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multific · 1 year

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Little You-s and I-s

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary: You and Tommy deal with the changes that come with your pregnancy.

Your pregnancy changed you a lot.

You became more sensitive to smell for example.

One evening, Thomas arrived home from the bar, and as soon as you caught the smell of drinks and smoke on him, you rushed to the bathroom.

Then there was the incident when you craved fish but before you could cook it, the smell of it caught your nose and again, rushing for the toilet you went.

Thomas was incredibly happy when you told him the news, having his own family with you was always a goal of his.

What he didn't like however is just how sensitive you became and one thing that set it off easily was his cigarettes.

Thomas smoked a lot, so for him to not be able to do that in his own home was a bit challenging, but he still found ways to smoke one or two in the furthest part of the garden. Even then, sometimes the wind carried the smell right back to you.

"No smoking and no drinks!" yelled Tom at John as he pulled out a cigarette.

"What? Why?"

"My wife is pregnant, she is sensitive to the smell."

"Oooh, it got that bad huh?" asked John as you entered the room with a tray, on the tray there were some cookies and tea.

"I'll appreciate if you can hold yourself from smoking just this once John, the smell of it just..."

"No problem, thank you for the tea."

"I'll leave you to it." you smiled at your husband who nodded before he turned to John, talking about business.

When lunchtime was approaching, both John and Tom found themselves in the kitchen where you were currently chopping up some carrots and crying.

"Darling, I'm sure the carrots don't mind us eating them."

"Tell that to the headless chicken in the oven, Thomas!" you quickly said back making both men take a step back, Thomas should have known not to argue with you.

Both headed into the dining room instead.

"Is pregnancy supposed to affect a woman this much?" asked John in a hushed tone.

"I think so? I'm no expert John. Arthur has children, he might know more."

"She is glowing though. She was crying but she still looked like a Goddess."

"Can't argue with that, John. But keep your wandering eyes to yourself, she is my wife."

"Does she always cry during cooking?"

"As of late, yes. Yesterday, she made salmon, cried her heart about as she was talking about the poor little fishies the one she cooked left behind. But then this morning, she cried when she made salad. Saying the potatoes didn't deserve to die this way."

"So, she is sensitive to smell, cries when the cooks, can't get worse than that, I'd say."

"She talks back like I have never heard before."

"Okay, I was wrong it can get worse. You mean to tell me, that my lovely shy sister-in-law talks back? The one who didn't dare to tell you she didn't like the ring you gave her?" Thomas made a face at John's confession.

"She didn't like the ring?"

"No, she said she wished you would have given her something more simple. But she didn't want to tell you because she would hurt your feelings."

"Well now, with my child under her heart, she is not afraid to talk from her heart. The other day she told me I should dress better, apparently my suits make me look old. Then she wanted to dance and when I said I don't have the energy she complained that I never have when it comes to her. This is true sadly, however, the latest one... oh Johnny, my boy just before you arrived, she told me to ask you not to smoke and when I told her that you will be free to do as you please, the look. That look I know well, it's the look of someone who is about to murder. She said I either tell you to not smoke or-" Thomas stopped as he felt a shiver run down his spine, both men turned towards the door only to find you with the food in your hands on a tray.

You approached them and placed the food in front of them. The air was cold, John swore he could have cut the tension with a spoon.

"I told him he either asks you not to smoke or I will seriously question his position as the leader, as all leaders should be listened to and respected. And if he is not able to do so, then I shall take his place. So, you are not allowed to smoke John." John nodded, not even daring to look at you.

"Th-Thank you for the meal." John said.

"I know I can be a handful since I'm with child, I feel the change in myself, the doctor said it was hormones to blame, but I seriously hope you do not plan on talking our dear Johnny's ears off with my silliness, Dear Thomas. He doesn't have to know everything."

"Of course, Love. I apologize." Thomas grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on it.

John left soon after lunch and you were now washing the dishes as Tom was reading in the living room.

Once all dishes were done, you headed into the living room, a soft song playing as he was reading in his favourite armchair. He put the paper down when he saw you approach and you sat on his lap, your head on his chest as he continued to read with one hand as the other was now around you, comforting you.

"Am I really that annoying that you talk to John about it?"

"You are not annoying, Love. Odd, sometimes yes, but that isn't due to pregnancy." you giggled a little.

You were fine with 'odd'.

"I try to control it, you know?"

"Oh, God, is this the controlled version? I'm scared now for the uncontrolled one."

"It will get worse, I'm warning you because the doctor said last week that this will only grow as the baby does."

"It's alright, your body will change, I can take a few harsh words, I took bullets after all." he placed a kiss on your forehead.

"Do you want a girl or a boy?" you asked with a rather quiet voice.

"I don't really care, as long as both of you are safe and healthy."

"So you want a boy, got it." Tommy laughed you looked up at him, into his blue eyes. "I just want them to have your eyes."

"What if they don't?"

"Then we try until we have a child who does." you smiled at him as he looked at you.

"Just how many children my Missus want?"

"Oh, as many as my lovely husband would give me. We have a big house, it would be nice to have some life in it. Little you-s and I-s running around."

"I would like that. Honestly, I would like that very much. But let's see how you do after this one, then we will talk."

You hummed before you placed another kiss on his lips, letting him return to his paper as comfortable silence fell.

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow @crazzyter @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @liveforkarljacobs @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @paola-carter @stunkbiggu @violet-19999 @praline357

~Masterlist~

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DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

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sourholland · 9 months

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timeless; thomas shelby

This idea has been plaguing my mind for days, I cannot get it out of my head. I’m not sure if I will make any more parts of this, it all depends on how I feel about it and if it is well received. The timeline of this is skewed on purpose, it’s also heavily based on Tommy’s time fighting during the war. Timeless by Taylor Swift was a huge inspiration.

Both you and Tommy became unlikely friends during childhood, only for you to realize you had always loved him. Tommy finds himself seeing you in a different light, only war being able to separate the two of you. (3.5k)

Thomas Shelby was the first and only boy you had ever loved.

It was 1902, Tommy was twelve years old. He played with your older brother, they went out into the street with the Shelby brothers and few other boys from the neighborhood and kicked a ball around. You were eight, trailing your brother Joseph at every chance you had.

When you met Tommy, it was because you had chased after your brother one August afternoon with the intention to join their game of kickball. The moment you approached the large group of prepubescent boys, Joseph looked absolutely mortified. Even though he was older than some of the boys, at fourteen, he still followed all of Tommy’s orders. This, you didn’t understand.

“Go home,” he leaned down to your level in gritted teeth.

“I just want to play, just one game,” you pleaded with him. “Please, Joey.”

“No,” he barked. “Y/N, you gotta get out of here.”

Feeling you face heat up, you were near tears and embarrassed in front of all of the older boys. Joseph would not let up, angry at you for trying to play with him and his friends.

“What the fuck d’she want?” Arthur bellowed towards your brother.

Peering over at him, you could tell that he was not very patient and was even older than Joseph. After Arthur had yelled, you turned back to go home. Hot tears spilled down your cheeks as you shuffled back to where you lived and went inside to play alone.

“Fuckin’ asshole is what you are,” Tommy shook his head a bit. “Game’s not fuckin’ hard or anythin’, Joe. She could have played.”

That was all they ever said again on the matter, your brother never brought it up to you that night and you never spoke of it to him. It wasn’t until later on that month that anyone had approached you about what happened that day in Small Heath.

You were sent out to pick up your mother’s cigarettes, dragging your feet along the dirt path with the coin in your hand. Every Wednesday, you made the same trek. Tommy Shelby came up on your right side as you walked one day, you saw a screwdriver sticking out of his pocket and nearly shuttered. The kids around the neighborhood spoke of him in hushed whispers, calling him a gypsy and saying he and his brothers carried razor blades around with them.

“You’re Joe’s sister, aren’t you?” He asked, peering over at you. “Tried to join in on a game a while back?”

“Yes,” you nodded. “I’m Y/N.”

He hummed in response, kicking dirt with his shoe as you both walked. He was much taller than you, though he was still quite narrow and scrawny. Truthfully, there was no denying that you had a little bit of a schoolgirl crush on him.

“Where’re you headed?” He finally spoke up.

“Grabbing my mum’s cigarettes,” you told him with a sigh. “She sends me out every week to pick some up.”

At the time, you had no clue why Tommy had followed you all the way to the shop and then walked you home. He never gave you any inclination either. Then, he did the same the next week. He came outside when you passed his house and you walked together. This occurred every week after the first.

Of course, you assumed this meant he liked you and this caused you to revel in the attention just a little. Tommy would talk to you about school and horses mostly, he was kind to you.

About six months after you and Tommy had developed this weekly routine, you mentioned something to your brother about it and he teased you about having a crush on Tommy. Making the mistake of saying he must’ve liked you back if he continued to walk along with you, Joseph was quite cruel in return.

“He doesn’t do it because he likes to,” Joseph laughed. “Father started pestering me to walk with you when he found out you were being picked on in school, bothered and such by the boys around. I started to give Tommy a bit of my allowance to walk with you so dad would finally get off my fucking back.”

You no longer walked to the shops on Wednesdays.

Tommy waited for you the next week, but you never left out front and began past his house. The week after, he did the same and you still did not come.

“Y/N!” Your mother’s voice came up the staircase on Thursday morning. “Come to the door.”

Tommy stood there in the walkway to your home, talking with your mother about something as you came down the steps. She left you to walk outside together and down the stairs into the street.

“You’re not getting your mum’s cigarettes anymore?” He asked you suddenly.

“No, I am,” you told him. “Just don’t want to walk with you anymore.”

He seemed taken aback by this, not used to the idea of you sticking your nose up at him and looking the other way when he tried to talk to you. Tommy knew you were smitten with him, he didn’t mind it. He thought you were nice enough, he liked to walk with you every week. He just didn’t see you the same way that you saw him, you were too young and too curious about certain things.

“Why’s that?” He shot back a little annoyed.

“Joey told me that he’s been paying you to do it, to make sure nobody messes with me.”

“And?” Tommy asked. “Doesn’t really fuckin’ matter if you ask me, whether he’s payin’ me or not.”

This made you roll your eyes, shaking your head at him and leaning against the brick of one of the alleyways you walked down. Tommy was confused as to why this bothered you so much, truthfully it didn’t really matter about the money to him. It helped him to buy cigarettes, that was all. He didn’t mind walking along with you, though. He would’ve done it without the payout.

“It matters to me,” you told him. “I don’t need looking after or anything like that.”

Turning on your heel, you thought that you’d been able to get the last word. Little did you know, nobody but Tommy got the last word. He only realized you had decided to go out on Saturdays, rather than Wednesdays. He told Joseph that he wouldn’t be requiring payment anymore and you walked in silence for over a month before you spoke to him on your walks again.

His stubbornness irked you, leaving you infuriatingly mad at his inability to leave you alone. Your cheeks went hot when he came around, stomach in knots whenever he would say your name.

Over the years, you had tried to shake your feelings for Tommy. This was mostly due to the fact that you had grown attached in a way that allowed you to call him a friend. By the time you were eleven, Tommy had taught you how to ride his horse. He spent an entire summer working with you. He was fifteen and definitely had plenty of better things to do, but he spent hours upon hours in the grueling sun with you.

“Tommy,” you said, laying sprawled out on a patch of grass one afternoon when you were thirteen and he was seventeen. “D’you want to come ‘round to mine for supper tonight? Mum asked me to invite you over.”

The last bit was a lie, you truly just wanted Tommy to join you. He inhaled shortly before propping himself up on his hand and looking over at you.

“Can’t tonight, m’sorry,” he apologized to you.

“Why not?” You asked curiously, assuming he’d saying something about having to be with his brothers or Polly.

“I’ve actually asked a girl out,” he confessed to you. “I’m planning to take her out tonight.”

This was one of the few times Tommy discussed his love life with you. Your friendship mostly consisted of doing other things, less intrusive things. He still really saw you as a younger sister type of figure in a way. He thoroughly enjoyed your company, but there was no denying his attraction to the girls he saw in school.

Once, Tommy told you about Arthur bringing home a prostitute. He didn’t tell you why he did it, or what they did. Only laughed it off, unbeknownst to him that you really didn’t know what a prostitute was. Joseph had called them whores, but you lived a rather sheltered lifestyle and none of the older people around you ever spoke about such things in front of you.

Tommy took girls out, he’d had several girlfriends as you approached your later teenage years. Your friendship, however, never faltered. When you were seventeen years old, you remember going out riding with him and telling him how you wanted to make something of yourself beyond what Small Heath had to offer. Planning to become a schoolteacher, Tommy had always admired this about you.

“Don’t you want to be something other than all this?” You asked him, alluding to the fact that he was growing more and more responsible for the Peaky Blinders. “I mean, I just wondered if you ever had other dreams.”

“I’d like to work with horses,” he told you quietly, running his hands over the mare’s mane.

“Why don’t you?” You questioned him. “I know you feel some sense of responsibility over your family, I think it’s one of your best traits. Don’t you ever want to just—I don’t know, live a less tormenting life?”

Tommy played with the reins, looking at you and shrugging. This was all he’d ever known, and all he would ever know. There was no Birmingham without Tommy Shelby, you knew it as well as anyone. It still hurt, though. Knowing he was playing with fire every day, testing God, as your mother had called it.

Once Tommy had grown more involved in the gang, your parents no longer allowed him to come over to the house. They detested you seeing him at all, your brother most of all. He settled quickly, marrying a woman and starting a family.

Tommy realized he loved you when he was twenty two years old. He’d known you for ten years, having called you his best friend for a decade. You were eighteen years old and had just begun training to become a teacher, you were commuting frequently and saw Tommy less and less.

It was that Christmas when you’d introduced him to the man you had been courting, his name was Michael. When he shook the man’s hand, Tommy felt something inside of him shift. Suddenly, you were no longer that little girl with scuffed shoes and long pigtails. He saw a young woman with ambition and heart, but you were no longer holding out for Tommy like you had for nearly ten years.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Arthur came up and clapped Tommy on the back of the shoulder. “S’fucking Christmas and you’re really bringing my spirits down.”

Tommy said nothing, downing more whiskey as he watched Michael spin you around in a dance. You were in a fit of laughter, smiling at him adoringly.

“Be serious, brother,” Arthur sighed, drunk and wondering how Tommy could truly be as he was. “You can’t tell me that you’re sitting over here in the corner drinking away your sorrows because she’s brought along some bloke.”

“Fuck off, won’t you?” Tommy shot him a look.

“Unbelievable,” Arthur walked away laughing.

It was completely and utterly unbelievable, not only to Arthur, but to Tommy as well. He’d spent years with you, practically praying that you would find someone, anyone to avert your feelings too. As you grew older, you also were able to hide your feelings and emotions better in Tommy’s case.

He watched you the entire night, nodding a farewell when he noticed you trying to approach him. He had no intention of speaking to Michael again, for fear that he may be physically ill.

His hope that it was a passing courtship died with what looked to be your close friendship. The two of you hardly saw each other anymore, animosity forming between you after the night of the Christmas party.

Months later, Tommy found himself at your apartment door when Ada had told him that you mentioned thinking Michael was planning to propose. He left to see you after midnight, walking the entire distance to where you lived and putting himself at your front door well past one in the morning.

“Y/N,” he called out as he knocked. “It’s Tommy.”

Opening the door, you were only left in your nightdress. Your hair was down completely, something Tommy had not seen since you were some years younger. He could not help but to notice the sheer material of the fabric, the buds of your nipples showing through.

“Tommy?” You yawned. “What’re you doing here?”

“I needed to talk to you,” he told you.

“Now? It’s the middle of the night.”

Ushering him in, you let him shut the door behind him and tried to rub the sleep out of your eyes. Tommy felt himself growing hard, looking at you in such a state.

“Y/N, don’t marry him,” Tommy blurted out in almost a whisper.

“What?” You looked at him, shocked. “What did you say?”

“Don’t marry him, don’t marry Michael.”

There was a stillness to the room, a silence that made you almost sick. His face was somehow stoic, but pleading at the same time. His eyes bored into your own, as if they were making it impossible to get a word out.

“He is a good man, Tommy,” you said. “He wants to take care of me, to make me happy.”

“With plenty of money and security, with a practical occupation and a good legacy to leave your children?” Tommy asked, sarcasm incredibly evident.

“Yes, Tommy. Fuck, I mean is that what you want me to say? That he can give me a good life? Why should it matter if he’s got money?”

“It shouldn’t, not if you love him,” Tommy told you. “Do you?”

It felt as if you were eight years old again, confronting Tommy about why he was walking with you in the first place. He looked at you with such yearning, such longing. It was as if he was begging you not to say yes, pleading with you not to have already devoted your heart to this man.

There was only one truth of the matter. Thomas Shelby was the only man that you had ever loved.

“Tommy, I have only ever loved you since I was eight years old,” you whispered.

As if unable to hold back any longer, Tommy embraced you fully and brought you into his arms. He kissed you furiously, without any doubt or question that you were meant for him. He let his hands run up and down your back and pulled you into his body.

Before you gave into your urge to let him rip your sheer nightdress off of you, you pulled away with swollen lips and eyes full of desire. This was not right, not until you spoke to Michael. Regardless of how you felt for Tommy, you could not do this to Michael.

“Not yet,” you whispered. “I gave a man my word, I need to speak to him before I can go any further here.”

Tommy respected your choice, he knew you wouldn’t want disloyalty on your conscience. He just nodded his head and placed a hand on your cheek gently, it was in these moments that he forgot about everything else.

Michael didn’t take the news very well at all, his ego was bruised and he pleaded for you to reconsider. He told you how deeply he loved you and how you had led him on, making him believe that you two would have a life together. He was right, you had encouraged him in all of his dreams of your future and you had done it without ever considering how it may end. It was selfish.

It took you weeks before you agreed to see Tommy again after Michael had left you feeling so guilty. Nights of tireless sleep, you would look up at the sky and pray to god that you were making the right decisions.

Over a year into your training, you would soon be able to do what you’d always dreamt of. Dark times approached, though. There were ghosts of whispers at every street corner, they spoke of war so feverishly. It was as if death was due to knock at the doors of families, stripping women of their husbands and children of their fathers.

The thought of this had left Tommy quite stoic most of the time, he held a monotonous view on the entire matter. Every time you had brought it up to him, he told you how he would be expected to fight on behalf of his country if it came down to it.

And so he did, when it came down to it and Britain had joined the War—The Shelby brothers and hundreds of other men in Small Heath joined as well.

“Tommy,” I sniffled as I watched him from across his bedroom pack a small bag of things. “I need you to promise me that you’ll come home, that you won’t die out there. They’re saying things about trench warfare, it’s all really terrifying—”

Tommy crossed the room and took your face in his hands, kissing you hard on the lips, as if it was the last time he would ever do so. A piece of you wondered if he believed that he would die out there.

“Please come home,” you breathed.

“I will come home,” he kissed you again. “I promise you.”

You planned to hold him to this promise. Having waited ten years for Tommy Shelby, you would wait however long more so long as he would come home to you.

It took two months before his first letter would come after you watched him depart on that large ship. Long months of kneeling at the foot of your bed, begging god not to take Tommy. Everything that was being said about the war was absolutely tragic, soldiers being blown to pieces or rotting below the earth in the trenches.

My Dearest Y/N,

I wish I was able to write to you sooner, I cannot say where I am for the risk of interception. Just know that I have never been in such conditions in my life, I spend my days underground. I have taken the role of a tunneler. Trench warfare has not been good to any of us, I find myself fantasizing of the end of this long hell.

I stare at your picture every night before I shut my eyes, dreaming of what it would be like beside you. There is no greater sorrow to me than your absence from my life at this point in time. I can only hope that it will not be for long.

Not long ago, myself and a group of men were gassed. I watched a fellow soldier go blind for nearly three days before he finally came out of it, only with some permanent damage. There are times when I have thought to myself, ‘Perhaps if I was hit, it would not be so bad. Perhaps even death is better than fighting in this war’.

Then I think of you. I think of the promises I made to you before I left to fight in this god awful war. I cannot understand how men are expected to live like this, nor how we will continue on. I was up to my knees in water last week, the trenches dark and desolate as we waited for the storm to pass. There is so much waiting these days.

I look forward to your letter.

