Tumgik
#tommy shelby fanfiction
runnning-outof-time · 7 months
Text
The Brother That Always Wins | Tommy Shelby x Reader
Tumblr media
Request: yes by @kpopgirlbtssvt
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader, with hints of John Shelby and Arthur Shelby trying their hand at flirting with the reader
Summary: (Y/N) is oblivious to the fact that three of the most powerful men in Birmingham are interested in her. When it's all said and done though, the brother that always wins, wins.
Warnings: language, drinking, terribly written flirting
Word Count: 4350
A/N: this story turned into an absolute ride, one that I enjoyed much more than I thought I would. It’s a bit of controlled chaos…I hope you’re ready for it. Enjoy! :)
PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!
Comment/Message Me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!
Tumblr media
"The fuck are you grinnin' for?" John Shelby asked as soon as his brother, Arthur entered the snug. He couldn't help himself, his older sibling's grin was able to be seen from a mile away.
"I just helped the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen in me life," Arthur proudly answered, his chest jutting out slightly as he spoke.
"Helped in what way, eh?" Tommy questioned, his one eyebrow raised. He'd been reading the newspaper and keeping to himself, only half-listening as John talked away about whatever, but he couldn't deny that he was interested in what Arthur had to say.
"I bet you he just stood there and gawked at her!" John chimed in before Arthur could respond, a smug grin on his face.
"I did not!" Arthur snapped back at his younger sibling, sending a glare his way, "I had a bloody conversation with her and all!"
"What happened?" Tommy asked another question, slowly losing his patience as he waited.
"So she was walkin' with a box, right? A big ass box...one that's too big for a lady like her to be carryin’. But she was walkin' with it. And so I was watchin' her from across the road, because she was goin' the same way I was. We must've walked for some time, how long I don't remember. Anyways, she gets to this one stretch and she trips...loses her fuckin' balance or something. All of the things in the box go flyin'. So I did what any man does and ran 'cross the street to help her. We put all the shit back into the box and then when she looked up at me, I thought I was gonna die on the spot. She was so fuckin' beautiful, lads. Shy, and sweet, and just fuckin'...gorgeous. I swear to you that if she would've..."
"Get on with the story, Arthur," Tommy interjected into Arthur's tangent, making him snap out of the attraction-riddled daze that he was quickly slipping into.
"Yeah, right," Arthur nodded, shaking his head slightly as he tried to recall where he was. "She was actin' so shy and thankin' me for helpin' her clean the stuff up that I couldn't but just be, fuckin'..."
"Arthur," Tommy said in a warning tone.
"I'm gettin' on with it," he brushed his brother off before continuing, "I couldn't help but not want to leave her. So I asked her where she was goin' and she said to the school. That was out of my way, but I didn't fuckin' care. I carried her things to the school she went on with thankin' me again. She was so fuckin' gorgeous and...shit, boys, I think I might be in love," he finished up his story, continuing on with it despite the scoffs or stiffled laughter coming from his brothers.
"You said she was going to the school?" John asked a question once it was clear that Arthur was finished with his story.
"Yeah...she's a fuckin' teacher, mate. Even better," Arthur grinned.
"Did you get her name?" John asked another question.
"Course I did!" Arthur responded like it was obvious.
Silence fell in the snug then, the three men looking between each other. John waited on bated breath for a few moments before it became obvious that Arthur wasn't going to say it without being prompted. "What was it?"
"(Y/N), I think it was," Arthur recalled, his answer making John choke out a weird sound, one that seemed to be a mixture of a scoff and a laugh. "What?"
"She's Katie's fuckin' teacher, mate!" John exclaimed, his declaration making Arthur's eyes widen. "She is fuckin' gorgeous, I'll tell you that," he then agreed with Arthur, a wide grin now plastered across his face.
John and Arthur then went about talking about her after Arthur prompted his younger sibling to tell him all that he knew about her. Tommy sat in his chair, half reading the paper and half listening to their conversation. He couldn't deny that he was intrigued by his brothers' stories, and everything they said about her made him want to go and meet her for himself even more.
Tumblr media
"Can I help you?" (Y/N) (Y/L/N) asked the man that she swore appeared in her doorway out of nowhere. He was dressed in an expensive looking three-piece suit with an equally as expensive looking overcoat over top of it, as well as a peaked cap atop his head.
"I'm looking for (Y/N)," the man answered.
"You found her," (Y/N) smiled, setting her book down on the desk to give the man her full attention. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"I was directed to you by the front office. They said you're in charge of the donations?"
"That depends...if you're looking to donate to the building, you'll need to speak with our headmaster, but if you're looking to donate directly to the children, you can speak to me," she explained with a smile. She was proud to have been named the head of the board that made sure the children in the school had the tools they needed in order to thrive in the learning environment.
"I'm looking to donate to the children."
"Then you're in the right place," she chirped, "you can come over here and we'll get into the details of it," she said then, waving him over to her desk.
He finally entered the room, and as he walked over, (Y/N) felt the commanding aura that swirled around him. It wasn't one that made her scared, but rather one that filled her with intrigue.
"Can I have the name for the donation?" she asked once she had a piece of paper and a pencil ready.
"It's Thomas Shelby," he answered her, watching as realization sparked in her eyes. He couldn't help but think that Arthur was absolutely right - for once in his life...she was absolutely gorgeous.
"Shelby? I have a student whose last name is Shelby."
"Katie?" Tommy questioned, even though he already knew who she was talking about.
"Yes!" (Y/N) happily answered, "Katie's such a lovely girl. Who is she to you?" she couldn't help but ask.
"She's my niece," he shared, his words making her nod in understanding.
"What sort of donation would you like to make, Mr. Shelby?" she asked then, the pencil ready in her hand.
"I'd like to make it so that all of the children in the year you teach have whatever they need to excel in their classes," he answered, speaking in a nonchalant tone.
"Oh...my goodness," she gasped, stopping what she was writing as the weight of his statement finally clicked in her mind.
"Is there a problem?"
"No, it's just that..." she trailed off, unable to put her thoughts properly into words, "no one has made such a generous donation before."
"I like to make sure that others benefit from the wealth I've gained," he told her in an assured tone. Well that was one of the reasons why he'd made such a donation.
"I...uh, goodness, I don't even know where to start," she confessed, still genuinely baffled by his generosity. "Usually I'd go through with the person donating and we'd make a list of where the funds can be allocated, but with your overwhelming donation, I'm not sure I know what to do first," she added, a sheepish smile present on her face when she looked up at him again.
"It's nothing you'd need to have done in a hurry," he told her, showing that he wasn't upset by her unsuredness.
"I'd hate to waste your time now and make you wait..." she trailed off, biting on the end of the pencil as she tried to think of some ways his funds could be used.
Spending time with you would not be time wasted, Tommy thought to himself just as an idea came to mind: "what if we go for dinner at the end of the week? You can have time to think of ideas and you'll share them with me then," he proposed, his eyebrows raising slightly as he awaited her response.
(Y/N) took a moment to think about his proposition. It'd certainly be a good idea for her to have more time to think about it, and she couldn't say that she'd be opposed to having dinner with this man. "Dinner sounds nice," she gave her answer after a few moments had passed, "I'll come prepared with good ideas," she assured him with a smile.
"I'm sure whatever ideas you'll bring will interest me," Tommy told her, nodding once before he took a step back towards the door.
"Thank you, Mr. Shelby. It's a great pleasure to have you working with us," (Y/N) smiled, still truly overwhelmed by his generosity.
"The pleasure's mine, (Y/N)," he couldn't help but let a smile break onto his lips as he looked over her one last time. They said their goodbyes then, and Tommy exited the school. He was genuinely pleased with the fact that she'd agreed to have dinner with him. It was certainly a step in the right direction with her.
Tumblr media
John Shelby entered the school that his children attended two days after his brother did. He was unsuccessful in finding someone who could help direct him to the room he wanted to visit, but thankfully found the woman he was looking for as she walked towards the main doors from down a hallway.
"Miss (Y/L/N)!" he called to her, hoping to get her attention.
To his luck, she heard him. "Can I help you?" she asked with a smile, one that made John feel like he was going to go weak at the knees.
"Yes. You're my daughter's teacher. Her name's Katie Shelby. I wanted to ask how she's been doing in class," he told her the reason behind him being there. Truthfully he couldn't care less about Katie's performance. School wasn't something he was ever interested in, but if it meant he'd be able to talk to an utterly gorgeous woman, he'd give the performance of the century.
"Oh Katie!" (Y/N) answered, her smile growing wider as she recalled one of her students, "she's amazing...such a pleasure to have in class. She's always working hard and staying on top of her assignments," she then gave him a run down on his daughter's performance.
John nodded as she spoke. He had no shame in the fact that he was only half listening to her answer; being too preoccupied with drinking in her appearance. Silence fell between them then as that topic of conversation passed quickly. John didn't want her to leave just yet, so he scrambled for another talking point. "I heard that you met my brother, Arthur, the other day," he said then. It wasn't his best choice of topic, but he hoped it would keep her around. His hopes fell when a look of confusion formed on her pretty face. Shit, John...save yourself here! "He, uh...he told me that he helped you with one of your boxes...?" he ended his statement like it was a question, hoping that she'd show some sort of recollection.
Realization did appear on her face, but the sentence that accompanied it was one that left John confused: "oh...it seems I've met two of your brothers," she informed him, effectively making him wear the same expression she had moments ago. She took the time to explain then: "Thomas came in a few days ago to arrange a generous donation to aid the children who come here."
Fucks sake. John couldn't help but sigh internally. Tommy had already sunk his paws into the territory John thought he'd have a leg up in. "Oh he did?" he decided to play it cool, hoping that his aggravation didn't bubble up to the surface.
"He did. The other teachers and I are all so thankful for the contribution," (Y/N) answered, her smile telling John that he was doing well at masking how he was really feeling.
"Well I'm happy to hear that," John stated, running a hand over his face as he tried to think of a way to divert the conversation away from Tommy. "I can't say enough how happy I am that my daughter has a wonderful, smart, caring teacher like yourself," he said then, deciding to go the compliment route. There were many other things he wanted to include while referring to her, but he didn't want to overdo it.
"Awe thank you, Mr. Shelby. As I've said before, Katie is such a pleasure to have in class," (Y/N) accepted the compliment with grace, a bashful smile forming on her face.
Silence fell around them for a few beats before John spoke again: "you're probably wantin' to get home, so I should probably go," he stated, nodding his head back towards the main doors of the school.
"Oh yes, it's certainly been a long day," she answered with a nod.
"I'll see you around sometime then," John began to say his goodbyes.
"You certainly will," (Y/N) sent him one last smile before John turned and exited the school.
Tumblr media
John was thankful to see the majority of his family sitting around the main table of the betting shop when he entered it that evening.
"Where've you been, John Boy?" Arthur asked, everyone's eyes following John as he made his way to an open chair.
"I just left the school," John answered, his face straight as he spoke.
"The school?" Arthur questioned.
"Something happen with one of the children?" Polly asked, her brows furrowed.
"No, everything's fine with them," John quelled her concern.
"Why were you at the school then?" Polly asked another question.
"Ah I know...you were tryin' to see the hot teacher, huh?" Arthur chimed in before John could answer, a grin now present on his face.
John shot a glare in his brother's direction, slightly annoyed by the fact that he was a little too anxious to know. But with all of the eyes in the room on him, he figured he may as well give up. "Yeah, I went to see her."
"Did ya talk to her?" Arthur eagerly asked.
John didn't miss Polly's eyeroll before he answered his brother: "yeah, I did...and I was told that Tommy already went and talked to her." He couldn't help but glance at Tommy from the corner of his eye, seeing if his statement roused any type of reaction from him.
"Why would you have gone to talk to the childrens' teacher, Thomas?" Polly was the one to ask, her eyes now zeroed in on him.
"She told me that he wanted to make a donation to the school," John offered more information, a sour tone still present in his voice.
"Tommy," Polly sighed, bringing her hand up to her forehead.
"We've arranged to have dinner one of these upcoming evenings to discuss it further," Tommy nonchalantly shared more details of his meeting with (Y/N).
"Bloody hell, Tommy," Arthur grumbled, a frown on his face as he shook his head. He'd have no chance in hell with her now.
"Why was this not brought up in a family meeting?" Polly asked a sensible question, seemingly unaware of the brothers' reason behind their responses.
"Because I have decided that we need to start putting back into the city," Tommy answered, an authoritative tone laced into his voice.
"And you thought that the school would be the most logical place to start?" she quirked an eyebrow.
"Why not?"
"You're putting yourself into places you shouldn't be...if this blows up in your face, I won't be here for it," Polly spoke in a firm tone, showing her distaste for his decision.
Tommy held his gaze on her, an uninterested look present in his eyes. He didn't quite care what his aunt had to say about this, he was going to continue on how he saw fit.
Polly held his gaze, waiting for him to say something. When he didn't, she rolled her eyes and let out a scoff before turning and stalking over to the door. She stopped before she could grab the handle, abruptly turning to look at the three men sitting at the table. "If any of you make her cry or so much as hurt a single strand of hair on her head..." she paused, pursing her lips as she shook her head slightly, "you will have hell to pay." Her voice was flat, but her tone was serious, and she let no one respond before she opened the door and exited the betting shop.
Tumblr media
"Ms. Gray, it's so nice to see you again," (Y/N) said with a smile as she found the older woman standing in the doorway of her classroom. "Is everything ok with Katie? We missed her in class today."
"Katie's fine," Polly quelled the teacher's worry, "she was feeling ill so she stayed home."
"Oh, ok. I hope she gets better soon," (Y/N) offered her regards with a smile, one that Polly reciprocated. "Is there something that you need?"
"Yes," Polly didn't beat around the bush, "my nephew, Tommy, came to speak with you the other day..." she began, trailing off in hopes that (Y/N) would continue.
"Yes, he did!" she took the bait without question, "he made a very generous donation, and then suggested we have dinner to work the smaller points of it out."
"And how did that go?" Polly asked with raised eyebrows.
"Very well," (Y/N) smiled in response, "the children are already benefiting from the money he's given. It was very kind of him to do this."
Nothing Tommy Shelby has done was done just for the sake of 'being kind', Polly thought to herself as she mentally scoffed at the younger woman's statement. "I'm happy to hear that the children are benefitting from it," Polly said in response, keeping her thoughts on her nephew's intentions to herself.
(Y/N) smiled in response, completely overjoyed by the kindness of the Shelby family that she was oblivious to even the mere thought of Tommy having other intentions behind his decision to donate. Nothing else was said then as the women exchanged parting words.
Tumblr media
(Y/N) smoothed out her dress as she reached the doors of the establishment. She hoped that the outfit she chose didn't make her over, or under, dressed for the occasion. With a deep breath, she grabbed the handle and opened the door, the sounds of chatter and music smacking her in the face. She entered the pub with a smile, hoping to quickly find a familiar face.
Of course one of the Shelbys quickly found her at the door. It was their re-opening party after all, and a beautiful woman like (Y/N) was most certainly not going to go unnoticed.
"Oi, you came!" Arthur was the first of the brothers to spot her, and a big grin was plastered across his face as he moved over to greet her.
"Yes! This place looks lovely!" she answered, smiling as she looked around the room.
"We made sure to get the best of the best," he boasted, his grin still present. "And speakin' of the best...can I offer one of the best women I've seen a drink?" he smoothly transitioned, his one eyebrow raised as he looked at her.
"I'd love one, thank you," she answered, smiling at his kindness.
"Come on then," he stated, offering her his arm so that he could lead her to the bar.
She accepted it, walking over to an open seat so that he could go around the bar and get her a drink. She thanked him again when he set it down in front of her, and just as he leaned up against the bar, ready to chat with her, Isiah came to him with a matter of business. He left her with a slight frown and an 'excuse me, love,' before going off with the younger man. (Y/N) sat by herself, sipping her drink and enjoying the revelry around her. She wasn't alone for long though.
"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)...I didn't think I'd see you here," shock was present in John Shelby's voice as he came up beside her.
"I decided to stop in and see what all of the talk was about," she smiled at him.
"Well we're certainly happy to have you here," he grinned at her, trying so hard not to give her a once over. "Say why don't you come and share a dance with me?" he suggested.
"Oh, I couldn't," she turned down his offer, her shyness creeping in.
"Come on...a quick dance wouldn't hurt," he didn't quite give up hope.
"I'm rather terrible at dancing."
"You've not seen me dance then."
(Y/N) bit her lip to conceal her giggles, surprised with how forward he was.
"Come on..." John coaxed her, hand outstretched in her direction. She was hesitant, but accepted it, allowing him to lead her to the floor. "Just follow my lead and you'll be fine," he said, assuming the position before he began to lead her in a similar dance to what the other partygoers were doing.
(Y/N) couldn't help but smile as she danced around the floor with John. She certainly was having fun, not really thinking about what she looked like or what others thought. John couldn't believe that he was dancing with one of the most beautiful women in the room.
They danced for about two songs before (Y/N) excused herself, wanting to go have a seat. John allowed her to go, deciding that he'd go into the snug and check on Finn - who he knew was sneaking stronger drinks than what his brothers originally told him he could have.
(Y/N) found a newly opened seat at the bar as soon as she came to it. She was bummed that her drink had been lost, but she didn't need to worry about that for too long.
"You made it," Tommy Shelby's voice came from her left, making her turn slightly to see him approaching her from behind the bar.
"I did, thanks for inviting me," (Y/N) smiled at him, "this party's amazing!" she commented, glancing around the room.
"It is," Tommy agreed once she focused on him again, "can I get you something to drink?"
"Please," she smiled kindly at the offer, watching as he went about grabbing a bottle from the shelf. "I wanted to also thank you, again, for the dinner and the donation. The children have already gotten some of the supplies that we've received, and they're loving them," she shared some information once he came back with a glass for her.
"That's good news," he nodded, taking a drink from his glass then. "You know I was thinking maybe...maybe you and I could have dinner again, without the need to talk about the donations this time," he proposed, watching her intently as he waited for a response.
(Y/N) couldn't stop her eyes from lighting up at his suggestion. She had a lovely time with him at their first dinner. "I'd like that," she answered with a smile.
"Figured we could get to know each other better."
"That would be lovely," she agreed, giggling slightly at the fact that he was practically reading her mind.
The two then went about planning the dinner, agreeing on a time and place. (Y/N) couldn't help but feel giddy when he suggested a restaurant that was far more classy than the first place they'd met. If she wasn't excited before...she certainly was now.
As they spoke more, Polly Gray kept a close eye on them from across the room. She'd been watching the brothers all evening as they tried their hand at her. It became clear to her, though, that Tommy had ended out on top as she watched them converse at the bar. She could easily tell from how (Y/N) was invested in their conversation, giggling and leaning closer to him when he'd speak, that what he was doing was being received well. John and Arthur wouldn't have much of a chance now.
Tumblr media
-One Year Later-
Slowly, Tommy lifted the veil up to reveal (Y/N)'s smiling face. He draped it over her head and let his eyes dance across her features, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he felt the joy radiating from her.
"We are gathered here today to witness the marriage of (Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N) and Thomas Michael Shelby," the officiant began, commanding the attention of everyone in the church.
Ever since the evening of the party at the Garrison, (Y/N) and Tommy found themselves wrapped up in a whirlwind of a romance. Tommy proposed after five months of them being together, knowing that he wasn't going to find another woman like her. They spent five months being engaged and doing a great amount of traveling - it was the summer holiday for (Y/N), so she was able to follow Tommy wherever he went. Now they were standing at the altar in front of a great number of guests who were anxiously waiting to see them pronounce their love for each other.
Well...two of the guests were exactly anxious. John and Arthur sat on Tommy's side of the church, watching as the ceremony commenced. Both were happy for their brother, but they'd be lying if they said that they weren't bummed that it wasn't them up with (Y/N).
Everyone stood up and celebrated as the officiant pronounced Tommy and (Y/N) 'man and wife', and they shared their first kiss as a married couple.
"As always..." John started, elbowing Arthur in the ribcage as they both clapped for their brother, "Tommy gets the girl, and we've gotta sit back and watch."
Arthur couldn't help but snort as he heard what John had to say. "You're right, John boy," he agreed, shaking his head but nonetheless continuing clapping.
No matter what happened, or how hard John and Arthur tried to get ahead, Tommy would forever be the brother that always wins.
Tumblr media
Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife
MASTERLIST
4K notes · View notes
kadwrites · 8 months
Text
A man with a reputation; masterlist
Tumblr media
- thomas shelby + arranged marriage!trope
1. a man with a reputation
; you cannot talk your way out of this, for the first time of your life , you're given no choice
2. an introduction
; you meet your husband to be for the first time
3. office scandal
; polly takes you with her to run an errand
4. the color green
; you've met tommy's secretary, who has a thing for him.
5. the shelby charm
; tommy demonstrates his charm on an unsuspecting girl.
6. entanglement
; your fate is now sealed
7. a perfect fit
; you and your family plan for the engagement party
8. desperate measures
;you finally take on the role of the tomm's bride-to-be.
9. different yet the same
;nothing stays the same, but how can you explain that to the people you love?
10. future mrs shelby
;the dreaded day arrives
11. my mother's daughter
; you and your mother get into a heated argument
12. surprise visit
; someone pays you a surprise visit
13. young love
;a person from your past makes an appearance.
14. something old, something new
;how long can you keep that secret?
15. unspoken
; some confrontations cannot be avoided.
16. romeo
;tommy shelby is an unpredictable man.
17. deja vu
;how well do we really know the people we love?
4K notes · View notes
awritesthings1 · 3 months
Text
All The Things We Don't Say
Tumblr media
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Female Reader
Summary: An anthology of your life with Tommy, from friends to strangers to lovers, and all the little moments in between.
Warnings: 18+, implied DV, substance abuse, childhood trauma, ptsd, overprotective tommy, swearing, brief smut, longfic oneshot, feminist themes (motherhood & being a wife in the 1920s).
ao3 link
-
Smash!
“Pick it up!”
Your daddy was a drunk. You remembered the fact since you could walk. He stayed home while the working men left for the factories, then disappeared in the late hours of the morning until his eventual return when the slam of the front door woke the household up. Mother used to hold you at night as she curled up in your bed. She was sick a lot. Always sniffing into the back of your neck when you were asleep. Sometimes the sleeve of your nightgown would get soaked while she muffled her hiccups.
She looked sad, too. In the morning, she kept the curtains drawn and stayed away from the outside world. She told you it was to keep nosey Mrs. Gretel away from her family affairs. But Mrs. Gretel had left Birmingham two months prior.
By seven years old, you were the 'man' of the house. You had gone to sleep one night, and when you awoke, your mother had vaporized into the air like a rabbit in a hat.
“She left because of you,” your father slurred at you.
You hated him.
She left behind her long-sleeve dresses, scarves, and wicker hats that covered nearly every inch of her skin. They were far too big for you then, but when your father came home at the end of the week with a stack of cash, you ran to your mother’s closet, which had remained untouched until then, to find only cobwebs. Gone. Every single one of her dresses. You looked out at the moon in those early hours of the morning and swore to it that when you were bigger, you would get him back so much worse.
And so you were left to clean up his smashed glass bottles and scrub the alcohol out of the gritty carpet. Your little hands struggled to pluck the glass from the floorboards. In a year’s time, they were covered in little scars.
On your tenth birthday, you decided you were grown enough to take matters into your own hands. When he was passed out on the floor from whatever he managed to fill his pipe with, you grabbed the small bottles he hid under a loose floorboard and poured them into the gutter at the back of your house.
You turned to run back to the door when the contents of the bottle were empty, but a ball almost tripped you over. You gripped your tattered skirt before you could lose your footing and snapped your head around with a fierce pout.
“That’s my ball,” pointed a young Thomas Shelby.
You put your small hands on your smaller hips. “You kicked it my way on purpose!”
You weren’t entirely sure, but you suspected it.
“Maybe I thought you were pretty,” he grinned.
You noticed his two front teeth were missing.
“Ewwww! I would never go out with you!” You squawked.
At ten years old, you knew better than that.
Seemingly unaffected by your distaste, he continued. “Do you live there?” He nodded to the house whose roof was falling apart.
“What’s it to you?” You frowned stubbornly, not wanting to admit that, yes, that was your house.
“The curtains are always drawn,” he answered, walking over to pick up his ball from your feet. He was the same height as you were at the time. “My brother Arthur said it’s haunted. He saw a ghost in the window once. He said it was a woman and that she starved to death.”
Your nose scrunched up. "Well, he’s a phony!”
You ran inside said house and slammed the door shut.
He kissed you down by the docks that winter. It was your first kiss, and a clumsy one at that, so you didn’t remember much of it.
By thirteen, you had given in and sold the rest of your mother’s belongings to support yourself. You hated yourself for it, and that nagging voice inside your head told you that you were no better than your father. Oh, and your father? Your father lost vision in his left eye from a bar fight. Too bad it wasn’t both.
Sometime later, a boy two years older than you saw your wandering hand in someone’s bag at the fair and threatened to teach you some manners ‘the hard way’. You bit anxiously on your nails and pleaded with him because he was bigger than most boys his age, when Tommy’s brother Arthur (who you’d seen hanging around the Garrison) came passing by and threatened to ‘toss him about’. The other boy, not all believing in Arthur’s temper, rushed forward, and the two ended up rolling in the dirt, but by then you were gone with a stolen pocket watch in your fist. Nearly two legs and an arm deep in poverty, some quick cash, or a hero complex? You’d take the penny.
