking" she said as she returned to combing your hair and you listened intently to one of the few people close enough to have seen your husband's turmoil after the regretful night you had left. " Do you know why William calls you Mummy, Mrs Shelby?" Frances said, changing the subject to one that might uplift your spirits rather than dampen them anymore than they already were.
"No. Please, please tell me" you replied clutching to the side of the bath, clutching onto every word Frances said as the shock and confusion from hearing your son utter the one word you never thought would grace your ears earlier that day.
"Every night before putting little William to bed, Mr Shelby would sit with him and show him your picture. Not one night did he forget. He'd insist the poor mite stayed awake until his eyes were heavy as he hurried home from the city to tell him all about his Mummy. So that when he did fall asleep, his dreams would be of you" she said moving to the last knot in your hair as your heart tugged in your chest and the tender gesture Tommy fulfilled every night in your absence ." Does that not sound like a man who still loves his wife?" She asked as you turned to face her, nodding your head as tears wetted your cheeks. " Many things have changed since you left Mam. But there were many Mr Shelby could not part with. So they stayed. You stayed"
Sat alone on the edge of the bed dressed in your former clothes, your hair perfectly coiffed, your nails immaculately manicured, you waited in silence, not knowing what was expected of you now you had been thrown back into the life you once left, thrown into trying to find the woman you once was within the space of a few hours.
Tommy hadn't returned to you since slamming the door to your shared bedroom earlier that day, slamming out what needed to be discussed and the built up emotions that needed to be released. And with William being taken care of by the watchful eyes of a plethora of nannies, all under the command of who you could only assume was the Governess you had met hours earlier, you were left restless, awaiting the next moment you would be confronted by your husband again. Deciding not to prolong the inevitable, you gingerly opened the door to the bedroom and made your way down the long staircase, briefly coming to a halt at the sound of William's joyous giggles as he played in the nursery mere meters away. Tommy was keeping him from you. You were certain of it. And could you blame him? What right did you have to insert yourself back into his world when you had already given up the most cherished gift your life could have blessed you with. Motherhood. You thought to yourself as you came to the bottom of the stairs to see Tommy standing in the archway of the front door talking to the stable hand.
"Mrs Shelby" the older man beamed upon seeing you standing before him, the most sincere of smiles gracing his face as Tommy turned to look your way.
And there it was. Capturing him once again in the briefest of moments as time warped and he watched you step towards him, rid of the ragged clothes and muddied skin that hid your radiating beauty he could only gaze at through your cherished photos and portraits. Were you still his? He sheepishly thought to himself as he quickly glanced up from the floor to see you desperately holding out on his every move, his every word. As the question of your remaining love weighed heavy on his thoughts, melancholy feelings returned and Tommy did what he does best. He left. Snatching away his hunger to wrap his arms around you, he fled for a second time, leaving you with words unspoken and a heart heavy with shame.
" Not the welcome you were expecting, Mrs Shelby? Do I even call you that?" a voice approached you as an overpowering powdery smell of roses and soap filled your senses. " Left not only a troubled man but a difficult child in your wake" she said as you turned to face the Governess staring down at you. Judging you, once again." Over indulged and unable to soothe himself back to sleep. He should have left the breast after a month" she remarked flatly, as the only thing you thought you had done right by your child was cruelly snatched away from you within seconds. " The lower class, and poverty-stricken nurse their children. What a burden you must have put on Mr Shelby with the restless night's your refusal to do as any woman of your previous statue would do" she said belittling you once again as you turned to leave, feeling your frame shrink with each step at the insignificance this woman had made you feel without no mercy or regard to your feelings." What kind of mother, what kind of wife would do what you did?" She said as you came to a sudden halt. Brushing your tears from your cheeks, a sense of composure overcame you in response to the woman who was but a mere stranger to you, with judgmental words not even your husband had uttered to you. You were still Tommy's wife. William, still your son. And as you turned to face the bitterness and disregard she had for you and everything you once were, you corrected her not on her assumptions of you or the words you felt you were due, but on one thing.