With all of my love,

Tommy Shelby

#elle’s fics #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby x y/n #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagines #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader

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mayfieldss · 2 months

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Your needs, my needs - Thomas Shelby

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

Warnings: mentions of blood and slightly suggestive content.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Perhaps some things can change."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PEAKY BLINDERS TAGLIST:

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

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dreamerschroniclesofstories · 3 months

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Hiii love 🩷

Could you please make a reader X Tommy, where you take care of Charlie and he slowly falls in love with the reader. At first he denies it but after sometime he can’t take it anymore !! Fluff and happy ending please

Love your writing by the way ⭐️🩷

Hey Lovelie! Thank you so much for this request and the lovely comment , I’d gladly do this for you!

Italics: flashback.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO REPOST THIS ANYWAY ELSE OR TRANSLATION OF THIS FIC.

Summery: request above

[Y/N]: Your name

[L/N]: Last name.

Word count: 2,516

Thomas Shelby. The name of the man that you have loved for the past two years. The man you knew would change your life the moment you set foot into his office for an interview to be a live in maid for his young son, charlie.

The blood pumped through your veins, making your head feel like it would burst at any point. You sent an application to Thomas Shelby secretary for the job but you did not expect to get an answer. So when you got a reply asking for an interview less then three days later, the shock that you were in was explainable.

You knock on the door, waiting to hear the voice of the man you were secretly afraid of.

“ come in” the voice vibrates through the atmosphere

You turn the old doorknob then push the door open, gliding your body through the door. The sound of the door creaking made Tommy lift his head up from his paperwork.

The feeling of your world stops as you make eye contact for the first time with the man with the eyes that could kill.

One month into the job

Thomas smiles slightly and takes off his jacket just as Francis rushes over to him.

“Good evening mr Shelby, dinner should be served soon” the middle aged woman explained, taking Thomas jacket gently.

Thomas doesn’t say a word, taking a cigarette out of his pouch from his trouser pocket. He looks towards Francis, lighting the cigarette.

“Where’s my son?” He questioned curiously.

Before tommys maid could respond, Charlie rushes around the corner from the main room “ daddy” he squeals, running towards Tommy.

Thomas kneels down “ Charlie, my boy” he catches Charlie as he jumps into his arms, Thomas stands up with Charlie in his arms.

Soon after, [Y/N] rushes around the corner with a face that can only be described as anxious. Her face was shiny most likely from running after the young boy.

“I am so sorry mr Shelby, i tried to stop him. I know you don’t like to be disrupted after work. I promise, I’ll make sure it won’t happen tomorrow” she rambles, clearly nervous that Thomas would be mad.

“No need to apologise, make sure that he is calm before he goes to bed, don’t want him to be cranky tomorrow” Thomas smirks slightly and gives Charlie over to [Y/N].

She nodded and quickly walks away, Charlie on his hip. Unknowingly, to [Y/N] mr Shelby was watching her with curiosity plaguing his mind.

Three months into the job.

Charlie had gone missing. Someone had taken him when Tommy was distracted with the guests, during a work event, he hadn’t noticed his young son being carried out through the door by a woman that passed as a maid.

Three hours had passed since [Y/N] had seen the young boy, she was nervously pacing the house, biting her already broken and fragile nails. An anxious trait she’s had since she was a young girl.

The sound of the front door rattling invaded the already chaotic atmosphere of the manor. The banging of doors signalled that Tommy was in his “beast mode”. This is when Tommy is on a mission and if you get in his way, you’ll most likely land with a bullet between your eyes. However, that hadn’t stopped The young maid. [Y/N] opened the door of Charlie’s room and begins to rush her sore feet towards the grand stairs.

“ mr Shelby” she calls out “ oh mr Shelby, is young Charlie been found” she asks, her voice full of worry.

[Y/N] stops her running when she sees the distressed young boy in his father’s arms, nearly making herself fall from the suddenness of the movement.

“ Francis take Charles” Thomas orders sternly, passing him over to his only trusted maid from that moment on.

The older maid nods and takes Charlie, taking the toddler upstairs. The air is so brittle, from the tension, it could snap. If it doesn’t, [Y/N] might. No one speaks, what is there to say?. [Y/N] could feel the fear in her chest waiting to take over her. Perhaps it was only there to protect her but there really isn’t any danger to be protected from. It sits there like an angry ball, propelling [Y/N] towards an anxiety she doesn’t need.

“ where were you miss [L/N]” Tommy questions, accusation filling his voice. His eyes could kill anyone. Those eyes are ocean-strong, swimming with warm sun-lit currents.

[Y/N] gulps, her throat feeling as if it was closing in on it self. Her mouth parts slightly but no words come out. Eventually, words were able to escape.

“ I’m so sorry mr Shelby, I looked away from him for one second, he wanted me to get his toy horse that he dropped, I gave him to another woman, she was dressed in a maids uniform” she explains, her eyes filling with unreleased tears.

Tommy sighs, watching as the young maid clearly showing signs of distress.

“ go back to work” the older man states, passing Charlie back over to [Y/N].

The young maid immediately takes Charlie into her arms, using one of her hands to wipe under her eyes “ of course mr Shelby” she nods.

As [Y/N] walks away, Tommy speaks up again “ have you had dinner miss [L/N]”.

“ no I have not mr.Shelby” [Y/N] replies, turning back around by the stairs, Charlie playing with her short hair.

Tommy nods “ after you put Charlie to bed, come to the kitchen, there will be food there for you” the older man announces, walking down the corridor towards the door leading to the kitchen.

As the months pass, Tommy and [Y/N] work relationship shifted, everybody can see it has except for the pair in question.

However, Tommy wouldn’t admit it. He still feels like he is in love with his deceased wife grace, he can’t get himself to move on. On the other hand, [Y/N] knew of her feelings towards her boss, who wouldn’t? Especially when you boss looks like Thomas fucking Shelby.

Present day

Over the past years that [Y/N] has worked for Tommy, she had gotten close to the women of the Shelby family, mainly polly. When [Y/N] wasn’t working, she was with polly.

Today was one of those days. Today, [Y/N] was helping polly with the books at the Shelby company betting shop. Tommy had given her the next few days off since she had worked for two weeks straight since Charlie was poorly with a fever.

“ fucking men” Polly grumbles, slamming down the book full of incorrect numbers and calculations.

[Y/N] chuckles from across the room as she corrects Arthur’s calculations “ men never cease to amaze you, do they pol?” She raises an eyebrow.

Polly lights her cigarette, taking a long inhale of the hazardous smoke “we are working our asses off whilst the men sit on theirs at the pub, getting god knows how drunk” the middled aged women rants, pointing to the door.

Polly smirks as she stands up “ come on, let’s go” Polly encourages, grabbing her purse.

[Y/N] frowns, dropping her pencil “ where are you going lol?” She asks confused but her eyes full of wonder at what Polly was planning.

“ I know a woman who knows a woman, she told me that the ladies of small heath are going out on strike, by the factories” Polly places her deep red hat on her curly brown hair as she raises an eyebrow at [Y/N].

The younger woman laughs “ you can’t be serious pol, Tommy would have your head” she warns.

“ not if he won’t find me” Polly puts her coat on.

[Y/N] bites her lip, she was conflicted. Her brain turns and twists as she argues with herself internally but eventually, only one side of her could win.

[Y/N] nods “ fuck em” she stands up “ I worked two weeks with his sick child and nothing but a thanks and a few days off work” [Y/N] rants, grabbing her coat.

Polly watches “ that’s my girl”.

Once the two woman get their stuff together, they walk out of the betting shop, Polly placing her sunglasses on her face, the women ignoring the men outside of the betting shop.

[Y/N] chuckles as she links her arm with pollys as they walk together towards the factories to join the woman of small heath.

The garrison pub

The Shelby men sat inside of their private corner room, celebrating Arthur’s recent news of Linda’s pregnancy. What they didn’t expect was another member of the blinders to come in and announce the women’s strike.

Tommy was about to make a speech when the door opens. A young man taking off his cap quickly catches his breath.

“ I’m sorry to disturb you mr Shelby, but I’ve just got word that mrs gray and miss [L/N} have walked out of the shop, claiming that they are striking for women’s rights in the work place” he explains.

Tommy raises an eyebrow, Arthur immediately standing up “ they what?” His drunken voice ripples through the small private room and into the main area of the pub.

Tommy holds his hand out to his brother “ now brother, this will be sorted” he stands up and grabs his cap, immediately following the younger member out of the pub, and towards where his aunt and his maid were currently causing chaos.

The Factories

The sound of the women cheering and chanting blocked the ability for [Y/N] ears to identity the sound of Tommy’s feet but as soon as his hand wrapped its self around her arm, she knew who it was and she knew she was in deep trouble.

Tommy’s breath sends goosebumps down her back as he leans down to speak into her ear “ come with me. Now” his voice quiet but clearly filled with demand.

[Y/N] didn’t say anything, her feet moving themselves in the direction that Tommy was guiding her. As they get further and further away from the other women, the noise of the chaos was slowly fading out.

“ Tommy, tommy please listen” [Y/N] began to protest but Tommy quickly cuts in.

“ what were you thinking [Y/N]. Do you know what this can do to the company” he states, letting go of her arm.

“ it’s not that serious tommy, me and pol weren’t protesting we were just watching” [Y/N] defends herself.

Tommy was about to respond when the sound of the police invading the strike, and women screaming as they get arrested. [Y/N] gasps as she gets shoved onto the floor, the wet gravel of small heaths pavements make contact with her hands. Small but painful cuts develop on her palms.

“ watch it” tommy yells at the woman that shoved [Y/N], clearly trying to run from the police.

“ I’m okay” [Y/N] reassures Tommy as she gently grabs his hand and stands up, Tommy patting down her dress since it had got mudded by the mud puddle on the path.

“ let’s go” Tommy grabs her hand and begins to pace to the garrison, away from the chaos. [Y/N]’s cheeks rise in temperature when she realises that tommys warm hand had engulfed her own. This is the kind of blushing that shows her soul, a compliment to the eyes and having a delicate sweetness within. It shows a connection, it shows that the smile and shyness comes from deep emotions. Her blush is beautiful and something real.

The garrison pub.

The pub was quiet, the occasionally laugh or the occasional cough fills the deadly silence since the moment Tommy stormed out of the pub to find [Y/N].

Tommy guides [Y/N] towards the small corner room, his hand hovering on the small of her back, however the heat still penetrates through her dress and onto her skin.

[Y/N] smiles as she walks into the room, taking her coat off slowly “ thank you Tommy” she graciously sits on one of the seats, placing her purse onto the table.

Tommy watches her as he sits at his usual seat, once again taking a cigarette from his metal holder “ would you like a drink?” He asks gruffly.

“ no thank you, I don’t drink” [Y/N] admits.

Thomas raises an eyebrow “ don’t drink ey, what maid of mine doesn’t drink” he teases.

“ the maid that looks after your infant son” she jokes back.

Thomas lights the cigarette “ my son likes you miss [L/N]” he admits, raising an eyebrow.

[Y/N] smiles, looking down at her dress skirt for a few seconds before looking up towards Tommy. She had the kind of eyes that reach out to Tommy, much like a baby reaching out with open arms, clearly signaling what she wants.

“ do you have a husband miss [L/N]” Tommy takes a long inhale of the hazardous smoke for what seems like the hundredth time that day.

“ please, call me [Y/N], and no I don’t have a husband nor a partner” she admits, her bottom lip sucking in between her teeth every so slowly. Tommy immediately looking down at the movement. Her lips were as good as her eyes in painting a picture of her emotion.

“ come here” Tommy whispers, placing the cigarette into the ash tray, just in time for [ Y/N] to arrive infront of Tommy.

The older man, places his hands onto her hips gently,his thumbs rubbing her in a rhythm, the smoke from the cigarette slowly evaporating between the two.

[Y/N] places her hands onto tommys shoulders “ this is inappropriate Tommy” she whispers, her voice as delicate as silk.

“ everything in my life is inappropriate” tommy points out, gently pulling [Y/N} into his lap, their eyes making close contact for the first time.

They both saw fire within each others eyes, she moved so close Tommy could feel her lips gliding over his own “ one time” she whispers “ one time is alright” she tries to reassure herself.

As soon as those four words left her mouth, Tommy connects their lips, in this kiss there was a sweetness of passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into a moment. [Y/N]’s heart skips a beat, as their lips glide together, making their own secret music. This kiss dissolves and releases any doubt within [Y/N]’s mind.

Tommys mouth parts ever so slightly, his tongue teasing then parting her own lips, wanting to savour her sweetness. A soft moan escapes her as she tastes Tommy in return.

Feeling as though she was burning in overwhelming passion, [Y/N] ripped her mouth away. Both gasping for air. Tommy presses his forehead against hers as [Y/N] runs her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck.

After a few minutes, Tommy lifts his head, placing his hand on her cheek. A slient communication passes through them. They both knew love was their sun, night and day.

They knew they were each others saviours.

A/N: hey again!

So sorry this took so long, my life has been extremely hectic but I’ve finished it and I hope you like it.

Please leave, a like, comment, reblog. All is appreciated so much! ❤️

#peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby imagines #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders masterlist #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fandom #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby fluff #thomas shelby fluff #tommy shelby x reader

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berrypockets · 2 months

Text

Voiceless

Summary: In the heart of Small Heath, Tommy Shelby finds an unexpected connection with Y/N, a talented seamstress who lost her voice in a mysterious accident. As their relationship deepens, they navigate the complexities of love, trust, and the shadows of Small Heath. Amidst the whispers of betrayal, Y/N faces life-threatening challenges, and Tommy discovers the shocking truth about the accident that silenced Y/N. As their love withstands the tests of time, they build a life filled with resilience, family, and the unspoken language of love.

A sinister secret waiting to be unveiled in the chapters that follows.

Authors Note: This story has been with me for over two years. I have given this story to authors who I thought would deliver it as I am not a writer myself, but sadly none of them accepted the story as it was difficult to deliver. I have spent two years writing this story; I do hope you'll love it as much as I did. Please feel free to reblog, or share your thoughts on the story, I would appreciate it

Chapter 1: The Accident

Chapter 2: Learning to Adapt

Chapter 3: The Silent World

Chapter 4: The Shadow of Silence

Chapter 5: The Unheard Language of Love

Chapter 6: Whispers in the Shadows

Chapter 7: Stitches of the Heart

Chapter 8: Shadows Resurface | Shattered Trust

Chapter 9: Shadows of Betrayal | Resilient Hearts

Chapter 10: Awakening Shadows

Chapter 11: Veiled Whispers

Chapter 12: Shadows Beneath the Veil

Chapter 13: Echoes of Retribution

Chapter 14: A New Beginning

Epilogue: Threads of Eternity

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagines #cillian murphy #peaky blinders imagines #thomas shelby imagines #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x you

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calummss · 9 months

Text

Do You Get Déjà Vu | Thomas Shelby

masterlist

summary: thomas doesn’t come to pick up his daughter. you decide to take her home only to find a man of a table with a bullet in his chest and a lot of deja vu

pairing: fem! reader x thomas shelby

words: 1.6k

a/n: just fluff and comedy tbh… not my usual angst i promise also, this takes place in 1919 because season 1 tommy has my heart. helena is around 9/10 years :)

How you disliked summer. Sweat pearls dripping simply sitting and breathing. Delicate fabric sticking to you like a bee and its honey. It was simply too hot for a woman to be wearing layers of modest clothing but here you were, sitting in front of your desk; no countertop in sight, too many different documents sprawled across the surface, each waiting on your eyes and conscious to scan it and then evaluate whatever category it fell into.

‘Miss Verys?’ Katie’s voice pulled you out of your slump, yet your heart skipped a beat when you saw her come closer with an arm full of newer papers that acquired your attention.

‘Please tell me you are joking…’

‘I fear not, Miss,’ she pressed her lips together as she placed them onto the right corner, the surface area with less than ten documents. ‘But these are all for the week.’ She smiled.

‘Finally some good fucking news,’ you huffed, ‘Sorry,’ you tilted your head when you realised Katie was taken aback by your choice of words.

‘Also I don’t wish to add more to your plate but Helena is still present. It seems Mr. Shelby has yet to pick her up. Do you want me to stay and wait with her?’

‘Katie you are truly an angel, really, I am so grateful but you are being paid to work on from eight to three, I couldn’t let you do that. Legally and from my heart.’ You curled your lips, fingers rubbing against the sheet of paper you were waiting to flip. ‘Just tell Helena to pack her things and to come to my office. Since I will be busy reading through all of these I might end up staying for quite a while.’

‘Of course. And thank you, Miss Verys, have a good day.’

‘You too.’

Katie left and you were stuck in front of an ocean of paper. If you had known that directing a school was so strenuous you might’ve thought about inaugurating a school twice. But it was a lovely institute. A school for girls with the most brightest and innovative minds, no runner up to men but competition with finest ideas.

Momentarily Helena came through the door and patiently stood at the door frame, her bag in her grip.

‘Hello Helena,’ you smiled at her. ‘Your father is not here yet?’

‘No.’

‘That’s okay, just wait here with me. I have much work and since we’re the only ones here I thought company would be nice, no? Sit,’ you pointed to the chair, Helena still standing at the entrance barely having moved.

Helena hummed in response.

‘So,’ you grabbed one of your quills to start signing documents that needed your signature. ‘What do you like to do when you’re not at school or doing homework? I am pretty sure you like horse riding?’

‘I do.’

‘Something else perhaps?’

‘Recently we bought a family car,’ Helena had sat down in the chair, laying her bag beside her as she relaxed into the seat. ‘When we got it we drove through the countryside…it was so thrilling. The wind on my face felt different to when I am riding. Daddy looked so happy too. I like cars.’

‘My my, what a riveting experience.’ You glanced at her from your work. ‘I remember my first time in a car. Felt exactly like how you described it.’

Helena beamed back you, her bright blue eyes gleaming with excitement, ‘My uncle Finn liked the car ride at first too but we had to stop because he got sick,’

‘And did you?’

‘No, I felt great. I love cars.’

‘I too think cars are the greatest innovation since the marvellous idea to roast and ferment cocoa beans to make chocolate.’ You let out a lighthearted laugh, infecting Helena with the same giggle.

‘I like chocolate.’

‘You do?’ Your lips curled. ‘Do you want one? I might have a bit stashed somewhere between all this energy-consuming work,’

‘I’ve only had it twice,’ Helena began another story, ‘It is very expensive and my father says it is bad for your teeth and that you mustn’t eat too much of it. He said that when he was visiting London he met a man outside of the sweet shop who became so round, simply for eating a lot of chocolate.’

‘Well best you have only one piece then,’ you put a piece into your mouth before giving her her piece. ‘This is my favourite. Got it from Cornwall. They make the best sweets.’

Taking the piece you handed her, she started eating it, her eyes in awe.

‘What about your father, Helena?’

‘What about him?’

‘What does he do for work?’ You asked, amusingly raising your eyebrows before taking the second heap of documents before you.

Helena hesitated. ‘I don’t think I can say.’

‘Why not?’

‘Family business…’

‘Family business?’ You looked up, Helena nodding her head in response. ‘I’m just curious that’s all. When you speak of him, you speak endearingly. You seem to have a very good relationship.’

‘We do.’ She ate the last bite, looking around the room. ‘If he wasn’t my father he would be my best friend.’

‘How sweet.’

With an easy lead conversation, time passed quicker than expected. But an hour later and Mr. Shelby still hadn’t come to pick up Helena.

With minutes passing you realised that Mr. Shelby wouldn’t show up anytime soon. It was also way past closing time so you had to start locking up the building. You thought it best to walk Helena home to see if anyone was there and if not you’d take her back to yours so she would have a safe place to stay until anyone got in touch.

‘Hello?’ You knocked against the door, the hard wooden door aching your knuckles as you repeatedly hit against it. ‘This is Miss Verys from Small Heath Institute for Girls. I have your daughter Helena with me as she has not been picked up yet.’ Your breath ricocheted off the door.

Seconds later you could hear the lock turning and were greeted by an older woman, her hair all over the place as her dark eyes burned into yours. Feeling as if she were about to take a jape at you, you quickly jumped back into your sentence. ‘I’m so sorry to intrude but I grew worried when Helena still hadn’t been picked up yet. I hope that all is well.’

Your eyes left her frame, seeing figures surrounding a table where there seemed to be a man laying down upon, quick huffs and puffs echoing from behind.

‘Arthur, shut up and just get this out of me.’

‘Drink this, Tommy. It’ll help with the pain.’

The unravelling scene before you had your full attention, completely forgetting the woman at the door.

‘I—oh no don’t do that!’ You raised your voice, pushing past her, now standing in the living room with three men staring at you. ‘I’m sorry to intrude but I was a nurse at the front and seeing you just stick your fingers inside his wound just rang my bells.’