At fourteen, a lady knocked on your door. It was a lady of the night who had come to inform your father that he had fathered a son with her. You were glad it was a boy. A girl wouldn’t have stood a chance in the slums of Birmingham. Life was hard, but Birmingham was harder. Your father had refused to listen to the young woman and shooed her off. You never saw her teary-eyed face again.
At fifteen, your father attempted to wash his hands of you by marrying you off to the highest bidder. There was no real auction, but just about anyone who suggested a handsome sum of money did the trick.
“His name is William,” you exhaled, kicking your legs over the edge of the dock.
Tommy laughed. “You won’t marry him.”
“What choice do I have, Tom?”
Your finances were getting tight, and the gloomy pressure to take up working at night like many young ladies was beginning to loom closer and closer. You hated being a woman. Boys would never have to worry about selling themselves to survive.
“I’ll put a gypsy curse on him,” he decided, squinting his eyes from the bright reflection dancing across the water.
You hit his shoulder.
“No, you won't, because then you’ll be cursing me.”
The severity of your situation began to dawn on Tommy. No amount of pestering Polly for change to spare would relieve you of your burden any longer.
“That’s it, then?” He gulped, shifting his glassy eyes to the harbor.
You sighed and followed his gaze.
“Maybe it won’t be so bad. I’ll never have to see dad again, and William promised to take care of me.”
Tommy scoffed.
You frowned at him. “What?”
He shook his head.
“What! Tom—”
“Don’t marry him.”
You rolled your eyes. “Oh, here we go, why?”
“You know why.”
You were engaged to William on the eve of your seventeenth birthday. He was a very proper man and never dared to go any further than hooking an arm around yours on formal occasions. You were never attracted to his thin mustache nor the thick lenses he wore. In fact, he was incredibly awkward at social occasions, always checking his pocket watch and avoiding eye contact with whichever circle he stood in.
Tommy began to fade out of your life around that time. Margaret—a lady who had taken you on to help with the sewing of her family’s tailoring business—told you that Tommy was spotted arm in arm with another girl that week. You expected to feel jealous, but you felt nothing. You knew love would never be your right. Love was for the more fortunate.
You spent that year learning how to be a wife. Surprisingly, it wasn’t too different from what you did as a child—cooking and cleaning up like you did when your father came home, that is. It was comforting to have a routine in place. It meant finality—no one walking in and out of your life as they pleased, and certainly no more growling stomachs. Perhaps being a wife was a skill your mother never learned. You were grateful for William’s mother, who seemed to be more than enthusiastic to show you the reigns.
After a year-long engagement, you caught your fiancé, William, locked in a compromising position with another man.
“Oh,” was all you got out before leaving his house.
You lacked the special ingredient that marriages needed: love.
You sat down at the fountain across the street. William and his lover’s silhouette were visible behind the blinds he had drawn on the second floor, which peered over the sidewalk. You watched their shadows fluster their feathers around the room like headless geese, and for a moment your head surfaced above water and laughter frothed out between your sealed lips. Perhaps Birmingham made you a little mad.
You didn’t go through with the marriage. You suspected William was relieved.
That week, your father left. You never knew whether he left on his own accord or just never made it home one night. Either way, you never really cared to find out.
With nothing left to lose, you knocked on the Shelby family’s door at Watery Lane. Finn appeared around the other side of the door a moment later.
“Is Tommy home?”
Finn nodded, spinning on his heel to alert his brother. When Tommy did appear, his shoulders were tensed. Disheveled hair never looked so stylish on him. When you saw his suspenders (which were hastily thrown on), you wanted to ask who he expected to be at the door that he planned to answer dressed in such fashion but then thought better of it. He peered down at you, then checked over his shoulder before ushering you inside and up to his bedroom.
“It’s… smaller than I thought,” you landed on, taking in his room.
After all these years, you had never stepped foot into the Shelby home. You weren’t the type of person to come door-knocking.
You turned around to face Tommy after hearing him click the lock on his door.
“Are you hurt?" were the first words he had spoken to you in a year.
“No.” You pressed your lips together, eyeing everything from the bed to the view out the window.
Silence followed closely after.
“Then why are you here?” Tommy sighed.
Your vision began to blur then. “I don’t know,” you said honestly, trying to stop your bottom lip from trembling.
Desperately, you pushed your hair back and straightened up, attempting to hold yourself together. You must have looked like a puppet being held together by a string, given how poor you looked.
Tommy’s boots pad across the wooden floor. “You love me?”
Did that word truly exist? How could you answer if you never knew what it meant to love?
You don’t meet his eyes. He licked his lips, pushing your head up to meet his with his thumb. His eyebrows rose expectantly.
“I don’t know what to do, Tom,” you breathed, avoiding his question. “I’m all alone now. No William, no father…”
His lips parted, and you watched with fascination as the cogs turned in his head. “Yes… that is a problem." His breath fanned over your face.
You gagged, a reaction you yourself had not expected, before rushing to his door, only to remember that, yes, he had locked it, before turning to the nearest silver bucket in the corner to empty your guts.
The first thing you heard when you caught your breath was, “are you pregnant?”
No, but when you stand so close to me and I can smell the cigarettes you smoke and your freshly washed skin, I can imagine a future where we are married, and I see your face growing more disappointed as we age together because you married a woman who never knew how to be a mother to your children nor a wife who knew to tend to you with affection by your bedside when you’re ill.
��No,” you choked, spitting out the vile taste in your mouth. “We never did anything.”
You wanted him to know that. You wanted him to think that you never let William touch you because you never loved him, not because William wasn’t interested in girls.
A moment later, Tommy sat beside you on the floor and quietly combed your hair away from your wobbling lips.
“So, if you’re not pregnant and you don’t love me, why are you here?”
You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. How were you supposed to answer that? After letting your guts loose in his room, you thought he would surely have booted you out the door.
A knock came on the door: “Tommy?”
“A minute, Finn!” Tommy growled at the door, refusing to back away from your trembling frame.
You were so hungry. Margaret had to cut back your hours ever since her husband fell ill. She spent more time by his bedside than keeping the store open, which meant you were making less than usual. The imminent closing of the store hung over your head like a taunting crow, gouging your insides like you were Prometheus. Birmingham your chains, a woman your fate, and the bird your punishment for thinking you deserved more.
“I should go.” You shivered at the draft inching towards your skin from the open window.
Tommy’s intense gaze stuttered, falling to your lap, where you picked at the dead skin around your nails. He cleared his throat, fishing out the key from his pocket. Although it was dull and muted from the years, it gleaned brightly in your eyes as if it were the reward you came for. Flushed, you grabbed it out of his hands without sparing a glance. Electricity sparked in those precious seconds, igniting a deadly fire in your belly.
“You’re cold." Tommy flinched at your touch.
You retreated as soon as the key slid into the hole and unlocked with a click. In your haste, you left the most valuable thing you owned there in his room.
Your heart.
The months went by, and summer arrived. The stories your mother told you left you expecting a bright gleam of air that would wash over the streets and paint each tree and every patch of grass a frighteningly bright green that would even encourage grumpy Mrs. Gretel to come out to preen her stubborn roses that would just not grow. Birmingham left less to be desired. The summer days never came, and that persisting bitter bog thickened, albeit with slightly less rain. There were gray clouds, smoke from the factories, and a shivering north westerly, which pushed said clouds at breakneck speed as if they had somewhere to be. You looked to the sky one day and said a prayer for blue breezes and sweltering sun, but the sky was empty.
Sometime later, men marched the streets armed with guns in their ‘dashing’ uniforms. A war, they said, a great one. Queues lined the street for the post offices and grocers. Rain rivaled the bustle of the city. What did it feel like to love someone so much as to stand in the pouring rain next to the gutter? You wanted that kind of love. Not the love you could only give yourself because even you didn’t want your own love.
One of the soldiers decorated in medals stood on a crate at the port, yelling something supposedly inspiring that captured the attention of many young men. The words honorable and patriotic were tossed in there like a delectable salad, enticing them in the way farmers held a carrot to a pig’s snout.
You pitied their mothers. Their daughters were married off, and then their sons were swooning over the idea of dying. Birmingham was filthy, rotting, and disgusting. You needed to leave.
You kissed Margaret goodbye on the cheek one Tuesday morning. Ever since your pockets turned out empty, you had been working as a bedside nurse for her ill-stricken husband. They were good to you, and they were probably the only people you could consider family.
She patted your cheek and said, "you're doing good to serve this country.”
You hadn’t had the heart to tell her you were leaving because the city was marring your flesh, so you slipped her the sugarcoated lie of wanting to join the war effort so that you might help others who were bedridden, just like her husband.
At the train station, you stood with your suitcases held tightly in both arms. You had to set one down to hold onto your hat as a train full of men waving their caps out the window pulled into the station. Some children weaved between the crowd, wagging a newspaper above their heads, hoping to make a quick penny. To your side, women wept for their brothers, husbands, and lovers.
“Who are you wishing off?” asked an elderly woman who was clutching her cane.
“Oh, I’m not. I’m boarding the next train.”
She laughed, and you wondered how old your mother would be now. Would she have grown wrinkles and settled into a deeper laugh like this woman?
“My dear, you have a bright imagination if you think they will let a woman on any of these trains.”
A sudden anger filled your blood. “Why not?”
“These men are heading straight for London, where they will be shipped away to France to fight,” the woman explained as if it were any other day.
“I’ll catch the next train then.”
She shook her head, and her frail hand curled tighter around her cane. “They’ve stopped the trains so they can transport soldiers to London.”
You frowned. “Then how will I leave Birmingham?”
You’ll never forget her dismissive laughter.
“My dear, you won’t.”
Men boarded the train, clapping each other on the back with a wink and a laugh. When a line of men on the platform thinned, the train whistled, and you looked over just in time to see Polly, Ada, and little Finn standing with their hands crossed over their hearts as they waved to the train.
No. It wasn’t possible.
But it was because you caught the gleam of the razors sewn into their peaky caps. Tommy, Arthur, and John all stood aboard the train, sticking their heads out and waving to Polly and Ada with a grin that wrung your stomach like a wet cloth.
Those countless daydreams you spun, the intricate webs you wove, began breaking down to thin fibers. In one pathway, you stayed there in his room and told him the truth you always denied yourself. You loved him. In another, you stood next to Polly, close to tears, as you begged him to come home safely. There was a resounding click in that moment as your breath stuttered. You had been the person who wiped away those futures, thinking it was nothing but an annoying spiderweb. Oh, how wrong you were!
“Tommy!” You left your suitcases behind and stepped around the old woman as you ducked under hugs and tearful goodbyes.
“Tommy!” You cried again with the gusto of someone who certainly shouldn’t be as concerned as they were considering you left him in his room that day.
Thankfully, his eyes eventually found yours as you pushed through the last line of people. You stood there and stomached all your regrets head-on. It was funny how, up until that moment, you managed to squash every seed of doubt. Why was it that you only realized what you had when it was slipping out of reach?
He never called your name back. He just stared at you blankly as the train pulled away, unlike you, who clung to the image of his frame even as the train disappeared from sight and the crowd began to disperse. You stood there unblinking, hoping to soak up the last of him before you forgot the intensity of his eyes or the humming rumble of his voice. Because the idea of something you held dearly becoming a memory meant that it could as easily be forgotten, and that terrified you. Your eyes were watering now, against your best wishes.
You overheard Polly ushering Finn and Ada off. Finn rushed home without protest, but Ada stopped in her tracks when she saw you hunched over your knees in tears. She smiled weakly before chasing Finn home. It was then that Polly’s shadow approached your huddled frame. She didn’t say anything, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if she expected you to stand and apologize for being such a mess. That’s when a penny clattered to the ground beside you. She squeezed your shoulder once before disappearing.
You kissed that penny as if Tommy would feel the power of it across the country, then ran back to Margaret’s, having forgotten your suitcases.
“Oh…” She exclaimed, slapping her tea towel on the counter when you walked into the kitchen. “You missed your train?”
Dread made your stomach tender and your breath short.
“I’m enrolling in the Red Cross.”
-
Throughout the war, you thought of Tommy every day until your stomach lurched. Would it have worked if you had stayed? Would you both have grown old together instead of subjecting yourself to the spray of dirt when a bomb went off nearby?
A day ago, your supply rations never came. It wasn’t like hunger was anything new, but when your mind was too focused on surviving the perilous weather, it was hard to save other lives. You made work with what little supplies you had left. The morphine went stint within hours of its arrival, and the cries of pained soldiers filled the medical tent all night. You did what you could, wiped sweat from their foreheads, and wrote letters to their mothers and lovers with what supplies you could scavenge. Some were written on cardboard from shell packaging, others on torn pages from the bibles they kept over their hearts. Pens were useless—the ink ran in the rain—so you scribbled everything down in pencil.
Before you left for France, you were warned of the bullets. No one ever warned you about the shrapnel, nor the bombs or grenades. They shattered soldiers’ bones beyond repair and left bodies unrecognizable. There wasn’t much you could do when most of their flesh was missing.
Keeping faith became an impossible task. Supplies were depleted, and nurses were dejected. Sally, who had been writing home for news of her brother, recently had her letters returned with the black stamp. Death—return to sender. She spent only an hour sitting on a trunk, letting her tears fall, before she got back to work. Grief privileged those with time, something no one could afford in these conditions.
Then it came—the day Arthur Shelby was carried in on a stretcher. You were making your rounds around the beds when a truckload of yelling men pooled through the entrance of the tent.
“Nurse!” They all yelled, some limping, others setting down stretchers of men on the dirt between the filled beds.
You and two other nurses dropped everything and ran over to attend to the wounded. They were all covered head to toe in dirt, groaning and clutching limbs that were twisted the wrong way. One in particular coughed and huffed while he fought against hands, which were fruitlessly pushing him back down on the stretcher.
“Let me go!” He yelled, wrestling against an older nurse.
“It’s alright, Mary. I’ll handle this one,” you patted her shoulder as you swapped places.
You dunked a washcloth into a bucket of water to wipe away the dirt in his eyes. “Calm down; you're safe here,” you said, starting your usual script of reassurances.
When the striking blue eyes squinted up at you, your blood ran cold. You froze before taking his head in both your hands, despite his protests. “Arthur? Arthur, it’s me!”
He loosened his grip on your wrist. “Huh?”
“It’s me! Where’s Tommy and John?”
He spat blood and gritted his teeth. “Fucking hell, where’s the whiskey?”
You laughed despite the smell of blood encompassing the tent. You quickly fetched the alcohol you had been using to clean wounds and pressed it to his lips. You weren’t sure if it was whiskey or not, but you reasoned he was in too much pain to be able to tell. He drank it with a groan of pleasure. You didn’t try to snatch the bottle away as he emptied it down his palette; you just sat and grinned at the way he suckled it like a newborn baby while you cleaned away his cuts.
“I’ve never been happier to see you, Arthur.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, his lips still wrapped around the bottle.
You tried to stay by his side for as long as you could before the second wave of patients came tumbling through the flaps of the tent. One of them lost their grip on the stretcher, and the patient went sliding into the dirt headfirst.
“Fuck!” They all swore, abandoning the stretcher to drag the limp man further into the makeshift hospital.
You rushed to help when a hand gripped the back of your neck. You yelped in pain as your hair got caught in a fingernail when they turned you to face them.
And there he was: Tommy Shelby, covered in a thick layer of dirt, heaving for air.
“Nurse! Nurse!” Voices cried for you, but between the ringing in your ears and the wrath in Tommy’s blue eyes, you were frozen in place.
“The fuck are you doing here, eh?” He yelled over the anguished men.
You suddenly felt stupid standing there in your Red Cross uniform.
“I was looking for you, I—”
His dirty hands cupped your cheeks—something you were painfully aware of from the uncomfortable itch from the mud on your flushed skin—and pulled your forehead to his.
“You think this is some fantasy?” He squinted. “You think there’s any fucking moonlight to kiss under here, eh?” He spat.
His eyes held that haunted look you had seen on many soldiers that passed through the medical tent. Your eyes watered. Perhaps it was from the humidity and dirt being kicked up as nurses and patients scuffled around, not because you could hardly recognize the man in front of you. The blood smeared above his eyebrow worried you, so you reasoned that he was mad because it had been leaking into his eyes. Dutifully, you reached to wipe it with the back of your hand. He grabbed your wrist harshly, bringing it down to your side. He was in shock; you scolded yourself.
“Where’s John and Arthur?” Tommy swallowed, flexing his hands.
You led him to Arthur, who had been left in his corner while the nurses attended to more serious cases. It hurt watching the brothers reunite after their ordeal, so you left them alone no matter how much you feared them being discharged before your return. After all, everything you ever wanted sat in that corner, but it would be selfish to coddle Tommy all to yourself. Still, you couldn’t help sparing a glance when you walked up and down the tent, attending to patients.
Later that night, he came to you under the candlelight of your tent. He cleared his throat upon entry. You were lying face-up on your cot when he cleared his throat and peeled back the entrance to enter. The candlelight painted the mountain peaks of his face in a dull amber and the valleys in a frightening shadow. You sat up, pulling the thick cover over your shift.
Tommy kneeled next to you, resting on the heels of his boots. He licked his chapped lips and itched his nose. “You don’t belong here.”
Your grip on the cover loosened. “Huh?”
Nothing prepared you for when he swung his brooding stare towards you. He exhaled loudly before running a hand over his face.
“You should have stayed in Birmingham.” He said it like a warning.
“And done what?”
Vulnerability never looked good on Tommy. His head hung and his fingers itched at the back of his head—a tick you used to love; now you weren’t so sure. Because your Tommy was never afraid, but this man in front of you was alarmingly tense despite the clear efforts to mask it.
What have they done to you, Tom?
Under the dim light of your tent, you barely recognized him. A stranger’s eyes were blown wide in a frightening state of shock, something most soldiers mirrored. War washed out the sweet blue pair you knew, refitting them for a steely weapon. You hated seeing him like this, so still, so unsteady, cocooned into the corner as if afraid to take up space.
You feared you looked no better. Having worked till the point of exhaustion, you usually found yourself awakening against a wooden crate or trunk to the cries of patients who demanded your attention despite your body not having the strength to stand. Today you had been lucky and found yourself crawling distance to your private tent when your knees started wobbling and your head lulling.
The wooden reinforcing of your private tent fought in vain to shelter your bodies from the elements; it still flapped and whipped about, sometimes rocking your cot. Yet Tommy remained still like those life-size stone statues you’d find outside an important building, brooding at the dirt and locked in an internal battle. You shifted to the edge of your makeshift bed and leaned close enough that you saw how the top buttons of his dirtied uniform were missing and most of his clothes were torn.
His arm, which was breaking out in goosebumps, lay heavily across his knee so that he could rest his forehead there limply. He looked in a bad enough condition that you feared the possibility of him succumbing to the wasteland threatening him outside your tent. You wrapped your arms around the scruff of his hair and pulled his face into your stomach, where he could hide from the terrible world. On instinct, his arms wound around your waist, and you felt his warm exhale against your skin through the thin fabric of your slip.
His tin water bottle clanged against the satchel he wore, which made you wonder if he had any time to rest at all if he still had all his equipment tied to his uniform.
“I didn’t…” His voice was muffled by your slip. He cleared his throat again, shaking his head.
When he dropped the thought, you spoke up. “Have you eaten?”
He slapped your thigh haphazardly. “No, do you have a cigarette?”
You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, instead gently pushing him away so you could kneel beneath your bed and fish a cigarette from your satchel. You pinched one from its tin case, then thought better of it and tossed it on Tommy’s lap. Gratefully, he collected one from the case and lit it with a nearby candle. You watched his chest rise and fall as he took an especially deep drag. His eyes shut as the nicotine rushed to his head.
“Fuck, that’s good,” he muttered under his breath.
“How are you here, Tommy? One of the night nurses should’ve been on watch.”
“Oh,” smoke puffed out of his mouth, and he raised his eyebrows, “there is.”
“Then how—”
“I had to see you.”
The butterflies in your stomach dove. The blue in his eyes appeared translucent as they hazed over like a ghost. His shoulders were slumped dejectedly, and he had a hand pushing through his greasy, unwashed hair to relieve his neck from the weight of his thoughts.
He pointed to you then, with the cigarette nursed between his fingers. “I need to know why you changed your mind.”
“About what, Thomas?”
His voice slurred and slipped into a deeper register from the lack of sleep. "Why you came back. Why you came to France.” Tommy shook his head lazily. “You expect me to believe you had a sudden change of heart? What? You a patriot now?” An amused exhale curled out while he took another drag. “Well I don’t believe it.”
You began shivering despite the way your body flushed.
“How’s Arthur?” You tried to avert the conversation.
“Bloody drunk off his ass.”
“And you?”
Tommy held your stare and swallowed dryly. “Trying.”
“You can go join him if you wish.”
He looked at the entrance of your tent as if he were weighing his options, then shook his head and took another drag before clearing his throat. “It’s different now.”
Naïvely, you sank to the ground beside him and rested a hand on his shoulder. “It doesn’t have to be.”
He sighed.
“I wish that were true.”
-
The next time you saw Tommy, you were working a shift at the hospital. After the war, you received a medal for your efforts, which easily got you a job in Birmingham. You pleaded with them to send you to any other hospital—London, Manchester, Liverpool—you didn’t care. Anywhere but Birmingham.
“You should be honored to work for me!” Exclaimed the head nurse at Birmingham Hospital, who didn’t seem too pleased with your distaste for the city.
You thought the job would be the final nail in the coffin, but you surprisingly got along well with the head nurse once you had put your animosity aside. So much so, she offered to lease you a room upstairs from hers.
Then came that dreaded night where you were finishing the filing of some documents when a patient was being rushed in. Your ears perked up, and you looked through the blinds of the office to see a man being rushed by. Something small and round had fallen off the stretcher while the nurses paid no attention, pushing him around the corner and down towards the operating theater. Curious, you exited the office.
And there on the ground was one of those peaky caps Tommy and his brothers used to wear. You knew this because you picked it up and nearly cut yourself on the blade that was sewn into the seam. You spent the next hour gnawing on your nails. Your imagination sparked ideas about the beaten man who was lying in an operating room two doors down in surgery. Was it Tommy? Arthur? John? The shadows under your eyes darkened at the thought. No, it was probably some other Peaky Blinder. The Shelby brothers were too careful. Still, you knocked over your coffee in a mad dash to the bathroom, where you heaved up your dinner.
You volunteered to stay until the morning, but the head nurse on duty for the night refused and sent you home. You didn’t sleep at all that night.
The next morning, you arrived early and made a beeline for the emergency ward. You grabbed the admission form and scanned the patient list. There were only two emergency patients who were listed under the final hour of your shift, a woman and a man, which made it easier to narrow it down to the man who was admitted at quarter to midnight in ward four, room seven.
When you peaked through the crack in the door, you knew you had been worried for a reason. Tommy lay under the covers, battered and bruised, with a swollen eye and a nasty scar where he had reportedly received surgery for trauma to the head.
You slipped inside quietly and closed the door. Tommy’s eyes were closed, and his mouth hung open, stealing miniscule amounts of air into his lungs. He looked as good as a ghost.
“Tommy…” You clutched his peaky cap (which you meant to return) between your fingers.
He didn’t move an inch, so you set the cap down by his bedside table, carefully watching the rise and fall of his chest.
What have they done to you, Tom?
On the second week, he woke up while you were cleaning the windowsill. He coughed, and you whipped around in shock.
“Nurse?” He asked hoarsely, blinking away the blinding light.
You rushed to his side, tears bursting like the fountain you passed on your way to work.
“Don’t move,” you urged when he tried to sit up.
“I have to get to London,” he slurred, only half awake.
You weren’t upset that he didn’t recognize you. You weren’t upset that he didn’t recognize you.
“Tommy… it’s me.”
He shrugged your hand off his shoulder with a hiss. “Fucking hell.”
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.
“Please don’t move; I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” You couldn’t hide the way your voice broke.
He looked up at you, then, through bloodshot blue eyes. You wished you knew what was going through his head. Happy or sad?
“Am I dead?”
“No,” you smiled weakly as a tear fell.
“Can I have a smoke then?”
-
“I don’t know how to love, Tommy!”
“Yeah? Yeah? That’s bullshit! Why do you keep coming back then?” He pinched your chin, glaring furiously into your eyes. “Eh?”
He stood so close that he blocked the light from the chandelier, which mournfully hung from the ceiling. You shivered in his shadow.
“I shouldn’t have come tonight.”
“But you did!” He accused, pointing in your face.
“It was a mista—”
“You fucking did!”
“Tommy!”
“I’ve had it! If you want to leave, then fucking leave; otherwise, don’t stand there all righteous waving empty threats over my head because I know you won’t leave.” He shook his head with a wild look in his eye. “No… You won’t leave. You won’t leave because you love me. You keep coming back,” he pointed matter-of-factly.
Tommy’s eyebrows danced between being terribly furrowed and alarmingly raised during his passionate monologue. It was rare for him to emit so much emotion these days. The war changed men, and Tommy was no exception. A chilling stillness framed his presence, which even you weren’t excused from. No more laughter, no more dreams of working with horses, because he was above all that now, wasn’t he? It was ambition that ground his teeth together and hollowed his eyes. Still, you couldn’t forget that the anger came from vulnerability, because it took a lot for someone to get under Thomas Shelby’s skin.
You moved to grab your purse, to make good on his word, but he halted your movement by grabbing your shoulders, roughly at first, before loosening his grip. You softened at his frantic demeanor. He was scared—oh,  so afraid of you walking out that door again. But how could you ever explain it to him? You were never born for love. You would never know how to love him properly the way wives were supposed to because what you felt for Tommy was sickeningly deep. So much so that the mere impression of him sealed off your ribcage and ruined any chance of your heart beating for any other soul, so much so that you carried the weight of him in your bones because you could never shake him off.