" Mrs Shelby. You refer to me as Mrs Shelby"
As night fell, and a blanket of stars covered the skies of Arrow House, you lay in bed tossing and turning to the sound of William loudly wailing in the room adjacent to yours, as Tommy, you could only assume, was sleeping elsewhere, avoiding you once again. Why wasn't anyone going to him? You thought to yourself as you threw the covers off you and made your way to his door. Were they expecting you to go? Now you was back? You nervously pondered as you hovered by the door slowly opening it to see your son stood in his cot, his checks reddened from his restless cries.
" Mummy..." he wept loudly upon seeing you, his arms reaching out for you as you stood back and watched, your hands sweaty your face heated in panic.
" Shh William, it's ok" you said gingerly approaching him as he furiously strained his arms above his head for you to pick him up. " William, I...I don't think I'm allowed" you said nervously looking back to the door, every part of you wanting to sweep up your child and cradle him tightly in your arms. " I'm here William" you said giving in to every motherly instinct you possessed as you went to lift him out of his bed when the door creaked opened.
" Oh, Mrs Shelby! You gave me a fright" Frances said as her hand flew to her chest.
" Im sorry. He was crying. No...nobody came. I...I was only...please don't tell my husband" you panicked as you took a step back, scared your actions would see you cast from Arrow house. Never to see your child again.
" Enough of that. Take him, he's your child" she reassured you, gently guiding you forward. Lifting William from within his cot, you wrapped your hands around his small frame as his arms hung over your shoulders, and he gently sobbed into your chest. Overwhelmed with love, tears streaked your cheeks as you cradled the side of his head in your palm and placed a longing kiss to the crown of his head, breathing in the sweet smell of his hair as a surge of peace overcame you. " There we go" Frances smiled, watching Williams eyes get droopy with sleep as you rocked him back and forth in your arms, the sudden quietness quickly alerting Tommy who was sat on the steps outside the house, smoking himself through a packet of cigarettes like he did every night as he waited for the tormenting sound of his child's cries to settle.
"Why didn't anyone go to him?" you asked as William's body went heavy with sleep and his hiccuping sobs slowly started to fade into gentle breaths.
" The Governess has insisted on him self soothing. But William is a sensitive soul, and I've learnt over the years that one method doesn't work for all" she said stepping closer as she brushed the hair from his face. " You'll find any one of the staff up here on any given night, trying to get him back to sleep. Even our cook, Mr Giles on occasion, if the Governess is not standing guard" she said as Tommy approached the nursery, looking through the crack of the door to see you standing with his son in your arms, fast asleep.
" Frances..." you said turning to face her. "...Will he ever forgive me?" You asked as you rested your cheek on William's head, holding him as close as you could to your broken heart, hoping the severed bond would mend, and you could regain the years you had lost.
" I think he already does. That's the beautiful thing about children. They have only love in their hearts" she replied giving your arm a gentle squeeze.
" And Tommy?" You asked, yearning for your husband's forgiveness as you sought reassurance from Frances for a second time.
" When the storm has passed and the clouds have parted, he will be wanting the warmth of the sun back in his life. That i don't doubt" she replied as Tommy turned to leave for the four walls of his office and the bottle of whisky calling his name, ready to drown himself in the hurt he couldn't yet part with. "Hold your son Mrs Shelby. Don't ever let him go" she said, her parting words leaving a profound sentiment within you as you slowly walked to the rocking chair, turning it away from where you once sat and to the soft silver glow of the moon casting dreamy shadows onto the nursery floor.
"Oh I do like to be beside the seaside. Oh I do like to be beside the sea" you sang caressing William's face, looking down at his lips puckered together as his head weighed heavy on your chest and the gentle sound of his breathing played a calming melody to your ears " Forgive me William. I wasn't myself" you said as a tear streaked down your cheek and you brought his hand clutched tightly around your thumb to your lips, placing a tender kiss to his fingers" Sleep my sweet boy, sleep"
Standing by the fireplace in one of the many guest rooms of Arrow House, Tommy flicked the ash from his cigarette into the flames, welcoming the radiating burn from the orange glow under his calloused skin. He too had become accustomed to pain in your wake. Inviting it in like an old friend to feel something, anything that would make him feel alive again and not the emptiness that had encompassed him.