The man on the table had blue eyes that protruded from the dim light within the room, his chest covered in dry and fresh blood, sweat dampening his skin and clothes. You overheard that his name was Thomas Shelby, Helena’s father.

You stepped closer and examined his wound. A bullet wound. Minimal surface damage and easily removed.

‘If someone could get me some bandages, an unopened bottle of alcohol and some tweezers with a bowl of warm water.’

‘I’ll get it.’ Helena walked past you to what seemed to be the kitchen.

‘The cheap one, Hallie,’ the light haired one yelled after her, his toothpick sitting between his lips. ‘If you open that rum from the Caribbean, I swear to you that I won’t give you any more sweets.’

‘You give her sweets?’ Thomas lifted his head.

‘Sometimes.’

‘Mr. Shelby if you could just relax for a short time longer. I will get that bullet out of you as swiftly as possible.’

Further taking in his naked chest you noticed his tattoo. Similar to sun rays just above his right chest. You had seen this tattoo before…

‘Mr. Shelby, can I ask you something?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you perhaps have a scar on your lower back? On your right just above your glutes?’

‘How do you know that?’ He stared up at you, holding your gaze as Helena came back with the supplies you needed.

‘Given it was a back injury you were transported to the tent on your stomach,’ you grabbed the alcohol to clean the wound, a hiss escaping him as you grabbed the tweezers, ready to pull out the metal embedded in his flesh. ‘I was the nurse that treated you. I was covered in ugly drapes and bloods, can’t say you could recognise me,’

Thomas winced as the ends of the tweezers dug around to grab the piece of metal, a small smirk on his lips. ‘You don’t say eh?’

‘I’m sure you’ll be having a déjà vu when I pull it out,’ you grabbed it and pulled it out, a loud growl escaping his lips as air pushed past his lips.

‘Thank you again.’

‘No problem, Mr. Shelby.’ You disposed of the bullet in a dish Arthur held out to you. ‘Next time Helena is not picked up I’ll bring her home and bring my first aid kit with me.’

‘That’s actually not a bad idea,’ he pulled himself up, grabbing a cigarette and lighting it. ‘Small Heath is starting you feel like a battlefield,’

‘Then I’ll be your nurse ready to care you to health.’

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red-riding-wood · 3 months

Text

Devil, Devil - Part I

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x F! Reader

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Summary: The seal of your fate, to a man falsely crowned. And to your devil, your soul was bound.

[Inspired by this request for a jazz/vaudevillian performer and the song Devil, Devil - MICK]

Warnings: Dark!Tommy, dubcon/noncon themes, noncon touching, little bit smutty but full smut in future chapters, stalking/unhealthy obsession, manipulation, blackmail, mentions of domestic abuse, blood, mild choking, mention of prostitution

WC: 5277

It was all because of that damned Peaky devil.

You cursed him for the gaudy pearls strung around your neck, for the corset that pinched your stomach so tight it would be a wonder if you’d be able to hit your lower notes. You cursed him for the waver in your stride every night you stepped onstage, for the heat beneath your skin when that frozen gaze seemed to douse you in fire, for the quiver in your tone when you sang – for you sang from your soul, and your soul trembled in the sights of the blue-eyed Devil.

He’d started arriving for your performances every night, attracting the attention of the dancers and the waitresses, the owner and the local hoodlums, but he paid no mind to any of them but you. He always sat in the second row, shadowed by the establishment’s collection of antiques. He’d light a cigarette and blow a halo for a crown, lurking in the darkness but staring at you from eyes like twin beacons, his pinewood throne framed by the black coat he never relinquished and his sharp features hallowed by the candlelit fires of Hell.

“He’s trouble, that one,” the locals had said. “Managed to turn a backwoods razor gang into an enterprise, but make no mistake; he’s got cursed blood in him. Shelby Company Limited, they call themselves now, but the Peaky Blinders they’ll always be. Thomas fuckin’ Shelby comes up from Birmingham, thinks he owns everything he sees. The Devil, some say; if you’ve crossed paths with him twice, them say it’s too late for you, when the Devil’s set his sights on your soul.”

If he’d truly set his sights on your soul, you wondered why he tormented you like this, why he never said a word but only devoured you with those frigid blue eyes, as if you were all his and you possessed not even a fraction of him. Last you’d checked, legend had it the Devil traded for souls, so what could he possibly think to grant you? The man had brought you nothing but misfortune. It was because of him that tonight you were expected to join the dancers, because your act had been slipping beneath that coldfire gaze and smoke-ring crown. Your manager claimed it was by popular customer request, but you knew better. You were a songbird, not a peacock; while the other girls of your troupe flared their feathered skirts and tasseled corsets, you were an instrument in their symphony. You got up on that stage not because you wanted to show off, but because when you sang, your soul came alive, and amidst the velvety sounds of the trombones and saxes and the lurid displays of flashing colours and lights, you were at peace.

Until he came along and ruined everything.

“I do not run a charity,” your manager had said. “I run a business. And this business, it has an image to maintain. Before our contract ends with this club, we need to show these Londoner pricks that we are not just another travelling circus with cheap whores and fake magic tricks. Nobody is questioning your ability to sing, Y/N. We just think you could be bringing a little… more.”

As you stepped onto the stage that night, and immediately felt yourself impaled by the icy hooks of that piercing gaze, you wondered if the Peaky devil also wanted a little “more”. As if you could give him anything more than what he’d already taken: your soul, your peace.

Your breath came shaky against the microphone as the lights illuminated the stage, blacking out all of the club’s customers except for one. One, whose mouth you could swear quirked into the slightest of smiles around his cigarette, whose gaze roved across your new ensemble like you were a piece of meat. Your corset already hitched your breath in your chest, and anger flared within you, frustration eating at the hollowness of your ribs as your voice came airy and light.

But this rage that had flickered to life inside you, warm and whelming like the oil lamps that cast darting shadows across the white tablecloths, it spurred a growl in your tone that surprised yet thrilled you, and as your nails curled around the microphone, your shoulders carried to the bright of the music, the dark of your tone made you feel like you were something dangerous. That perhaps a devil dwelled beneath your breast as it did the man with the eyes of death.

Feathered wings and headdresses whirled around you as the girls began their choreography, and your heart seemed to escape the heavy constriction of the corset to pound in your throat, your skull, joining the chorus of sounds that resonated deep in your bones. You sidled your hips from side to side, slowly, sensually, the way your dancer friend, Sally, had taught you, your heels beginning to click to the beat of the song.

But your flesh was burning up beneath that icy stare, and sweat prickled at your neck, and though you sang with fury, your voice still felt limited, unable to utilise the full breath of your stomach. Irritation clawed at your buzzing flesh, and your lip curled over your teeth as you attempted to belt your notes.

Damn you, Peaky bastard, you nearly breathed, hating the way his eyes seemed to gleam as you moved your body. He had no damn right to look so smug.

You tried to focus on channeling this frustration into the movements of your body and the snarl of your tone, the pearls along your chest clacking together as you twirled, your head growing dizzy as you battled for breath. It wasn’t the hoots and hollers nor the cat calls that spurred you on, but the icy hooks of the Devil’s gaze. No, he did not look at you like a piece of meat. He looked at you like you were a goddess.

Breaths coming shorter, you yanked at the laces of your corset, your irritation reaching new heights and the incense and music and cheer drowning out the voice in your head that usually kept you from doing anything stupid.

As your corset tumbled to the stage, cold air sweeping across your sweat-dappled flesh, your voice sprang free of its cage, notes pulled deep from your belly and your fury masking the tremble in your tone. The pearls pooled between your breasts, the feathers of the pasties still scratching your flesh but no longer grinding so painfully against the fabric of the corset.

The Blinder’s smirk seemed to fall, jaw clenched, bright eyes darkening and drinking you in between minacious glances at the men in the crowd who cheered, kicked at the tables, shouted obscene comments that were only half-drowned out by the smooth shrill of the trombones. Your lips pulled into a wicked grin round your teeth, and you became lost in the music as you danced and sang, not caring anymore that your breaths were short or that you didn’t hit every note just right. The look on his face made it all worth it.

And as the final notes died in your aching chest and the stage was swept by dark, and the saxes unleashed their final, wailing cry, Sally swept a sheer robe round your shoulders and ushered you from the stage and to the dressing room. Her excitement was contagious as blonde curls bounced over her bedazzled headband and she whispered praises to you, but her words seemed to muddle together as you heard, distinctly, the chanting of your name behind you like a sordid prayer.

---

The muffled notes of piano still hummed past the walls of the dressing room as you applied another coat of cherry red lipstick, a coil of smoke rising from the ash tray beside you and clouding your head as you attempted to filter out the excited chatter of the girls. Sheer gown now fitted properly around your arms, your skin had the chance to breathe without existing under the ogling eyes of the rambunctious men who had been chanting your name.

“I still can’t believe what just happened out there!” Sally’s voice cut through the throng of the rest, mostly because she had leaned over to squeal into your ear. “Did you see that gentleman at the front? His jaw practically dropped along with your corset.” She giggled, and you popped your painted lips, chasing away the smile that threatened their corner. You hadn’t noticed any man in that crowd but the blue-eyed Devil. Those twin blues were practically burned into your skull, so much so that –

You stilled, blood turning to ice in your veins and your heart freezing over in your chest. The lipstick clattered to the desk, causing Sally to jump back with a yelp that if not from her, could’ve only come from a Chihuahua.

Blue eyes stared back at you in the smudged mirror.

A sharp breath filled your lungs as the ice around your heart shattered and it began to beat again, hard, against your ribs, and your head spun from the sudden flood of cigarettes and incense. You could’ve feinted as you stood, whirling on your heel, nails splintering the wooden grain of the desk with how hard they dug in to ground yourself. Your gaze narrowed, and your heart fluttered as you found it was met with the same intensity.

The dressing room fell silent with a hush, and as Thomas Shelby sauntered in, snubbing out his cigarette in the nearest ash tray, a fearful reverence seemed to coagulate in the air, until it became so thick you could scarcely breathe.

A few of the girls darted out behind him as he drew closer to you, smirk playing at his lip and that darkness colliding with the bright of his eyes in a twisted, glittering dance. But he held out a hand before the rest could vanish, even the high-spirited Marla, who seemed dismayed but didn’t challenge him. Though not of a very tall stature, Thomas Shelby was an intimidating man, and it was evident that the name he carried made him untouchable. Your brow furrowed, teeth grinding together as you tried to work out exactly why he didn’t want the girls to leave when it seemed obvious he had come here for you and you alone. And when that icy gaze settled on you again, the bright of it glittering with mischief, and his smirk tugged higher with unmistakable pride and that insufferable smugness, you figured you were beginning to work it out. He wanted to make a statement, and whatever it was he planned, he wanted them to see.

The statement, perhaps, that your soul belonged to him. And only him.

Shoving his hands in the pockets of his trousers, he closed the gap between the two of you with an agonisingly slow stride, as if time revolved around him. The gold chain of his pocket watch glinted in the harsh lights, and you might’ve used the word “dashing” to describe his prim, collared, snow-white shirt, had you not wanted to smear the contents of the ash tray across it out of spite, or perhaps douse his black suit in some of the gold glitter the girls brushed their skin with.

Perhaps, some part of you wanted to print your lipstick along the rose-white flesh of his neck, to match his striking red tie.

Forcing such conflicted, intrusive thoughts from your reeling mind, you cocked your head, glaring at him expectantly.

“Quite the performance.” His voice was not shrill and grating as you had anticipated, but low, rumbling like thunder over a black horizon yet pooling like soft honey between your thighs. “Tell me, songbird, do you usually win the crowd over with such provocative displays?”

Already amazed by his sheer fucking nerve, you stifled a scoff. As if you hadn’t caught him staring, lurking in the shadows of every performance.

“You tell me, Mr. Shelby,” you purred out your words, but cocked a brow in challenge. “To what do I owe such keen interest?”

The bright of his eyes glinted, and his smirk hooked his lip. “You’ve heard of me.”

“Everyone in this city knows your name. It seems to spread like some sort of plague. I’d prefer it never have crawled from the sickening bowels of the Birmingham streets, but... here it is, on my lips.” You rolled your shoulders upward, leaning against the desk, head tilted to one side.

“And yet, you wear it well.” Thomas’ gaze darted to your parted lips, snaked his tongue between his teeth as if to taste the cherry. “Don’t fret, little bird…” He spoke in a hushed baritone that still managed to reverberate through the diminishing space between you, as if the faint hiss of his whisper would mask his words from everyone but you, like clouds gathering over distant thunder. “… you’ll be saying it more often.”

A burning, whiskey-tinged breath fanned your cheeks, stirring the wisps of hair from your face. Tension mounted in the room, the girls turning into porcelain dolls as they held their breaths, but they didn’t exist outside of the threads that pulled taut between you and the Blinder.

He smelled of gunmetal, of old books. Of charcoal and wood smoke. Like blood and hellfire.

“Will I, now? Think you own these lips, is that it? Think you own my body?” You didn’t even need to take a step to bring your figure to his, your breasts brushing his chest through the sheer fabric of your robe, the chain of his pocket watch tickling your stomach.

He smelled of earth, of sacred rituals. Of frankincense and myrrh. Like dug graves and lost religion.

And like a candle, the bright of his eyes was snuffed out by the dark, and the smirk fell from sharp outlines. “You haven’t heard?” he said. “Some say I own everything the light touches…” His fingers brushed your side, the heat of his blood beneath his skin sending cold shivers along your flesh, and you cursed yourself for wishing in that moment, in which his fingers dragged reverently down the curve of your hip, that his touch would burn away the fabric between you. “Some say I own everything the light is too fearful to touch.” The pressure of his touch increased, thumb tracing your navel, and suddenly, his grasp was anything but gentle – possessive, demanding, as his fingers curled between the parting of your thighs and his nails burned against your skin. A breath hissed from your teeth and you swatted his hand away. You were surprised when he returned his thumb to his pocket, his devious smirk reappearing. Could he hear how fast your heart was beating for him, could he smell the lust that brewed beneath your flesh, could he feel the heat that had pooled like poison between your legs?

Did he know that he haunted your dreams? That you could not drift off to sleep anymore without thinking of those soft lips trailing down your sternum, of his teeth leaving bruises across your flesh?

He made you want to be worshipped, and ruined.

“Some say you’re nothing but a Gypsy bastard.” Your voice rose, breathy and high, like a falsetto note. “A false king, with no crown.”

“But a king nonetheless.”

“A devil, the witches say. Have you come to bargain for my soul, Mr. Shelby?” Your voice dipped back into your sensual alto as you regained some vestige of control, forcing your words to rise deep from your fluttering stomach.

“Oh, I’m here for more than your soul,” he breathed, closing the sliver of a gap between the two of you again, backing your spine against the wooden desk until you could’ve sworn blood welled beneath the sheer robe. “I’m here to offer a proposal, little bird. You’re going to sing for me, at the Eden Club. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. It’s far more prestigious than this seedy place. Your pay will be tripled, and you will never know a fabric rougher than silk or taste a wine younger than a lifetime.”

Though his offer would be tempting to most anyone, you did not sing for money. Pride, it came easy to you, and you did not appreciate the condescending way in which he spoke to you, looked at you, breathed in your direction.

“I’m under contract.”

“What, this?” He chuckled, pulling the slip of paper you’d signed a year ago from the deep pocket of his trousers. The material crinkled beneath his fingers, so close you could’ve reached out and grabbed it. But you didn’t. You watched, seething, as he lowered the contract to the candle beside your lipstick, an orange tongue lapping at the corner of the ivory paper, the ink of your signature bleeding into the open flame. Out the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Sally, her shoulders furling inward just as the edge of the paper did before it was swallowed by the flame, the blackened remnants of the contract smudged into the floorboards with the toe of the gang leader’s boot.

“Everyone can be bought with the right price,” he said. “Your boss’s wife, she likes diamonds.”

You shouldn’t have expected any less of your manager. Like most in the entertainment business, he was shrewd, frugal, ruled by greed. The idea of his wife wearing diamonds was laughable; Thomas must have been a bloody saint in her eyes, because the most you had ever seen that man gift her was a silver locket that had been put in lost and found at one of your past gigs. He must’ve sold you out before Thomas could even pull his mafia card. And then milked you for one last performance.

You hated them. You hated them all.

“Well, I will find new work. The crowd seems to love me,” you pointed out, recalling the jealousy you’d seen darken the Devil’s eyes as he’d watched over your performance. Butting shoulders, you moved to stalk past, but a vice grip latched round your forearm and you froze, a puff of startled air escaping your lips as your gaze swung to meet his.

“I haven’t told you my terms,” Thomas said, and if it was out of fear or that devilish itch between your legs that made your body acquiesce, you couldn’t be certain, but damn it all the same. He shoved you back against the desk, fire igniting in his icy eyes as his shoulders pressed to yours, his figure solid against your own, denoting no escape. “So long as you work for me, you will not dance for another man…” He had the courtesy, at least, of releasing those icy hooks from your soul, the sharp line of his jaw brushing a flushed cheek to let his breath pool against your neck as if whispering sweet nothings to a lover. His fingers, ghosting the pulse of your throat. A breath hissed between your teeth and your eyes flared as they dragged down the vulnerable flesh, demonstrating his strength in a squeeze at the base of your throat.

“They so much as look at you, I will personally take their eyes.” A kiss, placed to the crook of your collarbone, like a promise. His lips were as soft as you had imagined, and you half-expected his tongue to be forked like the legends, but it was supple and rounded as it wet your flesh. Your bottom lip caught in your teeth as you stifled a moan, your body betraying you in a slight rut of your hips. A chuckle rumbled against your ear; he knew what he was doing to you, and apparently the feeling was mutual, for the scarcely-clothed heat between your shivering legs brushed against a firmness in his slacks as your hips rolled forward.

“You see…” He paused to inhale your scent, to drink you down like the whiskey on his breath. “I’ve done some research… you like to move around so much because you have a husband, in Sheffield, who very much misses your company.”

The racing tides of heat that rolled beneath your flesh gave way to a cold sweat, and you shuddered, your blood turning once more to ice in your veins. Your heart, stolen from your chest, leaving your lips parted in a gasp. His fingers traced the hollow shell of your ribs, nails digging in where your heart should have been. His, you thought, wretchedly.

When he pulled back to assess your reaction, to witness the fear bloom in your eyes, the smugness was gone from his face, replaced by an intensity, a darkness that seemed to wrap its shadowy tendrils around your soul. His nose brushed yours, and you noticed, for the first time, that his face was freckled. Kisses from God, you’d heard them referred to as once, and if the breath had not been stolen from your lungs, you would’ve chuffed a laugh at the demented irony.

Dark lashes crowned the blue eyes that raked down your chest, his thumb continuing its snaking little path from your heart to the lip of your breast, slipping beneath the fabric of your robe. “A year ago, you spoke with a solicitor about his tendency to… well, overexpress his love.” A jolt rocked your body, accidentally sending your hips back against his, drawing a groan from his chest that managed to be irresistible despite the discomfort of the scar he perfectly traced with his forefinger. Pain exploded beneath the surface of your flesh, as if his fingers was made of glass, like the smashed bottle that had struck your side all those years ago. You shuddered beneath his touch, the alcohol on his breath suddenly foul, and for just a moment, the way the light reflected off his eyes betrayed a sliver of green in seemingly pure blue.

“The solicitor told me that you showed him this – this, that was not his to see. Not his to touch.” Your lashes batted beneath his furious breaths, but you dared not close them, dared not let this man turn into a ghost of your past. To your relief, his fingers retreated from your scar, only to cup your cheek in his palm. “You offered him one night in exchange for freedom, and by morning, he did not honour his word. Do you know what I did to the solicitor?”

Thighs damp with arousal, palms clammy with fear, you trembled, breaking, cracking at your seams. The splinters of the wooden desk pierced your flesh as you sought its support, feeling like your knees might buckle beneath you and somehow knowing that he would catch you, but that that would be worse than falling to the cold ground. Because he wanted you to break, wanted to be the freckled angel who caught you when you fell.

But somewhere, from the shattered remnants of your chest, festered a darkness, a thirst, a satisfaction as you imagined the bloodied face of the man who had tricked you, as you imagined his eyes turned pale, pale as death.

Your pain didn’t break you; it kept you standing, fractured but whole.

“To you, I may be the Devil, but the Devil keeps his bargains.” His thumb swept across the ghost of the kiss he’d left on your skin. “And when you work for me, I will ensure that your darling husband never bothers you again.”