When you looked back at life, all you saw was the absence of love. You used to imagine yourself growing up and falling in love with a handsome stranger, then getting married in a proper white dress to go live in your proper house. But when you looked in the mirror, you saw a ghost. The pathway of your life was laid out before your eyes once, and what you saw didn’t match the reflection. The man you were supposed to marry couldn’t even look at you, even if you cleaned and cleaned and cleaned until your fingerprints turned white and pasty.
Because what it all came down to was simple. You never got to become the person you envisioned. Instead, you were cursed to live as a blank slate and be consistently reminded of what you were supposed to be and of who you were: no one.
Tommy exhaled in a quick huff, pressing his forehead to yours so that he saw you clearer, without all the tension and bullshit in the way.
“Here it comes, Tommy.” You took a shaky breath. “I love you, but I could never be the perfect wife to you, and I would be a terrible mother.”
There, in all its ugly colors and shades, you hung yourself with the truth.
He shook his head as if he too couldn’t believe your words.
“Fuck’s sake! Forget about all that." His eyes watered out of frustration, but he was still puffing in anger. “I need you. You. Not some whore.”
You bit your lip to muffle the god-forsaken cry ready to erupt from the volcanoes you suddenly found roaring in your stomach. An earthquake overtook your hands the more you fought the inevitable eruption. You grabbed both his hands to stop yours from shaking.
“I have to be cursed; there’s no other way!”
“No!”
“My life slips through my fingers like grains of sand—”
“You’re not cursed!”
“And I can’t stop it, Tommy!”
“You’re not fucking cursed, and I’ll tell you why." Tommy cut you off. He leaned in, licking his lips, which had turned dry from all the shouting, and squeezed your hands. “Because my ancestors charmed dogs with their magic, they didn’t scare little girls with curses,” he paused. “But you… You waved a hand over my head, and now I’m no better than a dog.”
He closed the space between you, pressing his forehead against yours, and stroked both your cheeks, wiping at your tears. You held him there in a meek attempt at reciprocation.
You wished the world were ending so then you could grab Tommy’s hand and say, ‘I’m ready, Tom. The world is ending, so let’s kiss and love each other under the flames without any fear because the world is ending.’
But you were never good at expressing yourself with words, so you sealed it with a kiss, hoping he could taste the unspoken words on your lips the same way you tasted the tears. He responded in earnest, gripping you roughly by the scruff of your neck to seal the promise laden between your lips; no more running.
-
It was just your luck that you would bump into your ex-fiancé, William, while visiting a bar in London with Ada. You were buzzing from the warmth of three sweet liquors and whatever else Ada insisted you try, and everything was starting to seem a little funny by the time he approached you.
He engaged in pleasantries, swishing his wine around the glass and sniffing it occasionally, like many pompous older men tended to do. There was only so much smiling you could afford before you caught your reflection in the freshly wiped bar and realized how poorly your acting skills were. Ada was no help, muttering something about finding a phonebooth and then slipping into the belated and boozed crowd. It was then that the supposed nectar in your glass began to taste like the cleaning products—that nose-scrunching stench. Thankfully, William was too involved in some tangent to notice you muffle a gag into your palm.
The dazzling hum in your ears muffled out all his words. In your drunken state, William appeared to be more confident than what you remembered, but you were unable to decipher whether it was from a change of heart or if he was trying to fall back in your good graces. Otherwise, you were blinded by the roaring bustle of the bar and the delicious swell of music that seemed to reverberate across your being.
Growing a little bored with William’s story, your attention wandered over his shoulder, still being sure to nod every now and then as if you were deeply pondering his words. Not far away from his side, a man seemed to linger—a man who was careful not to reach your eye. You must have laughed a little harder than usual because William turned sharply to the man at his side, gave him a quick once-over, then returned his attention to you, but by then it was too late, and you knew exactly what William’s relationship was with this man and where William’s confidence had come from.
“You’ll make a fine wife and a finer mother someday,” William quickly added.
You cursed the witch inside you, who laughed from her stomach and used his shoulder to steady herself. Once upon a time, that was all you longed to hear, but now, with a half-spilt martini in hand, you couldn’t care less. Both of you had found happiness despite your unconventional circumstances, and there was no more to it. You could close that chapter without any loose threads.
A little drunk, you thanked him, disappeared, and never thought of him again.
-
“I can’t do it, Ada,” you stressed, beginning to feel uncomfortable with the baby in your arms.
Motherhood came rumbling into your life like a rusty engine spitting out oil. ‘Instinctual’, the mothers down the lane from Arrow House had said, ‘it’s like your body has been preparing for it your whole life.’ How awful, you thought, and by the time one of them finished speaking about their experience with their first, your nose was so scrunched in disgust that you would need an iron to flatten out the wrinkles. It wasn’t until now that you longed to be in their shoes, because nothing came naturally to you.
“He’ll latch eventually; he’s just a little fussy,” Ada reassured.
“Is it supposed to hurt?”
“It’s perfectly normal.”
Then, after an hour of rubbing your sons back on the verge of tears, he finally began feeding from you. Ada soothed your back the whole time and cooed softly to calm both you and your unruly boy. Sometimes she brought Karl. He would obediently sit on her lap, playing with his wooden horse, while your little Charles fussed.
One time in the early morning, when you were up attempting to feed Charles, Tommy rushed in alert with disheveled hair and sunken eyes.
“Sorry,” you mouthed, deflated your hardworking husband had been disturbed from his sleep.
He ran his hands over his face and sighed. You mistook his action for frustration and desperately tried to hush your baby. Tommy moved over to the rocking chair where you sat, trying to feed little Charles in your arms.
“Don’t be sorry,” he whispered into the crook of your neck. “How is he?”
You flushed under the moonlight, suddenly embarrassed that your husband had caught you in this vulnerable position with the top of your slip peeled down. Your exposed skin hissed when he pressed a kiss against your pulse.
“I don’t think he likes me very much.”
Tommy inhaled sharply against your neck before resting his chin on your shoulder to peer down at Charles. Charles had settled since Tommy walked into the room, acutely aware of his father as his little hands made a grabbing motion for him. Diligently, Tommy relieved your arms of Charles and cradled him close to his chest. Within minutes, the little baby was gurgling happily and blinking in a way that suggested sleep was on the horizon after all.
Your husband didn’t dare make any sudden noise as he gently set Charles in his cradle. Once he was surely asleep, Tommy guided you up from the rocking chair and into your shared bedroom.
“See?” you hissed, still maintaining a soft voice, “he only wants you.”
Tommy wouldn’t hear any of it, pulling you into his arms as he sat on the edge of the mattress. Your slip was still pooled around your hips, so he took the opportunity to plant a kiss above your breasts, where your heart was.
“He loves you,” he drawled in that husky voice of his. “I know he does because I do.”
Your head ached, but you couldn’t help the way your body reacted to his words and touch. Tommy’s wandering hands teased the silk fabric that clung to your hips as you felt his nose trail down to your breast, where he kissed one of your aching nipples delicately. Suddenly hot, you hummed in delight, the back of his shorn scalp pleasant beneath your nails. A grunt, bathed in that musk of his devours your senses. Inhaling sharply, he took the bud between his full lips, sucking, licking, and nibbling gently while his hands explored further down. Your head lulled back from the pleasure, gasping and withering under his skilled tongue.
The next thing you knew, Tommy was tugging the rest of your silk slip off and reminding you of just how much he loved you.
-
“Charles! Come here!” Tommy called.
Your little boy loved to play in the backyard of Arrow House. Much like his father, Charles adored horses. Big ones, small ones, black ones, white ones—but most of all, he favored his Shetland pony. Tommy had brought it for Charles before he could even walk. He said something about it being important for his son to be raised around horses from a young age. And while you didn’t necessarily disagree, it still stressed you out to hold your baby so close to such a large, muscular animal. You knew the Arabian breeds spooked easily, so you steered clear of them and were able to keep Tommy and Charles happy.
But now he had grown up so fast and was able to run around on his own two legs, climb trees, and bruise his knees on the way down. The sun beat lovingly on the apples of his cheeks as he dirtied his trousers, kneeling by the fence to feed his Shetland (affectionately named Biscuit) hand-picked grass through the gaps.
“Charles! We’re leaving!” You called when he ignored his father.
Stubbornly, Charles spun around to pout his lip and cross his arms. He glared at you as threateningly as a five-year-old could. You bit your lip to hide your smile because he really did look like a little Tommy with those big blue eyes. It would only be a matter of time before he perfected his father’s stare. With a sigh, you shifted your daughter into Tommy’s arms before approaching Charles, who was picking angrily at the grass.
You reached a hand out toward him, "let's go.”
“No!”
“All right,” you said decisively, spinning around, “Ruby will have all the fun then.”
“No!” cried your little boy.
You stuck a hand up in surrender and started walking back to Tommy. “No, it’s all right.”
“No, no no no!” Came his protest, chasing behind you as the gravel crunched beneath his boots.
You paid no attention to him, keeping your eyes trained ahead, silently relieved that your ploy worked. Tommy watched on in amusement while Ruby suckled on her thumb, curiously watching her brother storm closer.
“You hear that, Ruby? We’re going to spoil you,” a short smile played on Tommy’s face as he adjusted her so that she sat comfortably on his hip.
“And me!” Charles added and gave his best pout.
“No, Charles, you said you didn’t want to go,” you reminded him, raising your eyebrows.
“I do! I do!”
“Hmm,” you thought aloud, and held a finger to your chin while looking to the sky in exaggerated contemplation. “Very well, but only if you get in daddy’s car right this instant.”
He climbed into the backseat of the Bentley without further fuss.
When all the bags were neatly packed in the back for the day’s festivities, Tommy came around your side to sit Ruby on your lap. Quickly, he leaned in to kiss you and pinch your cheek, which swelled into a glowing grin.
He smiled back and whispered low enough for only you to hear, “got him wrapped around your finger, eh?”
You laughed. “Him and a few other Shelby’s I know of.”
-
The thundering sound of music could be heard from outside the theater on the corner of Old Pauls. Inside, patrons mused between champagne, dancing, and making a display of their wealth by bidding on little trinkets. It was one of the many charity galas Tommy had to attend because of his new move into politics. Usually, you enjoyed dressing for those sorts of things, but tonight you simply weren’t feeling up to it. Maybe it was the drape of your dress not sitting right or the new leather shoes that still needed breaking in.
Your shimmering smile faded into the crowd as you snuck through the back door in your satin bordeaux dress. Old Pauls sat perched above the cemetery it was named after. Conveniently across the street from the buzz of the theater, it was airily quiet and stuck out from the rest of industrial Birmingham. Your heels clacked across the pavement as you wandered up and down the garden, glimpsing at stone angels and silver plaques. All you had to light your path were the streetlights and the moon.
Your diamond wedding ring twinkled under the stars as you stopped to trace a name. It was the same as your mother's, but with a different last name. Still, you always wondered what happened to her. Had she gotten married to another man and taken his name? You expected to shiver at the idea, but you found that thinking of her no longer unnerved you. She packed up the title of mother when she left you all alone in that cramped house.
Light spilled out onto the pavement across the street when the entrance to the theater swung open. A few men flew down the steps and split off in different directions. Thinking it odd, you remained crouched until they disappeared around their respective corners. That’s when you saw Tommy exit through the same doors, throwing a cigarette and wiping at his brow while he looked up and down the street. Quickly, you stood and waved your arm to get his attention. When he noticed, he stormed down the steps and stalked across the street and through the gates of Old Pauls over to you.
“I needed some air,” you spoke up before he could get a word in.
His eyes wildly flickered back and forth from yours in a frenzy. Under the moonlight, they looked almost translucent, and, save for a ghost of blue, his pupils were wide.
“Why the bloody hell are you out here, eh?” He demanded, gently shaking your head between his hands for emphasis while his eyebrows rose expectantly.
“It’s quieter.”
When he tilted his head to the sky and exhaled, your stomach dropped at the sight of blood. Your ears, which had been tuning out the music, flinched when a shrill cry from a woman rang out the theater doors. The music was gone, now replaced with screams as all the patrons rushed out, tripping over each other like it were a race. You turned back to Tommy, now as worried as the others.
“What the hell happened? Are you hurt?” You urged, gripping his white collar, now red, to inspect where the blood was coming from.
“Not mine,” he cleared his throat, grabbing the hand on his collar to tug you down the street.
The frame of your world stretched a little wider, like light pouring in through open shutters. Car doors slammed, and drivers honked at the agitated crowd who ran this way and that across the road.
“Where’s the fucking ambulance?” Shouted a man who took no care to avoid bumping into you.
You stumbled back, your hand slipping from Tommy’s on impact. Rage flickered across his features briefly, having noticed the man push through you, but he reconnected your hands and continued walking fast. When he reached the Bentley, he urged you inside, holding your hand the whole way until you were seated in the passenger seat.
“What the hell happened, Tommy?” You repeated as he slid into the driver’s seat.
“Someone got shot.”
Your eyes widened. “Are Polly and—”
“They’re fine.”
You sank back into your seat as the engine roared to life. Peaky Blinder’s followed the frenzied crowd, moving together like a pack of wolves onto the streets. They only parted to let Tommy’s Bentley through. Out the window, people were fighting and throwing fists as they all tried to escape the mayhem.
“Why aren’t they letting people through?” You asked after witnessing a Peaky Blinder block the road and refuse to let a car pass.
“Doesn’t matter.”
He never told you anything when it came to business. And although you suspected this was much more than the doing of the Shelby brothers, Tommy’s face never betrayed him. Simply put, if he didn’t want you to know, you wouldn’t.
“Would anyone want to follow us?”
“No.” He exhaled deeply, cleared his throat, and then reached to give your thigh a squeeze.
You knew it was a lie when his eyebrows rose. He only did that when he was worried. Your tongue remained pressed to the back of your teeth the entire ride home.
-
The howl of the wind whistled down into the valley of the gypsy camp Tommy had brought you and the children to.
“Pack your things,” he had said one night after storming through the front door of Arrow House, “we’re going on a trip.”
Charles and Ruby cheered, but you suspected something sinister beneath his intentions.
So, there you were, picking at the grass by your feet while you perched on the bottom step of the gypsy wagon Tommy parked beneath a tree for shade. He kept quiet for most of the ride, absorbed in leading the horse around loose gravel and stones, or rather, he led you to believe he was lost in concentration. Because, when it came down to it, you knew Tommy better than to assume nothing was wrong.
The past week, he had been acting different, jumpy even. He ran into the nursery during the early hours of the morning on edge, as if expecting something to be amiss. You tried interrogating him, but he brushed it off, insisting things were fine. Fine—you began detesting that word. Fine this, fine that, but if things were really fine, then why was he on edge?
Then came the bloodshot eyes and the slamming of his desk drawer when you entered the office. Only this time he couldn’t deny the unmistakable jingle of a bullet, which rattled in the wooden compartment like some sort of airy death chime.
A black hand. One for each Shelby. And since you were now one too, that meant neither you nor the children were subjected to any special treatment. A week, he said, a week for his family to clear up the business while he stayed here watching over you like a shepherd to his flock.
And watched he did, standing next to where you sat, he found peace observing Charles and Ruby as they chased each other around the overgrown field. There he remained for an hour or so, frighteningly still, the only motion being his sharp jaw chewing on a mint leaf, somewhat reminiscent of the soldier in your tent all those years ago. Next to him, tied to the tree, the black steed filled the silence with snorts and grazed favorably on the loose roots and grass patches.
“Ruby was crying this morning. She’s scared, Tom." You sighed.
Tommy hadn’t been there when you woke up that morning in the caravan. He returned shortly after, ominous as ever, just as Ruby had begun to settle.
He tossed the stalk of his mint leaf into the grass and offered you his hand. You looked up at him in question for a moment, slightly suspicious of his intentions. Nevertheless, you slid your hand into his, and he stood you up, sat down on the higher step, and pulled you between his legs to sit on the lower step. He hugged you from behind as he slouched to rest his head on your shoulder, then exhaled deeply.
“We will be home soon,” he whispered in your ear, brushing your knuckles tenderly.
“For how long? Until we get another bullet in the post?”
Tommy’s throbbing forehead found solace in the warmth of your neck.
“You’ve never been one to run,” you continued, “what’s bothering you? We took a vow that we would share everything.”
He nuzzled his nose deeper into your pulse.
Frustrated, you tried to get up, but he held you firmly against his chest.
“Italians.”
“Italians?”
“Italians sent the black hands.”
You waited in silence for more information, but more did not come.
“Speak to me, Thomas.”
“I don’t want you any more involved than you are.”
“They’ve sent death knocking on our door; how more involved could I be?”
Tommy moved methodically, licking his lips and clearing his throat. He squinted his eyes up at the glaring sun.
“It’s nothing you should be concerned about. I’ll keep us safe.”
“Nothing I should be concerned over, Thomas? Just how many people are we at war with?”
He didn’t answer, so you turned your head away from him. Charles and Ruby had since settled by a patch of flowers. Charles was crouched over, helping his sister gather all the yellow flowers for her yellow dress.
The tension broke the surface then.
“Why are you still fighting, Tom? Is this,” you nod to your children and breathe in the fresh air, “not enough?”
You pictured Arrow House and its lavish garden, one to compete with all the wealthy families down the lane. You thought of Arthur, John, Polly, Ada, and all his family that lived to see his success. Everything, from the thoroughbreds in the stable to the fancy cars. The money itself was a testimony to his drive. What more could the gangster of Birmingham want when he already had everything?
You had gone and worked yourself up now because the world seemed blurrier than before.
Tommy, still on his guard, guided your chin to your shoulder so he could kiss the tears away. “It is enough.”
“Then make it enough. You’re respectable now, so stop the fighting.” Your voice broke at the end.
He hung his forehead on your shoulder. Like a flower sheltered away from the sun, Tommy wilted when he was away from his business. Usually, you were a strong enough light to keep him going, but whatever business he had gotten himself into was poisoning him, and ever the addicted flower, he kept running out to the fields, continuing to drink in the sunlight until it was too much and turned his leaves brow. Because business was what occupied his mind day and night, he was unable to turn the cogs of the engine off and let the air out of the tires.
A hand brushes your hair away to kiss the spot beneath your ear, airing out the destructive thoughts.
God, you loved him anyway. An overpowering feeling that ruled over calculating minds like Tommy’s and faint hearts like yours. You were no better than him—both addicted to a little sunlight.
-
The framed photographs on the wall shook as your third-eldest slammed the door to her room closed.
“I hate you!” She cried from the other side.
Your husband, Tommy, sighed to the ceiling, then stalked past you to his study, no longer interested in anything your daughter had to say. They had been at it for the last ten minutes arguing over some boy she was seeing, and your ears were just about ringing having witnessed it from the sidelines. You were left there in the hallway, an unwilling participant in the unspoken feud between father and daughter, and you understood that whoever you went to console would take it that you were siding with them, even though you just wanted to keep your family together.
Going to your daughter was the instinctive answer, but you knew she needed time to cool off. Tommy was the only reasonable choice.
You knocked on the door to his office before letting yourself in.
“Come to lick my wounds, eh?” He mused while smoking a cigarette.
Your lips wormed into a thin line. “This needs to stop, Tom.”
“Yeah,” he said, tapping the ash into his tray, “it will fucking stop.” He points with his cigarette, “I’ll make it fucking stop.”
You sighed. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
The chair screeched as he stood. “I’m her father, and if I say she can’t see that boy, she can’t. It’s only a childish fling; she’ll get over it.”
He poured a whiskey and downed it by the time you walked around his desk so that you were face-to-face with him.
“They’re in love, Tommy.”
“Yeah?” He scoffed. “Well, that can be undone.”
You held his glare, a challenge lighting in your own. “So easily, you think?”
He paused mid-drag, catching onto the underlying meaning in your words. “No,” he said, setting the cigarette down in the ash tray and grabbing your shoulders. “Don’t act like that.”
“Act like what?”
“Like you’re threatening our love over some fucking boy that’s charmed our daughter. They’re too young.”
“He’s sweet.”
“Oh, sweet and nice, I’m sure. But he’ll have no place in this house.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because I fucking said so!” He spat.
“Don’t yell at me.”
“Or what? You’ll leave me?” He huffed in amusement. “You won't; you love me too much.”
“You’re so certain?”
He paused for a moment and stared at you as if he couldn’t believe what you had said.
“Yeah, because we still fuck like two people who love each other, eh? And you’ve not told me no before, so if the day comes and your body no longer wants mine, then I’ll be worried. But until then, don’t test me with empty threats." His face hardened.
He knew you like the back of his hand. All bark, no bite. You loved him inexplicably, even after all these years, gray hairs and all. His face, body, and soul nourished you until you were satiated and full. And even if his eyebrows furrowed at times, you were willing to bet that it was for aesthetic, a shapely shadow gathered over the years from being the stoic leader the Peaky Blinders and Shelby family needed. How could you fault him for it?
Because, at the end of the day, you were a team. Even if he played the role of an overprotective father a bit too convincingly, he only ever wanted what was good for your daughter. Everything he worked for, ultimately, was for his family. A family man. And that came with its virtues and vices because, despite what Tommy thought, he wasn’t perfect; no one was.
Shrinking under his hands, you breathed a sigh and appeased him. “End this feud, Tom. Find peace with her. I don’t care what you do, but by the end of it, I expect to be able to sit down at the dinner table without having to beg my husband and daughter to look up from their plates.” You stroked his hands, which held your shoulders, and finally blinked up at him.
A haze of softness swept across his glare and melted the glaciers to a thin sheen of blue. The seams of exhaustion frayed one by one through his muscles. He nodded, licked his lips, and leaned down for a kiss of absolution. Not entirely prepared to surrender, you tilted your head so that he found the corner of your mouth instead.
“It will be done, love.” He brushed the apples of your cheeks tenderly. “And by tonight,” his voice lowered, “I promise you’ll forget all about it.”
Only then did you accept his kiss, eager to put the grievance to rest. Tommy, on the other hand, had other plans and stepped forward so that you were pinned between his desk and hips. He quickly began to gather your skirts above your waist, but you pulled away just as fast at the hiss of air against your exposed skin. An unsolicited gasp escaped his mouth when your knee brushed him there, and you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, looking deep into his eyes.
“Promise me you won’t break her heart. She might not be old enough now, but I don’t want you to put her off love forever,” you caressed his jaw.
“No,” he agreed, breathier than usual, flexing the hands that were still caught up in the fabric of your skirt.
“And our Daisy may never say it, but I know she loves you dearly. So please, Tom, be gentle with her. I don’t want her to grow up despising you. Tell her you love her, kiss her forehead, hug her.”
He deflated, and you watched him swallow his pride. Cogs turned against the sweltering lust, threatening to deplete the clever thoughts in that powerful head of his in favor of your careful touch. Please, please, please, you begged without uttering a word; agree with me on this, Tom.
Tommy leaned back down to rest his forehead on yours; his face gave nothing away. You were sure he had found something to say, which would make you feel like a fool for asking. However, when you embraced those faint subtleties of emotion flickering across his face like candlelight, so miniscule you might blink and miss it, you found nothing of the sort to suggest any hostile nature. Because Tommy loved you.
“I will.”
-
A/N: Tried doing a long one shot, what does everyone think? Yay or nay? Comment to be added to the tag list!
Taglist: @maliceofwonderland , @fairytale07 , @goblinjnr , @ilovepeoplesdads , @multidimensionalslut
2K notes · View notes
lovelybucky1 · 6 months
Text
Nectar- Tommy Shelby x Reader
Tumblr media
warnings: AFAB!reader, f receiving oral sex, fingering, mentions of masturbation, blasphemy kink, church sex, heavy religious themes, corruption kink, dirty talk, canon typical violence
masterlist
The church is quiet like it always is at this hour. The pews empty of parishioners, the confessionals vacant, and the lights dim. The priest and almost everyone in the neighborhood have long been in bed. You, however, were wide awake.
You’ve been working in the church since you were a girl, per your family’s wishes. It’s mostly charity work: caring for the sick, poor, orphans, and others in need. You also spend a fair amount of time working inside the church, cleaning and whatnot. It is fulfilling work, but it doesn’t offer much in terms of pay, so you don’t have much of a space to call your own. That is why you spend your nights in the empty church, alone save for the conversations you have with God.
Since you spend so much time in the church, you’re pretty familiar with the congregation. It’s not often you see a new face unless a new family moves to the city. When you heard the heavy oak doors open, you were expecting a devout Catholic in crisis, not the notorious crime boss, Tommy Shelby.
You watch from the first pew near the altar as he walks down the aisle toward you. His hat and coat are wet from the rain, and once he takes a seat a few rows behind you, he takes them off. You’re confused, wondering what he could be doing in your church in the middle of the night. Part of you feels nervous, knowing that danger never follows far behind a Peaky Blinder.
“Good evening, Mr. Shelby,” you decide to speak up, voice kind and sweet as always.
Tommy’s eyes flick to you, but his expression is unreadable. “I’m not dead yet, eh?” he says. You look closer at him and in the dim light, you can just make out the dried blood splattered on his face.
So maybe it isn’t a good evening. Nevertheless, he has come to a church and he is allowed sanctuary here. You make your way over to where he sits and you stand at the end of the row, obviously looking hesitant if his glance is anything to go by.
“Do you mind if I sit?” you ask. Instead of a response, he cocks his head to the side in a way that you’re interpreting as go ahead. You sit down, pressing your knees together to make yourself as small as possible. There is about a foot of space between the two of you, but even still, the proximity to him is overwhelming.