" Do you think she knows?" A voice alerted him as the door opened and Tommy lifted his head.
" What do you want?" Tommy huffed, turning his eyes back to the roaring fire and away from the Governess who was now slowly approaching him undoing the buttons of her ivory blouse.
" Do you think she knows about, us?" She asked again, running her hands up the front of his shirt as she leaned in to place her ruby lips to his when Tommy raised his cigarette, taking a long drag before blowing the fumes in her face. With Tommy's blatant annoyance with her unwelcome presence going amiss, she continued her endeavor, sweeping her hands over his torso and down to his belt. " You seem stressed" she said biting her bottom lip, unbuckling the clasp and sliding her hand into his briefs as a scoff left Tommy's lips and he shook his head in disbelief at the sheer brazenness of her actions. " Come on Tommy, let me make you feel good" she said as she stroked his softened cock up and down in her hand, her brow scrunching together in annoyance when her efforts were left in vain, leaving an unenthusiastic, unaroused Tommy smirking down at her. " Fine, have it your way" she smiled kneeling before him as she pulled his briefs down when Tommy's patience grew thin, and he suddenly grabbed her by the chin.
" My wife, the mother of my child, sleeps in the next room" he said clenching his jaw, his anger rapidly rising in response to her blatant disrespect for your presence and the day's events.
" Your wife" she scoffed, grabbing hold of his wrist as his grip tightened. " Is that what you call the woman who couldn't even look after the son she clearly never wanted?"
" Don't you dare fucking speak of her like that again, do you hear me?!" Tommy snapped, pushing her face away, causing her to stumble backwards onto the hardwood floors.
" Just like that then. She comes back and it's all over? " she said standing up, trying to compose herself from the embarrassment of Tommy's rejection.
" Just like that" Tommy replied, throwing his hand out and the burnt cigarette into the fire as he stormed past her heading for the door when she grabbed his arm.
" It was me who kept you company all the nights she abandoned you because she couldn't, cope. Me alone" she seethed, mocking you of the torment you had endured.
" What?..." Tommy laughed shaking his head as he looked down at her in disgust. " You thought you could replace my wife, eh?" Tommy said as he closed the gap between them, now inches from her face. " Sweetheart, you were just a fuck" he whispered in her ear as the Governess face twisted in fury, and she pushed past him storming to the door. " Don't think I don't know what your poisonous mind wants. You've long outstayed your welcome. Pack your things and be gone by the morning" Tommy said lighting another cigarette as the Governess span back around to confront him once again. He needed to be rid of her and quick, before you, his wife found out about his lapse in judgment with the most unsavory of women.
" You seem to have forgotten Tommy" she said as her lips curled into a triumphant smile. " I signed a contract written by you that's deadline doesn't end for another six months. And If the terms of that clause are not met. Well..." she said smirking as she crossed her arms, ready to deliver what she felt would have Tommy suddenly change his mind. " I'll go to the police, and spill all your little secrets"
" I own the fucking police love" Tommy laughed taking a drag of his cigarette, her threats but a mere annoying natter in his ear than anything worthy of his attention.
" Oh yes, you're very protected aren't you Tommy? Your dealings go as far up as Winston Churchill himself. What would the papers make of that? A man of government working with a razor gang?" she said with a giggle as Tommy's head snapped to her. "You really should have kept your correspondences out of sight while you had me bent over your desk, fucking your grief away" she spat opening the door as Tommy followed suit, furious his dealings and the business associates he wished to keep in tact, and away from prying eyes were now in jeopardy of falling apart over a few quick shags.
" Mrs Shelby, good evening" the Governess smirked, doing the buttons of her blouse up as you shut the nursery door behind you and she sauntered past.