You could not banish the tremble from your limbs, nor the ireful rise and fall of your chest. And when you spoke, your hate, it seemed, was not even for him but for ghosts, “You’re every bit as vile as the rumours say.”

“Oh, I’m worse.” He smiled, almost sweetly. “Much worse.” A clear-blue eye winked, before studying you so intently you wondered if he really could read your thoughts, your sordid desires. Your sins. “But I don’t see disgust in your eyes, little bird. I see intrigue.”

Breathe, you told yourself. Breathe.

You were most at ease when you sang, and in your moment of need, an old melody you’d heard once travelling west came to you, and with it, the curl of your lip into a wicked smirk.

“Cannot buy me, Devil, Devil,” you half-sang, half purred, the notes that found your voice carrying undertones so dark, it almost did not sound like your own.

And in this moment, you found power, in the way his thumb seemed to still against your jaw, in the way his eyes locked to yours, mesmerised, his tongue catching between his teeth. In this moment, at last, he was yours. In this moment, he was just a boy, lured in by a siren song. As the notes died in your throat, his eyes darted to your lips, something softer than lust forming in oceans of melted ice. Your fingers fumbled for the first drawer of the desk, stabilising yourself now on the ivory handle.

And the emotion vanished before you could make sense of it, frozen over by a wall of ice.

“In life or in death, I will take your soul.” His teeth grazed the lobe of your ear, and his hand drifted to your scalp, sinking into the wild locks of your hair. “I will take everything.” Another hand closed around your waist, squeezing your ribs, bunching the fabric of your gown. “It is your choice, little bird. Because, you see, I made certain your husband knows of your infidelity. It’s a great dishonour, to a man of his station. And what sort of things does a man of his station do when he finds himself with a problem like you, eh?” Your chin was pointed sharply up, suspended by two fingers, your lips a hairsbreadth from his own as he stared you down.

“Now, I don’t think your friends will like to see what I’m going to do to you, little bird.” A growl grated the thunder of his tone, and he bit his lip. “I’m going to be a gentleman, and let you decide if you’d like them to give us privacy.”

And gone was the whiskey of his breath, the fire of his touch, the sharpness of his teeth. Thomas Shelby took a step back, smoothing out his waistcoat as if nothing had happened between the two of you. One of the porcelain dolls came alive, skittering back on her shaky heel to make way, but he paid no mind to her. He only awaited your command, as if trying to give you some false sense of control.

The silence that stretched between you was impossibly thick, like gasoline ready to ignite from one heated breath. You remembered to breathe, in, and out. And you began to sing.

“Clever Devil, Devil…”

His eyes narrowed, fixating so intensely on you that you were convinced nothing else existed in this moment beyond your dark melody, your cherry lips, your siren song.

Trembling, behind your back your fingers pulled gently at the drawer handle.

“How quickly do they sell their souls…”

He blinked, slow, enraptured. Yours.

Your fingers clasped the familiar stock of the 1911, flesh kissed by cold metal.

“… for the feast and the promise of gold.”

Time itself fractured; Thomas barely stirred as he watched your lips, your wrathful eyes, your brow sewn by ruthless will. He did not watch the gun you pulled on him, nor did he seem to hear the rack of the slide that split the quiet of the dressing room.

“But Devil… that won’t be me.” Your velvety singing turned to words of steel in your throat, and you glared at him down the sights of your weapon. Only now, did he seem to take notice of it, with a fleeting, unconcerned glance at its gaping black maw. He could have turned it on you, but he didn’t. He just smiled, bright blue eyes shining down a silver-moon barrel to meet yours.

Stepping back, leisurely, fists buried in his pockets, he promised, “I’ll be back, to claim what’s mine.”

Your finger loosened from the trigger yet trembled as the sight of Thomas Shelby disappeared past the doorframe, nothing left of him but the soft thud of his dress shoes down the hall and the ghost of his burning touch on your skin, the dampness on your neck from the promise he’d made you. The shameful cling of the sheer robe to your slicked thighs, the cold sweat that sent shivers of winter, death, and all things barren along your flesh.

For one, gut-twisting moment, all eyes were on you. The suffocating festering of fear, the sickening crawl of disgust, the heart-wrenching trace of reproach all culminated in the air around you, cast to the incense and smoke by bright eyes and slacked jaws, crossed arms and furled shoulders.

And the girls began to scurry from the dressing room, skirts and dresses and tassels streaming behind them like streaks of lightning that followed the rumble of the storm, like rivulets of rain chased by the hurricane.

Marla was among the last to leave, her eyes wary and wild and a sneer curling her lip as her eyes traced up and down your trembling form. Only when she left did you lower your gun, sliding the hammer back in place.

That left two. Sally, and the woman who claimed herself a witch.

“I’m sorry…” you breathed, not knowing what to say. “I’m sorry you had to witness that, I – I had no idea that was going to happen.” Shifting your attention fully to your friend, you reached a tentative hand for Sally, as if to ease her anxiety. Poor thing was shaking like a furled leaf and quiet tears streaked the freckles of her heart-shaped face.

She flinched away, and your heart clenched, hand withdrawing. You set aside your gun, hoping that might settle her nerves. “At least, let me give you this back…” you untied the bedazzled choker from your neck. “It looks like this was our last performance together. Thank you, for lending me it.”

But she sprang back like a jackrabbit when the fabric brushed her knuckles, and she shook her head frantically, tears shaking free of her spidery lashes like dew falling from painted webs. “You can keep it,” she spoke, her tiny voice cracking in her chest. “Just stay away from me.”

Something bitter worked its way into the fracture of your chest, the cruel fist of rejection squeezing the remnants of your shattered heart tight. Your fist curled, hard, around the choker, so hard that when you opened it, the jewels had left red impressions on your palm, and your thanks turned to bitter ash on your tongue as the laces of the choker slipped between your fingers.

The witch, Clementine, watched you from dark eyes always shrouded in an enigma, but today, held the slight trace of unease. A foreboding weight sunk her shoulders, and when she spoke, the raspy tones of her voice were those of lost souls, crying from strangled throats to warn you of something truly grave on the horizon,

“You’re marked. You’re marked by the Devil, you are, girl.”

Your brow furrowed, and the chime of her jangling bracelets seemed to mock you like laughter as she pointed a hooked claw to your loins.

Pawing aside the fabric of your robe, your fingers swiped across the nail marks Thomas had left along your inner thigh, wrathful and red and weeping. Your fingers came away with a veneer of blood, pooling in the rings of your skin like a wax seal.

The seal of your fate, to a man falsely crowned.

And to your devil, your soul was bound.

Part II coming soon!

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fandom-chic · 10 months

Text

Please Please Please: Chapter 1

Summary: Y/N is only a child when she and Tommy Shelby meet. The two quickly become best friends as they grow up in Small Heath. As the years go by, Y/N and Tommy realize there may be more to their friendship than they originally thought.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Y/N

A/N: Hi everybody! This Peaky Blinders fic is a SLOW BURN ROMANCE and will start off quite fluffy! Let me know what you all think and if you would like to see more.

She knew exactly which day it was when she first met him. She wouldn't forget it for the rest of her life. It was the spring of 1898, and her family had just moved to Small Heath. Her father had grown up there, and she remembered hearing stories from his boyhood, calling it "Magical Small Heath." She was ecstatic to go to such a place. It sounded like a dream come true.

But she was mistaken.

The rancid smell of the town seeped into every aspect of life there. The colors were dreary, the weather was raw, and the people seemed indifferent to everything. To top it off, the house she called home had maybe four rooms in total: her bedroom, her parents' room, the kitchen, and the bathroom. It couldn’t even be compared to her family’s old home in the country. During her first month in Small Heath, she often found herself staring out of her shoebox-sized bedroom window, yearning for some semblance of familiarity.

"You can't stay in your room all day," her father would say, standing at the doorway.

"I can try," she would mutter back, tracing the condensation on the window pane.

"I bet you can," he muttered under his breath as he turned to leave. He stopped abruptly and looked back. "The least you can do is meet the neighborhood kids. Don't turn your nose up at everyone just yet." All she could manage was an eye roll before her father left her to her own devices. She continued to gaze out the window, imagining herself somewhere else amidst the gray roads of Small Heath.

As day turned into night, she felt herself starting to drift off. Her eyes fluttered as her chin rested in her hand. Just as darkness began to envelop her, she heard a loud bang. Her eyes shot open, expecting to see a bullet hole in her window. Instead, all she saw was a ball lying in the garden below. It hadn't been there before, but now it found its place in the grass. She focused her eyes on the ball for a moment, and that's when she saw him.

He couldn't have been much older than her, maybe eight or nine years old. He leaned down and picked up the ball, rolling it over in his fingers before looking up at her. His eyes were the most colorful thing she had seen in Small Heath, like a sea of warmth amidst the coldness. She couldn't help but smile at him, and he returned a small grin. Then, he jogged off into the streets of Small Heath. She knew she had to say hello.

Her father was pleased to find an empty room the following day as he walked by her doorway. She didn't know where to find the boy, but she knew she had to search for him. She scoured the streets until her stomach rumbled, indicating it was lunchtime. With a sigh of defeat, she made her way back home. As she approached the front steps, ready for lunch, she heard a noise that stopped her in her tracks.

"Oy!" she halted and turned back to see a familiar pair of blue eyes. It was him.

"Hello," she said, feeling a blush creeping onto her cheeks.

He held up the familiar-looking ball. "We need another player," he raised an eyebrow. "Wanna join?" All she could do was smile and nod. He returned her smile and motioned for her to follow him. She gladly obliged.

Walking by his side, they made their way down an alley. She couldn't help but notice how his clothes hung heavily on his thin limbs. If his shoes weren't so big, his pant legs might have dragged on the ground. His cheekbones seemed more pronounced than those of a child his age. She knew she couldn't be the only hungry child in Small Heath.

"I've never seen you before," he said, tracing the seams of the ball with his forefinger.

"My family is new to town," she said, feeling compelled to share more. He grunted in response as she started to hear the voices of other young boys.

"Then welcome to Small Heath. I'm Tommy," he paused, holding out his hand. It seemed unusual for such a young boy to introduce himself in such a mature way, but she sensed that he must not lead a typical life.

"Nice to meet you, Tommy. I'm Y/N," she hesitated before adding, "I hope we can be friends." His lips curved into a smile. She wished she could capture that moment in a photograph and live within it. This was the day she made her first best friend.

As the two children ventured farther down the road, Y/N finally distinguished voices. They approached closer until she could put a voice to a face. The voice that rose above all the others belonged to a boy who appeared a little rougher than the rest.

"It's my fucking turn," he said, emphasizing the final syllable of the curse word. Her eyes widened in surprise. In her seven years of life, she had never heard such language. She looked over at Tommy for a reaction, but all she saw was a smirk.

"Oy, Arthur, it doesn't matter," the angry boy turned toward Y/N and her new friend, "because it is Y/N's turn." Her eyebrows inched up slightly. She had never played baseball before. She always saw it as something boys did while girls played "house" off to the side.

"It is?" Y/N questioned.

"She's gonna mess up all the teams," Arthur moaned, waving an arm toward the five other boys behind him.

"Then we'll start a new game," Tommy said, sounding determined. She knew Tommy was younger than Arthur, but the older boy seemed to respect him.

"Fine," Arthur mumbled, "but she's on your team."

"Of course, brother," Tommy said. They were brothers. Even more unusual, she thought, as the two boys went to the pitcher's mound to discuss teams. Before she knew it, Y/N found herself holding a bat, waiting for a ball to come flying towards her.

"What do I do?" she whispered to Tommy, who stood a few paces behind her. He chuckled to himself.

"Hit it and run like hell," he replied. She nodded hesitantly before turning to face Arthur. He made eye contact with her and tossed the ball in her direction. Instinctively, she flinched away.

"Strike one!" yelled the catcher. She knew flinching like that was the wrong move. She looked over at Tommy, who masked his disappointment by gazing up at the sky. She knew she had to hit the ball. She raised the bat higher as another ball flew toward her. This time, she kept her eyes open as she took a swing.

"Strike two!" the boy yelled again. She could hear the grimace in his voice. Resigning herself to the idea that baseball may not be her game, she heard her name being whispered loudly. She turned her head to see Tommy.

"Hold the bat like this," he said, mimicking holding it horizontally in front of him. "Don't swing, just hold it out." She nodded and made eye contact with the pitcher. She was determined now. When the ball came hurtling in her direction again, she held out the bat. When she heard the light tap of the ball barely grazing the bat, she knew she wasn't out. She smiled to herself and then over at Tommy. He looked at her wide-eyed before yelling, "Run!"

She sprinted like lightning to first base, and before she knew it, she was safe. She had officially played baseball and had made her mark on the game. She felt victorious in her own way. As she basked in her moment of triumph, Tommy took his turn at the plate. Too caught up in her own accomplishment, she didn't hear the bat make contact with the ball. She also didn't look up in time to notice the ball whizzing right at her. It wasn't until the hard ball struck her gut that she realized Tommy had hit it. She clutched her middle, crumbled to the ground, and let out a scream. Rolling onto her side, she held herself in a fetal position, trying to find some comfort, but the pain was too intense. Tears began to stream down her face.

Between the sobs, she finally noticed Tommy kneeling beside her. "Are you okay?" he asked. No, she was not. He knew that, just as well as she did. The pain was one thing, but the embarrassment in front of her new friend was unbearable.

"I should go home," she mumbled, wiping away a tear.

"Are you sure you want—"

"Yes," she spat. With that, she forced herself up and trudged home. She refused to look back at the boy she had hoped would be her friend. How could he be friends with her now? With the crybaby who didn't know the first thing about a friendly neighborhood game of baseball? She lay face down on her bed as soon as she arrived home, vowing to remain there for the rest of her existence. This was her life now—a loner with no friends.

She couldn't have been there for more than ten minutes when she heard a knock at the door. She heard her mother open it and footsteps approaching her room.

"Y/N," her mother said as the door creaked open, "you have a guest." She rolled her head to see Tommy standing in her room.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, as her mother shut the door behind Tommy.

"I wanted to see if you were okay," he said, stepping further into the room. "Getting hit like that hurts."

"It did," she said. "It hurt like hell." She heard a chuckle from Tommy.

"I can imagine," he said, dropping onto the floor beside her bed. Y/N rolled over, staring at the ceiling as a beat passed.

"I understand if you don't want to play with me anymore. No one wants to play with a crybaby," she kept her eyes fixed on the ceiling, not wanting to see Tommy's rejection.

"Why would you say that?"

"Because," she felt her fingers tense with anxiety, "they ruin the games and then run home to their mommies. How can that be any fun?"

"You actually sound a lot like Arthur right now," she could hear the humor in Tommy's voice, but she didn't want to look at his face just yet. "Maybe we can play a different game then." This statement shocked her. Now she looked down at him to see him gazing up at her.

"You still want to play with me?" she asked, a glimmer of hope in her voice.

He smiled and sighed. "I don't know," he said, fiddling with his fingers and averting his gaze. "I guess I do."

The moment she gave him a small smile, Tommy knew he was forgiven.

"We can ride horses next time in the fields outside town," she felt her eyes widen at his suggestion.

"You have horses?" giddiness bubbled in her stomach.

"No," he smirked to himself, "but I know where we can find some."

That day, Y/N knew she had met her best friend. Tommy, though, knew he had met his soulmate.

Next chapter

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penmansparadise · 16 days

Text

Tommy Shelby ~ Dust in the Wind

*I DON'T OWN THIS GIF* *CREDIT TO GIF OWNER*

*I do not give anyone permission to repost my work in any way (translations included)*

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Discusses infant loss/stillborn, ANGST, mild language, possibly ooc Tommy

a/n: Alright, well, it has been quite some time since I've posted on this site. First, let me get a few things out. 1) This is the most self-indulgent piece I have ever written, so if you don't want to read it, please just keep on scrolling. 2) This does not mean that I am ready to start taking requests again or that I will be regularly writing again. As stated before, this is a very self-indulgent piece because I just experienced the loss of my daughter, who was born prematurely. It has completely wrecked me, and I have just finally decided to start writing again. I am trying to navigate my loss and thought maybe writing would help. It did, and although this piece is a little darker than I usually write, it was therapeutic, and I wanted to share it because I am proud of my work. I did write it as a reader insert, but if you all read it and think it would be better as an OC story, I'll change it. Anyway, this is the first time I've ever written for Tommy, so please forgive the potential out-of-character actions he has in this story. Also, it has been a bit since I watched season 3 so forgive any mistakes. I took some liberties with the story by adding different children for Tommy and Y/N and some of the things that happened in the show. Well, I hope you enjoy this story, and would really like to know what you all think.

Y/N was no stranger to death. It was Small Heath, for goodness’ sake. Death practically ran in the water. Being deeply entrenched in the Shelby family since she was a young girl only made her acquaintance with death’s steely grip all that much closer. She had been to more than enough funerals in her 29 years of living. She was present at the cemetery when her father finally drank himself into his grave, she was there to mourn when consumption took her mother, and she showed up to support Ada when they buried Freddie. Y/N was always there when any of the Peaky boys were killed in the line of action, and she even showed up for her elderly childhood neighbor’s funeral. But this time, it was different. She wasn’t gathered in the woods on the outskirts of Small Heath to mourn for someone else. There wasn’t a stranger tucked away in the wagon standing in front of her. The Shelbys weren’t gathered to bid farewell to a distant relative or friend. The Lees weren’t generously providing this funeral for a price. No, the whole Shelby and Lee families were there for her and Tommy this time.

The heat from the flames washed over Y/N’s face, making her sweat a little, but she didn’t move. She wanted to be as close as she could possibly be. If she had it her way, she would have jumped into the wagon and let the flames swallow her whole, but Tommy’s hand tightly gripping hers anchored her to the ground. It had only been a few days. It couldn’t have been more than four, but with how time was moving, it felt like a lifetime had passed. The flames roared on, and Tommy squeezed her hand a little tighter, causing Y/N’s throat to tighten. She swallowed down the sadness trying to claw its way out of her. Y/N wasn’t going to break down in front of all these people. She didn’t want to cry at all, for that matter. It felt like it had been an endless stream of tears, and Y/N was done. If only her aching heart would catch the memo. Y/N’s eyes traveled the length of the flames until they landed on the little plaque one of the Lee boys carved for the wagon. “Lily Eleanora Shelby,” it read, and suddenly, the sadness returned with a vengeance. Y/N shut her eyes, and the events that led to this day played in her head. She was supposed to be happy. She was supposed to be full of unadulterated joy. She was supposed to be cradling her newborn baby girl. But she wasn’t. Instead, she held onto her husband’s hand like a lifeline as she watched her daughter’s wagon burn. One day. That’s all it took to completely destroy her.

Even as she stood there, watching the flames devour her daughter’s wagon, she still recounted everything she did four days ago, trying to figure out what could have possibly led to this result. Four days ago, she was a cheery 29-week pregnant woman. A stay-at-home mom who, with the help of their maid Frances, cared for her and Tommy’s three-year-old son, Benjamin. That day had started like any other. Tommy was already out, and she could hear Frances chasing Ben around his room. The little boy’s giggles echoed through the house, and she remembers smiling as she slid a hand over her round tummy. Y/N couldn’t wait for Ben to be a big brother. She got ready like any other day and eventually made her way to her son, who welcomed her presence with a hug and a kiss. The little boy rubbed her tummy, planted a chaste kiss to her navel, and smiled at her.

“I just wanted to let my little brother or sister know that I love them too, Mommy,” he had said, causing Y/N’s heart to clench. Even at three, he was a charmer, just like his father. She knelt to be at eye level with her son and lifted her hand to cradle his face.

“You’re going to be a wonderful big brother; do you know that?”

“Of course I will be, Mommy. I’ve been practicing sharing my toys with Frances and making sure I listen real good to you and daddy.” He said, standing up straighter to exhibit his full height. “Frances says I need to be a good example for the new baby, or else Santa won’t bring me any presents this year for Christmas. How outrageous is that, Mommy!?”

Y/N stifled a laugh before brushing Ben’s hair back and looking up to see Frances smirking from her spot by Ben’s block tower.

“I’m sure Santa won’t forget about you this year, honey.” She told her son. The boy gave her a toothy grin before trotting off to continue playing with his blocks.