As the two of you sit in silence, your mind starts to wander. You know his Aunt Polly is Catholic; she frequents the church, though she never attends the services. You’ve overheard her prayers before, and you understand why she prefers to pray in private.
“Are you Catholic, Mr. Shelby?”
Your desire for conversation seems to surprise him. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye before he goes back to looking straight ahead at the altar. It takes him a few moments to respond, and you can see the inner battle on his face as he decides how to answer.
“No,” he says.
“I see. Your Aunt is, though. I see her nearly every day.”
“And she’s a fool for it.” The bitter tone he takes only gives you more questions.
“I take it you don’t believe in God?”
“You’re quite inquisitive,” he says, shooting you a look. “God abandoned me long ago.”
You sigh. Many of the men held the same sentiment after they came back from the war. The horrors they experienced in France, the death and destruction took the fear of God away from these men. Now, all they fear is each other.
“It’s never too late to find him again,” you offer. Tommy lets out a dry, humorless chuckle in response. “You can still be saved.”
“I’m past the point of saving. I’ve got a spot in hell waiting for me.”
You frown at that. “God is all about forgiveness. God will even forgive men like you as long as you accept him.”
“What’s the point in asking forgiveness if I don’t indent on stopping?” he asks, leaning back in his seat, making himself look more intimidating. “And what do you mean, men like me?”
As if someone dumped a bucket of ice water on you, you immediately realize your mistake.
“I didn’t mean to offend you, sir. I just meant men in your… line of work,” you say, trying to backtrack.
“And what line of work is that?”
Tommy is sitting up now, leaning just slightly closer to you. Now that he is fully facing you, you can see the blood on his face, but by the lack of injuries he has, you’re suspecting it’s not his. His gaze is piercing as he stares into your eyes, smirking as he waits for you to respond.
“I-I don’t know.” With a small, satisfied smirk, Tommy leans back again. “I’m just saying, sir, you haven’t strayed too far from God’s light.”
That makes him chuckle again. “I see. So all I have to do is absolve myself, right? Confess my sins and I’ll be God’s child once again?”
He’s toying with you now. He wants to see if you are devoted enough to your God that you’d try to convince the biggest sinner in the city to become a religious man.
“That’s right,” you smile softly, still hesitant from your previous slip-up.
“Can I confess to you?” he asks.
“I’m not the priest-”
“I want to do this now. I want to find God.” His voice is so earnest that you believe him.
“Okay,” you agree. It’s about confessing to God, the person doesn’t matter. “We can go to the confessionals.” You begin to stand, but he stops you by grabbing your wrist.
“That’s far too formal, don’t you think? We can do it right here,” he says, the faintest look of mischief in his eyes.
You nod and sit back down, folding your hands onto your lap. Tommy slides off the bench and sinks to his knees on the floor, hands clasped in front of him.
“Bless me, for I have sinned,” he begins, looking into your eyes. “It’s been many years since my last confession. In my time away I’ve done many bad things, terrible things, that make me ashamed to look in the mirror. I’ve lied, stolen, scammed, and gambled. I live a life of deceit and greed, and I’ve found great success in doing so, but those are not the sins that weigh heaviest on me.”
You watch him intently as he speaks, your eyes tracing every word his mouth forms. Your heart begins to beat quicker in your chest; the idea that you’re getting access to information only meant for God makes you feel guilty, but it’s also exciting in a strange way.
“I’ve taken many lives. During the war, I was ordered to, but I continued once I came home. I’ve killed in every way imaginable. Shot in the head, slitting their throat, hanging, drowning, burning, suffocating. I’ve had men ripped apart for betraying me, and I did not feel remorse. I watched these men suffer as my men tortured them. I laughed as they pleaded for God to save them.”
Tommy doesn’t look as remorseful as most do when they’re confessing their terrible sins. He almost looks proud, like he’s bragging about them to you as you squirm under his gaze. The graphic descriptions he’s offering make you uncomfortable like your skin is too tight on your bones. Like he’s corrupting you just by having you listen to his tales.
There is a blaze behind his light blue eyes that captivate as much as they scare you. They bore into your soul and peel back the layers, revealing all of your inner thoughts. It makes you want to run away screaming, to pray for God to rid this world of the devil in front of you but you’re stuck, frozen in front of him as he confesses.
Tommy takes a breath as if what he is going to say next brings him great shame. As if he hasn’t already confessed the worst sins man could commit.
“Perhaps worst of all, I lust. I lust after women and I envy men with beautiful wives to the point I take them for myself. I’ve had many married women in my bed, as well as hers. I fuck whores too, but only the pretty ones. And they can’t be cheap, because those women can’t keep a secret. I don’t only fuck them in the bed. I’ve fucked in my office, my car, and my pub. It doesn’t matter who these women are, but once I have my sights set on them, I am determined to get what I want.”
The confessions about his sex life shock you. Of course, you know people have pre-marital sex and affairs are common, but you’ve spent your life in the church. You don’t hear of these things frequently, and you feel bashful because of his vulgar words. Tommy holds eye contact with you as he speaks, though you find it difficult to meet his eyes.
Your body betrays you now; you’re unsure how to react. You should be scared, you are scared. There is a murderer less than two feet from you, splattered with someone else’s blood. However, he has a soothing, gentle voice, kind eyes, and a soft smile. It’s hard to believe that the man on his knees praying to God is a monster, but you find it harder to believe that there is a heat growing between your thighs from his confessions.
The vivid images of Tommy with some faceless woman play in your mind. You imagine the way he’d look lost in pleasure, carefree and blissful. You imagine how his rough hands, which are currently clasped together, would feel on your skin. You imagine how his voice would sound in your ear, how his lips would feel as he whispers.
Your heartbeat picks up in your chest, a physical reaction from the fantasies. Your skin feels hot, burning with shame as you pray that Tommy doesn’t notice your current state.
“And finally, I’d like forgiveness for lusting after the church girl who was stupid enough to think she could show me the light,” he says, hands now dropped at his side and gaze predatory.
Entranced by his words, you didn’t notice how close he had leaned in, now only inches from your face. Your breath hitches in your throat and for a split-second, you think you see Tommy’s eyes on your lips.
“Sir?” you ask, voice no more than a squeak.
“I appreciate your efforts, dear, but I sold my soul many years ago.”
Tommy’s eyes are sharp and his grin is wide as he leans closer to you. He has lured you into his trap and you fell for it like a fool. Now, helpless and trapped, he is going to swallow you whole. Your heartbeat throbs in your ears, almost downing out his sweet, deep voice.
Tommy places his hands on your knees, and even through the fabric of your skirt, you can feel the coolness of his skin. The touch, although not sexual in nature, electrifies you. A shiver runs down your spine and Tommy must notice if the slight smirk is anything to go by.
“Are you alright?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.
“Yes,” you choke out.
“Would you mind helping me?”
You furrow your brow, now much more hesitant to do anything for him. Your heart is still hammering in your chest and you’re certain you are trembling slightly.
“With what?” you manage to ask. Somehow, even on his knees below you, Tommy makes you feel small.
“I need something new to worship,” he says.
Tommy slides his hands down your claves until he reaches the hem of your dress, which he then pushes up to reveal your stockinged legs. He gently guides your knees apart and you allow him until you feel too exposed. You resist against him and he looks up at you with a questioning look.
“I-I can’t,” you say.
“You can lie to yourself, you can lie to God, but you can’t lie to me,” Tommy says, grasp still from on your knees but no longer pushing. “You want this.”
You look away, over your left shoulder as you try to hold onto any of the values you held before Tommy entered the church. You’re saving yourself for marriage, and even worse, you hadn’t formally met Tommy before tonight. There’s no love, no future, between the two of you. It goes against everything you have been taught since you were a girl, but he is appealing to the primal side of you. The side of you that slips your fingers underneath your nightgown after you say your nightly prayers. The side of you that allows your eyes to linger on the men in the chuch during service, even as their wives and children sit beside them.
Tommy is not putting the thoughts of sin in your head, he is simply tempting you to act upon the urges you have felt for years.
“You’re the devil,” you whisper.
“And you’re the fuckin’ Virgin Mary,” he counters. “You spend all your life worrying about what’s going to happen when you die. How about I show you what it’s like to live, eh?”
You set your jaw, trying to save a bit of your dignity before you give the man on the floor permission to debase you. You squeeze your eyes shut and nod your head, but that is not enough for Tommy.
“I need to hear you say it.”
You wonder if he is really concerned with how much you want this, or if this is just another power move. You swallow thickly and resolve yourself to the reality of the situation: if you want anything from the devil with the silver tongue, you’ll have to play his game.
“I want it.”
You’re Eve, and you have just been tempted to take a bite out of the apple by the snake.
With a wicked grin, Tommy presses a kiss to the inside of your knee and, embarrassingly, the contact makes you jolt. He removes your shoes, unbuckling them quickly and with ease, then placing them underneath the pew. His hands reach up your skirt to grab ahold of the top of your stocking. He gently rolls them down your smooth leg and pulls it off your foot before turning his attention to the other one.
It is unnecessary for him to undress you like this, especially when your stockings wouldn’t be an obstacle. There is something about being unusually bare in a church that makes you ache with guilt, and Tommy must know that. He seems like he knows everything.
He bunches the skirt around your upper thighs and he spreads your legs farther. This time, you don’t resist. You swear you see his mouth water when he catches a glimpse of your white knickers, pristine and perfect like a good girl should wear.
“What a precious little thing you are,” he grins.
Tommy ducks his head and drags his nose along your inner thigh until he reaches your clothed mound. He presses his face between your legs and takes a long, slow inhale like he’s smoking a cigarette. His fingers press firmly into your legs and you’re certain you will have bruises left behind. You should be upset about that but truthfully, you’ve longed for something like this.
Tommy’s fingers find the edge of your panties and gently push them to the side, exposing your pussy to the church air. Your breath hitches in your throat and you watch as he stares shamelessly at you. He swipes his finger through your folds to gather your wetness on his fingertip. He brings his hand back to show your desire glistening in the dim light.
“What’s all this?” he asks smugly.
“Don’t make fun of me,” you huff.
“Oh love, I’m not making fun. I think it’s sweet how worked up you got over nothin’.”
Tommy leans in again and his hot breath fans over your cunt, which now feels cool from being in the open. You shiver with anticipation as he nears, and your body jolts when his tongue makes contact with you. It’s a light, barely there touch but it sends an electric shock through you and elicits an embarrassing moan.
You hear him chuckle, but he doesn’t stop or say anything else. He licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit, then back down. Your hands twitch at your sides, fighting back the urge to grab him, not wanting to show how much you’re enjoying his torture. He knows, of course.
He works you up slowly, not giving too much attention to one spot, not making you too sensitive. You keep your attention focused on him, watching intently as he pleasures you. You don’t even feel the sting of his nails digging into your thighs when he sucks on your clit.
“Sir, please, this is wrong,” you try to reason, but your broken, airy voice sends a different message. You don’t want him to stop, you’d probably cry if he did, but it’s still wrong. It’s still a sin.
You hold on tightly to the edge of the wooden bench to ground yourself so you don’t get lost in the pleasure. Part of you realizes how ridiculous this situation is: a notorious gangster eating out an innocent little church girl. Another part of you couldn’t give less of a shit and just wants to cum.
“Mr. Shelby, please,” you whine. It’s unclear if you’re begging for more or to stop, but Tommy doesn’t seem to care either way. He’s going to give you what he wants and nothing more, nothing less.
He slides two fingers into your soaking cunt and curls them against that spot deep inside of you that makes your toes curl. He fucks you with his fingers and works your clit with his tongue, and you feel yourself nearing the edge faster than you ever have before.
You build up to your peak, and after a particularly harsh suck to your clit, you begin to cum. Your orgasm shutters through you, making your legs twitch on his shoulders. You let out an unintelligible whine as you grip the bench. Despite having cum, Tommy doesn’t let up on his assault. He continues to suck on your over sensitive clit until you’re shrieking and pushing his head away.
He chuckles and sits back on his heels, looking at you with a glistening face. He makes a show of pushing up his sleeve and wiping his face with the back of his hand. You want to close your legs to stop the cool air from hitting your sensitive cunt, but he is still in the way, keeping you exposed.
“Nectar of the gods in there,” he smirks, glancing down at your soaked pussy.
Without another word, he stands up. He picks up his hat and coat, and begins to walk down the aisle, leaving you alone.
“Wait,” you say, voice echoing in the church. He stops and turns around, eyebrow raised. “That’s it?”
“What more do you want?” he asks.
“What about you?”
Tommy chuckles. “Such a generous soul. I’ll take care of it myself, love. You just get to prayin’. We did a lot of sinning you have to repent for.”
You sigh and nod. “Will I see you again?”
“If I decide to become a priest,” he says with a smirk before turning on his heel and continuing out the door.
You know Tommy Shelby will never turn to priesthood, but you do have a feeling he’s found something in the church worth coming back for.
my inbox is open for requests!
1K notes · View notes
dandelionprints · 6 months
Text
Don't Be Late
Tumblr media
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Y/N (lil bit of fluff, angst, tormented Tommy and comfort)
Summary: When Tommy makes a promise to his wife he could never imagine that breaking it could potentially cost Y/N her life.
Warnings: bad language, a couple of slur words as used in the show *not words that I myself deem acceptable!*, a lot of violence, mentions of injuries, blood and death. Reader discretion is advised, do not read if you feel uncomfortable with this kind of content
Word Count: This is a long one coming in at 6,800k
A/N: It's been a while since I've written a full blown fic but I was on a roll so I just went with it! I hope you enjoy, please do like, reblog and/or comment your thoughts on it, I really appreciate the feedback x
--------------------------------------------------------
"It's been three days, Pol. Why won't she wake up?"
He leant forwards in his chair, a hand gently grasping  Y/N's as she lay motionless on her hospital bed. Her body was battered with violent purple bruises and cuts covering what seemed to be every inch of her body.
The last three days had been hell, with a mixture of so many emotions running through him  that he didn't know where to put and the not knowing. Worry, anger, sadness. Guilt. So much guilt, it consumed him. 
Tommy wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to forgive himself for not being there to protect her. It could be said that it was a case of "wrong person, wrong time", but that did nothing to subside the sense of dread that filled his stomach whenever he thought about the brutality his wife had been through, all because of him. How scared she must have been on her own waiting for him to come and save her, but he came too late.
"Give her time, Tom. She's been through a lot, her body’s trying to heal, we can't rush these things. Besides, the doctor said this morning that the swelling and bleeding has started to go down so she is getting better. Slowly. We just have to be patient", Aunt Polly delicately placed her hand on his shoulder, softly stroking her thumb back and forth over the newly clean shirt. 
Polly had brought a clean set of clothes to the hospital after seeing that Tommy was too terrifed to leave Y/N at the hospital alone for even a second, leaving him wearing blood soaked clothes for the first day. Y/N's blood.
"I should've been there Pol. None of this would've happened if I hadn't gotten too cocky and dragged John and Arthur down to London to Sabini's club. All this for a fucking business expansion"
He lowered his head and brought his free hand to his forehead, pinching at the sides as if to relieve some of the stress growing with tension there.
"Fuck!", he shouted before quickly covering his face with his hand.
Tommy could feel tears springing to his eyes as he glared down between the gaps in his fingers at the speckled hospital floor. He was so tired of crying in the presence of anyone that wasn't Y/N since the night this whole shit show happened, it made him feel weak knowing other people could see that in fact, yes, Tommy Shelby does have emotions. Y/N  was the only one he'd been able to willingly show any kind of vulnerable emotion to since he'd returned from the war.
The sound of a lighter flicking open followed by the quick sizzle of a cigarette being lit came from behind him as Polly took a drag, before holding it within Tommy's line of vision. 
"Here, take this".
He hesitated for a moment, making sure that no tears would fall, then slowly lifted his head and reached for the now softly glowing cigarette bringing it to his lips and taking a long pull, exhaling the smoke as if it were the stress partially releasing from his body.
Aunt Pol watched him carefully, almost as if she were waiting to see if he was going to explode like a ticking time bomb or finally let his shoulders relax and sink into the chair. She was thankful when he chose the latter, slowly leaning back against the wooden frame, still holding onto Y/N's hand.
"You should go back to the house, Tom. Get some rest. I'll stay with her until you come back", she spoke softly, her own eyes tired from the constant secret worrying she'd been doing as well as sitting with Tommy next to Y/N's bed the last three days.
"No. I won't leave her, Pol. I can't leave her, it's my fault she ended up like this, I can't risk them coming back or the risk of her...", he stopped his words in their tracks as a lump formed in his throat. The tears that had only just subsided now came back, threatening to spill over, "Of her dying. Alone. Without me here letting her know she's safe, that I'm sorry. So fucking sorry"
Polly's face grew empathetic as she saw the pain etched all over Tommy's, the vacant glassiness of his eyes that had only grown darker over the past few days.
"She's not going to die..."
"She might, Pol!", his anger exploded then, the ticking time bomb she'd been waiting for had finally gone off.
The chair scraped on the floor as he stood, letting go of Y/N's hand, before turning to face his aunt who remained seated, not taking her eyes off him.
"How can you be so sure that she's gonna live, eh? How can you be so sure that she's ever going to open her eyes again?"
There was less accusation in his words than it seemed, more like a plead for some kind of reassurance or promise that the love of his life would be okay, that she'd return to the real world again.
Polly stood, then, calm and collected. 
"Because I know Y/N Shelby, and so do you. She's a tough girl, it'll take more than Sabini and the fuckers who did this to take her down. Now, go home and get some sleep. I'll stay here with her, give her a wash and read some of your poetry outloud. The nurses say she can still hear what's going on around her, that she may even end up dreaming of things that are being said so we'll be having no more talk of death. John said he'll take the next shift of watching the door so tell him when you get back to come here. You know he won't let those bastards go anywhere near her if they so much as step foot near the hospital"
Polly’s eyes remained on him like a mother scolding her child until they did what they were told. She knew that he was still reluctatant to leave Y/N's bedside but felt relief when he subtly nodded to her, stubbing out his cigarette and picking up his coat before leaning over Y/N to place a kiss on her head, being careful to avoid the purpling bruise that was forming there.
"I'll be back in two hours, Pol, then you can go home and get some sleep", he said simply, making his way over to the door.
"Not two, six. You need a proper sleep"
He narrowed his eyes at her without saying anything, his lips twitching as if ready to disagree with what his aunt had said.
"I'd say eight but I know you won't be able to stay away for that long. What good are you to her if your eyes can't even focus on what the gun is aiming at? Go. Get some sleep"
Three days earlier
They'd agreed that they would meet at 8pm later that evening, after Tommy finished up with business for the day, where the family car was stored in the garage near the Shelby family home.
"Don't keep me waiting too long", she giggled, stroking his face with the palm of her hand.
"Who says you'll be waiting?", he smiled, taking the hand that was on his cheek and bringing it to his mouth, placing a soft kiss to it.
The Garrison hadn't opened for the day yet but the Peaky Boys were starting to gather at the bar, getting in a pint before the days business was about to begin. John and Arthur were already trying to place a bet with Isaiah about who could down the most pints before blacking out with Arthur claiming it to be him.
"Eh, lads! No more drinking until business is finished for the day, and Arthur, I could place twenty pound on it being anyone but you who could drink the most", Tommy interrupted, leading to a cackle of ladish jeers. 
Y/N laughed before getting Tommy's attention once again, this time placing a finger beneath his chin and gently pulling his face towards hers.
"I know you, Tommy Shelby. You like to be on time when it's for business but business is also what makes you late to see me"
He felt a pang of guilt hit his stomach at her words, he knew she was right. He'd lost count of how many times he'd come home to find her curled up in front of the fire in his office fast asleep. How many times he'd either carried her up to bed or simply placed a blanket over her while he continued working into the early hours of the morning. 
"I promise, love. I'll be at the garage at 8pm sharp"
This time he leant forward and touched his lips to hers, taking in the sweet flavour of her lips that he loved so much.
"Go on, Pol will be waiting for you"
She paused, "Is it bad to say that I don't believe you?"
"I promise, Y/N"
She wanted to believe the sincerity in his eyes but a tiny part of her knew that she'd more than likely be kept waiting out in the cold while he finished up business for the day. 
"Okay", she half smiled, "I love you, Mr. Shelby"
Tommy kissed her then, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen across her face behind her ear.
"I love you too, Mrs. Shelby"
---
It was already dark by the time she'd made her way to their meeting point with only the glow from a firepit in the workshop opposite as the main source of light, rain flooding down onto the pavement outside in typical autumnal British fashion creating the sound of pattering on the old tin roof of the garage.
Y/N sighed as she leant against the black Ford Model T, taking a look at her watch. 8:03pm. 
'Well, it's only three minutes late, let's see if he's here before four minutes late', she thought to herself. 
There wasn't much to see in the garage other than old petrol can's and some oiled rags that had been dropped lazily on the floor, not that she could see much anyway with only the fire for her source. In fact, it only stretched as far as half the length of the garage, where unbenownsed to her there were men that were lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce on the unsuspecting victim. 
"Get 'em!"
The sound of a thick London Italian accent echoed through the cold rickety room and all Y/N could think to do was to cower against the car, waiting to be manhandled in some kind of way, the panic instantly settling into her chest.
It was obvious that the men who now had their fists blowing punches to her face didn't have a clue it was in fact a woman they were beating and not a man, probably due to the fact the fire was doing little to show that she'd wrapped her scarf over her head to stop the rain from ruining her curls. They didn't realise until she mustered enough strength through the continuous punches to let out the loudest scream she could.
It was only then that the men took a step back as the same voice from before bellowed out, "Stop!"
She held her hands up to her face and felt a slick warm liquid quickly covering them, the skin beneath it sore to the touch. Her left eye was blurry from the mixture of what she could only assume to be blood and swelling, but she could just about make out the silhoutte of a slim man with a hat standing near the wall.
The adrenaline was already kicking in helping to keep some of the pain from showing it's full potential, but her fight or flight hadn't seemed to of made an appearance yet. All she could do was stand there, frozen to the spot, her hands still holding her bloodied face.
"You must be Tommy Shelby's missus", spoke the man with the hat, taking a step forward confirming in the dim light that it was who she'd feared it would be. Sabini.
"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?", he smirked, leering towards her only inches from her face, "Apologies for the misunderstanding, we thought you were Mr. Shelby"
Her heart dropped into her stomach at the thought that this beating was meant for Tommy, that she knew they intended to do more than land a few punches to his face. She spat at the ground infront of Sabini's feet.
"You're lucky it was me and not Tommy, he'd have your eyes the minute you laid your hands on him", she was surprised by how even she managed to keep her voice despite the sheer panic coursing through her. 
Y/N knew it was a lie, that Tommy would be far too outnumbered to take on five of Sabini's men on his own especially without being able to see much.
Sabini laughed, throwing his head back slightly before stopping abruptly and grabbing onto each of her arms.
"You listen here you little princess, I don't think you quite understand the extent of how pissed off I am at your fella. You see, him and his brothers came to my club in London two nights ago. The Eden Club. A well run establishment, I'm sure you've heard of it. Anyway, they caused such a fucking scene that I've had to take matters into my own hands. I was planning on getting to Tommy, show him how scared he should really be about barging into one of my clubs, but it seems I may now have an even better way of sending that message".
Even with the light uneven across his features she could see a sly snarl creep onto Sabini's face, his breath fanning against her skin as he spoke. It was enough to make her want to wretch.
"Right boys, forget about Tommy. I want you to do what you were going to do to Tommy to her"
Her heart flew straight into her throat, threatening to jump out of her mouth at any moment. She wanted to throw up but the best thing she could do now would be to gain as much attention to passers by as she could. She screamed again only to have her mouth covered by Sabini as two men took over the hold on her arms.
"Listen here you little bitch, whether you like it or not, you're getting a beating. If Tommy's not man enough to face me himself and resorts to showing up to one of my clubs instead then this is what happens, someones pretty little face gets smashed in"
"You're a fucking creep! Tommy will be here any minute and I'm sure his brothers will be with him too, you won't know what fucking hit you!", she spat, the venom spewing from her mouth.
Sabini wasted no time in landing a hard slap against her already throbbing cheek making her splutter out whatever saliva she had left. He didn't leave it there though as his gripped both hands around her throat, squeezing as tight as he could.
"We'll be glad to see Tommy and his brothers, we can have a nice little catch up. Those boys couldn't organise a piss up in a brewery no matter how hard they tried so I'm not too worried. Carry on boys"
He let go of her throat leading her to gasp for air, her lungs felt like they were on fire with every harsh breath.
She didn't even have time to brace herself from the punch that was swiftly administered to her stomach, knocking out every bit of air she had managed to gain back, bringing her to the ground with a hard thump. Her head bounced off the ground sending a shockwave of pain running over her skull and down her neck. 
The punches were now followed by the kicks of steel toe capped boots, each kick more painful than the last until she almost felt numb. Where the fuck is Tommy?
She wanted nothing more than to scream out for him, to hear him running towards the men with bullets flying, ready to put an end to this nightmare, but all she could do was sob as the pain coursed through her.
"Boys, hold her up", Sabini's voice cut through the sound of the thumps and thuds, his voice menacing laced with a sneer.
Two men gripped Y/N's arms and yanked her back onto her feet, knees buckling beneath her with one of her ankles too weak to bare any weight. She was pretty sure she had some broken ribs and that her ankle was much the same way but she knew there was nothing she could do about it now. The only thing she could do was let her head loll forwards with sheer exhaustion. 
It was hard to keep her eyes open as her head was pulled up by a harsh grab of her hair, weakness taking over her entire body.