"Y/N..." Tommy said as he came to an abrupt stop whilst you stood there in silence, yours eyes darting from his unbuckled belt to the sheepish look in his eyes not even he, the master of deception could mask.
Frances was right. Many things had changed in Arrow House. Many things.
PART THREE
Tag List: @garrison-girl-08 @call-sign-shark @red-riding-wood @look-at-the-soul @lau219 @peakyswritings @babaohhhriley @naevisct @galactict3a @satanhauntedmytorment @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @kmc1989 @latorsgatorz @garfieldsladybird @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @henrywintersdearestgirl @goblinjnr (unable to tag) @abaker74 @fuseburner @hummusxx @xvintageghostx (unable to tag) @sagecodm @isabbellagonzalezz88 (unable to tag) @girlwith-thepearlearring @minaxcarter (unable to tag) @cleverzonkwombatsludge @saltburnwhore @outlanderuniverse @anastacia-lynn @sofiblossom @akemiixx01 @thelastemzy @xxbeckybeexx-blog @cyphah @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo
#unchained melody#tommy shelby#thomas shelby#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader insert#tommy shelby x you#tommy shelby x y/n#tommy shelby x fem!reader#cillian murphy#tommy shelby imagine#tommy shelby fanfic#tommy shelby fanfiction#tommy shelby series#tommy shelby smut#peaky blinders#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders fanfiction#peaky blinders series#tommy shelby angst
585 notes
·
View notes
Text
"𝐩𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐩 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐬"
☆ tommy shelby x fem!wife!reader
𝐂𝐖- mentions of pregnancy and pregnancy loss, mentions of death, cursing, not proofread.
you hadn't dared to move since the doctors last came and spoke to you. you had barely blinked. it was like everything inside of you had suddenly stopped. you had stopped hearing the busy chattering of nurses in the hallway, the clattering of metal here and there. you had stopped smelling the clean cotton of the hospital bedsheets, the sweat that had now dried all over your body. you had stopped feeling the way your hair stuck to your forehead, and the lingering feeling of rubber gloves all over your skin. you had stopped tasting the blood on your lips from all the anxious biting; and only reminiscences of the anguished screams.
you only counted the times you inhaled and exhaled, focused only on your breath as tears fell from your eyes, silent and unnoticed.
in... seventy-three... out.
and again. wishing they carried some other mystical power to relieve your pain other than keeping your mind busy, you felt limp. like all life had just expired from you. in a way, it had. you felt empty because you were. after all this time, there was nothing.
your silence and self absortion was, however, disrupted by loud fluttering in the corridors, voices shrieking louder everytime. you gained consciousness over yourself again, slow but steady. your hands, now trembling faintly again, wiped out the recent and dried tears on your face, the touch feather-like, as you didn't have much force left in you.
but, amidst the chaos of voices, footsteps, trays and other unidentifiable noises, you found a voice you did recognize.
"-the fuck is she? i will find her myself if i fucking have to"
you perked your head at the familiar voice, irking straighter at the sound of your husband.
"sir, we've told you, she's not stable enough for-"
but tommy interrupted the nurse again. "where is my wife?"
"sir! you can't reach her now, she's-"
thud. after another voice told the nurse to just take mr shelby to your room, for the love of whoever was listening, the voices seemed to cool down and then the chatter and steps intensified as they approached your door.
"you stay away" was tommy's last warning to the nurse, before barging in.
you had tried to look away from the door, focusing on the green tiles of the hospital floor, desperately attempting to hide your vulnerability to tommy. but your eyes betrayed you, immediatly shooting up at your husband as he entered the space.
his cheeks were rosy, probably a mix from the cold weather outside and all the shouting to the nurses. his eyes weren't harsh and piercing, as many would recall; they just showed preoccupation. his cap was on his hand, held tightly out of nervousness.