Y/N returned to her feet and watched Ben for another minute before retreating to the new nursery. It was already put together, and she often found herself hiding away in that room. She glided her hand over the bassinet and let the soft fabric tickle her palm. The walls were already decorated with paintings of horses, some of which came from Ben, who insisted that his younger sibling have them. She sat on the rocking chair and gently rubbed her hands over her stomach, earning a little kick from her unborn child. A soft laugh fell from her lips as she looked down at her growing bump.

“Sorry to disturb you, love.” She whispered, her hands still rubbing slow circles. “Mommy just wanted to let you know she loves you very much. And so does your big brother, who is very excited to meet you.”

Another kick came.

“You’re excited to meet him, too? I’ll have to let him know.”

“Daddy loves you too, just in case Mommy forgot to mention that.” Tommy’s voice came from the doorway, causing Y/N to look up. He gave her a full smile, the one he reserved only for her and their son, and it fell over her like a warm blanket.

“Mommy was just about to get there. Had daddy not interrupted her,” she said. Tommy hummed in response as he floated across the room to kneel before her. He looked up at Y/N through his lashes and said, “Sure you were,” before removing her hands and planting a soft kiss where they had just lay.

“Daddy can’t wait to meet you,” he whispered against her stomach, his warm breath radiating throughout her body. Tommy looked up at Y/N before standing and pressing his lips to hers. When he pulled away, a smile matching his spread across her face. She was beaming. She had dreamt of being in this position for many years as a teenager, and now it was real. Thomas Shelby was hovering over her very pregnant figure in their unborn second child’s nursery. Their lively three-year-old son’s muffled laughter ricocheted off the hallway walls. It was everything she ever wanted, and she was so happy.

“What’s that look for?” Tommy asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Nothing,” she hummed, gaining a skeptical eyebrow raise from her husband. “I just love you. That’s all.”

Tommy nestled his face into the crook of her neck, peppering kisses along the exposed skin. Then he pulled back, looked into her eye, and said, “I love you more than you know, Y/N.”

He gave her one more swift kiss before standing and sauntering out of the room with a smirk. The rest of the day went by like any day usually went. She sat around and read, played with Ben, ate lunch at 1100, put Ben down for a nap at 1230, and then went back to reading. Tommy was in and out, balancing work from home and the office. She could tell that day was extra tiring from how he sighed every time he left the house. It was after Tommy left for the last time of the day that Y/N got the idea to wander down to the kitchen. When she entered, the cooks were hard at work peeling and slicing vegetables.

“Good evening, Mrs. Shelby,” the head chef began, “is there anything we can do for you, ma’am?”

Y/N clasped her hands behind her back as she rocked back and forth on her heels like a guilty toddler. “Um,” she said, “actually, yes, there is.” She stepped into the kitchen and moved her hands to rest on her stomach. “I was thinking that maybe tonight you and the rest of the staff could take the evening off and allow me to cook dinner.”

The head chef’s eyes widened at her statement. Everyone else stilled for a brief moment, waiting for him to speak. “Oh,” he stammered, “b-but, Mrs. Shelby, and please forgive me if I am overstepping, but shouldn’t you be resting instead of cooking?” His eyes dipped down to her protruding abdomen before landing back on her face.

“Resting? I rest all day. Really,” Y/N said, waving the chef’s comment off, “it would be nothing. I actually miss being in the kitchen. It’ll be nice. Therapeutic.” She couldn’t miss the wide-eyed stares from everyone in the room, but she chose to ignore them. When they didn’t move to leave, she stepped forward, placed a gentle hand on the head chef’s back, and began leading him out of the kitchen.

“Trust me,” she said, “I’ll be fine. Thank you for your concern, though.”

Once she ushered the staff out, she began working on dinner. It had been a long time since she cooked, but it came back to her like riding a bicycle. She couldn’t escape the excitement that bubbled inside of her as she fell into a groove preparing dinner for her family again. She boiled the potatoes the staff had peeled, sauteed the peppers and onions, and braised the beef that was in the refrigerator. About an hour into cooking, a dull pain emanated from her lower back and into her hips. The dull pain slowly morphed into a pressure that she just assumed was normal 29-week pregnancy symptoms. It’s just the baby getting comfortable. The baby is just moving around and pressing a little harder than usual on my cervix. She ignored the feelings and finished cooking before asking the kitchen staff for help to bring the meal into the dining room. Once the table was set, Frances went and fetched her boys, alerting them that not only had Y/N cooked dinner, but she had also served it. She greeted the boys in the doorway of the dining room and gave each a kiss before they all sat to eat. That pain returned in her lower back and hips, making it hard to get comfortable in her seat. She let out a low groan of discomfort, and Tommy placed his hand over hers to gain her attention.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyebrows knitted together. She swallowed another groan that threatened to come out and nodded with a strained smile. Y/N could tell that her weak answer did nothing to reassure Tommy, but he didn’t press her.

“How do you like the meal?” She asked, doing her best to not sound strained against the constant pressure she felt pulsing between her legs.

Before Tommy could answer, Ben nodded with enthusiasm and stuffed a heaping scoop of mashed potatoes into his mouth. “I love it, Mommy! This is the best dinner I’ve ever had,” he said through his mouthful of food.

Y/N smiled, but it must have looked more like a grimace because this time, Tommy stood up and moved to her side. “Y/N,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders, “are you sure you’re okay? Should I have Frances phone the doctor?”

Y/N grabbed his hand and squeezed it as she looked up to her husband. “I’m fine, darling. I promise. Let’s just finish dinner.” She pulled his hand to her mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. Then, using her head, she motioned for Tommy to sit again. He stared at her for another moment, the line on his forehead deepening, before sighing and retaking his seat. She kept her discomfort under wraps for the remainder of dinner because Tommy didn’t mention anything until after they had put Ben down for the night and were about to crawl into bed. The pressure and pain had only grown in that short time, and she was beginning to get nervous. She was sitting on the edge of their bed, eyes shut, and taking some deep breaths when Tommy’s hands landed on her thighs. She could feel him kneeling between her legs, but she didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t want to admit that her anxiety was consuming her or that the pain and pressure had turned into abdominal cramps. It wasn’t until she suddenly felt the bed beneath her sopping wet that she looked at Tommy. He looked down and saw the fluid dripping from her nightgown and their duvet before his gaze landed on her. She could see his mouth moving, but his voice was drowned out by her rapidly beating heart. Something is wrong. She thought. This shouldn’t be happening. I’m too early. Tommy pushed away the hair that had begun sticking to her sweaty forehead, and then ran out of the room. His voice was distant, but she could have sworn he said something about calling Polly and Ada. She wasn’t sure because all she could focus on was the sharp pain that was puncturing her abdomen and the immense pressure building between her legs. Before she could comprehend what was happening, Tommy scooped her up and lay her on their bed. What about the sheets? I’m going to ruin the bed.

She must have said those thoughts aloud because Tommy quickly said, “Don’t worry about the bed, love. We’ll get another one if we have to.” The pain was only getting worse, and she had to shut her eyes and bite her tongue to prevent a groan from escaping. She didn’t know how much time had passed before Polly and Ada came rushing into the room, shoving Tommy into the hallway. When it was just the three of them, Y/N finally let out a guttural moan. She didn’t remember this much pain when she gave birth to Ben. Something is wrong. Something is not right. Those words chanted in her head like a mantra. Polly set her up on her bed while Ada used a wet towel to wipe away the sweat beading on her face.

“Just breathe, Y/N,” Polly chirped soothingly in her ear. “Ada and I are here. We’re going to take care of you.”

Anxiety coursed through her veins and unfurled in her gut when the pressure between her legs began to increase. She tried to cross her legs and prevent the inevitable from happening, but Polly and Ada wouldn’t let her. Tears of pain and fear streamed down her cheeks. She wanted to scream at them to stop and let her try to stop this urge to push. But the pain and pressure were too much, and the only sound that came out of her mouth was a low groan.

She could feel Polly’s hand between her legs, and the words “crowning” and “push” floated to her ears. Ada took her hand, and Y/N tried with every fiber in her body to not push, but her body had other plans. She held her breath and begged her body to stop forcing her baby out of her, but it was too late. The pressure was building. Climbing to a peak that felt like it would rip her in half until suddenly, she felt relief. Her heavy breathing filled the room, and she waited impatiently for the tell-tale cries of her baby, but they never came. She opened her eyes and looked at Polly and then at Ada. They both just stared back at her, and Y/N knew something wasn’t right.

“Y/N,” was all Polly whispered, and she knew. The silence was deafening. She lay there, completely exposed, bleeding, and sweaty, and waited, but her baby gave her nothing. Her eyes shut and then, without any strength to stop it, let out a crushing wail. The tears overflowed, and when she opened her eyes again, she watched the door burst open and Tommy storm in. He moved over to where Polly held their baby and looked down at their motionless child.

“Why isn’t she crying?” He asked.

It was a girl. I had a baby girl. Even through her tears and sobs, she could see Tommy’s chest rising and falling at a rapid pace.

“Why isn’t she fucking crying, Pol!?” Tommy’s voice boomed through the room and mixed with her loud cries to create the saddest song. She could see the distress in the slant of his shoulders and how he ran a hurried hand through his cropped hair. He didn’t wait for anyone to answer his question before bounding across the room and landing on the floor next to her. His hands found hers, and she could feel them shaking. His lips pressed to Y/N’s forehead and cheeks, absorbing only some of the tears that continued to cascade down her face.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, but the way his voice cracked in her ear told her he didn’t even believe those words. “I love you, Y/N.” She could hear that his words dripped with the same despair she felt. “You know that, ey? I love you, and it’s going to be okay.”

Tommy’s words echoed in her head as she watched the fire blaze around her daughter’s wagon. She wanted to be convinced that his words were true, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe them. When the funeral finished, they all returned to Arrow House, where the wake was being held. Even being in a crowded room surrounded by family, Y/N felt alone. Her whole body was like radio static – unfeeling. Tommy’s hand was on her lower back the entire time, but she still felt like she was floating away. Nothing could tether her to this reality anymore.

Several people approached her and Tommy, and with every person, a new empty comment emerged.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” which loosely translates to, “Boy, that sucks to be you.”

“I can’t even imagine what you’re going through,” which means, “I’m really glad I’m not dealing with that!”

And, “At least you still have Ben,” equates to, “You shouldn’t be upset when you still have one kid alive.”

With every consolation tossed at her feet like the change she used to find on the ground when she was a child, this unknown sensation began to build in her chest. It was heavy and wild, like an untamed animal. It was red and bared its teeth, ready to bite. It was something Y/N had never felt before. She was usually understanding, calm, and collected. She wasn’t hot-headed or easily provoked. But now, she was quickly discovering that what she was feeling was rage. Hot and stormy, it ravaged her insides, and instead of beating it back into its cage, Y/N leaned into it, letting it hold her battered and broken soul up.

After the wake, Y/N let her sadness swallow her. She hid in one of the guest rooms daily and even went as far as to avoid Tommy. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him because every time their eyes met, two things happened. 1) she could see the grief he was carrying like cinder blocks chained to his neck, and 2) she could see the way he looked at her like she was a broken piece of artwork now. She knew she was a shell of the woman she once was, but it hurt her even more to know that Tommy saw it so plainly in her, too. He didn’t see her as the strong, independent woman he fell in love with. No, now she was a ghost of her former self, and she couldn’t take his pity for having lost their daughter and herself.

Although clearly grieving, Tommy didn’t seem nearly as phased by their loss as Y/N. He was able to jump back into work, and now, nearly a week since the wake, he was back to being fully invested. If Y/N were being honest, she envied Tommy for being able to distract himself. She couldn’t do anything but hide from the memories that haunted their home and do her best to still be a good mother to Ben. When a week finally passed since laying her daughter to rest, Y/N knew she had to do something. She would talk to Polly and beg for some sort of work. She didn’t care that Polly insisted that Y/N take some “time to heal.” She needed a distraction. Being in Arrow House felt more like a prison than a home.

Y/N got dressed and began to head for the door after handing Ben over to Frances. But, as she approached Tommy’s office, she could hear him talking. She peeked through the tiny crack to discover John and Arthur sitting at Tommy’s desk.

“Ada’s handling the Communists. She’s got someone on the inside who’s giving us information,” Tommy stated. “And,” he shuffled papers around on his desk, “I’m…dealing with Father Hughes.”

“And what about the horny princess?” John asked, leaning forward and adjusting his jacket. “You gonna figure out where her family keeps the jewels?”

Tommy waved him off. “I already know.” That single statement had both his brothers and Y/N leaning forward just slightly. Tommy lay a large blueprint on his desk, causing the brothers to stand.

“They keep their entire collection in this strong room. There’s no way to get in from above without a key,” Tommy stated, flattening the paper and looking up at his brothers.

“So, what’s your plan, brother?” Arthur asked like a good soldier. Tommy straightened slightly, and Y/N could tell he was a little uncomfortable. He pulled a cigarette from his case and slid it across his bottom lip before lighting it and taking a drag.

“We’ve gotta tunnel in,” Tommy said without hesitation. Those four words landed on the Shelby men like a grenade, and Y/N could almost feel the atmosphere shift at the statement. None of them moved. It was evident that the idea of tunneling hadn’t been a thought in any of their minds since the war. Tommy cleared his throat.

“I know,” he began, “but there’s no other way. I’ve already got Johnny Dogs ready to help. He’ll set up camp where we’ll start the tunnel.”

The air was thick, and again, neither of the brothers spoke. She knew they didn’t like the plan, but they would comply because Tommy was giving the orders. Y/N watched as John and Arthur fiddled with their suit jackets, their anxious energy hitting her like a baseball bat to the face. It wasn’t until Arthur blew out a puff of air and ran his hand through his messy hair, exposing his apprehension, that Y/N knew what she would do. Without even a second thought, Y/N opened the door to Tommy’s office, and all three men turned to face her. She was only adding insult to injury as the silence in the room became even heavier. Neither of her brothers-in-law had seen her since the wake, and the uneasy energy was almost palpable. Tommy stepped toward her but didn’t get too close, which Y/N could see his brothers noticed.

“Y/N, is everything alright, love?”

Her eyes flitted between all three of the Shelby men for a moment before finally landing back on Tommy. She knew she probably looked like a deer in headlights. Her stare was frazzled, and she knew she looked a bit harried. But she still squared her shoulders and stated with the most conviction she could muster, “Let me help.”

All three men’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, but only one spoke.

“Excuse me?” Tommy asked, incredulity lacing each word. There was no going back now. Y/N had to double down on her commitment. So, she waved her hand toward the blueprints on Tommy’s desk.

“With the tunnel.”

Tommy’s eyes turned a shade darker, and Y/N could see his jaw tick. She only glanced at John and Arthur for a second, and they both looked like they might choke on the thickness of the air. She felt like she might, too, but she held her ground. She was not a fragile porcelain doll and could help her husband like she used to. Tommy coughed, then turned to his brothers and, in a calm voice, asked, “Would you mind giving me a moment with my wife, boys?”

Neither of the brothers wasted a second before hustling out into the hallway. Once the door shut behind them, Tommy’s steely gaze landed back on Y/N. Before, she would have felt a little nervous under Tommy’s intense glare. She had never inserted herself into his shoddy business in the past. But now, she didn’t care. She needed a distraction and a way to prove that she was still a force to be reckoned with even after her loss. Y/N could see Tommy trying to contain his anger as his nostrils flared and his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. His eyes shut for a brief moment as he took a deep inhale.

“Are you fucking insane, Y/N?” He finally asked, his voice level. Y/N’s mouth fell open, and she reared back just slightly. But before she could say anything, Tommy continued.

“You’ve been avoiding me, your husband, for a week in our own home, and when you decide to finally speak to me, that is what you say?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Tommy.”

“No, Y/N!” He shouted, causing her to startle. “You can’t just move past this!”

That statement made Y/N see red. In the week since Lily’s passing, Tommy did precisely that. Y/N’s spine straightened, and her whole body became rigid.

“Why not!?” she shouted back, stomping toward Tommy. “Is that not what you did? Pretend like we didn’t lose our daughter? You threw yourself into your work. Why can’t I do the same thing?” Her chest was heaving, and as badly as she didn’t want them to, she could feel tears pricking at her eyes. She hated that she was a frustrated crier. Her fists were in tight balls at her sides, and every muscle in her body was flexed. She was ready for a fight. She was prepared for Tommy to yell back at her. In fact, she wanted him to yell at her. She wanted Tommy to tell her how stupid her idea was and that she was out of her mind. She mentally begged Tommy to scream at her for barging in on his meeting with his brothers and even thinking about tunneling. Y/N wanted to feel the passion he usually had toward her before they lost their baby. She needed him to reassure her that she was not a lost cause he was housing but his fierce wife. But he didn’t yell. The fire in his eyes dimmed, and his features softened. The pity eyes were back, and she was struck by the sadness she was trying to escape. She shut her eyes in a lame attempt to avoid looking at her husband and keep her tears at bay, but it was futile. The tiny droplets fell down her cheeks, and when she opened her eyes again, Tommy was right in front of her. He lifted his hands to cradle her face, and she hated how she melted into his touch. It had been a week since she even looked at Tommy, let alone touched him. She couldn’t lie, she missed him. But it was easier to hide from the pain and suffering they both shared than deal with it head-on.

Y/N let out a shaky breath and looked into her husband’s eyes.

“Why can’t I, Tommy?” She asked, barely above a whisper. “Let me help you. Please.”

Tommy’s thumb stroked her cheeks, wiping away a stray tear. He cataloged her features, and for the first time in a very long time, she wished she could see into Tommy’s thoughts. She stared at him and hoped that everything she wanted to say was conveyed in her eyes. I’m no longer the same woman I was a week ago. I’m a failure as a woman and a mother. I’m alone, letting my thoughts eat me alive. I’m scared you won’t love this broken woman I have become. Her eyes pleaded for Tommy to let her prove that she could still be the same person as before. She needed to prove to him and herself that she wasn’t hopeless. But when Tommy shut his eyes and let out a sigh, she knew his answer before he even said it.

He looked at Y/N and said sotto voce, “You know I can’t, love.”

Y/N’s body went rigid, and that new familiar sensation began to bubble in her gut. She could feel it rumbling and swirling, mixing with her fear and sadness, creating an uncontrollable fury. It burned like venom, but she found herself welcoming the sting. Her once soft features hardened, and Tommy noticed the change immediately. Her stare was blank, and the joy that used to fill it had vanished. Before losing her daughter, she never understood why the war had changed Tommy. She supported him while his experiences ravaged him, but she never knew why he returned with a harder exterior than when he left. But now, after suffering such a devastating loss, she understood. There is no coming back from witnessing a tragedy.

Tommy’s rough thumbs brushed against Y/N’s tear-stained cheeks and bent until his forehead rested on hers. “Where did the woman I married three years ago disappear to?” He said, his breath fanning over her face. He pulled back, his distressed stare locking Y/N in place, and whispered, “I know she’s in there.”

The words stung like a slap to her already bruised ego. She could feel the weight of that question in every bone of her body. All her fears began raging a war inside her head, and she could feel her armor cracking. She could feel the tears clogging her throat, burning as she swallowed them down. Her lungs felt like they weren’t getting nearly enough oxygen, and she was only seconds away from either crying or breaking something. With a swift step backward, Y/N separated herself from her husband. She hated to admit that her body yearned for Tommy’s hands back on her, but she batted that thought away as quickly as it appeared. Tommy slowly lowered his hands back to his sides, and she leveled him with a callous stare.

“That woman is gone, Tommy,” she spat. “She burned to ash with her daughter a week ago.” She could see the way her words landed on Tommy like bullets striking his chest. Some of her felt bad, but the angry beast slowly becoming her new persona convinced her she did nothing wrong.

Y/N waited for Tommy to say something, anything, back to her, and when he didn’t, she turned and reached for the door. Confidence that felt different from what she was used to coursed through her body like electricity. She was a little scared of who she was becoming, but those wild and fiery feelings of rage were the only things that brought her peace. Before pulling the door open, she turned back toward Tommy and said, “If you won’t let me help you, Tommy, I’ll find someone else who will. You forget, my roots run deep in this business, too.”

Tommy let out a dry laugh. “You’re really threatening me, now, ey?”

Y/N’s grip tightened around the cold door handle, and, through gritted teeth, she growled, “It’s not a threat, Thomas. It’s a promise.” Without a second look, she flung the door open and stepped out.

John and Arthur straightened at her abrupt appearance, and she just brushed past them, letting her feet carry her toward the front of their home. She knew they heard her and Tommy’s conversation, but she didn’t care anymore. This newfound boldness that her bereavement had granted her washed away any and all anxiety.