"Look at me. I said look at me!"
Another firm yank of the hair had her gaze just about managing to focus on Sabini, his eyes showing a glint of evil.
"I want you to tell your dirty gypsy husband that I'm coming for him next, if he wants to take over my race tracks then he's gonna have to fight for it"
"You're a fucking pig Sabini", her voice was hoarse as she spoke, her head longing to fall fowards again and let her eyes shut.
"Take my fucking name out of your mouth! 'Ere, Franco, take my name out of this scum's mouth"
She wasn't prepared for what came next as a blade was forced inside her mouth, her cheeks slowly being cut as well as a part of her lip. The taste of the metallic blood filled every tastebud, the only noise she was able to make were muffled groans as the cold metal sliced roughly through her skin.
Her body suddenly dropped to the floor once more, the sound of the mens foot steps starting to fade as they made their way towards the back of the garage and through a hole in the wooden panelling. 
"Don't forget to give your husband my message, if you survive that is", Sabini's spoke, a chuckle following him as he finally left her and made his way out the same way as the other men. 
She had no energy to even cry any more, a numbness enveloping her body and the blood still slowly seeping out of every cut she'd sustained.
She couldn't focus on anything now, the need for sleep becoming too great to keep her eyes open. She didn't even hear Tommy's footsteps quickly approaching the garage a minute later where she lay in a pool of her own blood. All she could do was let her eyelids drop as she slipped into darkness.
"Y/N! Oh fuck, Y/N!"
His cries bellowed through the bleak surroundings, the only movement to be seen was the flicker of the flames from the fire in his peripheral. 
“John! Arthur! Where the fuck are you?”, he screamed into the night before turning his attention back to Y/N.
"C'mon Y/N you need to wake up now, c'mon sweetheart", his desperate pleas did nothing as he cradled her head, her blood soaking into his trousers. He could see her chest rising and falling but knew that it was getting slower and slower with every moment that passed by.
It'd only been a minute or so since he'd gotten there but he could've sworn it'd been more like an hour, his heart thumping so hard that he thought it would surely pop out of his chest. 
"John! Arthur!"
Tears were streaming down his face, dripping onto Y/N's blood soaked cheeks, leaving streaks running through the red liquid.
He knew his brothers were meant to be on their way with the promise of a bed at Arrow House for the night. He just hoped that they would be sober enough to help deal with the chaos that was going on.
There was so much blood that he didn't know what to do. Sure, he could leave Y/N and go get help himself, but he didn't want to leave her alone for even a second. He'd already let her down once this evening and he'd be damned if he was going to let her die here alone on the cold stone floor, or have the people who did this to her come back and finish off the job.
John and Arthur came stumbling through the open door of the garage, an arm wrapped over each others shoulders as they laughed about how many women they'd managed to pull that night. As soon as they saw the scene in front of them though, the laughing soon stopped and they both straightened up, their eyes almost not wanting to look at the state before them.
"Who the fuck did this, Tommy? Where the fuck are they? I'll fuckin’ get 'em Tom I fuckin’ promise you, those bastards won't get away with this!" John's hands had grown into fists with his knuckles turning white, the anger twisting his face into pure hatred.
"It doesn't matter right now, John. Just go and get help, call a fucking ambulance!", Tommy looked to Arthur whose expression had turned more into terror than anything else, "Arthur, I need you to get Pol, tell her Y/N's hurt, badly. Tell her I need her here, I need... just get her Arthur, now"
It took a second longer than Tommy would've liked but both brothers soon turned and ran out towards the Shelby family home, their legs wobbling beneath them as they went.
"I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so fucking sorry", Tommy sobbed as he gently stroked her face, pulling her in closer to him. His mind was racing with all the questions he was dying to know the answer to.
He knew he should be worrying about who it was that had done this to her but he was pretty sure he knew the answer to that already, and he wasn't about to waste what time he might have left with his wife thinking about that. No. All that mattered right now was that Y/N was going to live, that her eyes would open and she'd look up at him with that brilliant smile he loved so much to tell him that she was okay, that she was going to survive this.
Flashing lights appeared outside whilst Tommy had his head rested on Y/N's, whispering over and over again how sorry he was and how much he loved her. The pain he felt was all consuming and he knew he'd give anything to be in her position right now, just like it should have been.
Even when the medics came to retrive Y/N he couldn't bare to let her go, he insisted on carrying her into the back of the ambulance and holding her all the way to the hospital. They knew better than to argue with the Shelby man but managed to convince him to allow for her vitals to be monitored on the journey there, her pulse rate rapidly declining.
Polly hadn't arrived at the garage quick enough so Arthur had driven both Polly and John to the hospital at speed, swerving all over the road as they went, the tires slipping on the slick ground beneath them.
When they finally got there they saw Tommy disappearing through the double doors with Y/N still in his arms, a trail of blood on the floor behind him. This was going to be a long night.
The doctors had managed to get her heart rate back up to a reasonable pace by the time she was settled into a private hospital room. Fluids were being administered consistently alongside different medicines flowing through the tubes, her wounds now dressed with bandages and a thin blanket covering her black and blue body.
"Mr. Shelby, your wife has been through a terrible ordeal, it's a miracle she's still alive", a tall man with slicked blonde hair and glasses spoke, a clipboard and pen in his hands.
"When will she wake up?", Tommy tried to shake off his annoyance at the doctors statement of the obvious, of course this was a fucking terrible ordeal! Anyone with eyes could see that. He just wanted the facts that mattered most.
"Mr. Shelby, as I said, your wife has been through a terrible ordeal..."
Tommy grimaced, "I fucking know she has, don't you think I can see what's right in front of me? That and the fact I found my wife lying in a pool of her own blood half dead? Just tell me, when will she wake up?"
He was growing tired of not having answers to the main question he had and knew he wouldn't be able to relax until he had a definitive answer.
"The honest answer Mr. Shelby is that we don't know. To be blunt we're not sure if she's going to"
Tommy's heart dropped into his stomach.
"As you know, she's been through...", the doctor paused, not wanting to use the term 'terrible ordeal' again, "A lot. We've taken some images of her brain and we can see that she has some bleeding and swelling. We're not sure that she can recover from something like that, we can only hope that she will. Her injuries are severe, Mr. Shelby. As well as the damage to the brain she also has some internal bleeding, broken ribs, a collapsed lung, brusing to the esophagus, cuts to the inside of her mouth and a broken ankle. We're doing everything we can to ensure that she'll recover from this but it will take time. I'm sorry"
A ringing sounded in Tommy's ears, a noise so defeaning that he couldn't focus on anything right now other than the fact Y/N might not make it through this. His chest tightened and he found himself struggling to breathe, the sheer weight of the words he'd just heard sitting heavy on his chest.
"Are you okay, Mr. Shelby?"
"Leave. Now, please. Leave!"
The doctor wasted no time in carrying out Tommy's order as he scurried out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Tommy fell to the floor, his knee's weak and unable to hold him upright. He clutched his chest as he gasped for the air that seemed to have become so thin in the room. Tears that had gathered in his eyes began to fall and there was nothing more he could do than kneel there on the cold floor as his world came crashing down around him. 
If he'd of been there at the time they'd agreed then this wouldn't have happened, not to Y/N anyway. It would be him laying in the hospital bed in front of him instead of her, or he'd be laying in a ditch somewhere ready for some poor passerby to find when dawn came. 
He knew for a fact that the guilt that was growing in strength would never leave him even if she did make it out of this, that he'd always blame himself for not being on time. 
A small knock on the door brought him shakily back up onto his feet again as he gripped onto the frame of the bed. Tommy managed to wipe away his tears just in time for Polly, John and Arthur to walk into the room. 
He couldn't look at them, only at Y/N laying in the bed. Her lifeless body was slightly sinking into the mattress beneath her, a mess of hair covered in congealed blood surrounded her head.
"Is she going to be okay, Tom?", John's voice quietly cut through the silence like a knife. 
Tommy took a moment before letting out a sigh, the lump in his throat wanting to escape and cause tears to come flooding out. 
"I don't know. The doctor said that she's got bleeding and swelling on the brain amongst other things. They don't know if she's going to wake up".
The room stayed silent with no one wanting to say a word, both for fear of upsetting Tommy further and also because what else was there to say? There was nothing any of them could do to make the situation better or to make light of any of this.
Tommy took a seat next to Y/N's bed side and held her fragile hand, longing for her to wrap her fingers around his, but of course she didn't. Even that alone was enough to make his heart break.
"John. I need you to arrange for the blinders to be on a rotation of a look out. I don't want anybody coming in or out this hospital without us knowing about it. Arthur, take Isaiah and a couple of the blinders with you to London, I need you to find Sabini", Tommy spoke plainly, not taking his eyes off of Y/N.
"Yes, Tom", Arthur nodded, motioning for John to follow his lead out of the room.
"Oh, and Arthur? When you find him", Tommy turned to look at him now, his eyes cold but somehow a fire lit in them, "Bring him to me. Alive"
Three days later
As expected, Tommy arrived back at the hospital within four hours instead of the six Aunt Polly had ordered. 
He couldn't sleep. Every time he'd managed to drift off he was soon awoken by nightmares of Y/N's screams as she was repeatedly kicked and punched, the sound each one of the blows made making his stomach churn. He could see her body laying there in a pool of blood with sobs wracking her chest... her calling out his name and him not being able to reach her even though he could see everything that was happening. 
Tommy woke up in a cold sweat, his clothes soaked right through and his hair wet. He decided he was better off admitting defeat than to try going back to sleep, the thought of having to see those images of Y/N whenever he closed his eyes was enough to make his blood run cold. 
His childhood home was quiet when he made his way downstairs. Ada had taken Finn to Arrow House under her watchful eye with Karl, it was better to be in a house that was stocked with firearms than back in London with nothing but a single pistol and where Sabini could be lurking in the shadows. 
John had gone to the hospital to take the next watch and Arthur was somewhere in London seeking out Sabini and his lackeys, waiting to hand him a blow that would make the Italian man wish he'd never come to Birmingham.
Tommy decided on having a bath before putting on clean clothes, taking a look in the mirror before he left. His complexion had almost drained of colour over the past three days with the exception of the dark circles that appeared under his eyes, much darker than usual. 
"God I hope she wakes up soon", he muttered to himself, adorning his peaky cap and reaching for the door handle before stepping out onto the bustling streets of Birmingham, lighting a smoke as he made his way to the hospital.
When he walked through the doors of Y/N's room he noticed something different. Aunt Polly was no longer sitting there with sadness in her eyes, instead she was stood next to the bed holding Y/N's hand, a small smile upon her face.
His eyebrows furrowed with confusion and his pace slowed as he approached her.
"What's happened?" he asked, nervous energy rushing through him.
"She moved, Tom. All on her own, she moved!"
Polly was beaming now, fresh tears sprang to her eyes and she had to resist the urge to hug him.
"What do you mean she moved?"
"I mean, I was reading her one of your poems and holding her hand. Her fingers started to move as if she was trying to tell me she could hear me. She's still in there Tommy"
His heart swelled in his chest although he didn't want to get his hopes up too much, there was nothing worse that breaking your own heart with false hope.
"It might've just been the nerves jumping, Pol. She probably doesnt have control of her body right now", he knew he sounded like dismissive bastard but he couldn't bring himself to believe that Y/N could do that but not open her eyes.
"Stop being so bloody negative Thomas. I'm telling you exactly what I saw with my own two eyes. Read to her yourself, you'll see", Polly scolded him, picking up the pages she'd left on her seat and going to hand them to him.
Tommy said nothing but shook his head towards the pages and instead took a step closer towards Y/N's bed. 
Polly placed Y/N's hand in his and softly spoke, "Y/N love, if you can hear what we're saying then squeeze Tommy's hand, let us know that you're still there".
He held his breath as he waited to see if she'd respond, his eyes watching her fingers like a hawk.
"She's not moving, Pol. You're seeing things with the lack of sleep, go home and get to bed, I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere"
"Don't tell me what you think I may be or may not be seeing and certainly don't tell me what to do. You may be a man now Thomas but I'm still able to lay you across my knee and give you a good hiding", her eyes glared daggers into the side of his head as he continued to stare at Y/N's fingers, unmoving on top of his.
"I'm sorry Pol, I just can't... I just can't stand the thought of having the hope there that she'll show me she's okay if she never actually...", he stopped dead in his tracks.
His mouth dropped open and his gaze widened in shock as Y/N's fingers started to slowly lift upwards before coming back down to rest on top of his fingers, trying to curl themselves around his.
"Y/N? It's okay, I'm here. You're safe", he placed his free hand over hers and leant over to kiss her head, the bruises still prominent, "I'm sorry Y/N, I'm so fucking sorry".
Tommy couldn't hold back the tears that were coming and let them spill out to fall down her cheeks, the overwhelming burst of relief he felt within his soul was like nothing he could explain. 
Polly stood with a hand over her mouth, a smile beneath her fingers. 
"T-T-Tommy?..."
Did she just speak?
His head shot up, eyes wide in disbelief. When he caught the first glimpse of her face he could see that her eyes were slightly open. Her eyeballs had red spots on them where blood vessels had burst, either from the pressure of being strangled or from the numerous hits to the face she'd sustained. He tried to hide the shock that hit him and gently cradled her face with both hands, careful not to press down on the discoloured blotches that lay beneath them.
"You're awake, you're... I-I can't believe it", he stuttered, scanning her face for any kind of expression.
"Y-you... w-w-were... late", she croaked.
It was almost as if he'd taken a stab to the chest as her words met his ears and the guilt came flooding back.
"I know, I'm so, so sorry Y/N, I really am. I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for this, not for as long as I live"
He stifled a sniff as his tears continued, a sob escaping his lips as his face screwed up into pure anguish.
"I-it's... okay", she murmered, taking a deep breath, "do-don't be... s-sorry... I-I'm j-just... glad i-it w-wasn't... you"
"No sweetheart, no. It's not okay, none of this is okay. Because of me, you're lying here in a hospital bed, completely black and blue with internal injuries and broken bones, all because I got too cocky and tried to challenge that fucker. I swear to you, Y/N. I'm gonna put a bullet between his eyes for this, he's not going to get away with it".
He brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face and she smiled softly, the memory of him doing to same back in The Garrison just before she'd left him that day, just before all of this happened…
"H-he said t-t-to... g-give you a... m-message..."
"No, shh shh, it's okay. You don't need to tell me anything right now, you need to rest and get better. You can hardly speak. Tell me anything you need to when you start to feel better. All I care about right now is that I have you, here, alive. No amount of money nor business could come close to how happy I am right at this very moment"
Two Days Later
She'd been awake more frequently over the next couple of days with each day being better than the last. Her bruises had now started to turn a lighter shade of blue with greens and browns dotted through them and the bleeding and swelling on her brain had improved significantly. 
The doctors were stunned at how well she was doing, they half expected her to die within the first few days she'd arrived at the hospital. 
"How are you feeling today?", Tommy asked as he stroked her hair from his position on the edge of the bed.
"A bit be-tter than yesterday", she softly smiled. She couldn't deny that she still felt like absolute shit and that every time she breathed it felt like she was trying to push air through a straw, but she was just relieved that she'd survived this whole ordeal, "Can you h-help me sit up a b-bit please?"
He instantly stood and gently swooped an arm beneath her legs and the other behind her back, carefully lifting her up before sitting her back down on the bed and repositioning her pillows behind her against the headboard. She winced with the motion but tried her best to hide it. She already knew that Tommy had so much guilt eating him up inside, it almost felt like if she showed him that she was in any kind of pain that it was a reminder of how much he'd fucked up.
"Is that okay?"
She nodded slowly, aware of her aching neck with every slight movement.
"Good, it's nice to see you looking a bit more like yourself", he smiled, his eyes studying every inch of her face.
"Sabini t-told me to tell y-you t-that he's coming for y-you next and that I-if you want to take o-over his race tracks then you're gonna h-have to fight for it... I'm s-scared, Tommy"
Tommy moved his chair closer to the bed, so close that his knees were touching the side of the frame, and took her hand in his.
"I promise you Y/N, you have nothing to be scared about. I know that I broke my promise before about being on time and it cost both of us more than I thought possible, but I swear to you, right here, right now in this moment, I won't let that fucker come near you ever again"
A response to that seemed impossible. Of course she wanted to believe her own husband but when he'd already broken one promise, one that had ultimatley almost led to her death, how could she possibly believe that he'd keep this one?
He could see her thoughts running round her mind, her eyebrows furrowing and mouth twitching like she didn't know what to say.
"Look, I know I fucked up massively. I will never be able to explain to you how sorry I am and I'd understand completely if you didn't want to be with me any more, but please believe that I will do everything in power from here on out to make sure that you're safe"
He was almost scared to hear what she was going to say. Did she want to leave him? Was he destined to lose his wife, not by death this time, but from the sheer fact she didn't think he could keep her safe?
"I-I could n-never leave you, T-Tommy Shelby", she smiled, her lips curving up into her bruised cheeks. 
Tommy stood up and brushed his lips against hers, laying a tender kiss upon them before pulling back slightly, enough to still feel her breath on his face.
"Just p-promise me one m-more thing", she spoke, looking into his eyes.
"Anything"
"Don't ever be l-late again"
He grinned, the twinkle in his eyes that she hadn't seen since waking up returning once more.
"I promise"
———
To be added to tag list, click here
Tagged: @peakypoet @moral-terpitude @lyarr24 @cillmequick @mrkdvidal1989 @shelbydelrey @alasya16 @tommystargirl @elenavampire21 @adaydreamaway08 @slaypussypop-21 (unable to tag) @bluesongbird @zablife @cljordan-imperium @look-at-the-soul @rangerelik @helen06dreamer @cyphah (unable to tag) @boobooquicksilver
3K notes · View notes
brummiereader · 2 months
Text
MASTERLIST
Unchained Melody (Part One)
Tumblr media
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" .
Tumblr media
"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
793 notes · View notes
queenshelby · 10 months
Text
Business As Usual (Part Three)
Pairing: Dark!Thomas Shelby x Wife!Reader
Warning: Dubious Consent, Reluctant Smut, Loss of Virginity, Arranged Marriage, Religious Themes, Angst, Termination, Pregnancy 
Words: 3,500
NOTE: THIS IS MUCH DARKER THAN WHAT I USUALLY WRITE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
Tumblr media
*** The Consummation of Marriage***
“Alright Love. Why the fuck not” Tommy said as his gaze dropped.
“You will give me the US division of the business?” you ought to clarify before retreating slightly and placing your half empty glass onto the nearby study desk.
“What fucking choice do I have, eh?” Tommy then asked and, by this point, he was already awfully close to you.
“Okay. Right. Now, should I get myself ready so that…” you then stammered a little nervously, causing Tommy to furrow his eyebrows.
“Ready for what?” he wondered and, again, you nervously stammered out an explanation.
“We just talked about this, Thomas” you began to say but he interrupted you.
“We did, and I do not want to draw this out for any longer than I have to. Let’s just get it over and done with, eh?” Tommy asked and, of course, you agreed.
“That’s perfectly fine by me” you thus said, trying to appear confident whereas, the truth was, that you were not.
“Good” Tommy said. “Now, turn around” he ordered and this caught you by surprise.
“Excuse me?” you asked as you weren’t sure what he wanted you to do.
“Turn around. It will be quicker that way” he then said and, again, you nodded, this time more reluctantly than before.
“Sure” you said almost nervously before turning around and placing your palms on to the large desk now in front of you, waiting for what was to come next.
But, what came next surprised you as, suddenly, you felt your husband’s hands on your back, pushing your upper body down until your clothed breasts laid flat against the cold oak.
And then his weight was against your back, his hands on your hips, and you began to wonder how someone so lean could be so strong when you felt it.
“Are you sure about this Love?” he then asked again and affirmed that this was indeed what you wanted.
“I am sure, although I didn’t expect it to happen quite like this” you then told him and Tommy chuckled slightly.
“Listen Love, you asked me to make it quick and I can assure you that it will be quick, but only if we do it my way. I have no desire to make love to you. I will simply fuck you and then I will be on my way. Now, do I have your consent?” Tommy then asked and you, again, gave your consent.
“Yes. You have my consent” you said, holding back your tears just as your husband bunched your skirt up in his hands and pulled it up.
“Your ass is actually not that bad” Tommy then said almost cheekily while you gasped at the sudden feeling of air on your upper thighs as he flipped the fabric over your back, exposing your lace covered panties.
“Just shut up and do what you need to do” you responded while still fighting your tears. You were glad that he couldn’t see your face like this as, clearly, you had no intention of appearing vulnerable to him.
“I was just giving you a compliment Love” Tommy chuckled before, in one hard move, he pulled your underwear all the way down your thighs.
“I don’t need compliments from you, although a warning would have been nice” you gasped as you moved away from him slightly but Tommy quickly grabbed your hips and adjusted your position again.
He brought you further back towards him and yanked your legs apart slightly before instructing you to stay still.
“Don’t move” he growled just before his hand went right in between your legs and he ran a finger through your slit.
You winced at his touch and, whilst it felt interesting to be touched by someone else other than yourself, you were not aroused and were not quite sure what he was looking for but whatever it was, he did not find it.
“You're barely wet at all, Love” Tommy then said just as you heard the clink of his belt being undone.
“Am I meant to be?” you asked as, by now, your heart threatened to fly out of your chest.
“Considering the circumstances, probably not” Tommy then said while undoing his zipper and pushing down his pants and brief in go.
Unlike you, he was aroused but then again, getting aroused was not exactly difficult for him. He was a sex driven individual and visited local brothels quite frequently for easy and problem free relief.
Thus, he was also rather experienced and knew what needed to be done for a woman to enjoy herself although, with you, he seemingly couldn’t be bothered as, without loosing any time, he licked his fingers before applying his saliva onto your somewhat dry core so that he could penetrate you more easily.
It was at this time that, finally, the tears came in full force and, after Tommy removed his hand from you, you felt something hot and hard parting the lips of your slit.
It felt strange to say the least and you always expected your first time to be different and romantic in a way. You might have never been with a man, but you were a woman grown and had touched yourself before which, too, felt different.
At times, you even slid your own fingers inside of your body, but nothing compared to this as your husband pushed against your opening.
Now, all you could feel was burning until, eventually, your pussy gave in with a surge of pain.
You bit your tongue, teeth clenching, as Tommy penetrated you from behind and the tears did not stop, which luckily for you, he couldn’t see.
“Fuck Love, you are tight” Tommy said as you felt every painful centimetre of his cock being forced into you. The sensation was like sandpaper against your insides as, unceremoniously, you felt him ripping through your maidenhead.
The pain was a stab all the way from the innermost parts of you and, just as you swallowed your gasp, your knees began to give way.
There was no getting out of this now so you closed your eyes, clenched your jaw, and tried to just get through it.
Eventually, you felt Tommy’s hips touch your rear while, at the same moment, you felt him reach something deep inside your core.
“Please, just hurry up. I am not exactly enjoying this” you pleaded as Tommy ground his hips against you while the head of his cock nestled against your cervix, sending another wave of pain across your abdomen.
“It would be easier if you were stop moving around” Tommy then told you as he pulled out slightly and then pushed back in, hitting that spot inside again.
Every time he bottomed out inside of you, Tommy groaned but all you could register was the hard wall against your front and the burning ache in your privates growing momentarily sharp every time he thrust, even though he was not rough or too fast. In and out, in and out, dry drag and burning push, until a few minutes later the pain began to dull just the slightest bit, which you supposed meant your body had finally caught up and decided to help.
After a while, Tommy had picked up a little speed, with the new aid of your wetness. The pain in your entrance dulled slightly and left your vividly aware of the pain of that spot inside, low in your stomach.
“Just a little bit more Love. I am almost there” he groaned and panted behind you but you could not say anything and simply tried to focus on something else.
Somewhere in the pain and the shame, you felt lost. You just wanted this to be over and, luckily for you, after just a few minutes of thrusting in and of you, Tommy was close. The sounds he made were growing more and more heated and, by what you could feel inside of you, Tommy had began to really pick up speed now.
"I'm close” he eventually said. His voice was hoarse by now, near a pan and, with all the pain, you had no words left.
Eventually though you cried out inadvertently as, with one deep thrust, Tommy groaned loudly and hilted himself all the way inside. He forced his cock into you hardly and the force pushed you on your toes, stabbing that spot inside of you with all his might.
“Fuck” he groaned as he came and you knew that had spilled himself inside of you as you felt the wicked warmth of his cum spreading across your burning walls.
When he was done, he sighed. He was content and spent and, after a few moments, he rocked his hips. And again. Slowly, gently, a little thrust, then another, pushing his seed deeper inside of you.
You whined. The pain might have dulled, but it hadn't stopped and, when he finally pulled out of you, you sighed with relief whereas Tommy, on the other hand, was met with shock and regret.
“Fuck Y/N! Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked almost angrily as he noticed the streaks of blood that had mixed with his cum, covering both his cock and your pussy.
“Tell you what?” you asked after wiping your tears away.
“That I am your first! Fuck! I would have been…” Tommy yelled after cleaning himself off, pulling up his pants and slamming his fist onto the desk just before you interrupted him.
“You would have been more careful or little bit gentle perhaps?” you chuckled, wiping away the tears that you were unable to hold back.
“Yes. Obviously” Tommy sighed before handing you his handkerchief. Let’s talk about this” he then said but you shook your head.
“Talk about what? There is nothing to talk about Thomas! It had to be done and I didn’t want you to have pity on me. This is a business transaction now. No more and no less” you told him and this comment you made irritated him even more.