"what? what happened? how are you? how is she?" tommy bombarded you with questions since the second he walked into the hospital room, rushing to your side.
your eyes were red and puffy, tears dried out and wiped away on your skin. your lip quivered when you spoke, as did your hands. "i'm sorry. i am so, so sorry, tom, i-"
you couldn't finish, for you broke into sobs. he laced a hand with yours, while the other came to hold your head, petting your hair in an attempt to calm you down.
"what happened, eh?" he asked, tracing the patterns he knew relaxed you where his skin touched yours.
he tried to remain calm. nevertheless, alarm was ringing through his body.
all sorts of questions and thoughts raced through tommy's mind. questions about his daughter, fear of the worst, worry about his wife. he pressed a kiss to your temple gingerly, as you let out a shaky breath, gripping his hand tighter.
"she- oh god." you paused to wipe some tears and to catch your breath after a hiccup. "when the nurses pulled her out, she-she wasn't, tommy she was-" you couldn't finish the sentence.
and you didn't have to. tommy could guess how it ended, and he pulled you closer to him, resting his chin on top of your head as you wept into his shoulder, gripping him as if he was going to disappear. as if he was going to disappear too.
the fact that tommy wasn't crying didn't mean by any chance he didn't want to. his eyes stung and he wanted nothing but to break down. but not there, not with you. because you needed him.
he was still recovering from the shock as well. everything was perfect a few hours ago, when you'd gone into labor. so what had happened? and why to you?
your voices danced; you muttering quavering 'sorry's, tommy gently reassuring you that it was okay, and that it wasn't your fault. but the feeling of impotence was constantly hovering over you; the guilt, the rage, the sadness, the fear, all the emotions blended together to overwhelmingly drown you.
"i'm sorry, tom" you snifled, voice sounding suddenly too young, too fragile.
he just held you tighter, closing his eyes as if that would make the pain go away.
after some moments, you pulled away. now your breathing was more controlled at tears only welled in your eyes.
"she wasn't breathing. when the nurses pulled her out, she wasn't-" hiccup "fuck, sorry. she wasn't breathing, tom..." you ended the sentence in a whisper.
you then told him what the nurses had tried to explain to you in your hysterical state. though you were now considerably calmer, you still refused to meet his eyes, as if they would only confirm that your daughter was dead even before she was born.
"she choked on the umbilical cord apparently. nothing they could do; she was born dead" you explained, voice breaking but managing to keep the tears at bay. pain stung in your chest, anxiety, desolation and guilt clawing and scratching you inside out.
"fuck.." tommy muttered under his breath. he ran a hand over his temple, curling it then into his hair.
but he grabbed you hand with his free one, a silent vow of inconditional solace, a reminder of the promise to forever be there for each other.
as he noticed your eyes watering again, he gave a gentle squeeze to your hand. " 's okay" he mumbled, his voice hoarse but still soft. " 's gonna be alright." tommy pressed a kiss to your hand, your fingers and knuckles icy under his lips. "everything's gonna be alright".
as he put your hand back down to rest at your side, tommy stood up and leaned down a bit to embrace your quivering figure into a hug.
"i won't be long, love, i just have to go for a moment" he softly said, voice so unusually calm for him. making his way to the door, he was stopped in his tracks when you called his name.
"tom" you called again, making him turn to face you. "don't go, please" you said, your voice breaking at your plea.
he froze in his spot. he was mentally and emotionally wrecked, but still, he knew he couldn't just let the world he had built for himself, for you (even for her, though he didn't even dare think about it), fall apart.
"o-or don't, i'll be fine. sorry, it was stupid and pretentious. just stop by-"
but he was by your side again before you could even finish your sentence.
"i'm not going anywhere. i'm staying." he mumbled in a raspy whisper, sitting down next to you on the bed and bringing your hand in his again, his eyes watery. "'m staying."
you nodded, mumbling a quiet 'okay' and clutching his hand tighter.
he was staying.