“Hope you enjoyed the show, boys,” Y/N tossed over her shoulder toward John and Arthur. “Next time, I’ll sell tickets and make talking to my husband more worthwhile rather than a waste of my time.”

She didn’t turn back around to see their reaction to her words. Instead, she showed herself out and hopped into one of Tommy’s many vehicles. She would find another way if he wouldn’t allow her to help. The image of a tall Jewish man whom she briefly met a while back when Tommy first started expanding into London entered her mind. She knew exactly who would be more than willing to give her a hand in her effort to help the Shelby family – Alfie Solomons.

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lavender-romancer · 8 months

Text

I'd Do Anything

Part One Tommy Shelby x Reader

You met when you were sixteen and from there, your lives ebbed and flowed closer and further away from one another but there was always something that brought you together.

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1906

When you were a child your parents' marriage always seemed too difficult, with such a lack of care or affection for each other. More like two adults who had married for social convention than for love and you decided then and there that you'd never accept anything less than love.

Your teenage years had a few flings but you knew you were never in love with them, there was one boy you had met whilst watching your younger siblings play on Watery Lane with some other local children.

This boy didn't approach you initially, instead looked at you across the street with an inquisitive expression as he sat in a doorway with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. You decided to walk over to him which seemed to take the boy by surprise.

"Can I have a smoke?" You asked, attempting to start a conversation. He quickly scrambled to his feet and was noticeably smaller than you but most boys were at your age anyways.

"What's… what's your name?" He asked and you smiled before rolling up a cigarette and holding it between your fingers.

"I'm Y/n, and you?" You looked at him expectantly and he quickly brought out a pack of matches.

"I'm Tommy," he smiled and gestured to where the children were playing. "That's my brother John and my sister Ada. Arthur's around here somewhere."

"How old are you, Tommy?" You lit your cigarette and Tommy looked at you hesitantly before answering.

"I'm sixteen, I know you would have no way of realising that. I still haven't had my growth spurt." Tommy huffed and you smirked before telling him you were also sixteen. "Do you live 'round here?"

"I'm at the end of the street," you smiled "I hadn't seen you before either, if that's what you meant." You struck a match and lit your cigarette before handing them back to Tommy.

"Will I see you again?" He asked with a hopeful look in his eyes.

"I suppose you will. But I'll be busier than before so you'll just have to have wonderful timing." You giggled and Tommy's cheeks went pink.

"I- I only meant that we could do more than watch our little brothers play." He stumbled over his words and you found it quite endearing.

"I'd like that. You'll have to meet me after around 5 at the school. I get extra tuition there on weekdays." You took a deep inhale of nicotine and your head seemed to clear.

"Why are you at school still?" He asked.

"Because, Tommy, I am trying to pass an entrance exam. They have a women's college in London so for the next two years I have to work harder than I have before." You felt the fogginess in your brain returning but you had to ignore it.

"I never considered leaving here and you're going to London, it's impressive." Tommy looked up at you and then averted his gaze, not wanting to make you feel he was too small.

"I have to get out of here, at least for a few years. Small Heath isn't the problem, it's my parents and their lack of concern for my education." You rolled your eyes and leant against the brick wall behind you. Tommy saw what you were doing and followed your actions, wanting to seem interesting.

"Jesus." Tommy let out a long breath and you nodded.

"There's no other way for me to break the cycle of my family never earning enough to get by and constantly being worried, I can fix it all." You tapped some ash off your cigarette.

"I can't say I could match you academically but I could definitely beat you at cards." He joked and you smiled.

"I wouldn't be so sure." You looked down at him.

"I could absolutely rinse you when you get all rich." Tommy raised an eyebrow and you looked at him with offense.

"Now that will definitely have to be tested." You smirked.

For the next two years Tommy would meet you after tuition every single day and when you didn't have tuition you would be spending the day with one another. Going on walks, visiting his family or going to his uncle's dockyard and messing about there. He was your escape from the fogginess in your brain that crept up when you thought about the future. He made you laugh and feel at ease with the world.

Tommy had figuratively and literally grown up in front of your eyes, now a bit taller than you and a lot more mature. The two of you acted like an old married couple with the way you bickered and then made up. But the two of you had never breached the subject of romance. Regardless of the Shelby brothers' teasing, the two of you had never brought it up.

You got a lot closer with Tommy's aunt, Polly when her daughter Anna was born. You loved babies and wanted to help in any way possible with childcare. Her and her brother Michael were angels to look after, most of the Shelby brood were. But they were always a bit more mischievous than the Gray children.

When Finn was born things got significantly difficult for Tommy. His mother was dead, his father had abandoned them and you didn't have the social faculties to try and soothe the hurt. You tried to help with Finn whenever Polly had to work or the Shelby offspring went to try to find work. But it wasn't the same between you and Tommy, he had taken the position of the leader of the family and the responsibility weighed on him greatly.

"Tom," you asked as you leant against the same wall you'd met in front of two years prior. "Can I have a cig?" You asked with a pleading smile, he looked unimpressed but rolled you one anyway.

"When's your entrance exam?" He asked.

"It's next week, I'm absolutely terrified. I didn't think trying to get matriculated would be so stressful after this much preparation but I'm losing it." You let out a long sigh and rubbed your eyes.

"You need time to chill out. Polly is with Finn, Ada and John all day tomorrow so we could go for a walk? Take the bus out to the countryside or something?" He suggested and you could have blushed. You didn't want to admit that you had feelings for Tommy but it was hard to not feel that way when he was just so wonderful.

"I would like that very much." You smiled broadly and Tommy bowed his head, trying to hide that he was blushing too.

The next few months after your entrance exams in London were a lot more relaxed than you thought they'd be. But it was all down to Tommy. He did everything possible to spend time with you and never even mentioned university so you could take your mind off it. All you could do was look at him adoringly as he made you tea and helped look after Anna and Finn. Polly often joked that the two of you looked like "a couple with a baby". The first time she said it you looked up from cradling Finn and Tommy looked up from spoon feeding Finn his milk. The two of you simply blushed to yourselves and never spoke of it again.

But the family was beginning to see you as a couple regardless of what the two of you thought about it. One night- more alcohol fueled than you wanted to admit- the two of you had been lounging all over one another as you drank more and more pints when someone started a daring game. Most of it was boilerplate dares until Arthur focussed his attention on the two of you.

"Tommy, I dare you to kiss Y/n!" He announced with a resounding cheer from everyone taking part. You looked at Tommy with a confusing expression and Tommy went to refuse but you put a hand on his cheek in some drunken confidence. He turned his head to look at you before leaning forward and kissing you deeply. In the back of his mind Tommy could hear his brother's laughing but none of it mattered. He was kissing you. Kissing the person who had made him anxious when they first met and now continually impressed him with their dedication and affection for others. The two of you pulled apart and both finished your pints before going up to the bar together to order another.

"Well that was…" you slurred and Tommy hiccuped which made you laugh.

"I liked it." Tommy said in a very serious voice before you both started laughing.

"I know you're definitely too drunk to remember this tomorrow but I've wanted that to happen for so long." To stop yourself drunkenly stumbling you were leaning against his shoulder with your eyes fluttering shut.

"You think I haven't?" Tommy asked as the pints came and you were convinced you misheard him.

"Huh?" You said as he went to move back to the table.

"You heard what I said!" He said happily before turning around and heading for the table. You stood for a moment and had to check your bearings, leaning against the bar. He'd wanted to kiss you? Your head was spinning and you didn't know how to process that information so you headed outside. The cold autumnal air hit you like a slap and woke you up a bit. You needed to calm down and try to figure out what had just happened.

Tommy turned around to see where you'd got to and saw your pint still on the bar. He knew it was unlikely you'd leave it so he stood up and looked around a bit before walking outside. The air also woke him up a bit and as he looked around he saw you leaning on the wall of the Garrison smoking a hurriedly rolled cigarette. He stood in front of you and took the cigarette out of your mouth before smoking some of it himself, you just looked down at his shoes and it made him shuffle uncomfortably.

"This is the longest we've been silent with one another the whole time I've known you." Tommy noted and you nodded without a reply. "What's wrong?" He finally asked and you stole back your cigarette.

"I'm just coming to terms with the fact that you wanted to kiss me." You wouldn't raise your gaze from his shoes and Tommy sighed.

"But you said you wanted to?" Tommy said, confused.

"I did, I do. But I didn't know that you did. For how long?" You asked.

"Since the day I met you, Y/n." Tommy admitted without any shame and you smiled.

"Even when you were that short I found you endearing so I suppose I did pretty early on as well." You finally met his gaze and could stare at nothing else but his eyes.

"So what are you so confused about?" He asked, taking a step closer to you.

"The eventuality that we might hate each other," You paused. "I don't know if I could live with it."

"Why would we hate each other?" Tommy seemed even more confused.

"If something happens and then the two of us grow apart and everything changes and I don't know." You trailed off and just lent against the wall and looked up at the sky.

"You're thinking too much again." Tommy smirked and you rolled your eyes.

"You're a bastard." You smiled a bit, not willing to admit he was right.

"You need to be in the moment." He said softly, moving slightly closer to you, your eyes met his before he leant down and kissed you.

You spent the night with him after that but waking up in his bed partially clothed with a banging headache, all you could feel… was regret. You prayed he wouldn't remember the night, the kiss and everything after. As you left that morning from the Shelby house you were so familiar with, you almost didn't look back.

By the following week much has gone back to normal between you and Tommy with neither of you broaching the topic of the night in question because what was there to say? There was an air of difference between the two of you but you refused to address it. You were back to hanging out together platonically, looking after each other's siblings and dealing with all the teasing about you both 'looking like a couple'. Even if you had to suppress your feelings forever it would be worth it. Tommy was worth more than a night of a drunken mishap, it wasn't that you regretted the act, you did regret the way it happened. You didn't want the first kiss you shared to be influenced by alcohol or the first night you spent together. You wanted it to be normal.

That week you received your letter from Bedford College and practically ran to the Shelby household. You burst through the door unable to speak with how out of breath you were, all of the Shelby's looked at you as if you were insane but you shook the letter at them whilst puffing. Polly took the letter from your hand and quickly opened it as you keeled over.

"Oh my god." Polly said quietly looking at the letter.

"W-what?" You managed to get out, absolutely terrified.

"You got in." She turned her head to you with wide eyes and a smile. You genuinely felt like you might faint.

"We've got an academic in the family!" Arthur yelled with a smile and even Finn started laughing happily. Your eyes fixed on Tommy and he smiled at you but his eyes were sad.

"Well done sweetheart." Polly said before embracing you in a close hug. "You deserve it."

"I think I might need a drink." You said quietly and she laughed.

Polly cooked you all dinner and sitting together you couldn't believe you would have evenings like this for a while. You looked at the faces of all of the people you were able to call your family and just wanted them all to come with you. The security blanket you'd had these last two years would be so far away in only a month. Anything you knew would be so far away and it was incredibly daunting. As you were all cleaning up, you and Tommy had been saddled with washing and drying, it had been about five minutes and he hadn't said a word.

"Are you alright?" You asked him and he nodded. "You have absolutely nothing to say to me?" You prompted and he rested his hand against the countertop.

"I'm happy for you." He replied in the most deadpan voice you'd ever heard before walking out of the backdoor. You sighed deeply before placing the plate you were holding back in the sink and following him outside. He was sitting on a rusty metal chair smoking a cigarette and didn't walk away as you approached him so it seemed he did want to discuss whatever was going on.

"Please talk to me," you said softly as you pulled an upturned box closer to sit near Tommy.

"What is there to say?" He brought his eyes to yours and you could see the glint of a tear forming before he sniffed and looked down.

"I know everything is changing, you know I love this place, I love your family I love…" you trailed off. "Anyways, you know I love it here with all of you but just because I love something doesn't mean that I can't want better opportunities for myself even if they are somewhere else. You understand what it is to want to protect people and I can do that with proper qualifications and a good job. I can help all of you the way I want too."

"We're not asking for charity." Tommy said harshly and you were taken aback.

"Charity? It would be a gift for all you have done for me." You were referring to the whole family but it felt as if your words were so directed towards Tommy you just didn't know how to express yourself.

"Everything is going to change." Tommy said simply and you rubbed the back of your neck anxiously.

"But you knew it would, for years you've known my plan." You tried to explain and he scoffed.

"It's different now. We're different now and it's not the same as before." Tommy tried to subtlety wipe his eyes but you saw it and it sent a pang to your chest.

"What do you mean?" You tried to deflect from what he was referring too.

"Don't tell me you're still pulling a 'Im too drunk to remember' excuse. You know what I'm talking about and honestly, I think we both might be finished with this conversation." Tommy stood up and tried to walk away but you grabbed his hand and then his leg and held on like a scolded child. You didn't know how to express yourself but you knew you wanted him with you. In whatever capacity that was, you didn't care.

"Please." You whispered and you heard Tommy sigh before stroking your hair.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment before Tommy sat down again. Your eyes were glassy and threatening to release tears at any point and Tommy knew that. You took hold of Tommy's hand and traced the lines of his palm so you didn't have to look him in the eye.

"I did what I did because I was scared. I meant what I said when I was talking about how worried I was that you'd hate me because things would change. Not that I didn't want them too but that they could end badly and then nothing would work the same as before. I'd much rather sacrifice my own happiness than our bond and the closeness I have with your family." You explained quietly and Tommy closed his fingers around your index finger tracing his hand. You looked up at him and could see the hint of a smile before he pulled you closer to him.

"The affection I feel for you would overpower any petty fight or disagreement we might have." He said softly and you smiled slightly, it tugged at the edges of your mouth like an annoying child.

"I'm sorry for leaving and-" you began but Tommy just shook his head.

"Everything is settled now." Tommy picked up your hand and kissed your palm. "I think-"

"We're going to the pub do you-" Arthur started saying as he opened the backdoor but then saw you holding hands and burst out laughing before going inside.

"Oh Jesus Christ." Tommy muttered that you could only laugh, which caused you to lean backwards and forget you weren't sitting on a chair. You tumbled backwards and hit the ground hard but you were laughing so intensely you ignored the pain.

"Fuck me, that hurt." You giggled as Tommy helped you to your feet. When you were stable Tommy kept hold of your hands and looked down into your eyes.

He was so beautiful. It took you back every time you looked at him, the way his lips parted slightly when he was near you or how his hair fell over his face so he'd constantly be pushing it back. Everything Tommy did was so endearing it was hard not to feel the way you did for him. When he leant forward to kiss you, it was the first time you had both been affectionate with one another with clear heads. It didn't feel real, like a daydream that would wander into your head whenever you were staring off into the distance- whenever someone tried to get your attention and it took a moment it was because you were usually thinking about Tommy.

"I'd do anything for that to happen again." Tommy whispered as the two of you lent your foreheads against one another.

Your stomach felt like it jumped out of your body, did an excited somersault and jumped back into your body. All you could do was smile.

next chapter

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yespleasetommyshelby · 3 months

Text

Before he cheats - Modern Tommy Shelby x reader

I've had this song stuck in my head for days and it's gotta go 😩 This literally took me all of 2 hours to plan/write/post and it hasn't been proofread so bare with!

Enjoy! 🥰

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"56, 57, 58, 59, 60, that's it, I'm done." I huffed as i threw my phone onto the sofa besides me, frown on my face as I sighed. "That's two fucking hours!" I muttered to myself stamping my feet into my trainers I threw my coat on before picking up my phone on some final hope that I'd actually had a reply, but low and behold, obviously not.

"Fucking Thomas Shelby always thinking with his mother fucking dick." I continued to mutter under my breath as I left my home on Watery Lane slamming the door behind me, my chest burning in anger. Stepping out onto the path I shoved my hands into my coat pockets, fists clenched as I headed the short distance down the road to the house where I'd practically grown up.

"Watch where you're fucking going!" I screeched as a teenager flew past on his bike almost knocking me into the road. "Fucking males and their fucking shit." I continued to slate each and every male that came into view in the 2 minutes it took to get to my destination, 'men are all the bloody same' my mum used to say, 'honestly, get yourself a women, their much easier.' Looking back maybe I should've taken her advice.

"Where is he?" I asked as I pushed open the doors to the betting shop that sat in Watery Lane, the punters and staff going silent as I watched with my hands on my hips. "Oh come on, you know exactly who I'm talking about!" I all but yelled into the silent room, after being with Tommy for 2 years now I had almost as much authority as him, almost.

"Y/n, not here." Polly's voice had my head on a swivel, finally spotting her in the doorway to John's office I stormed over ignoring the looks I was getting from everyone.

"Where is he Pol?" I sighed as I flopped down into Johns office chair. "And why are you in here?" I asked noticing that John wasn't in his own office.

"He's disappeared with Esme somewhere, honestly these Shelby boys and their dicks are ridiculous." She mumbled, lighting the cigarette she held in her hand.

"Tell me about it." I sighed, knowing that if Tommy wasn't in the office he was only going to be in one other place. "He's at the Garrison then." I asked, watching as she froze slightly before shaking her head.

"I think so, yeah, what's he done this time?" She sighed as she rubbed her eyes, having dealt with nothing but pissed up (and off) men and women placing bets they can't afford all morning, dealing with her nephews love life was definitely not on her to do list.

"Nothing Pol, he's done nothing which is the fucking problem! He was supposed to meet me 2 hours ago and I haven't heard anything since a lousy morning text all because he's too busy with that fucking whore Grace!" I ranted, reaching out and taking one of her cigarettes before lighting it and slamming the lighter down on the desk. "You know what I'm done." My voice sounded much more convinced then my mind as I said the words.

Shaking my head I stood up in a flash, out of Johns office and into Tommys within a second, without looking I reached behind Tommys desk and picked up the baseball bat that I knew he kept there in case of emergency's. Pushing my way past Polly who was stood in the doorway I made my way through the punters and out into the street without a second look, the bat weighing heavy in my hand.

"Y/n! What are you doing?!" Pol's voice follows me out into the street. "Come back inside!" She yelled, passers by stopping to look at the scenes, before a sharp look from Pol had them walking on.

"Woah! What's going on here?" I was stopped in my tracks as Arthur, John and Esme appeared from the corner ahead of me, grins on their faces as they looked from the bat in my hand to the scowl on my face.

"Looks to me that she's off to play baseball." John laughed, his input met with a thud on his chest by his wife.

"Would you two idiots shut up already." She giggled slightly as she pushed her husband into his older brother. "Now what's up with the bat?" She asked, smirking slightly as she had a feeling she knew exactly where you was going, after sitting on the phone for an hour the last time Tommy pissed you off she knew not to get in the way.

"Like John boy said." I shrugged, my hold on the bat tightening ever so slightly. "I'm going to practice baseball with a nice new shiny Land Rover I saw parked outside of the Garrison." I grinned before pushing my way through the trio and continuing on my way.

I couldn't help but let out a loud laugh as the Garrison came into view and just as I had predicted there was brand new Land Rover sat outside its doors. The brand new Land Rover that only 3 days ago I had travelled up to Scotland to collect with Tommy, not knowing that it would be the last journey I'd take with both him and the car.

"Y/n come on back to the shop love, we'll sort this shit out." Polly pleaded once more making me stop in my tracks, the Shelby's had been like a family to me, even in the years before me and Tommy had officially gotten together, being friends with Ada and all.

"I'm sorry Pol." I sighed shaking my head as I turned to face her and the trio that had followed behind. "But right now, right now he's probably slow dancing with that bleach blonde tramp and she's probably getting frisky. Right now he's probably buying her some fruity little drink 'cause she can't shoot whisky." I laughed a little, knowing for a fact that she couldn't handle the drink that Thomas Shelby worships so much. "Right now he's probably up behind her with a pool stick showing her how to shoot a combo, but he don't know." I laughed as I reached into my pocket and pulled out my keys, my hand wrapping around the longest and sharpest of them all, ironically the spare key Tommy had given me for this exact car.

I could help but grin as I stuck my key through the shiny black metal of the drivers door, the small act creating some kind of pleasure, a pleasure that only increased as I walked my way down the car, the key dragging a horribly crooked line right down the side.

"Right that's enough now! Cut this shit out!" Polly yelled, her eyes flickering between her nephews burnt lover and the door which he could come through at any second. "Think about what you're doing y/n." She almost pleaded, or at least as close as I'd ever seen her.

Ignoring her I made my way round to the passengers side, the metal bat dragging across the floor being the only sound to be heard, except for the muffled giggles that the other two Shelby brothers struggled to keep back. A wave of emotion hit me as I climbed into the car, a lone tear slipping down my cheek which I quickly wiped away.