“Fine” he said before walking towards the door. “You are fucking insane, you know that? Perhaps Pol was wrong about you” Tommy then spat and slamming the door behind him as he left.
Just as he had left however, you just cried against the wall, trying to ignore the warm wet feeling inside of you and trying to ignore his words.
Did he actually care about you? Did you, just perhaps, push him too far?
*** Backflash to Wedding Reception ***
For some reason, you despised him and it was your new aunt Pol who had given you hope just after you told her that you may as well be dead. Obviously, she spoke with your husband as well and this made you wonder.
Polly Gray was her name and she assured you during the wedding reception that Thomas was not as terrible as you had thought. According to her, your new husband was known to do bad things to a good end and him marrying you was just that.
He tried to look after his family and the business by making this deal and, according to her, he offered your family many things in order to get out of this marriage, all of which they refused.
“It must be a mafia thing” she said as she knew that your mother and uncles wanted him to marry your older sister but ended up marrying you instead. You wanted to protect her after all she had been through in the past and you knew that, even though you were the youngest sibling in your family, you were also the mature and smartest.
Your father had always called you a “gifted fighter” and told you that, unfortunately for your family, neither your brother nor your cousins or uncles possessed what it took to run this business.
He wanted to take his drug and liquor empire to another level and this was exactly where Thomas Shelby came into the picture.
Unbeknownst to you, Thomas and your father had worked together for more than six years after Thomas killed a man by the name of Luca Changratta.
Luca Changratta was a rival business man who did what Tommy was doing now, and it was your father who had put the mechanisms into place to unite the families following his death. It was a smart thing to do as the Shelbies weren’t Italian and, just like your father, aunt Polly told you that Thomas was a man of his word.
“You will see that he won’t bother you much Love. He will not touch you unless you want him to and you will have all the luxuries you can imagine” Polly said before realising herself that this is not what you wanted.
“I don’t like being reduced to someone’s wife and I certainly don’t care about diamonds and pretty dresses” you explained before telling her outright that it was your father’s business that you were after.
“Then make this marriage work to your advantage. Tommy is a business man and you may work well together” she told you but you shook your head.
“I doubt that very much. The sheer fact that he married me for financial gain means that our values do not align” you explained while taking yet another sip from your glass of champagne.
“That may not be true Y/N. Unlike your family, my family likes to empower women and, if you go about it the right way, then perhaps you can work with us as part of our company as well as your father’s company” Polly explained but, again, you shook your head.
“My uncles won’t allow that” you chuckled, seeing that, at least in your family, women were frowned upon.
“With Tommy being part of your family now, they will soon realise that they have lost all authority over their businesses. He has his ways of making people bend to his will and, if you play your cards right, they will bend to yours also” Polly then suggested and you wondered why she was being so nice to you.
“Why are you telling me this?” you thus asked and she explained.
“Because you are smart and us women need to work together in order to conquer the world” she told you and this well and truly made you smile for the first time that night.
“Well Miss Gray, you are quite unlike any other woman I have met”
“Call me Polly, Love. We are family now”
“Not quite yet. There is still one thing that has to be done which I am not looking forward to”
“Tommy wouldn’t lay a hand on you Love”
“If he want’s this marriage then, I am afraid, he will have to” you told your new aunt just as the clock stroke nine and the announcement was made that the ceremony was about to come to end.
It was now time for you to consummate the union with your new husband while the guests had the option to leave the party or stay in the function hall of your new mansion, which was located just outside of London.
“You must be joking?” your aunt asked as your mother asked her elected witness to come forward and you quickly managed to down a glass of whiskey at this point.
“No, I am afraid not. It’s a tradition that came to fruition a few hundred years ago and for some fucked up reason it is still practised by my family and their congregation to this day” your explained a slightly tipsy state, knowing that you needed alcohol to get through this.
“That’s ironic really, considering that your very own family uses the churches in Boston and Chicago to store their cocaine. Surely, they can’t be that fanatic” Polly exclaimed just as Tommy came by, followed right by the woman who was your long standing family doctor.
“What is going?” Tommy asked, causing Polly to grin.
“Apparently you get to consummate your marriage now, so have fun” she joked, but Tommy simply rolled his eyes.
“Funny” he said before trying to walk off again, which is when you reached for his hand.
“She isn’t joking I am afraid” you sighed before making Tommy follow you to your material bedroom.
*** The Present Day ***
And there you were, crying again, as the memories of recent weeks came crawling back into your mind.
You recalled your rather painful wedding night and how your husband left the house for an entire week thereafter without even bothering to introduce you to his son.
You recalled how your very own husband then decided not to keep his promise to you. He took away the import and export division of your business and, instead, he put a woman called Laura Manning into charge. Now, he was even sleeping with her and, whilst you did not mind him sleeping with whores, this was the ultimate betrayal for you.  
And then, finally, you recalled that horrible morning two weeks ago, when you woke up nauseous and unable to eat.
It was that same awful morning that you found out that you were with child and you never told anyone, not even your husband.
There was only one person who knew and this was the man you trusted more than those in your own family. He was a doctor in London and you had worked with him on several charity projects downtown, including a new hospital that had been sponsored by the Grace Shelby Foundation.
Charity work kept you sane as it was the only kind of work your husband permitted you to do and it was now also the kind of work that made you befriend this stranger named Frank.
But even Frank refused to help you now and you knew that, what you were asking him to do, was illegal.
You had asked him to terminate your pregnancy. You could not bear carrying Thomas Shelby’s child after all he had done to you but there was no one who was willing to take the risk and carry out this dangerous procedure.
In the same vein, you also wanted a divorce but there was also no lawyer who was willing to take the case and your husband was very well aware of that.
You were stuck and wondered whether, somehow, you could go away and leave this life behind after just a few weeks but then you thought about it again.
You were much stronger than that and you knew that you would not allow a man to ruin you.
You were a “gifted fighter” and putting up a fight was what you were going to do.
***
With that in mind, you made your way to London and, in London, you sought out a woman who you knew nothing about. Her name was Elizabeth Stark and, just a year ago, she divorced your very own husband.
You wrote to her after finding out about your pregnancy and she agreed to meet with you after having had a letter delivered to you through Frank’s address.
She was cautious, of course, but she also knew that you needed her help and possibly some guidance.
When you met her in a café, you were rather surprised. She was dressed nicely and looked incredibly attractive. She featured dark curly hair and her skin was white as snow.
“I am Y/N” you said, having recognised her from the photographs which you found in Tommy’s office.
“Call me Lizzie” she said after offering you a seat.
“You are much younger than I had expected. I am truly surprised that Tommy…you know…never mind…” she then acknowledged and, of course, it was at this point that you told her that your marriage to Tommy didn’t came about out of love. It was a marriage that had formed part of a business deal and this information made Lizzie sigh deeply.
“It’s never love for Tommy. He loved Grace but he isn’t going to love anyone else and the sooner you realise that, the happier you will be. Tommy is all about business and money and fucking whores. He won’t ever care about you just as he never really cared about me” Lizzie then explained with great frustration and you couldn’t help but feel a little relieved about hearing this from someone else. According to her, he married her because she was pregnant with his child and felt as though it was the right thing to do for his political image.
“What happened to your child?” you asked and, as you did, Lizzie broke out in tears.
“Our daughter died of consumption and fucking Tommy…” she began to say before gathering her thoughts. “Don’t ever have children with him. He loves them, but wherever he goes, there will always be danger” she then warned you and you immediately shed a few tears as well.
“I am pregnant” you admitted. “I don’t want to be, but I am. I don’t know what to do” you then sobbed and Lizzie took your hands into hers.
“Do you want to terminate?” she asked gently and you nodded.
“No one will do it. They are all too afraid of Tommy” you explained, crying.
“I know someone who will do it, but you can never tell Tommy, understood?” Lizzie asked and, of course, you nodded again.
To be continued…
Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!
Tag List
@fastfan
@elenavampire21
@dolllol2405
@allie131313
@cilliansangel
@coldbastille
@kpopgirlbtssvt
@cdej6
@kathrinemelissa
@landlockedmermaid77
@crazymar15
@damedomino  
@lauren-raines-x
@miss-bunny19
@skinny-bitch-juice
@odorinana
@cloudofdisney
@weepingstudentfishhorse
@allexiiisss
@geminiwolves
@letsstarsfalling
@ysmmsy
@chlorrox
@tommyshelbypb
@chocolatehalo
@music-lover911
@desperate-and-broken
@mysticaldeanvoidhorse
@peaky-cillian
@lelestrangerandunusualdeetz
@december16-1991
@captivatedbycillianmurphy
@romanogersendgame
@randomfangirl2718
@missymurphy1985
@peakyscillian
@lilymurphy03
@deefigs
@theflamecrystal
@livinginfantaxy
@rosey1981
@hanster1998
@fairypitou
@zozeebo
@kasaikawa
@littleweirdoalien
@sad-huffle-nerd
@theflamecrystal
@0ghostwriter0
@stylescanbeatmyback
@1-800-peakyblinders
@datewithgianni
@momoneymolife
@mcntsee
@janelongxox
@basiclassy
@being-worthy
@chaotic-bean-of-smolness
@margoo0
@vhscillian
@crazymar15
@im-constantly-fangirling
@namelesslosers
@littlewhiterose
@ttzamara
@cilleveryone
@peaky-cillian
@severewobblerlightdragon
@dolllol2405
@pkab
@babaohhhriley
@littleweirdoalien
@alreadybroken-ts
@masteroperator
@stevie75
@shabzy96
@rainbow12346
@obsessedwithfandomsx
@geeksareunique
@laysalespoir
@paigem00
@lkarls
@vamp-army
@luckystarme
@myjumper
@gxorg
@eline-1806
@goldenharrysworld
@cristinagronk16
@stylesofloki
@faatxma
@slut-for-matt-murdock
@tpwkstiles
@myjumper
@cloudofdisney
@look-at-the-soul
@smellyzcat
@kittycatcait219
@theliterarybeldam
@being-worthy
@layazul
@lyn07
@kagilmore
@50svibes
@mainstreetlilly
@ourthatgirlabby
@bitchwhytho
@takethee
@registerednursejackie
@sofi128
@mrkdvidal1989
@minxsblog
@heidimoreton
@laylasbunbunny
@laylasbunbunny
@queenshelby
@camilleholland89
@forgottenpeakywriter
@vintagecherryt
@indierockgirrl
@mrkdvidal1989
@bluesongbird
@dudde-44
@gasolinesavages
@kissforvoid
@bluebird592
@1eugenia1isabella1
@esposadomdp
@lulunalua23
@lovelace42
@bookklover23
@iwantmyredvelvetcupcake
@moonmaiden1996
@marlenamallowan
@cyphah (cannot tag)
@majesticcmey
@cleverzonkwombatsludge
@throughgoeshamilton
@alessioayla
@elenavampire21
@justforfiction
@cilliansangel
@alannielaraye
@satellitelh
@pandoramyst
@duckybird101
@snixx2088
@kylianswag
@alessioayla
@pono-pura-vida
@iraisbored69
@howling-wolf97
@aesthetic0cherryblossom
@weirdo-rules
@lovemissyhoneybee
@dazaiscum
@esposadomd
@etherealkistar
@ur--mommy
@throughgoeshamilton
@celverzonkwombatsludge
@cyphah
@atomicsouldcollecto
2K notes · View notes
tshelbyfics · 20 days
Text
can't fool me anymore
tommy shelby x reader
Tumblr media
synopsis: you and tommy were inseparable when you were young but after the war, things are no longer the same, thomas shelby is no longer the same. the man you used to love disappeared into the ashes and this man now no longer loves you but the beautiful blonde woman... or so you thought
warnings/info: angst, mentions of weapons, death and murder, thomas shelby being bad, inspired by a scene from peaky blinders: season two, grace burgess is present in this fanfic, SMUT | 18+ ONLY (MINORS DNI)
Before the war
You straddle Thomas, who lets out a small moan as you rub against his hard cock beneath his trousers. You repeat the action, moving your hips back and forth, feeling a growing warmth in your private parts. It hadn't been less than an hour since you'd arrived at Shelby's little house to hang out with your boyfriend, and hanging out meant fucking for a few hours and then talking into the wee hours of the morning.
You were simply two young people unable to control your desires.
“Will you miss me?” You say between shaky breaths. Tommy grabs your hips and forces you to rub harder against him. “Will you miss me when you're at war? Alone, without my company, without being able to touch me” You remove your white shirt, revealing that you are not wearing a bra and your small tits are the focus of Thomas's attention, who at such a sight feels the presemen wet his trousers and underwear. “Without being able to fuck me”
He grunts before answering you. “I'll miss you every fucking day, sweetheart. And when I come back I'll make you my wife and give you the life you've always deserved. Everything will change when I get back from the war.”
You stand still over him, thinking about his words. “Well, I hope you really do come back and when you do, promise me that things will change but that you will still be the same man I love,” he stares at you, paying attention to your words, as always. “Promise me, Tom.”
Tommy swallows saliva and then nods slowly, “I promise, now let me fuck you properly, eh.”
You nod with a slightly embarrassed smile, you're still not used to Thomas talking to you like this, you've been friends all your lives and you've only been dating for two years. You both take off your clothes until you are naked in body and soul and without waiting a second longer you let each other be one, allowing each other to feel every atom of the other. You move up and down, letting Thomas move in and out of you and the first moment you are distracted he grabs you tightly and pulls you under him, taking total control of your body and your arousal.
He thrusts into you in one powerful thrust, making you moan and cry out in lust.
“Shit, Tom,” you cry out with a moan as he thrusts into you again with the same force, reaching deep inside your walls and grazing your G-spot.
You wrap your legs around his hips and raise your hands to the wall behind you to cushion his thrusts, thinking that this will stop the bed from bumping against the wall, causing an annoying noise to the other members of the house, but Thomas speeds up his penetrations and try as you might the bed moves to your beat and you can do nothing to stop it.
“When I'm at war I'll remember this, you moaning beneath me as I fuck you, feeling your delicate lips squeezing my cock,” Thomas stares down at you, seeing your flushed cheeks and your tits bouncing up and down, “Fuck, I'll miss fucking you so much, baby.”
His thick cock fucks you hard and mercilessly, you start to see stars as Thomas stops and pulls out inside you, frowning and your body all sweaty you let out a moan of protest but your boyfriend laughs at your reaction.
“Face down, love. Now.”
He grabs your hips to lift your arse a little and then you feel his sweaty chest against your back, and his cock brushes against your entrance but stays there, leaving you totally aroused and frustrated to have your longed for orgasm. Thomas moves the hair on your right side out of the way to press his mouth against your ear and that's when he enters your wet pussy and grunts in your ear. His hard cock thrusts in and out of you in slow thrusts, causing uncontrolled sighs to escape your mouth but when your boyfriend braces his hands and presses his forehead against your right shoulder to speed up his penetrations there is no way to keep quiet.
“Fuck yes,” you say so loudly you're embarrassed, but it wasn't you who was controlling your screams, it was Thomas as he fucks you harder.
Now the noises in the small room of the Shelby's house were unbearable, the bed banging against the wall louder than before, your screams of pleasure, the skins crashing against each other, plus the grunts and gasps of Thomas Shelby were irritating to some people and the brother named John of the Shelby's was already tired to hearing those annoyances so he walks up to the door of his older brother's room and bangs on it with his fists.
“Tommy, stop making so much noise!” he yells.
You shut up and ask Thomas to stop but instead he drags a hand to your swollen clit and touches it shamelessly, you forget about John and go back to moaning without fear of being heard by your boyfriend's little brother.
Hearing that sensual moan, John feels a surge of arousal and feels guilty about it. He knocks loudly on the door again, but this time Tommy loses his patience.
“Fuck off, John!” He yells and goes back to focusing on fucking his girlfriend.
With Thomas rubbing your clit as his cock pumped in and out of your pussy it was enough to bring you to orgasm, you scream against his old pillow and go into a trance from which you come out when you hear Tom moan your name in your ear and then cum, staining your back with his cum.
“Wait here, don't move,” he says and pulls out of you.
After a few seconds you feel him wipe you with a cloth and then he asks you to turn over. With your back against the mattress you can see your boyfriend's face all flushed and his hair sticking to his forehead.
He looks at your still wet pussy and points to it with a nod of his head. “Spread your legs,” you obey and Tommy wipes you there too and walks back across his room naked to leave the cloth on a piece of furniture.
When he comes back to you, you move to the side of the bed, making room for him, and he lies down, grabbing a blanket to cover you both. Then he bends his head towards you and kisses you tenderly. Suddenly the lust leaves your body, and your main concern returns to your brain and you find it impossible not to ignore it.
“I'm afraid, Tom” You break the silence in the room.
He frowns as he looks at you. “Afraid of what?”
“That you won't come back, that I'm alone in this horrible place. I'm afraid I won't see you again.” You bring a hand to his right cheek, stroking it.
“That won't happen, I'll come back. I'll come back to you like I always do.”
You shake your head, you know him pretty well and you know he's a hard head. “Please don't do anything stupid, don't take a bullet for someone who doesn't deserve it, don't risk your life trying to seek justice or defend someone, Thomas. This war is not a muddy alley fight.”
Tommy sees the worry on your face and wraps his arms around your body, hugging you. “I won't, stay calm, eh?.” He kisses you again and then presses his forehead to yours, “And I'll come home, I'm sure of it.”
~ Our innocence mowed us down and we were slaves to our youth. Will I be the same person in five years? I wondered, but my anxiety was silenced for the first time and there was no answer.
At present day
The rainy and dark days were your favourite days in Birmingham because they showed the harsh reality of this sad and dirty city, it was like seeing the soul of a devil without any shield as a defence. Your boots were stained with mud while your hair and your whole body were wet from the humidity of the day but you didn't mind at all, you had been working all morning and afternoon at the Shelby family's betting house, your boyfriend had made a thousand demands on you all day and now that you were finally done with it all you needed a drink to reflux your throat.
As you are about to reach the Garrison tavern your steps are interrupted by a burly body, a gentleman with a moustache and hat staring at you. You too and your jaw clenches, this is the third time in ta month that Inspector Campbell has tried to talk to you, to chat with you about things that don't interest you at all.
“Good evening, miss, are you going somewhere in such a hurry?”
His irritating voice enters your ears and you take a deep breath, trying to calm your anger.
“Yes, I'm going somewhere in a great hurry, Mr. Campbell. Sure, if you'll get out of my way and stop bothering me.”
His smirk is wiped off his mouth within seconds of hearing your words. “You should be more careful what you say, miss. Because if you don't...”
“Because if not what, you'll kill me? I advise you not to do anything to me or else Tom will take care of you,” You say firmly.
He smirks again. “I'm not afraid of Thomas Shelby, besides, from what I understand he doesn't care so much for you anymore, evil tongues say he no longer loves madly the young woman he left in this town to go to war. In fact, they say he ignores her and treats her like a servant since he arrived from France, am I wrong?”
When the inspector realises how sad you look, he continues with his crude words, “Thomas Shelby doesn't care about you, if I were to kill you right now and throw you into a canal, he would be relieved to finally be rid of the woman who haunts him, begging for their dead love. Because let me tell you, if he really cared about you he wouldn't have cheated on you with the thousands of whores he slept with while he was at war, if he cared about you he wouldn't be sleeping with Lizzie Stark, your best friend, every weekend and lastly, if he cared about you he wouldn't be right now, sleeping with the pretty blonde barmaid at the Garrison tavern, where you go every day to get drunk to drown your sorrows.”
By the time he finishes speaking your tears run down your cheeks like a river, you can't believe what he is saying, you don't want to believe him. Lizzie Stark was your childhood best friend, how could she do this to you? A sharp pain in your chest keeps you from breathing normally. And Tommy, when he came back he told you that he hadn't been with any woman, that he only loved you, now you understood why when he said those words he had his eyes down, he was lying to you. He has lied to you all this time, telling you that he needed time to think about your relationship but that he still loved you. Suddenly, a rage sweeps through your body.
You look at the man in front of you. “Where does she live?” you ask, wanting to see for yourself.
“If I take you to where they are together you will have to do me a favour in return.”
You hesitate to get involved with this man, but then you think: what difference does it make, I can't lose anything anymore, I've lost everything in a few seconds, my best friend, my boyfriend and my self-esteem.
“What do you want in return?”
“I want you to tell me where Tommy Shelby is hiding the guns, tell me and I'll take you to the house.”
“No. Take me to the house and I'll tell you where the guns are, otherwise no deal.”
He nods and starts walking. “Alright, follow me”
After a few minutes you are in front of the house that the barmaid rents, through the curtains you can see the shadows of her and Thomas fucking, your heart breaks at that moment and your tears come again, you love that man, he gave you happiness all your life but now you were broken and sad because of him, the person you trusted the most. The inspector appears behind you proudly, he had finally managed to break you, to make you vulnerable to get information out of you, to confirm if Grace's information was true, as he didn't trust her since she slept with the criminal he hated so much.
“So, where are the guns?”
You take another deep breath and turn around to look at him and as you wipe away your tears you say, “In the graveyard, inside Daniel Owen's grave.”
And with nothing more to say, you walk off until you reach the Garrison tavern, where only Arthur and John are there, drinking and playing cards as usual.
“Oi! sis, come play with us!”
Arthur yells at you but you shake your head in his direction and walk behind the bar to grab a bottle of whiskey that Tommy forbids you to drink but you didn't give a shit anymore what that man wanted you to do, for the first time in your life you would be free and you wouldn't be someone's shadow anymore, you wouldn't be the stupid woman waiting for Thomas Shelby like a dog anymore. That's over. You uncork the bottle and without a second thought you take a big gulp, burning your throat, this is what you needed, get drunk to forget, get drunk to ignore your pain, you take another deep drink and walk away from the bar to approach the Shelby brothers who look at you with raised eyebrows, surprised at your behaviour.
“Fuck, love, what the fuck happened to you and what are you trying to forget by drinking that expensive whiskey, ey?” This time John speaks to you and pulls the toothpick he always chews on out of his mouth, starting to worry about you.
You point the bottle at him. “You know, when you told me you were in love with me at 17 I should have left Thomas and been with you, maybe with you I wouldn't be as unhappy as I am now.”
John and Arthur are shocked by your words, your behaviour was strange and your puffy, red eyes gave clear evidence that you have been crying, a lot. And that's when they realise that their brother has done something very bad like seeing you like this, so broken, so unlike you.
“What happened, love, what did Tommy do to you?” Arthur asks you worriedly, laying his cards on the table.
When you are about to answer the doors of the tavern open again and in the middle of it a recognizable face appears, a face you used to love but now it was just a strange face to you, Tommy slowly approaches the woman of his life, when he sees your disheveled hair, your puffy eyes and your lost look he gets worried but instead of acting like he used to do he puts an invisible wall between you, the same one he has built since he came back from the war and that he created because he was ashamed of the man he was. Because he was no longer the same man you loved, he was a completely different man, he had broken the promise he had made to you before he left and he would never forgive himself. So instead of asking you if you're okay, he points to the bottle of whisky between your fingers.
“What did I tell you about drinking that whisky, eh?”
Indignant at his words you set the bottle down on the table to your left and stare at him with a hatred that would make Thomas Shelby himself tremble, that look he doesn't know, you have always looked at him with love, admiration and adoration but never with hatred. You clench your fists and surprising the whole room you raise your hand and your fist goes straight into the face of the man you used to love. Thomas touches his cheek where your punch landed, feeling pain but not only physically but also mentally, it's over, his deceptions are over and consequently he loses what he loves most in the world. You shake your hand because your bones ache but no that was nothing compared to the pain you felt from his deception and that pain wouldn't go away with a simple shake.
“You're the worst disease that ever happened to me. You can cheat on me with every whore in this town, but Lizzie? My best friend?” Thomas looks down regretfully but there is no turning back now. You move closer to him until you're face to face, nose to nose. “Lift your head up and look me in the eye” When he finally does so you speak the words you have been holding back for a long time, “You can't fool me anymore with your lies and promises because you're dead to me Thomas Shelby.”
You step back and walk out of the Garrison tavern, leaving your past life buried, leaving behind the love you used to blindly believe in.
~ Your promises flew away, going so far that even you couldn't reach them. Tell me love, at what point did we become these monsters?
Two years later
You watch as he and his beautiful wife move around the room, greeting their guests. Grace shows off her sapphire around her neck.
It had been two years since you and Thomas had been separated, well, you had been since he returned from the war, but that night at the Garrison tavern it was clear that there was nothing between you anymore, no love, no adoration. Not on your part, you had moved on with other men but for some strange reason they always moved away from you for no explainable reason, they just disappeared. That's why you kept your last relationship hidden from the eyes of the Shelby family, everything went well for a few months, you were even going to move in together but it all came to nothing when Thomas Shelby himself killed him, taking all his anger out on the man you were beginning to love. You cried for a whole day but not only because of the man's death but because you felt helpless, these two years you had tried everything to get away from Thomas Shelby, leaving the betting house and getting a simple job but a few days later you were fired by orders of the leader of Peaky Blinders, forcing you to work for him again. Then you tried to escape to a new city, to a new life, but once again the Peaky Blinders men caught you boarding the train and forbade the employees to let you on a train ever again.
You were not only unhappy being with him, but also without him, and you didn't know what to do.
Your thoughts are interrupted when the silhouette of the man you used to love enters your vision, if your mood was on the ground with him walking towards you it was now underground. Tommy notices how the expression on the face of the woman he loves changes to one of distaste when she sees him, a reaction he was unfortunately used to seeing.
“You came,” he says, settling in beside you.