#tommy shelby x reader#cillian murphy x reader#tommy shelby imagine#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby#peaky blinders x reader#tommy shelby angst#tommy shelby x you#heartcereql
607 notes
·
View notes
Text
"As long as I still love you, my eyes will never grow dark to you.”
pairing -> thomas shelby x f!oc
trope -> hurt/comfort, argument, tommy being kinda a shitty husband
warning -> argument, tommy being kinda a shitty husband, fluffy ending (i promise)
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
He sat back in his plush chair. Today wasn't a good day in general. Between his brothers pissing him off and a couple business deals going south, it seemed like he couldn’t catch a break. He tilted his head back while his eyelids fluttered close. All he needed was time. All he needed was peace and quiet. He knew he was forgetting something but he couldn’t tell what he was forgetting. Like something was supposed to happen but nothing happened. He shook his head and started to pour another glass of whiskey. Another storm was brewing on the horizon. He hadn’t even realized it until it was too late. The great big door swung closed. The house had grown darker than it usually was, the dark oak everywhere kept it ambient but now, with the threat of something coming, it seemed even darker. Someone hung up their coat. Then it dawned on Tommy who had just arrived. His wife. His wife who had tear stained cheeks and wet hair. She didn’t look at him as she kicked off her shoes. His thoughts started to quicken as he tried to figure out what he had forgotten. Turns out, she was going to answer that for him.
“For a man who projects the idea that he is on top of everything, you seem to forget what you say is most important to you.” She silently walked up to their shared room, quietly shutting the door behind her. He could hear her faint tears through the door. What had he forgotten? He sat back down in his office. He took a long drag of his cigarette. What was happening today? What was so special about today? What exactly had he forgotten? Upstairs, she slumped against the door. Her cheeks felt hot tears slide down them as she cried for a husband that took her for granted. She knew this was not true all the time, not the nights where he kissed the length of her body and made up for all the long nights and forgotten promises, not the days that he took off work and spent the day in bed with her, not the times where he noticed that she was uncomfortable and he slipped his hand in hers to reassure her that he was there, not the times where he let her cry in his lap until she fell asleep. Then again, this was a rather important thing to forget. Today was special. Today had been the happiest day of her life a year ago. She didn’t know, she couldn't fathom how he could forget a day like today. So she cried. She cried with her back against the door of the bedroom that they used to sleep in every night, the bedroom where they had planned on trying for children, the bedroom where they both forgot about the world and just focused on each other. She could hear footsteps outside the door. She reached a shaky hand up and locked it from the inside. She would rather cry herself to sleep against the cold, hard floor than face her husband who had forgotten her once again. She heard Frances, Thomas’ maid, from the other side of the door.
“Mrs. Shelby, Mrs. Thorne wanted to give you these–” Tony cracked the door open slightly to look at the small parcel Ada had left her. It had a small note attached to it. She thanked Frances and took the package inside, then relocked the door. She carefully pulled the brown paper off for it to reveal a small box of chocolates. The note had fallen to the floor, which Tony now started to notice. The note read, ‘Just in case you needed it. Remember that he does love you, even though he does get wrapped up in himself. Happy Anniversary to my favorite sister in law. Yours truly, Ada Thorne.’ Tony smiled and tucked the note under the box of chocolate. She heard a different set of footsteps come up to the other side of the locked door. It was much heavier and sounded much more familiar. She took a deep breath. She heard something hit the floor. A few curse words in a Birmingham accent floated in through the crack in the floor. She didn’t know what exactly she should say. Yes, she was angry, so she should chew him out? Then again, she was sad, should she guilt trip him? Make him feel all the feelings she was feeling? Another emotion surfaced, fear. The fear of abandonment. The fear that one day, he would leave her. The fear that she was slowly getting taken for granted by the man she loved most in the world. Again, she started to cry, then she felt something soft hit the hand she had been leaning on. It was a napkin from the dining room of the Arrow House. She smiled through her building sadness. This was how they had communicated the day of their wedding. They had passed notes on several stacks of napkins since it was customary for the groom to not see his bride. They had both thought this rule was silly and a little outdated but you don’t argue with Aunt Polly. The notes on their wedding day had been words full of adoration and love. Now the napkin that had been riddled with tear stains had two simple words on it.