"He doesn't deserve it." I muttered to myself as I quickly wiped it away without a second thought. "Fuck him and all the whores he's had in this fucking car." I growled gripping my keys as I began to carve my name into the leather seat.

"What the fuck is going on right now?!" My head snapped up as I heard another voice, Ada having stumbled upon my little rage room experiment, shall we call it.

"Ada! Nice of you to join us, i'll tell you what's going on shall I?" I asked as I hopped down from the car swing the bat up over my shoulder as I waved over to her. "Right now, your brother, you know the one that I'm supposedly engaged to, is in there living it up with that Irish tart of a woman!" I yelled, using the bat to point towards the door, not caring how loud my voice had gotten. "Right now she's probably up singing some white trash version of Shania karaoke, right now she's probably saying 'I'm drunk' and he's thinking that he's gunna get lucky! Right now, he's probably dapping on three quids worth of that bathroom polo!" I screamed, the more thought I put into what was actually going on just inside fuelling the rage even more.

I let out a gut wrenching scream as I swung the bat into his headlight, once, twice, three times moving on to the next I swung again laughing as the glass crashed to the floor before swing it into the windscreen for good measure. Throwing the bat to the floor I put my hands on my hips and grinned as I looked at the mess that was Tommy Shelby's new car before making my way over to Arthur.

"I need your knife." Holding my hand out infront of him. "Please Arthur." I sighed knowing that he always carried one no matter where he went.

With a sigh and grin he reached into his pocket and placed the small switch blade into my hand.

"Seriously Arthur?! Why the fucking hell did you give her a knife?!" Polly yelled as she threw her arms up in frustration, knowing that if anyone was going to be killed for this it wasn't going to be her.

"She asked nicely Pol." He shrugged, loving the fact that his brother was about to have the surprise of a lifetime and all he had to do was sit and watch.

Sticking the knife into the front tyre I smirked as the hiss of air filled the air, walking round and putting a knife slash in all of the tires for good measure, I stood back with a grin laughing at the look of amusement over the 3 Shelby siblings faces, the smirk on Esme's and the fed up look Polly had been giving me for the last 10 years.

"What the fucking hell is going on?!" The man of the hour roared as he stepped out onto the street, the pub doors banging against the walls before Grace appeared behind him, eyes cast down. "Answer me!" He bellowed, the vein in his neck popping with each syllable.

"Hi Tommy, remember me?" I asked sarcastically making his eyes jump to me, his face dropping ever so slightly. "You know, the fiance that you used to have!" I stepped forwards as I spoke shoving him back slightly, knowing if it was anyone else they would have recieved a bullet to the head, but I knew he'd never lay a hand on me.

"Y/n? I thought we were meeting later?" He asked, brows furrowed in confusion as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, the numerous texts and missed calls flashing on the screen and the time that read two and a half hours after the planned meeting time. "Oh." He muttered, wiping his hand across his face. "What have you done?" He asked as his eyes trailed along the nice long line that now travels the length of his new car.

"Yeah, oh." I nodded, laughing slightly as Grace stepped out besides him. "I suppose you missed the show while you were in there with ol' Gracie here. But I'll give you a rundown shall I? Well I dug my key into the side of your pretty little souped up four wheel drive, carved my name into your leather seats. I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights and slashed a hole in all four tires, maybe next time you'll think before you cheat." I couldn't help the tears that fell next, the adrenaline slowing and my whole body began to ache, the end of an era, me and the Shelby's.

"Y/n-" "No." I cut him off, not wanting to listen to any kind of reasoning he would throw at me, anything to get him back in the good book. "I might've saved a little trouble for the next girl, because the next time that you cheat, oh you know it won't be on me, no, not on me." I wiped my eyes before pulling of the ring that he had given me 6 months ago. "Guess I'll give it to you aye, Gracie." I muttered, throwing the ring at her feet before turning to walk away.

"Y/n!" His voice reached my ears just as I'd passed Polly, Arthur, John, Esme and Ada. "Y/n please!"

"Bye Tom!" I yelled without turning back, keeping my head up I shoved my hands into my pockets and carried on, not giving them the chance to see the tears that were currently streaming down my face.

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There you have it! My first fic where they don't end up happily ever after, hopefully you enjoyed!

Feel free to send any requests! 💖

#tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagines #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders imagines

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all-mirth-no-matter · 4 months

Text

Time After Time | Chapter Fourteen

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: Startling revelations ensue after drinking the tea. While you wait for Tommy to return, Benji comes in search for another date. Ada takes you shopping for a new dress to wear to the races.

Warning: language, slight supernatural (kinda?), harassment (not anything explicit but not fun), less tommy in this one but promise next chapter will make up for it!

ao3 link | catch up on tumblr here

Chapter 14: Raise Hell

I found myself an omen, and I tattooed on a sign. I set my mind to wandering, and I walk a broken line. You have a mind to keep me quiet, and although you can try. Better men have hit their knees, and bigger men have died.

It came upon a lightning strike, and eyes of bright clear blue. I took that tie from around my neck, and gave my heart to you. I sent my love across the sea, and though I didn’t cry. That voice will haunt my every dream, until the day I die.

— Raise Hell, Brandi Carlile

The tea cup landed on the rug with a soft thud, the hot liquid spilling at your feet — though you couldn’t feel a degree of it.

Your mouth gapped open at the sight before you — your mother, sitting on the rug across from you, her legs crossed same as yours, as she smiled at you.

“This isn’t real,” you whispered, still too surprised to move, your heart racing.

Your eyes searched over your mother’s features, looking for some hint of something fake to indicate the trick that was being played here.

But there was your mother — as plain as day. There was no otherworldly glow or translucent quality. She looked solid, wearing the same kind of modern shirt and jeans that she would have been wearing back when she was alive, looking very out of place against the 20th century backdrop.

The only difference between the person in front of you and the memory of your mother was the smile on her face.

“Real is quite relative, don’t you think, Y/N?”

Her voice sounded the same as well, if not maybe stronger than it had in her last handful of years.

Instinct to combat your mother reared its ugly head as you scoffed and responded involuntarily, “Quite relative to whether I’m hallucinating or dreaming, sure.”

Your mother chuckled, “I’ve missed you, my darling. We have so much to talk about.”

Swallowing, you accepted that whether dream, hallucination, ghost, or indeed real, you’d done this for a reason. You’d been given this opportunity by the Delphi for a reason. It was now or never, and you couldn’t let a little thing like freaking out over talking to your dead mother stand in your way.

“Do you know what’s happened to me?” you asked, feeling yourself sit up a little straighter.

Her smile fell, eyes moving around the bedroom before landing back on you, running down the clothes you were wearing. “The curse. It finally came for you, too.”

“Too? Are you saying—“

“Yes. I too was pulled from my present and into the past. As was my mother, and her mother, and her mother before that.”

You couldn’t believe it. Of all the things you had expected, this hadn’t even crossed your mind. “How far back?” you wondered aloud.

She shrugged, “Centuries, I suppose. All the first born daughters of this cursed lineage. Cursed to know the future, because it’s our past.”

So that was the schtick, you realized. You couldn’t predict the future, but you could recall it from a past that hadn’t happened yet — as long as you’d been paying attention. Your mother’s insistence of learning history now made more sense.

And yet, there was still a big question, one you asked aloud, “Why?”

“I don’t know. That is still a mystery.” Your mother dropped her head slightly out of shame, “Even in death, I’m still searching for answers.”

I curse you, Cassandra! The voice from your dreams echoed through your head and a crazy realization hit you. “Who was the first?”

Your mother swallowed. “When you were born, I saw a vision of my daughter. A woman who would know the future, just like I did. I heard the whisper of a name. It should have been a warning, but I was under a lot of drugs and hormones and thought the name was pretty. So did your father. We already had your first name picked out so on the spot agreed to name you Cassandra. I had no idea it was the name of our matriarch — of the first to be cursed.”

“So it’s true, we come from the original Cassandra of Troy?” Your mother nodded and you shook your head. “But that doesn’t make any sense. Say the stories are true — say the Greek Gods really existed — she could actually tell the future and she’s from the ancient past.”

“Another mystery.”

You huffed, so sick of the ambiguity.

“I’m sorry,” your mother said softly, causing you to meet her eyes again. “For lying to you all those years, for confusing you. For causing you grief and madness.”

You felt a lump in your throat, your chest tight at hearing the acknowledgment you’d wished for your whole childhood. Your brain wanted to comfort her, tell her it was alright, but your heart was more wounded than you’d ever realized.

You swallowed down the rise of tears that were threatening to build and changed the subject. “When were you born?”

She blinked, aware of your deflection method, and answered. “The early 2020s.”

“But that’s so—“

“Close?” your mother sighed. “Yes. I grew up blissful — my mother never mentioned her own displacement. So when I was stripped from my loved ones in 2040 to 1990, I was distraught. I was lucky to meet your father, though regretfully I was never able to open myself up completely to him, still mourning the loss of my first love. I would jump from fits of madness to total denial. After we had you, I thought things would be different. But as you grew, I became more suspicious that you would also be stripped away from me, or I you, and the fear drove me mad. So I tried to prepare you. But the closer I got to my own birth date, the madder I became and more desperate for answers I grew. Eventually, I became convinced that I’d made the whole thing up. The line between reality and delusion became nonexistent.”

You felt the tears begin to pool again as you thought about your own struggles with reality since arriving here. Madam Despoina had told you that you were stronger than your mother. But that wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

“I’m sorry for your father, as well,” she went on. You opened your mouth to protest, but she stopped you. “I was able to warn him about certain events — terrorism, the housing bubble, natural disasters — but I couldn’t save him, not in the end.”

“Did you ever tell him? Properly, that is?” You found yourself asking, thinking about Tommy.

Your mother shook her head. “Not directly. The best I could come up with was the gift of prophecy. After a while of telling that story, a part of me began to believe it. Believe it for you.”

“I’m sorry,” you found yourself saying, “for being so hard on you. I didn’t understand—“

“And now you do,” she said with a soft smile, “more now than ever. And unfortunately, darling, I’m going to have to put pressure on you one final time.”

“What do you mean?”

“The curse — it must be broken. You have to find a way to break it.”

“Me? Why—“ your words stopped as you thought about Madam Despoina’s prophecy. “‘You have a chance to mend ancient mistakes. Break the cursed chain, end the line of travel.’ A woman from the Delphi family who said she was a descendent of the Pythia told me that.”

She smiled knowingly again, “Your tattoo, ya?”

Your mouth dropped slightly, “You knew?”

“I have the same one. I had the same impulse before I was pulled away. I didn’t even know you had it until I—“ she cut herself off, looking somber again before clearing her throat. “It’s the tree of knowledge, of balance. But how were you able to find them?”

“I’ve met some people since arriving here. A Romani family that I’ve grown quite close to. One of the brothers specifically, he— he helped me find them.”

Your mother hummed as she listened, her eyes moving again to the space around you. “What year is this exactly?”

“January 1919.” Your mother’s eyes widened. “I’ve been here a few months now.”

“And I thought fifty years was a shock,” she murmured. “Remarkable. Although the interwar period has it’s merits I suppose. Roaring 20s, jazz, rise of automotives, electricity, women’s suffrage. Though suppose it also has it’s negatives: Great Depression, prohibition, facisism, gangsters—“ You must have had a reaction, because your mother paused. “This man, is he a nice man?”

You swallowed at that, your eyes shifting. “I think he wants to be. But the circumstances are a little more complicated.”

“Complicated like organized crime complicated?” She retorted, and you were surprised at her humor in the situation. “Oh sweetheart, you didn’t—“

You scrunched your face, “I didn’t mean to. There’s been odd coincidences between us since even before we met. I had a vision of him the night I woke up here. He had one of me as well. And then there’s the other dreams—“

“What dreams?”

You took a deep breath, feeling once again like you were in a room filled with puzzle pieces trying to figure out which was the right piece to pick up and share with your mother. “I’ve had dreams. Very real feeling dreams of myself as Cassandra in ancient Troy. They’ve just been pieces though, it still feels incomplete.”

“You’ve got a strong connection to her,” your mother mused. “There has to be something in those dreams, that story, that can help you?”

Shifting in your place, she rose her brow at you. A wave of nostalgia hit you as you recalled the look many times from your childhood. She knew you had more.

“The Delphi woman, Madam Despoina, she— she called him Apollo. It’s his face I see in my dreams when I, as Cassandra, am with him, as Apollo. But I— I don’t know what that means.”

Her eyes narrowed as the muscle in her cheek flinched, “And does he mean something to you?”

Her question caused your brow to furrow. “What does that have to do with this?”

“Mother’s intuition, I suppose,” she smiled. “It’s been good to see you, my darling.”

“What do you—“

You blinked.

She was gone.

——-

You woke up the next morning on the cold floor of your apartment, the empty tea cup still laying on the rug.

“Mum!” you exclaimed with a jolt upward, looking to the spot in front of you.

But of course, no one was there. You were as alone in your apartment as you’d been when you arrived last night.

You reached for the tea cup and knew that it didn’t matter. Yesterday you might have tried to argue with yourself that you’d simply been dreaming or hallucinating, but the time for denial was over.

Whatever this stuff had been that Madam Despoina gave you had given you the ability to talk with your mother last night.

As you got ready for your shift at the Garrison, you tried to go through everything your mother had said to you, trying to commit it to memory, afraid that any little bit of it could slip away.

You were going through it for about the twentieth time when a patron cleared his throat at the bar.

“Apologies, I was—“ you turned and your customer service smile fell, “Oh, Benji, hello.”

“I was just coming by to see when you were available next,” he said, offering you his most handsome smile. “No deaths or births or any other excuses this time, eh?”

Your brow lifted, finding that statement slightly rude. It’s not as if you’d blown him off for a headache or something minor — someone had died.

But you knew what you had to do. Benji had been nothing but nice, if not a little forward, with you since you’d meet. It’d been wrong of you to accept his invitation when you were feeling alone and rejected. You couldn’t allow him to continue to believe he had a shot, but there was no reason to be rude about it.

“I’ve been thinking about that, Benji, and I just— I don’t think it’s such a great idea.” His smile slowly began to fall as you talked, his brow creasing. “I shouldn’t have accepted in the first place,” you continued, feeling awkward and guilty.

“Come on, love, you haven’t even given me a chance,” he tried to defend, pulling another smile on his face, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I wasn’t ready to start anything. I’m still— I’m still adjusting and I—“

“Hmm,” Benji shoved his fists in his pocket. “And this wouldn’t have anything to do with the rumors going around of you and Tommy, would it?”

Your mouth opened slightly at the allegation, but you couldn’t form any kind of defense. Instead you crossed your arms, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Liar,” he hissed, slamming his fist to the bar top. The handful of patrons in the pub looked toward them, curious by the commotion. Benji noticed the eyes and cleared his throat, lowering his voice as he lifted his finger. “You’re making a big mistake, Y/N. Tommy-boy can’t sit on the throne forever, I’ll make sure of that.”

He gave you a wicked smile as he turned and left the pub, slamming the door on his way out.

You contemplated whether you should tell anyone about your interaction with Benji. Unsure if his threats were real or brought on simply by rejection and jealously, you decided to stay quiet for now.

Things had been quiet for a few days afterwards, but slowly you began to notice some major irregularities in the books. Benji’s numbers were showing signs of stealing again. It started off small, similar to what it’d been when you originally became suspicious of him. But now it was quite obvious.

Finally, you came to the conclusion that you had no choice but to bring this to Polly’s attention. It was early in the morning before the shop opened. Polly was helping with John’s kids while Ada was MIA (though if you were a betting woman, you’d say she was with Freddie), and you found yourself sitting alone at the kitchen table, book open in front of you as you felt weirdly conflicted over Benji’s malfeasance.

In the past, you hadn’t been aware of what happened to the people you reported. But now, you knew that there were physical repercussions for stealing from the Shelbys, even as extreme as death. And whether it was guilt for leading him on or some piece of you that still believed that deep down he was a good guy — you began to contemplate whether he deserved a fair warning before you officially reported him. If he knew that he wasn’t as sneaky as he thought he was, that someone was paying attention to him, maybe he’d realize his mistake and end it before something bad happened to him.

You got up to get some tea, trying to think through how exactly you were going to warn him without giving yourself away, when the front door opened.

“How were the kids?” You asked over your shoulder as you poured, assuming Polly had returned.

“Y/N?”

A deeper voice than you expected came from behind you. Spinning around, you were surprised to find the man himself standing in the kitchen doorway.

Your heart rate surged when his eyes moved curiously from you to the table, the open diary and pencil next to it.

“You–” he started, the gears in his head turning to process the scene in front of him. “It’s been you all along.”

“What are you–” you tried to discreetly walk toward the other set of doors, but Benji rounded the table quicker than you, cutting off your escape routes.

What was the saying about good intentions?

“Benji you shouldn’t—“ you tried to lift up your arms between you.

His eyes narrowed and he took a step toward you. Your back hit the counter behind you as he caged you in. “It’s you isn’t it? I kept trying to figure out how it was Lenny and Jackson got stitched. And there you were all along — the little mouse hiding in plain sight.”

“Get off me!” You shouted as you tried to push him away, but he grabbed your arms. You tried to use some of the self defense moves you’d learned, but Benji was stronger than you’d anticipated, and much more sober than the last man you had to fight off of you in the pub. He spun you around and pinned your arms behind your back, pressing his weight onto you so you were pinned even tighter against the shelves and counter. You tried to kick, but he had your legs locked between his.

You were completely defenseless.

“You think you can fuck with me—“

“I wasn’t— I haven’t said anything–,” you gasped out, your face against the shelves as you tried to catch your breath while still struggling to get him off you. You felt the tears begin to fall down your face as you felt helpless.

“And you fucking won’t! You killed my mates. I’m gonna make you wish you’d never met Tommy—“

“Oi!”

Polly’s voice shouting from the doorway finally caused Benji to release you. At the slightly feel of freedom, you pushed him off and ran for the other other end of the kitchen. You grabbed a near empty bottle near you and threw it at him. He ducked as it broke against the wall behind him.

“Out!” Polly shouted, grabbing his arm and pushing him out the door. “And don’t you dare come back!”

Benji was shouting as well, raving that he was a Peaky Blinder dammit, and no one could stop him from getting what he wanted.

He looked back at you as he said that and you shivered.

Sure, you were shaken by being manhandled like that by someone you thought was a good enough man. But more than that, you were angry. This had been the second time since you’d been here that a man thought he could toss you around like you were some kind of doll.

Polly turned back toward you, and immediately got busy pouring you a cup of tea. She let you take your time as you finally launched into explanation. At the end, she calmly rose from her seat and found Scudboat in the betting den, who’d shown up at some point in all your distraction. You watched as she whispered in his ear and then calmly again walked back toward the kitchen. She reached into a drawer and pulled out a small handgun.

“You know how to use this?”

Nodding, she handed it to you and told you to keep it on you from now on.

“Go back to work, Y/N. Benji won’t be bothering you again.”

——-

Polly had been right. Another week went by and you hadn’t seen or heard a peep from Benji. Part of you wondered if the bastard was dead, and you weren’t sure how exactly you felt when you realized that you didn’t really care.

You also wondered if Tommy knew now about what happened with Benji. You hadn’t heard from him since he left again, but knew from Polly and Ada that they’d be back by the following weekend.

In all the excitement, you’d forgotten about Tommy’s invitation to the races. When Ada burst into your apartment to announce that they were going shopping, you’d been surprised. It’d been a while since you’d been to the shops, but you weren’t going to deny the opportunity to find something nice to wear to your first race.

“I’ve been crying nonstop for weeks,” Ada explained as you both walked around, looking at different fabrics as she pointed out some options. “Every little thing sets me off, I tell ya. I thought it was because of the funeral, but Martha and I weren’t really that close. Suppose it’s sympathy for the kids. Dunno. It’s been making me so tired though. I think I may be ill or something.”

“Maybe,” you mused, grabbing the dress she handed you.

A woman caught the corner of your eye. At your gaze, she dropped her head and turned.

You ignored her, used to people staring when she was out with Ada. You hadn’t understood it when you’d first become friends, but now you realized.

When you saw her again at the next shop, you began to feel less like it was accidental.

“Hi,” you greeted when you met her eyes again. She looked away and tried to leave, but you spoke again, “Can I help you?”

The woman stopped finally and turned, her head down slightly sheepishly. She wore a small hat and trendy dress, her hair was cut short like most women of the day, and you could tell she was quite tall, though she seemed to slouch slightly. Her facial features were sharp, complimenting her slim body shape. She was quite beautiful, and in your day could see her being the ideal supermodel. But the bags under her eyes and wornness of her skin led you to believe that her story probably wasn’t that simple. Not here, in Small Heath.