“You didn't leave me, choice. Thomas” You take a swig of your champagne and set the glass down on the bar behind you. “You threatened me to come to this fucking event your stupid wife organised. She thinks she's in solidarity with the people and she's dating a gangster, it's a bit ironic don't you think?”
The Shelby nods, agreeing with your words but wouldn't ever say it out loud. “You're wearing the dress I bought you, you look beautiful in it.”
Your jaw clenches, he was still trying to woo you, even being married and it reminded you of the countless times he cheated on you with other women.
“What game are you playing, huh? Giving me dresses, flowers and a house, do you think that will make me forget that you cheated on me with my best friend, that you killed the only man who could really love me?”
Tommy regretted a lot of things he did to you, but one thing he would never regret doing was killing that Italian.
“I did it for your sake. The Italian family would never have accepted a gypsy like you.”
“A gypsy like me?” you ask, upset. “What the fuck do you mean by that?”
“You love your freedom, love. You love running on a horse, you love the cold air and you hate the concept of being a housewife and believe me you would have been very unhappy in that relationship.”
“More unhappy than I was with you? I don't think so.”
Your words hurt Thomas' heart, who finally stared at you, not knowing what to say. On the other hand you were surprised too, because most of your words were lies, you were not unhappy the first years of your relationship with him, in fact, it were the happiest years of your life. He was the love of your life, and what angered you the most was that a part of you still loved him, you still had hopes that your love was still alive somewhere in this twisted history but your thirst for revenge was stronger and you wanted Tommy to suffer in the same way that you suffered.
In the small atmosphere of you Grace approaches, as elegant and beautiful as ever, to grab her husband's arm and pull him away from your side.
“We already have to move to the other room for dinner, love.”
Grace looks at the woman she can never compete with, Thomas is still watching over you, worrying about you, feeling jealous of you, even being possessive of you. Something she could never achieve.
Tommy nods and walks away from you with his wife. You pick up your drink again to take the last drink but from a distance you see a man who worked for the man you were dating, you frown and suddenly the man pulls a gun out of his jacket and points it at Grace and Thomas. A panic enters your body, fearing for Tom's life.
“For Angel!” he shouts and his gaze focuses on you, changing the direction of his gun, now pointed at you.
Thomas for his part looks to where the gun is pointed and feels his greatest fear come true and before he can act the sound of a gun going off echoes throughout the room, stunning his ears.
You feel a sharp pain in your abdomen and the champagne glass you were holding falls to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces. You look down at your white dress, which soon has a rapidly growing pool of blood, suddenly you have no strength left in your legs and you fall to the floor. You look up at the ceiling full of luxury, you didn't want to die here, you didn't want to die in a place where you didn't belong, where you weren't happy.
Thomas runs to you and when he arrives he drops to his knees on the floor to see the blood pouring desperately from your stomach.
“I don't want to die, Tom, I don't want to die” You say with tears streaming down your face in despair.
“CALL A FUCKING AMBULANCE!” he screams as tears blur his vision, he puts pressure on your wound with his hand but to no avail as the blood continues to pour out. “No, no, no. Please don't.”
You look up at a tearful Thomas with tears streaming down his face and cough as you feel yourself choking, realising that it was blood coming out of your mouth. In the distance you hear Arthur beating the man to death, you hear Polly screaming in despair, Ada crying and John sending thousands of men for an ambulance, but it was too late, you start to lose feeling in parts of your body, first your toes, then your arms, then your neck and finally your eyelids fall off. Your last sense is hearing and you hear how Thomas cries desperately, grabbing your body, hugging it, but it's too late because from one second to the next you stop feeling everything and your heart stops beating.
“NOOOO! Come back to me, love.” Thomas clutches your lifeless body, cradling it against his chest and cries like never before in his life.
The Shelby family approaches where he is with what's left of you. Devastated at the sight of the pool of blood and your body in Tommy's arms.
“Leave me alone with her” Tommy says to his family but there is no response from them. So he looks up and looks down at them. “Please leave me alone.”
It didn't take another word from him for everyone to leave the room in a heartbeat, he looks back at you, tears already dried on your cheeks and blood on the side of your mouth. Dead, and all I could feel was guilt, because if I had never cheated on you, if I had never killed that Italian this would never have happened, and you would be alive. Thomas leaves a kiss on your forehead and caresses your face.
“I'm so sorry, love. I will never forgive myself, ever.”
He says and clings to your body, wishing he was dead too, because what little light there was in Thomas Shelby's soul died right then and there, with her in his arms. He knew full well that the consequences of his actions would one day take their toll on him, but he never imagined that the only thing that made him human would be taken from him, now he felt nothing but hatred for life and for himself. He walked away from you to take care of you but it was in vain, because everyone knew how much he loves you but you and now you will never know because you are gone forever. It's too much, too late to go home – Thomas thought as he looked at his beloved.
~ The floor was painted with my blood, your tears were not enough to save me in your fragile arms because of the pain you felt. And now you ask yourself, what have I done? and the answer is easy, baby. You killed me with your lies, what kind of man loves like this?.
a/n: english isn't my first language, so forgive me if there are spelling mistakes
766 notes · View notes
look-at-the-soul · 2 months
Text
Grandma knows best
Tommy Shelby x reader (+Grandma)
Summary: Thomas Shelby is a well known gánster, reckless, fearless, stubborn, restless… he might be a lot of things, but he wasn’t an inconsiderate man. Not specially with an elderly woman.
A/N: 🤷🏻‍♀️ grandmas definitely knows what’s best for us 👵🏻♥️✨ nothing but a fluff moment…
See the Grandma series here
Word count: 3,303
Tumblr media
Taking off you coat, you tried to rub your hands to warm them up. Announcing you just arrived, barely noticing an unfamiliar voice.
But to your surprise, once you stepped into the kitchen, you found the least person you thought that could ever be there.
The Small Heath devil, Thomas Shelby.
“Oh darling, there you are.” You grandma greeted you with a wide smile. “I was just telling Mr. Shelby about you.”
“Grandma.” You were paralyzed, frozen in spot.
Giving you a subtle double look, he had to force himself to compose, nothing your grandmother had said about you prepared him. Your beauty was beyond words. And over the last hour he had heard nothing but compliments and good things, he had to admit he had been curious about that young lady that seemed to be exceptional.
A long time ago you learned walking alone once is dark is a bad idea, but crossing your eyes with that man was worse.
“We haven’t done anything wrong Mr. Shelby…” you tried to explain as the man stared perplexed, his man spread as if he owed everything in that house.
“Sweetheart Mr. Shelby helped me with the groceries and bread, the basket was heavy and he offered to walk me home.”
Noticing the terror in your eyes, he cleared his throat.
“My job is done here Mrs. Barwick, it was lovely to meet you, thank you for the tea.”
Standing up, he grabbed his peaky cap, the razor blade caught the light and shone in your direction. But your grandmother had a different idea.
“What do you mean you’re leaving? You’ve to stay for dinner.”
“Absolutely not.” You rushed to interrupt. Looking down at the tone you just used to answer your grandma you mumbled an apology.
“I really appreciate the offer bu-”
“This is absurd, you can’t leave until you’ve had dinner Mr. Shelby, I must insist, and I need to know the rest of the story of that caravan trip you did.” She replied scolding him just like she did with you, in that motherly tone.
Frowning you looked from her, to the well known gánster. There was no way back now, he was staying for dinner.
“Now, would you like some more tea?” She offered to him, as Thomas opened his mouth to say no, your grandma filled the cup again. It looked ridiculous in his hand.
The most dangerous man in the country drinking tea from a cup decorated with flowers. ¡In your bloody kitchen!
Tumblr media
“Milk?” She offered, ignoring the fact that he could kill her anytime. You’ve heard all kinds of stories about him and the tortures he used among his enemies.
“Yes thank you.”
“Sweetheart, would you mind helping me here?” She pointed at the pot next to her knees, it was getting harder for her to bend down these days.
“I’ll get that for you.” He offered and in mere seconds he was crunching down to get it.
“Oh bless you.” Your grandma offered him another smile. “Why are you still standing there?” She called to get your attention.
Shaking your head a little, you were able to move past the initial shock, but still threw the man a side look just to make sure he wasn’t planning to blind your grandmother.
“Shall I cut these?” Mr. Shelby proposed pointing at the potatoes, after your grandmother nodded he produced a knife from his pocket, making you gasp. “Everything alright Miss Y/LN?”
“If you excuse me, I’ll come back in a minute.” She raised her eyebrows at you before she left.
“Listen it’s just the two of us alright? I pay the taxes and give money to church but I won’t pay you for protection.” You should have kept your mouth shut but for some reason, adrenaline made you talkative and you were nervous, afraid for your life, for your grandma.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not here to collect any money.” He raised his hands in defense. “Your grandmother is adorable.”
“What?” You asked perplexed, thinking of a possible way to get out of the house safely.
“You heard me, I’m not here to do any harm to you or her.” He clicked his tongue. “She said you’re a smart woman, you’ve nothing to worry about.”
“Then why are you here?” Confusion was written all over you.
“She offered me tea and cookies… oh! And dinner.”
“You can’t stay!”
“Y/N! Where are your manners? That’s no way to treat such a gentleman.”
You couldn’t help but scoff at her words. Thomas Shelby a gentleman. He narrowed his eyes, and gave you an offended look.
“Set the table, I’ll finish this.” She ordered.
Doing as she asked, you went to collect the plates.
“Not that ones! The fancy set!” She instructed pointing the spoon at you.
Tommy chuckled at your surprised expression, but quickly looked down to continue his task chopping the vegetables.
But he’s a criminal! He’s a gangster! You wanted to say. Yet, she wanted to use the delicate china reserved only for important occasions.
Placing the plates, you took then the silverware from the drawer. Seconds later you heard them laughing over something he had said, your grandmother’s voice praising him for his sense of humor. She had no idea who he was! Or what he had done.
“And what did he say afterwards?” He asked your grandma, you found him leaning against the sink, his body turned to face her.
“He said, I swore I saw you first, it had to be me the one who would make the first move.” Your grandmother stated proudly.
Here she was, seventy something years old telling the number one Birmingham’s criminal her love story with your grandfather.
“I told him, of course honey, you chose me. He always thought it was him, but it was me the one who chose him.”
“How long were you married?” He asked with interest.
“Over fifty years, most of my life. Can you believe that?”
“That’s lovely.” He admitted. The words sounded so wrong in his mouth, he should be cursing or shouting.
“Dinner is ready.” Your grandma announced. “Y/N help our guest.”
You wanted to roll your eyes.
“Food smells amazing.” He complimented.
“Would you like a piece of bread? Tommy?”
“Grandma!”
“What? He says I can call him that.” She defended.
“Please.” He smiled and you groaned internally. “I’m going to wash my hands.”
As soon as he disappeared, your grandma grabbed your arm. “You need to put a smile on that face my darling, can’t you see? An educated gentleman is visiting us, he smells nice, has a sense of humor, is polite and handsome… have you seen his eyes? It’s like a piece of heaven!”
“So what? He’s a-”
“You need to find yourself a decent man, Y/N.”
“He’s not a decent man.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Grandma, he’s an arrogant, selfish and dangerous-”
“May I have this honor?” He asked interrupting your little disagreement, offering his arm to your grandma, he guided her tenderly towards the table. He probably heard everything you said.
“So, Tommy what is that you do?”
“I’ve a business, we sell car parts in different countries.”He wasn’t lying.
“I’ve never used a car!”
“Then I should take you for a ride.”
You felt about to combust, he was charming your grandmother and she believed him!
Grinding your teeth, you placed the food on his plate.
“I really appreciate this.” He gave you a twisted smile.
Your grandmother’s hand came to rest on his arm. “I’m so glad I came across you this afternoon. It’s been lovely to share this meal with you.”
“I’m flattered you think that.”
“You don’t have a wife waiting at home, do you Tommy?” Your grandma asked bluntly and you almost chocked on your food.
“No, Mrs Barwick. I’m not married.”
“How is that possible?” She shook her head. “You deserve a good woman!” Then, looking at you she said; “what was that tale I told you to find a husband?”
“I don’t know grandma, I’m done with my dinner if you excuse m-”
But the look she threw in your direction, made you reconsider leaving the table. Sometimes she didn’t need to use her words. One look was more than enough.
You took a deep breath uncomfortable, and it only grew as you could feel Mr. Shelby’s eyes on you.
“Your grandma mentioned you sell books.” He asked to ease the tension.
“Yes.”
“Oh but show him! About that collection you got.” Your grandma encouraged.
“What is it about? Eh?”
“She’s a great seller.” She praised.
“Oh.” Mr. Shelby’s eyes sparkled. He was having fun. “Really?”
He was the most irritating person you’ve ever met.
“It’s about the Greek mithology.”
“Fascinating.” He nodded. “Why don’t you stop by my office tomorrow? I’d like the entire collection.”
“That’s wonderful!” Your grandma beamed.
“All set then.” He ran his tongue over his lips and then, tilted his head. “You made me remember about my grandmother.”
“What was a she like?” Your grandmother asked, batting her lashes.
He had her eating from his palm deliberately.
Studying the man before your eyes, something changed inside you. How could he be so cold-hearted? He seemed like a total different person in that very moment, his guard was down, posture totally relaxed, he even had a smile on his face.
Catching you off guard, you had to look away from him.
“She was a gypsy princess.” His blue eyes filled with nostalgia. “Thanks to her I learned all about values like respect, loyalty. She showed me how to ride a horse and light a fire.”
“It must’ve been hard for her to be on the road.”
“Actually no, she loved to be free, said how nature provided us for everything we might need.” He explained all while his deep voice was dragging you into something you couldn’t name. “It’s getting late and I don’t want to keep you up. Thank you once again.”
“Thank you for a lovely evening Tommy, would love to have you again for dinner .”
He gave you another look, not so subtle this time.
“I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“Not at all, right Y/N?” She pressed her elbow against your arm. “Walk him to the door my dear.”
Offering his hand to her, she whispered into his ear; “She doesn’t trust easily, you’ll need to work harder.”
Tommy tried to disguise his chuckle, after winking at your grandmother he thanked you too.
“I really enjoyed it, hope to see you around?” He arranged the peaky cap on his head and placed his hand on your arm.
“Goodnight Mr. Shelby.” Was all you could think of saying, still confused by everything that happened.
“Goodnight Mr. Shelby?” Your grandmother mimicked your voice. “You’ll need to do better next time, fix your hair, wear your new shoes… a little something! Y/N I placed him in a silver tray for you and you only said two words to him. Sweetheart you need to do something to catch his attention.”
Opening your mouth to protest, but she continued rambling. “But be discreet, you must stand out from the other women, don’t throw yourself at him, leave him wanting more,” her eyes sparkled in excitement. “A hand on his shoulder, hold his gaze… or pretend to brush something from his coat and then look at his lips.”
“Grandma, stop.” You blushed.
“Goodness, I can’t do anything else for you! He was right here!” She took the plates to the kitchen. “A smile might help, you need to ask him about his day, fix his handkerchief…”
“He was only here because you didn’t give him another option.” A sigh escaped your lips.
“My sweet girl, you’ve everything he needs,” she cupped your chin gently. “But you’re too shy! He kept staring at you…”
“I think your imagination is wild.”
“Y/NY/LN,” you stopped midway as she called your full name. Oh oh. “I like him to be my grandson-in-law… so you gotta do something soon.”
And knowing her the way you did, you realized there was no way back now. Once an idea got into her head, she wouldn’t let that slip away.
“I’ve been praying for this moment for so long!” You heard her say from across the room and then she mumbled something about that blue dress that suited you so well.
As you were about to clean the kitchen you heard a knock on the door. Opening, you were surprised to find the most terrifying man on your doorstep once more.
Your heart rate went up immediately, he was standing with his hands crossed in front of his body, head hanging low, you could only see his lips under the peaky cap.
“I’ll be waiting for you Miss Y/LN, tomorrow ten o’clock, I’ll make sure to send someone to help you with the books.”
“That won’t be necessary, I can carry them by myself.” You insisted, still unsure about his intention.
“Fairly well, as you wish.”
As he turned around to leave, something made you stop him.
“I want to thank you for helping my grandmother.” Never, in a million years you imagined you’d be grateful for something he did.
Lifting his jaw to stare at you with those piercing blue eyes that could set anyone into stone, he gave you a smile.
“I just did the right thing.” He cleared his throat. “You’ve nothing to be afraid of by the way, don’t believe everything you hear.”
“I just learned that, you can be considerate and charming sometimes.”
“Then consider yourself lucky,” he winked at you, “that doesn’t happen too often.”
Looking past your shoulder, Tommy noticed your grandmother’s head poking, moving her hands excitedly towards you.
****
Master list
Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @garrison-girl-08 @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @forbidden-forest-witch @ange-thoughts @moral-terpitude @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @thenattitude @winchestergirl22 @zablife @elk96 @heidimoreton @imichelle-l-rigby @allie131313 @already-broken144 @peakyscillian @babaohhhriley @shelbydelrey @shaddixlife @sloanexx @sydneyyyya @adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @thomashelbyswife @darleneslane @everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @lau219 @red-riding-wood
486 notes · View notes
Text
Devastating - A Tommy Shelby/Reader Smut Short.
Bit of oral smutty goodness with Tommy, besties? Have at it!
Tumblr media
Words - 526
Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!
Swallowing hard, you grasp the pen before you tightly, forcing a smile upon your face. This is taking more concentration than you ever thought you’d need, and from the first moment, you knew it wouldn’t be easy.
“Mr. Shelby is, uh, otherwise engaged, Mr. Brown,” you manage, squirming slightly.  
The tall, slender man inclines his head, looking at you with mild incredulity. “Girl, I have a meeting with him. I am prompt in my arrival, and you mean to tell me he isn’t even here?"  
“Oh, he is here, sir. It’s...” Oh god, oh god, oh god... Is your face still straight, even? Can he see that you’re sweating? Swallowing hard again, you force the moan that wells in your throat like water against the feeblest of dams down again, coughing. “It’s just that his last, ah, appointment ran over. If, ah... if y-you'd like to erm... take a seat back out front, I shall call you once h-he's free.”  
He turns, shaking his head. “Seats his secretary at his desk to greet me, and the girl can barely even string a bloody sentence together.” Slamming the door shut behind him, you’re free to let it out, the long, breathless sigh, your hands reaching past where your skirt has been rucked, fisting in Tommy’s hair.  
“You are such a fucking deviant, Thomas!”  
He looks up at you, grinning against the soft wet of your cunt. “Thought that was why you like me?” 
“It is, but... oh, ohhhh!” The repetitive, firm beat of his tongue lashing over your clit sends you mindless, his fingers dug into your thighs, lips sucking firmly with a hungry moan.  
“Don’t think your but is valid, sweetheart.” 
“If is when you’re sucking on my bits right in front of your bloody client!” 
He snorts with laughter, turning to kiss your thigh. “What have I told you about making me laugh when I’m trying to be devastating?”  
“That I... oh, fuck! Had to not do it?” 
“Yes,” he hums, kissing your folds, “so bloody stop it, alright?”  
Pushing his tongue against you again, long licks send glimmers rushing through you, your clit swelling hard against the heat of it, the blade of his tongue firm, unrelenting. He has you so mindless, you can only offer soft moans, yanking at his hair as he drives your undoing so savagely, you nearly tremble yourself out of the chair as satisfaction slips over your bones and you come hard against his mouth.  
“Go on then,” he speaks once you’ve arranged yourself again, smacking your bum. “Go show my client in.”  
Sauntering away on orgasm-shaky legs, you head around the corridor’s twists and turns until you reach the waiting area, lifting your chin when you arrive. “Mr. Brown, Mr. Shelby will see you now.” Turning, you walk back the way you came, removing your shoes quickly and running back to Tommy’s office, out of the way before Mr. Brown can see where you’ve gone.  
“And you’re back again because?” Tommy asks, eyebrows then raising as you duck and conceal yourself beneath his desk, reaching for his trousers.  
“Because it’s your turn for me to be devastating.”  
473 notes · View notes
mayfieldss · 3 months
Text
Point blank - Thomas Shelby
Summary: When you are held at gunpoint by one of Tommy's many enemies, he must come to terms with his feelings.
Warnings: being held at gunpoint (obvi), blood, violence, language, suggestive content. Not spell checked at all so beware.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
The cool metal against the side of your skull wasn't exactly the feeling you had hoped for as the night dragged on. You'd thought about many things, and many people that could bring you pleasure and fun, and you'd thought of a warm bed you would love to curl up in when it got too late to stay awake. But this, the gun pressed firmly to your head, had not been one of the sensations you'd hoped for.
"Call him outside," the man holding the gun shouted to a maid who had stumbled upon the scene. She'd clearly stepped out of the Shelby estate in the hopes of a smoke break, as had you, but was met with a more than shocking ordeal. Tommy's side piece, as many had called you, held at gunpoint by an angry stranger.
She ran ahead inside, and you knew Tommy would be out in a matter of minutes. This was a regular sunday for him. For you, though, it was not something you wanted to occur at all, let alone more than once.
"Mathison," Tommy calls, accent thick as a small fog accompanies his words. The night is cold, and everyone that dares speak becomes a dragon. "I doubt this is nessacary." His hands are raised in a disarming gesture, but you know Tommy well enough. In his eyes, there's concern, worry, and that does not at all ease your nerves.
"You said you'd pay me, give me the money for my family, Tommy, you promised." The man that stands behind you grips tighter to your body, your back flush to his chest as the barrel of the gun digs into your skin.
"You'll get your money in good time, I'm an honest man, Mathison, now let the lady go free." He spares a glance to you, and you can tell he wished he hadn't as soon as it happens. His eyes darken as though he won't be able to scrub the memory free of his mind. Not that you matter that much to be remembered. Not to someone like Tommy. You were just a woman he met in dark corners, after all.
"I want the money now!" The mans shout beside your ear makes you flinch, and the gun shakes in his hands. "It's been weeks, and I want what I was promised!" The man is not at all stable, and with his finger so close to the trigger, you aren't confident in your survival rate.
"Tommy, give him the money. Please." You shouldn't speak. It could earn you a number of consequences, but the fear is stronger than rational thought.
Perhaps the same goes for Tommy because you swear you see him think it over. He flexs his hand at his side, trying to stretch out the tension writhing within him. He is a man of business, not of love, and time and time again that four letter word has ruined him. But seeing you, under threat of harm, stirs a particular amount of concern.
"I don't take kindly to threats against my family. And it looks as though you may be threatening me? Am I correct?"
The man behind you doesn't say anything. His hand still shakes and his grip on you is painful, but he knows that to say yes is to mean consequence, and to say no, would be to lie to Thomas Shelby, which won't end well either.
"Right. Well, I'm having a fucking party inside, one that I would be hosting if I wasn't needed to deal to this. I think the best course of action is for you to put the gun down and leave the premises. You will get your money tomorrow, Mr Mathison." His words sound so final. You can almost believe the man that has a hold of you will listen. Perhaps he is listening because slowly, the gun isn't as close to you anymore.
The gunshot is loud, deafening, and your ears ring with the sound of it. You would have thought that was because you were bleeding out, were it not for the loud scream that fell from your lips at the same time as the sound. If you had, in fact, been shot point blank in the head, you would not have time to scream.
The man that once had a hold of you tumbles backward, and you, in shock, fall to your knees in relief, as well as an attempt to lower the chances of being hit by another stray bullet.
Your first mistake was to look back, eyes locking on the blood pooling around the now fallen mans head. You could have been in the same position just moments before.
"Look at me." Tommy's hands come to grasp the sides of your face, not giving you a choice in the matter. He's on his knees in front of you, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows. "Are you alright?"
You nod, squeezing your eyes shut despite his order, and begin to cry. It's embarrassing to do so, but there's is no way you couldn't bring yourself to. Tommy pulls you into his chest, and despite how mad at him you are, you let him.
His heart races as the sound of the gunshot echoes in his own mind, and the feeling of your heavy breaths taken between sobs while devastating, is the most reassuring action in the moment. You're breathing, which means he's kept you safe for now.
-
Later that night, you are sat on the edge of Tommy's bed, still reeling from the nights events. He'd left you in order to send the party guests away and had only just returned.
"I lied before." You mumble as he enters the room, shutting the door behind him. "I'm not alright."
Looking at him fills you with the deepest anger, how he can stand there, and undo his tie with hands that don't so much as quiver.
"You are a dangerous man, Thomas. I could have died tonight, all because I was foolish enough to get in your bed."
Tommy nods, and you hate the minimal response. "I wasn't going to let him shoot you."
"He could've shot me whether you let him or not!" Your voice is raising even as you don't want it to. He's too calm in the face of this, and that says all it needs to. "We're done, Tommy."
You stand to leave, ignoring the way your muscles feel, still tense even after the ordeal is over. The door is one step away by the time Tommy decides to speak again, but you're already in the hall before he can make a point.
"I did what I had to do to keep you safe." He's followed you out, looking more disheveled now with his tie long gone and shirt half unbuttoned.
"Am I safe with you, Tommy? Because it doesn't feel like it." You're unable to face him, eyes locked on the staircase you so desperately want to run down.
"I can't promise peace if that's what you're askin', but I won't let anyone hurt you. Not as long as I'm alive." His hand on your shoulder is what makes you turn, and you stare him down with what courage you have left.
"Do you love me, Thomas Shelby? Because if you don't, I can't understand why I'd be worth the trouble." It's more of a dare than a question because you're sure he'll say no. And once he says it, you'll have more than enough reason to leave him and never return.
Tommy exhales harshly, and you can smell the cigarettes on his breath, mixed with whiskey from the party. It's not a unique scent among men you've met, but somehow, on Tommy, it's more of an indulgence.