‘I’m Sorry.’ She blinked a few times but this just made the napkin more and more wet. The handwriting was his. This was the handwriting that had moved millions of dollars. This was the handwriting that had written letters full to the brim of teasing words and innuendos while he was in London and she was in Ireland. This was the handwriting of the man she loved more than anything in this world. This was the handwriting of her husband. This was the handwriting of the man who had forgotten his own wedding anniversary. She gulped down another wave of tears and mustered up enough resolve to finally get words out.
“But are you though?” She could hear the breath being released from the other side of the door. She could almost hear the wheels in his head turning, trying to solve this problem quickly, but there is no quick solution to this. She was not the kind of girl who would say that a couple of kisses and a night of sweet love making would be a sufficient apology. She needed something much more substantial. She could hear him trying to think of the right words, the right phrasing, the best way of regaining the love of his wife back.
“You have all the right in the world to be angry at me. You have all the right in the world to walk out on me. That is, as of right now, what I deserve. I have taken you for granted and forgotten many things I shouldn’t have. Yell at me if you have to. I will leave you alone if you need space to cry. My only request is that we figure this out together. This day, last year, we were married and you told me something that has stuck with me every single day–” He paused, trying to remember what she had said exactly to make sure he got his point across perfectly.
“As long as I have love in my heart for you, my eyes will stay a pale gray. No matter what happens. No matter what I have to go through. As long as I still love you, my eyes will never grow dark to you.” He finished her quote with a long silence.
“When you walked in from the rain, your eyes were darker than I’ve ever seen them. I wish there was a quick and easy way of fixing this so that I can have my Tony back to the way she was before I started to fuck up this entire thing…but there is no easy way. There never has been. You do things methodically, I do things sporadically, sometimes with a plan, sometimes spontaneously. Our love exists in the balance between erratic and consistent. If there is any way I can reclaim your love, I will go to any lengths for it. I know you might not believe me but your love, Anthony Bentini Shelby, is the thing nearest and dearest to my heart. Your love that is fleeting than trying to cup water in your hands, your love that makes a man fall to his knees at the sight of it, your love that is only shown to the most worthy of souls. You have changed the course of my life with your love. You have changed my soul with your love. If there is any way, if there is even a possibility of your forgiveness, I will wait weeks, months, years, sitting against this door, until you come to your verdict…and if you so choose to walk out, I will not stop you, just know that you have changed every single member of the Shelby family.” She didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t know if she should say anything after that. Thomas hadn’t spoken that much in weeks. He had let out a few sentences at most to her but nothing this long. Nothing this…important. She pulled a pen out of her jacket pocket and wrote carefully on the napkin before sending it back under the door. She simply wrote, ‘I forgive you.’ She cracked the door again to let her hand through to the other side. He laced his fingers between hers. She could hear his breath evening out. She could feel her own slowing down and she could feel her tears drying. She silently giggled when she felt him drawing small designs with his thumb into the back of her hand. She could hear his voice, now cracked and choked up.
“Happy Anniversary, Mrs. Shelby.” She could feel him plant a small, gentle kiss to the back of her hand. He was never gentle about anything. The trademark of his love was that he tried to be more gentle with her.
“Happy Anniversary, Mr. Shelby.”
#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby hurt/comfort#thomas shelby angst#thomas shelby fluff#tommy shelby hurt/comfort#tommy shelby angst#tommy shelby fluff#thomas shelby x f!oc#tommy shelby x f!oc#thomas shelby x oc#tommy shelby x oc#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy x oc#thomas shelby x f!reader#tommy shelby x f!reader#cillian murphy x f!reader#cillian murphy x f!oc#cillian murphy#cillian murphy fluff#cillian murphy angst#cillian murphy hurt/comfort
368 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
notmith
rehab
otherdimensionalapple
lady apple
pixelhsblog
Untitled
mavddox
𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤
clhook
clhook