"I thought you knew that already." He mutters, lips closer to yours than they were before. "But I'm sure I can clarify a few things." His hands fall to your waist, a daring gesture but one that isn't uncommon for the both of you before his lips are on yours. Your anger is forced out of you in the form of a kiss, one that is messy and desperate in a way you've only known with Tommy. His breath mixes with yours as do other elements of him, until finally you push him away.
"I'm not forcing you to say it, Thomas. But for fucks sake tell me straight. Do you or do you not love me?"
Tommy grunts in frustration, running a hand over his face. He's an honest man in his own opinion, and he wants to be honest with you, but in doing so he has to do the same for himself. That's harder than most things Tommy does for a living.
"Love is more dangerous than I am, sweetheart. And believe me, my love isn't something you want."
"Yes or no, Tommy." You've pushed back every tear within you and stand like a soldier before him, ready to march away. He clears his throat, loud in the silent hallway.
"Yes. Yes, I fucking love you. now can we please go back to bed?"
You don't answer, but simply wander past him to his room. It's dimly lit, and the sheets look more than inviting after the day you've had. You turn back to him once inside, catching his eyes on your figure.
"I love you too, Tommy."
Slowly, a smile creeps onto his lips, and his eyes cloud over with a look you know too well. "Let's go to bed."
Tumblr media
GENERAL TAGLIST: @heliads @candywh0r3 @caplanreadss @hiya-itsamber @s00buwu
PEAKY BLINDERS TAGLIST:
826 notes · View notes
runnning-outof-time · 2 months
Note
Hi! For the celebration, how about… “Do you know you’re bleeding?” with Tommy.
Maybe a more light hearted protective Tommy situation <3
Hi there, anon! Thanks for sending this in! I’m sorry it took a little bit for me to get to. I love me some protective Tommy! I hope you like what I did with the prompt. Enjoy! :)
I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!
Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!
An Unfortunate Accident
Tommy Shelby x Reader
Tumblr media
Warnings: language, blood
Word Count: 601
Summary: When Tommy finds (Y/N) injured after something silly happened to her, he immediately thinks the worst.
Tumblr media
“Shit,” (Y/N) hissed as she quickly cradled her hand against her chest. She gritted her teeth as a surge of pain quickly shot down her arm. “Shit, shit, shit!”
She looked around the kitchen. There has to be something I can use to cover this, she thought to herself as the pain grew stronger. Footsteps sounded off the hardwood just as she managed to grab one of the dish towels sitting on the counter. A quick spin to face the archway told her that Tommy had entered the room. Shit.
“Hi, Tommy,” she tried to sound as nonchalant as possible as she greeted her husband. Her both hands were now hdiden behind her back, and she was placing as much pressure on her injury as possible. “You’re home early,” she commented sheepishly.
“Not really,” he answered, his brows furrowing slightly as he took in the sight of her. “What’s happened?” he asked her then, closing the gap between them as worry seeped into his features. Between her frazzled state and how things looked, his mind was starting to create several scenarios.
“What?” her question came out like a breath, her heart hammering in her chest.
“Do you know you’re bleeding?” he asked.
“I’m not,” she dismissed him, speaking a little too quickly for her liking.
“You are. It’s all over your dress, love,” he answered, motioning to the article of clothing. (Y/N) quickly looked down to see that the front of her dress was indeed stained crimson. A sigh left her lips. “So tell me the truth. What happened?” he asked again, his voice level, his tone one that she couldn’t argue with.
“You’re going to laugh,” she sighed, her sheepishness returning.
“I’m not,” he assured her with a slight shake of his head, his eyes still focused on her.
(Y/N) held his gaze for a few moments, still weighing it all out in her mind. Tommy kept his eyes on her, his eyebrows raising after a few seconds of silence had passed - his nonverbal way of saying ‘I’m waiting’.
One more sigh escaped her lips before she finally brought her (now blood-stained) cloth-covered hand back into view. “I, uh…I was chopping some of the vegetables, and a bird flew into the window. The bang it made scared me and my hand slipped. I sliced my finger pretty good.”
“A bird?” Tommy questioned, incredulousness seeping into his words. His eyes left hers, albeit for a moment, to glance out the window…as if said bird was still going to be hovering there.
“Yes, a bloody bird,” (Y/N) answered, a dire earnestness present in her voice. She watched her husband’s face carefully, waiting for what she knew would becoming. The second she saw his lips twitch, she jumped on him. “You said you weren’t going to laugh!” she exclaimed.
“I’m not laughing!” he defended himself, although he couldn’t help but let a few chuckles out. This made (Y/N) glare at him, and she smacked him on the chest without thinking.
“Ow! Fuck. Tommy!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with pain.
“Didn’t quite think that one through, eh?” he questioned with a chuckle. (Y/N) couldn’t even be mad at him…he was right. “Lemme see it,” he said then, coaxing her to show him her injured hand.
It took a few moments, but she showed it to him. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” she asked, cringing at the sight of it.
“I’ve seen worse,” he answered, glancing up at her to send a smile before focusing on her hand again, “let’s get it cleaned up.”
Tumblr media
*tags in reblog so that hopefully they get sent out.
MASTERLIST
1K notes · View notes
kadwrites · 8 months
Text
an introduction | T.S
Tumblr media
previous part | next part
or check out the series masterlist
summary ; you meet your husband to be for the first time.
warnings ; angst, dysfunctional family ig? , arranged marriage trope. bad writing?
a/n ; is it good? is it bad? is it too long? who knows. thank you for the support <3 please let me know what you think!
_
you hadn't left your room for the past three days. celest would be there , feeding you, holding you as you cried.
tonight though, you couldn't sleep because the sounds of your siblings yelling is keeping you away from the slumber you very much needed.
"you did what?"
oliver's brows furrow, his very pregnant wife , renee , sits beside him, her eyes open wide and a hand on her belly.
his mother tries to act like she didn't feel the guilt clawing at her heart , she sips her tea, "it's about time she got a husband."
"mum , what were you thinking? what has gotten into you?" his voice isn't loud, it isn't his usual roar, which is what concerned his wife. she puts a hand on his shoulder "you're forcing 'er to marry thomas shelby? are you fucking insane? have you lost your bloody mind?"
"im not forcing her to do anything, she agreed."
"after ya slapped 'er."
celest lets out a chocked sob at the mention of that
his mother's eyes are stern when they look up at him, resenting the fact that he brought it up
"she's a wild girl, she raised her voice at me"
"what did you expect 'er to do?" he got up, and his wife desperately tries to calm him down "lay on 'er back and open 'er legs?"
"to obey her mother."
"the mother that treated 'er own daughter like a piece of meat?" his jaw clenched, his hands shake "how could you do that? you didn't even tell us anything."
abraham is pacing around. his girlfriend ,anna stands in the doorway, watching this unfold. what else was she supposed to do?, its not like she can do anything. celest is sitting on a chair, her face buried in her hands as she cries. their father wasn't at home, he was out visiting his brother.
he's been avoiding this very incident like the plaque.
"when did this even 'appen?" abraham walks and stands next to oliver, both of them staring at their mother, his voice trembles as he tries to hold back whatever he had to say.
"why does it matter?" their mother slams the teacup on the table "it's already happened. what good is it going to do if we keep talking about it?"
"how long 'ave you been plottin' at this?" oliver's voice gets louder, his wife tries to get up but cant, abraham grabs his shoulder instead. "are you that desperate for money?"
"i did it-"
"for 'er ? securing 'er a future, yeah? is that what you tell yourself?" celest finally speaks, her face glistening with tears as she stands up
celest was always her mother's daughter. being the eldest, she always aimed to please her but when this happened, she couldn't even stand to look at her mother. she knew their mother was looking for a suitor ,she tried to reason with her, telling her how her younger sister would never agree, that she'll just yell and maybe even try to run away. celest never knew that the suitor her mother had in mind was thomas shelby, she never knew that he'd already agreed to all of this.
their mother's eyes move to celest, renee and anna share a look , and anna stands with her mouth covered. "this is not going to end well." ,they both think.
"what?"
"i said is that what you think you're doing? that you're doing whats best for 'er?" celest repeats "when you and i and everyone in this room knows who thomas shelby is, we know what he does, we know how he lives"
"he will take care of her." she raises her voice as well
"mother...." abraham warns, with his eyes closed. he knows the words she will say next would just anger everyone further
"i dont want her to end up like you! with a man that has you living in a piss poor excuse of a house, running after his spawn." her mother spits those words out like venom.
"i love 'im, i chose 'im, and i never ever regretted that decision, i never once complained,i never doubted his love or loyalty" celest walks closer "i will live a good life with a man who is good to me, an honest man. would she say the same about the husband you chose for 'er?"
"she will love him! she will grow to love him" she yells those words, as if she desperately wants them to be true.
celest lets out a chuckle , looking at her mother as if she was insane "do you not hear yourself? do you not hear how you sound?" then she moves even closer,"you're ruining 'er life!" celest cried, her screams sound through the whole house, abraham is now holding her back, as she squirms and thrashes "is this what you fucking want ? for your own child to live a miserable life?"
oliver left the living room at some point and he was inside your room now, somehow.
he crouched at the side of the bed, where you're laying on your stomach, cheek against the pillow and covers tucked up to your neck.
"i..." he tries to speak, he lets out a breath "i didn't know" he felt guilty for some reason, as if he could've stopped this.
"i know"
"you don't 'ave to say yes" he puts a hand on your head smoothing down your hair. oliver was never the one for affection, always awkward with it. "you don't. you can say no"
"i cant" you whisper back to him, your eyes look at him and they are once again filled with tears, your lips quiver
"yes you can"
"no i can't" you let out a sob "and you know that."
he just looks back at you, keeps on smoothing down your hair
"its not your responsibility to save them."
"it is now"
and he knew he couldn't change your mind, "she says he's comin' by tomorrow ,to see you."
silence ensues. you two just stare at each-other not knowing what to say
for the first time in his life, oliver the man with the biggest mouth, the loudest voice, the one who always fought you over that one spot on the table, doesn't know what to say. he has nothing to say.
he slowly gets up, and leaves the room, closing the door behind him gently.
and when that dreaded morning comes, you find yourself on your vanity chair, looking at your reflection in the mirror, your face still almost emotionless
celest stands behind you, brushing your hair,she's crying silently, and you just stare at the mirror
you knew that those steps belonged to your mother, you'd memorized how they sounded when you were a child , when you pretended to be asleep so she wouldn't know you'd stayed awake past your bedtime. she walks and stands next to celest, you don't look at her, you just stare at yourself.
celest puts the brush on the table and she walks away, she walks to the window, trying to calm down. your mother picks up the brush.
"i know you think im cruel, and that i'm selfish. but i did it for your sake." she speaks
this is the first time you'd even seen her since it all happened
your eyes dart up to her, she doesn't look at you, she just looks down at your hair as she brushes it.
"when your father got sick, i never thought we'd lose the farm too, we lost the very thing that gave us most of our money." she pauses for a second "i know this isnt how you wanted to get married, it was not an easy decision for me either"
"i don't love 'im" your voice is soft, its not angry
"love isn't everything, you don't need it to be content" she continues "i didn't love your father when i married him , but love follows"
"he is nothing like my dad"
your mother stops again "he's a hardworking man, he was in the war , wasn't he? just like yer father."
"my father was a farmer," she muttered "that's what you loved about 'im, what you've come to love. that he is a good man but the man you're marrying me off to isn't"
you sound like celest.
your words cut deeper than you thought they would, your mothers eyes close, she sighs "you're my youngest child and i want you to live a good life when me and your father are no longer here .a safe life. i dont want you to need a roof over your head or worry about money or food"
you don't want to argue , so you don't. you just let her brush your hair and neatly style it. she brings a box and opens it, inside it a golden necklace with a ruby as a pendant, she puts it on you, she smiles at your reflection
"i wore it when i married your father", maybe it will bless your marriage too, your mother thinks to herself.
you don't say anything, you just do what you're told. you were too tired to fight this anyways. you just wanted this day to pass
and then you hear it, your brother's voice as he greets him, despite his anger your oliver sounds polite. their voices are muffled but you hear them.
you mother walks you down the stairs and when you descend you see him, on the green sofa , talking to your father and your brothers and as if he could sense your presence his eyes dart up the stairs and he sees you.
you feel as if the whole house ran out of air, and as if your lung collapsed. you look back at him nonetheless as you walk down the stairs.
it feels as if their voices are distant as your family greets him, very welcoming and warm they sound but you can't process a word. you just look at him. you think you mumbled a greeting too, you're not sure.
he got up when you entered the living room, he looks you up and down but only for an instant and then his eyes go back to yours. you cannot see any emotion on his face.
you sister stands at your side, renee on the other, they sit with you between them on the couch facing him, the rest of your family scattered around the room but you didn't look at them, too busy looking at the man you'll marry. it's almost as if you can visibly see the blood on his hands.
but when he speaks , you snap back into reality out of your trance
"its a pleasure to finally meet you."
his voice is deep, calm and collected. for some reason it sends a chill down your spine
"the pleasure is mine" you say back, as politely as you could.
slowly, person by person, your family leaves the room
you glance at the window, your brothers and father are outside smoking, pretending to not watch. celest, renee and anna are under the foyer.
your mother and mrs gray are in the kitchen, having tea, when did she come in here?, you didn't even notice her.
you lean back against the sofa, you stare at him just like he stares at you
"mind if i smoke?" he already has his cigarette between his lips , he pulls out his lighter
"no" you say curtly , you sit on the sofa in the most expensive dress you own, your newest heels,
he offers you a cigarette, you eye it. you hadn't smoked since your parents caught you smoking on the roof but they've disappointed you, so what if you disappoint them one more time
you pull a cigarette out, he passes you the light and you light it, then putting it out
he leans back as well, crossing his legs
"are you good with children? can you care for them?"
you nod, your cigarette hangs between your fingers"i 'ave one nephew and 4 nieces, one on the way too"
"i 'ave a boy"
his eyes give nothing away no matter how long you stared at him , looking for a crack in the mask
"what's his name?" you ask softly
"charles"
"how old is he?"
"four, he's turning five soon"
"is that why you're looking for a wife? to look after your son?"
"thats a part of it, yes" he exhales the smoke, he throws an arm around the back of the sofa
"what's the other part?"
"i need a wife and i want someone i can trust around my boy when im not around"
you nod , your eyes look away for the first time.
"do you feel like you can do that?"
you turn back to look at him
"i believe so , yes"
he nods, "are you being forced into this?" he's blunt. it doesn't take a genius to know that you're not happy, that you're reluctant.
"no, i'm not"
"i don't want to marry you if you're unwilling"
"i said i'm not ,didn't i?" you tried to hold back your tongue, but you couldn't
his brow raises at this ,"you don't exactly look like you're content with your decision"
"is this an interrogation?" you ask, stubbing the cigarette on the ashtray that sits on the table. partly because the taste of it made you nauseous, having not had one in years. the other part annoyed and defensive
"i believe its called an introduction" a his face is still stoic, but his voice is betraying him, it's sounds as though he's amused.
you look up, you hate to admit it but you can't deny it. he looks handsome, in his expensive suit, his glasses, his cheek bones. celest was right, at least he is easy on the eyes
"an introduction, aye?"
"hmm"
you just look at eachother, you blink a couple of times, then lean back again.
"its my decision, mr shelby." you try to compose yourself, "it wasn't forced on me,"
he nods again,
"do you 'ave any conditions?"
"i do..." you lick your lips nervously "my father, he's sick"
"i will take care of his medical expenses" he nods before you could finish that sentence
"it would be nice if i could finish my own fucking sentences"
he lets out a dry chuckle, and you take it as a sign to continue
"he's never been properly checked , we don't know what exactly is wrong with 'im" you sigh "my only condition is that 'im and my mother would be looked after, financially and medically."
"they will be"
"i want it in writing" you hesitate but then say it anyways , you don't know if you can trust him, you don't care if you offend him.
he looks at you, his eye travel between yours "alright"
you let out a breath you didn't know you've been holding
-
@tardisloverz , @optimisticsandwichgladiator
2K notes · View notes
awritesthings1 · 4 days
Text
Good Taste
Tumblr media
Pairing: Tommy Shelby / Wife reader
Summary: You get made fun of for wearing your sapphire necklace to the foundation dinner. Tommy always finds a way to make things better.
Warnings: swearing, implied smut.
ao3 link
“She was making fun of me!”
“Yeah? And when has that ever bothered you before, my darling?”
“Since all the bloody country wives started debating whether my jewelry was in fashion or not, Tommy,” you huffed at your husband, who was having no luck pinching away the creases between his eyebrows.
Tommy sighed deeply, not really bothered to continue the conversation but irked because the wives down the lane had gotten under your skin, and if you were unhappy, then he was unhappy. He fueled his throbbing head with a cigarette, chain-smoking them back-to-back while he hunched over on the settee.
You were sitting at the vanity, fingers tangled hopelessly at the stubborn latch of your necklace that just wouldn’t let, when you saw how Tommy was beginning to fold in on himself. Guilt consumed you immediately. It wasn’t that you actually cared all that much about what people said, but when you were around Tommy, your guard slipped, and all the things that made you tick during the day would come cluttering out of your mouth like an unwanted clash of symbols and noise. Tommy would sit there and listen, hum, nod, and completely detach himself from the world.
You ran each other around like clockwork. He leaned back, you forward. Lust swelled in his eyes, concern in yours, a tug at your hip, and a gasp from your throat. You smiled sympathetically, apologetically. He kept quiet, forgivingly holding your gaze, until a defeated sigh broke the tension, and you both understood how silly the whole ordeal was. Here was Thomas Shelby, a man of great power, slumped against the settee, utterly exhausted.
“Darling, this is fucking Birmingham. Good taste is for people that can’t afford sapphires.”
That brought a smirk to your lips.
“Oh?” You muse, watching him through your vanity mirror.
Tommy huffs, but it’s more out of amusement than agitation. The cigarette between his lips twitches as a smile graces his face. He hums in affirmation.
You give up on trying to unlatch the sapphire necklace around your neck. You’re far too distracted by the way Tommy leans back on the settee like he knows it’s his damn right, spreading his legs, chain-smoking cigarettes, and blowing the smoke towards the ceiling. He’s completely in the wrong if he thinks you are going to keep your hands tangled up in a necklace when they would be much more useful somewhere else…
When your chair screeches against the wood as you push it back to stand, his head snaps to attention. He has a faraway look to his eye, haunted even, but he swallows when you sink to your knees between his legs, and something else begins to swell other than his pupils.
You run your hands up his knees to his thighs and back again.
“I know it’s stupid. They just get under my skin sometimes,” you resign.
He clears his throat and reaches past your head to set his cigarette on the ash tray. He stays there, bent forward, a breath apart, and begins caressing your face with the back of his fingers. A faint smile softens his features and warms his skin.
You laugh because it really is ridiculous. For marrying someone who spends most of their life buried in their head, you sure have picked up on his tendencies.
“Do you think I’m becoming obsessed?”
He doesn’t even try to hide his amusement. “No.”
You were; he was just treading carefully. Because while he wandered off to speak to god knows who at the foundation dinner, your feathers were being ruffled by stuck-up old women who were too busy being stuck up to notice their husbands’ lingering eyes. However, being able to defend your vanity was another thing compared to dealing with Shelby Company Limited business. And if it came to surviving passive aggressive remarks from old women or being led into another room to talk with Mr. Thomas Shelby, head of the Peaky Blinders, you would sneer rudely at Margaret any day.
You voice the thought at Tommy, “I take it your night wasn’t as successful as mine?”
He exhales and raises his eyebrows playfully, more or less confirming your suspicions.
“And should I ask you about it like a good wife?”
He hums, “no.”
He’s so entranced in running his fingers up and down your jaw, around your chin, and thumbing your lips that you’ll just have to forgive him later.
You pull a face. You’re not mad at him. Far from it. Those fingers of his dancing across your face are your weakness.
“You’re not listening to me.” You lean in closer.
“Yes, I am,” he smiles.
You try to pull back in faux skepticism, but with his hand holding your face so close to his,
“Where are you going, eh?” Tommy leans forward to steal a kiss, and he feels your laughter against his lips, a pleasant sensation.
“Oh, Mr. Shelby,” you jest.
Together, you fall back onto the settee with you astride his lap. Your hair falls over his face like a curtain, keeping him safe from the outside world. He doesn’t want to move; no, he will stay here for the next couple of months, transfixed inside this moment. The gun tucked away in the holster beneath his arm feels less heavy, and the clock ticking above his head slows. He can breathe. He can gingerly stroke your jaw with his thumb in the way you adore. So he does, and the shuttering thoughts that occupy so much of his head stutter in fear because they know they come second to you.
Then there’s that pretty sapphire necklace hanging from your neck. The one that got you both in this position in the first place. Those fucking people, eh? Those fucking people with their fancy palaces and prim and proper manners judging you, his wife, refusing you, his wife? That got him going.
You can tell he is in his head by the way his eyes linger on your sapphire necklace. He looks irked.
“What’s wrong, Tommy?”
He shakes his head lazily.
“Speak to me, love,” you insist.
Fuck em. Fuck the bastards that made his wife feel unworthy. They wouldn’t know taste if it hit them like a fucking train. He won’t let them bring her down.
Tommy clears his throat. “I’m sorry for being in my head, Mrs. Shelby.”
His apology is soothed into your skin with a gentle brush of his thumb at the end of your chin. He tilts it down to lay a kiss on the corner of your mouth. He always knows how to make you smile.
You press more of your weight into him and deepen the kiss, to which he grunts. It stirs a honey warmth in your stomach.
As for Tommy, the need to be closer to you is suffocating; he’d rather just lock you both in this room and throw away the key. He’d rather the stifling walls close in on you both until he can’t even open his lungs, and even then, it wouldn’t be enough. He needs to be in your skin, in your thoughts, but most importantly, right now, in your underwear.
It’s your goddamn nails clawing at his scalp that do it for him. It winds him up like a fucking pocket watch, boils his blood like good whiskey, and fuels the fires.
He urges your name in warning because he’s so strung up he might just rip the seams of your pretty dress, and you make the mistake of swallowing his plea with a huff and a tangle of tongues.
“The necklace, Thomas,” you gasp.
It would really be a pity if he accidentally broke it in the rush to remove your dress. It slows him down momentarily removing it, and his fingers can’t quite function being away from your skin but he knows ever since he gifted it to you, there’s been nothing you loved more. When the latch finally unclasps, he parts from your lips to gently lower it to the coffee table where it remains unscathed for the rest of the night. The same couldn’t be said about your dress.
-
Taglist: (i was drunk when I posted this so I forgot to add it lol).
@maliceofwonderland @fairytale07 @goblinjnr @ilovepeoplesdads @multidimensionalslut @blogforficslol @elenavampire21
417 notes · View notes
jomarch-wannabe · 1 month
Text
My hero
Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader
Tumblr media
Warnings: light angst, arachnophobia, brief allusion to smut
Tumblr media
The silence of the evening air shattered suddenly by a high pitched shriek, echoing through the walls of Arrow House.
Tommy was in his study when he heard the sound of your terror. Blood rushed into his ears, thumping with his pulse as he jolted from his seat, running towards the source of the sound. His chest tightened as he ran up the stairs, his breath coming in quick gasps. He had so many enemies. He feared this day would come, that something would happen to you. He choked on the thought, freezing as his alert eyes found you in the doorframe of the bathroom.
“What is it? What’s happened?!” He yelled, taking you in with wide eyes. His hand twitched as he habitually reached for his revolver.
“There’s a spider in the bathtub! It’s huge!!” You cried, shivering in nothing but a white towel.
He let out an exasperated breath, feeling the air return to his lungs as he pulled his hair out of his face. “Christ. A spider? You scared the life out of me, love, I thought you got killed.”
A tinge of guilt hit your stomach, seeing how distressed he was. “M’sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.. I just- hate spiders.” You murmured, the pads of your feet tip toeing against the floor as you approached him.
He knew from the pleading look in your eye that you needed him. As much as you scared the life out of him, he needed to be your protector now. Tommy transitioned into his stoic attitude as you walked him towards the porcelain tub, holding your breath.
“Ahh! It’s crawling this way!” You shrieked, colliding into his chest and cowering behind him. Your hands held tight to his shoulders, using him as a human shield.
Tommy smirked to himself, stepping towards the tub to investigate, pulling you with him. Your eyes dared to look over his shoulder. A quarter sized spider with a round body and quickly moving legs darted around the bottom of the tub.
“Doesn’t that give you chills?” You winced, ducking your head behind him.
He let out a breathy chuckle. “Grab me a tissue will you?”
You nodded, peeling away from him and fetching a tissue off the counter. Tommy smiled slyly to himself, reaching to grab the spider with an unfazed expression on his face.
“There,” he said, tossing the tissue into the trash can. “No more spiders.”
You leaned against him, resting your chin on his shoulder. “Oh Tommy,” you cooed dramatically, “You’re my hero. How could I ever repay you?”
A smirk teased his lips as he turned and captured your waist in his hands, gently pushing you against the wall. “I have a few ideas..” he spoke lowly, lips brushing against yours.
You flushed profusely at his proposal, feeling your towel drop to the floor.
Tumblr media
Taglist: @kmc1989 @pacifymebby @shelbydelrey @peakyswritings @call-sign-shark
331 notes · View notes
queers-gambit · 5 months
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!
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
"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.
Tumblr media
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."
Tumblr media
requesting rules and masterlist
Peaky Blinders masterlist
633 notes · View notes