“Pardon?” She finally said innocently, trying to subtly give you a once over as well.

You shrugged, “It just seemed like you were needing something from me. My mistake.”

You turned to leave but she spoke again. “This is incredibly improper of me, but I saw you and I just— you and Tommy, ya?”

As you turned back to her, your brow creased. Instinct had you looking around for Ada. Ever since your encounter with Benji, you’d been edgier than you’d ever been, always looking for the exits and for familiar faces to run toward. It made you feel incredibly vulnerable and you absolutely hated it. You felt your fingers grip the strings of your handbag, knowing the gun Polly had given you was safely tucked away inside.

Swallowing, you resounded yourself to shake it off, to toughen up, and you straightened your shoulders as you addressed the stranger once again. “Excuse me?”

“My sister saw you both walking home often late at night. I suppose he’s moved on, I shouldn’t be surprised.” She was rambling now, her cheeks blushed as if she were embarrassed by her own words. “I know we shouldn’t be speaking of this, not in public at least. It’s just hard, y’know, losing a customer. Especially one like him.”

Customer. You looked over the stranger in front of you again and tried to think of any other instance where her phrasing would make sense aside from the very clear one that came to mind.

Ada called for you, reaching you with a handful of dresses. You turned back to the woman who nodded and made her leave.

“Ada, who was that?”

She craned her neck and clicked her teeth. “Ah, that was Lizzie Stark. Surprised you haven’t seen her around town. Though why would you, less you were payin’ I suppose. Here, try these on.”

——-

It’d been a while since you’d been on a real date. Even before you’d been sent to this place, dates had started to dwindle as you got older and got more choosy. For a while, starting in college, you’d easily been able to flirt with someone new, get to know them, and then start a fling for a while until one or both of you got bored. The couple serious relationships you’d had were harder for you. Being vulnerable hadn’t come easy for you, and it created commitment and trust issues. Dates became more complicated than they were worth.

Tommy had greeted you at your place, and you surprised yourself with how much you missed him in the few weeks he’d been away. There was something about his presence, knowing that he was here, in the city, gave you a wave of some kind of safety and security that you hadn’t realized you’d been missing.

He looked tired, though he smiled at you warmly as he walked you toward the family car, and offered you a hand in as you climbed in.

This had been the first time you’d actually been excited for a date since possibly high school.

And of course, Harry had to go and buzz kill your mood the day before the races. He hadn’t meant to, of course. After the Benji incident, he’d been extra protective and cautious. You’d explained the situation (without the stealing money from the Shelbys part) and he’d been surprisingly sensitive. But he believed his recent pub decision would make you feel better instead of make you sour.

“Somethin’ the matter?” He asked when you were quieter than he expected. “If this is about Hancock—“

“No,” you answered, already knowing from Polly that Tommy and the brothers had learned of Benji’s malfeasance, but he’d disappeared before Scudboat and Lovelock could find him. You’d cursed your previous self for trying to be sympathetic toward the man — it seemed like you’d just made everything worse. “It’s nothing honestly, just something silly.”

“Go on, then. I can handle silly.”

Your cheek flinched as you looked over toward Tommy, humored by him even saying the word ‘silly’. He rose his eye brow as he looked over to you, offering you a smirk before pulling his eyes back to the road.

“Harry’s putting in an advertisement in the paper for another barmaid.”

Tommy’s smirk turned into a frown, “Is he mad? The place wouldn’t be standin’ without you — I’ve seen the numbers, I know. I’ll have a word with Harry—“

“He’s not replacing me,” you quickly corrected. “I thought the same thing, but he wants me to concentrate more on the books and said he’d rather bring someone in part time to fill in behind the bar.”

“Ah,” his brow creased as he gave you a short look. “The problem, then?”

You sighed, knowing that you were being childish. “I’m just feeling territorial, is all. I know I’m not technically being replaced, but part of it feels that way. Did I mention I have a small case of control issues? I blame it on being an only child.”

Tommy chuckled softly and shook his head. “You have nothing to worry about. If anything it’ll leave more time for you to do your real job.”

“My real job?” You asked him curiously.

“The Shelby business, ‘course. Wheels are already in motion, and today we’re going to enact the second part of my plan.”

“And that is?”

Tommy smiled, “Gonna buy a horse.”

>> next chapter << chapter masterlist

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acewritesfics · 4 months

Text

FIREFLIES | Tommy Shelby

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: No but I was encouraged by @runnning-outof-time to write this. This is a extended version of my Fireflies mood board.

Fic Type: Imagine

Warnings: Death. Grief. Swearing. Murder.

Word Count: 1,922

TOMMY SHELBY MASTERLIST || TAG LIST SIGN-UP

"You're late," Y/N says as she senses Tommy walking towards her.

"Late for what?" he asks as he reaches her.

"To see the fireflies," she says turning her head to look at him. "But I guess there will be other nights that we'll get to see them. They aren't going anywhere, and neither am I."

"I wish I could take you anywhere that you wanted," he tells her.

"But I like being here," she smiles softly, turning her body to stand in front of him. "It's peaceful and the view is beautiful and even more so when you're here with me."

"I'm sure it gets lonely," he sighs sadly, hating that his first love will always be tethered to this spot.

"Maybe for a second but then the fireflies come out and I'm reminded of you," she tells him. "You were always my light in the darkness."

"I was never the light, sweetheart," he says cupping her face in his hands. "You were always the light."

"If you think that because of the man you've become, then think again, Thomas Shelby," she says placing her hands over his. She turns her head, kissing one of his palms before resting her head on it. "I knew you before the war and before you had blood on your hands. You were the only good thing in my life. And I know that man is still inside you."

"He died with you," he tells her. "That man doesn't exist anymore."

"Yes, he does," she smiles. "He'll be back, once you learn that despite everything that's happened, you're allowed to be happy and live the life you wanted back then."

"I'll be living it without you," he sighs.

"One day, you're going to meet someone and all I'll be is a distant memory," her voice is soft, but her words were loud in his ears.

"Do you remember when we met?" Tommy asks, changing the direction of their conversation. Their surroundings blurred out and was replaced with the night they met.

Tommy could see his 17-year-old self, sitting on a log in front of a campfire. Arthur Shelby Snr and a few of his buddies decided to take their families camping one weekend. It was there that Tommy met Y/N, daughter of one of his father's associates.

The 16-year-old version of Y/N was dancing as a group of teenagers to the left were making music with the few instruments they owned. A very young Ada had taken her hands as she skipped and leaped and danced around the fire. The sky was pitch black; the moon bright in the sky but in the moon light and the glow from the fire, to Tommy, it made her look like an angel. Tommy had fallen in love for the very first time that night.

Him and Y/N watched as the younger versions of themselves came together. 16-year-old Y/N had let go of Ada's hands telling her she needed a rest and that she'd be back shortly. She'd left the campfire and walked past the campers. 17-year-old Tommy whispered something to Arthur before following her.

Tommy and Y/N follow them down to the creek that ran through the campground.

"You're a good dancer," they listen to the younger Tommy tell her, causing her to jump slightly. He quickly apologises. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"Apology accepted," she smiles, lifting her skirts up to her knees and dips her toes into the cold water. "And I wouldn't call myself a good dancer. The rhythm of the music does all the work, I just follow it."

"It wasn't the music that had me captivated," he admits.

"I'm sure it wasn't my dancing either," she chuckles, stepping into the cold water and kicks it around until it starts to feel warm.

“I’m Thomas Shelby, but you can call me Tommy,” he introduces himself.

“Y/N L/N,” she tells him her name. “It’s nice to meet you, Tommy.”

From that moment the two of them were inseparable. You couldn’t find one without the other. They were both the happiest they’ve ever been. Everyone could see and feel the love the two held for each other. They were the king and queen of their own world, and they treated each other as such. Tommy gave her everything that he could with promises that one day, they’d be so rich that money wouldn’t be an issue and he could give her the grandest of all things. She would assure him that, even though those things would be nice, that all she needed was him.

The scene in front of Tommy and Y/N is blurred out again and replaced with the original scene but this one was slightly different.

It was the night he realized he wanted to marry her.

On the anniversary of the day they met, they would come out to the field their families camped at and spent the night under the stars.

Their first anniversary, Y/N, now 17, arrived at their spot earlier than Tommy. She starts the fire and sets up the picnic she had packed. As she sat waiting for Tommy, she thought about the trouble she would be in for sneaking out this late to meet the boy she’s been with for a year. It was worth it, being with Tommy.

17-year-old Y/N’s been there a few minutes when the tree in front of her starts lighting up. There must be close to 50 of the little lightning bugs scattered along the tree. She’d read about fireflies and was always curious about them, but she wasn’t sure if she’d ever see them like this. The scene in front of her brings a certain warmth to her and her mind goes to Tommy.

“I’m sorry, I’m late,” she faintly hears Tommy say as he approaches her. Y/N’s too focused on the bugs to reply.

It isn’t until Tommy’s arms wrap around her that he finally gets her attention. That night she had fallen pregnant.

The scene changes a little, everything looks the same, except the two of them are a little older, Tommy being 20 and Y/N being 19. Their relationship was going well, and their daughter was happy and healthy, but their family lives had taken a turn for the worse.

Tommy’s mother had fallen ill not long after having Finn. After she died his father, Arthur Sr, had taken off, leaving Tommy and Arthur Jr to raise their younger siblings with their Aunt Polly’s help and deal with the debts his father owed. Not only that but they had the illegal betting den that needed a major up heave after the state their father left it in.

Y/N’s father had become more paranoid, believing everyone was playing a part in some ploy to ruin his life. Her mother, who had enough of her husband’s behaviour had left, only leaving a note to explain her departure. She never bothered to tell Y/N about it either, only finding out when her father stormed into the store she worked at, yelling and shouting about how she was a part of her mother’s plan to leave. Once she managed to convince him that she had no part in it, her father seemed to calm down for a while.

This was when Tommy new he couldn’t wait any longer to marry her. He wanted nothing more than to call her his wife. In the last year they had been coming more to their spot, needing to get away from everything for a moment. His proposal hadn’t been planned. They’d been sitting on a log, watching the fireflies fly around the tree, creating trails of light behind them. He turned to her, looking at her with so much love and said, “I think it’s time we get married.”

She looked back at him, a soft smile on her lips. With all that love he was looking at her with reflected in her eyes, she says, “I also think it’s time.”

As if Tommy knew where his mind was going with this, the scene changed. It once again was the same scene set at a different time. Tommy was late to meeting her at their spot. It was something he regretted to this day. Because instead of finding her sitting there waiting, with her smile that was only reserved for him, he found her by the creek, her closed soaked with water, her skin a ghostly shade and cold to the touch, her lungs filled with water instead of air and yet she looked so peaceful.

Tommy still feels the pain as he broke down as if it were only yesterday. He doesn’t recall how long he stayed with her out there before bringing her to the hospital. He soon found out she’d been out to their spot hours earlier than they were supposed to meet. Her and her father had a massive fight and she needed to get away. Their spot was always a place she could spent hours at, reading, drawing, and just being with herself, clearing her head.

Unfortunately, this time, her father had followed her out to the creek. Things got physical and he overpowered and drowned her in the creek. Instead of taking her to the hospital, he left her there for Tommy to find in some sick twist of paranoia, blaming him for taking his daughter away from him.

Police ruled her drowning accidental despite all the evidence pointing to it not being that. It would be almost ten years later when justice would finally be served by Tommy’s own hand, what he had been through during the war, adding to the feeling of nothing as he put a bullet through Y/N’s father’s head.

The scene shifts once more but this time they’re back to the first scene, her body is no longer laying on the creek bed.

“Can you do me a favour?” Y/N asks him, breaking the somber silence that had fallen between them

He nods and she stands on her tip toes to whisper something in his ear, before she shoves him into the cold water.

Tommy wakes up from the dream with a jolt. He’s had the same dream almost every night since her death but this time the ending had changed. She had asked something of him, and he promised to fulfil it.

Later that night, Tommy made his way to the field where their spot is. He could never bring himself to come back out here after she died. This is his first time back but this time he wasn’t alone. Sitting beside him on the log, is his 13-year-old daughter, Sophie.

He pulls out the photographs that he has of Y/N. “See this place Sophie, this place is a very special place to me and your mother. Not only did we meet here, we also had many special moments here.” He starts handing her the photos, she’s seen many times of Y/N. Sophie had only been 2 when her mother was killed. That day, Sophie had been with Polly. “Your mother loved this spot, especially at night,” he continues as the tree begins to light up. “This is the reason why.”

“The fireflies?” she asks, seemingly just intrigued by them as her mother was.

In the faint glow of the fireflies and the moon above, he can see Y/N, smiling that smile reserved only for her little family. She blows them a kiss before she turns around and disappears into the darkness.

“The fireflies,” He confirms, smiling down at his daughter.

TAGGED: @chapter-in-my-old-diary - @hanawrites404 - @goblinjnr - @halsteadbrasil - @alexxavicry - @rainydayteacups

BOLD means your profile didn't come up when I tried to tag you. Sometimes it links when the post is posted but I don't know if you still get the notifications. Let me know if you get the notification. Here is a post that could help: WHY OTHERS CAN'T TAG YOUR BLOG

#acewritesfics repost #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders imagines #tommy shelby imagines

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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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I love you too, Tommy."

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

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

PEAKY BLINDERS TAGLIST:

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dreamerschroniclesofstories · 4 months

Text

Crawl home to her

A/N: thank you so much for your love on my previous work “ Goodbye, Tommy Shelby”, i appreciate it so much, i will officially be starting the sequel next week. i'm currently very busy with end of term uni assignments. For this fic you are about to read, i would recommend listening to work song by hozier.

I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR YOU TO REPOST THIS ON ANY OTHER SITE AND TO TRANSLATE THIS.

Summery: who would of thought a conversation with Polly, after another war riddled nightmare, could cause tommys love to come back to him.

Word count: 1,748

The dark. Tommy's worst enemy since the war. It isn't the dark that scares him, its the noises of the consistent banging of shovels and the pained yells of men coming from his walls that taunt him every time he closes his eyes. Usually, the opium he keeps hidden in his draw stops the noises for a few hours.

But not tonight.

Tommy gasps as he opens his eyes and sits up, the room spinning as he slowly sits on the edge of his bed, putting his hands on his head, trying to calm down, his heart races inhumanly fast, he swears one day his heart would burst through his chest.

Like every other night, Tommy stands up, grabs a cigarette from his pouch on his bedside table and leaves him room. the floorboards creak as he walks past the other bedrooms that hold his two brothers, Arthur and Finn, and the bedroom that holds his aunt Polly. The old wooden floor has been shaped over time by each sole of the Shelby family, from generations of living in the house.

Tommy walks into the kitchen and stops in his tracks when he sees Polly sat at the table, he raises an eyebrow as he takes the cigarette from between his lips, continuing to walk to the small table that holds the whiskey. He pours himself a glass.

" why are you up poll?" he asks confused, then gulps down the whiskey from the glass.

" much like you Thomas , nightmares" she whispers, holding her mug of tea in both hands, making sure the warm steam hits her face so it could protect her from the coldness of the night.

" i don't know what you're on about pol" he grumbles, pouring himself another glass of whiskey, then he walks over to the table and sits down across from Polly.

Polly raises an eyebrow, watching Tommy as she sips her tea. Polly knew Tommy was lying, since he was child she could sense when he wasn't telling the truth. He knew this, that's why Tommy chuckles quietly.

" and you pol?" he asks knowingly, wanting to change the subject, leaning back in his seat then takes a drag of his cigarette, seconds later blowing out the smoke.

The small kitchen area was filling up with smoke. Polly delicately places her mug down onto the table, grabbing a cigarette from her own pouch.

"i have the sight Thomas, i have nightmare almost every night" Polly explains, then lights the cigarette before taking her first drag "your's is about the war" she determined.

" it's not serious Polly, every man that came back from France. mentally never leaves" tommy whispers.

polly smirks " yes but most of those men have someone at home to help them, you did but you pushed her away" she points out.

Tommy immediately tenses up, he has not spoken to or about her since before the war. By her, he means his childhood best friend, Alice. They had met during school when Alice was left out on the first day of school and Tommy noticed and went over to Alice to talk to her. Since then, if you saw one you knew the other would be close by.

However, a week before the war. Alice and Tommy had an argument after Alice found out Tommy enlisted. They did not talk it out in time before Tommy left. When Tommy came back, he was a changed man, he did not want Alice involved in the life he had become involved with.

" don't pol" Tommy warns.

" she's a seamstress now Tommy, has her own little shop on the other side of town, sometimes i see her at the markets" she shared.

When Tommy and Alice were teens, Alice always talked about making dress's when she left school. However, she was always self-conscious about the dresses she made and use to show them to Tommy. He was her number one fan, he use to encourage her to sell them, Tommy was the only person who believed in herself.

Tommy smiles slightly " she does?" his eyes sparkle slightly, causing Polly to chuckle.

Polly nods " she lives two streets behind her, next door to Mrs. dingle, the baker"Polly explains.

Tommy stands up and grabs his coat, not saying a word to Polly as he leaves.

Alice's flat

A sleepless night, in Alice's mind, was a chance to mediate about the previous day and the day that was coming. Mediation helps Alice to feel the energy of the world sparkling at her finger tips. The energy asks her to let them in and help her dreams become a nighttime reality.

It was one of them nights for Alice, she sat on her one person couch by her window, watching as the stars twinkle down onto small health, making natural guide lights for the men going home from a late nigh at work. Alice found the night sky beautiful, she finds that the stars look like snowflakes in the night, yet they are forever still. Alice found it amazing that for centuries and millenia's, everyone had seen the same constellations.

Alice stood up, going to her kitchen to pour herself another cup of tea, the sound of a knock on her door makes her flinch. It is two in the morning, who would be knocking on her door.

Alice picks up her gun from her kitchen draw and walks to the front door, even though she doesn't speak to Tommy anymore, she knew she needed protection encase someone who knows they were friends comes after.

She takes the safety off her gun and begins to open the door, as the door inches open her heart feels like it was about to burst from anxiety.

Alice frowns when she sees a man standing in front of her door with his head tilting down, his peaked cap covering his eyes but she knew who it was immediately.

"Tommy?"she whispers, her voice soft but also shaky. They had seen each other this close since before the war.

Tommy lifts his head, making eye contact with Alice, His eyes are the same. They were the colour of every dancing sky, filled with infinite hues of that are illuminated by newborn light.

He coughs slightly " can i come in?" his voice vibrating through her bones, causing a much welcomed and missed vibration.

Alice nods and moves to the side, allowing Tommy to walk into her small but homely flat. He takes off her cap, Alice closes the door then walks back over to her kitchen.

"Would you like a drink?" Alice asks, looking over at Tommy, who was taking his coat off.

"whiskey?" he asks, sitting at her small dinning table.

Alice smiles and nods, she takes the bottle of Irish whiskey from the back of her cupboard, then takes the whiskey cup from the cupboard as well before walking over to Tommy.

"are you in trouble?" she questions, placing the glass in-front of Tommy then pours the whiskey slowly.

Tommy frowns " i'm not, why would you think that?" he asks confused.

" you are Thomas Shelby, you have a lot of enemies and we have not spoken for nearly five years Tommy, so why are you here?" she points out, sitting down across from him.

" i heard you are a seamstress" he states, taking out a cigarette from his pouch, lighting it. All the whilst, not breaking eye contact with Alice.

She chuckles " you came here at nearly three in the morning to talk about my job?" Alice raises an eyebrow.

Tommy smirks slightly " There's only so much a man can take of his four walls" he admits.

Alice hums " having nightmares? I've heard a lot of men that came back from France have them, some so bad they go to the hospital" she whispers, her eyes now full of worry.

" i'm Thomas Shelby, you don't have to worry about me" he jokes.

Alice rolls her eyes and stands up, walking around the table, pulling out the chair beside Tommy and sits down, grabbing his hands gently " you were my best friend Tommy, of course i'm going to worry about you. Don't give me the Shelby bullshit" she affirmed.

Tommy smiles for the first time since he came back from France "glad to see you have changed"

Alice smiles softly " i'd never changed Tommy, i'll forever be me, for you" she admits.

Both of them did not say a word to each-other after that, the tension was thick between them. Tommy gently lifts his hand, stroking his thumb down Alice's cheekbone down to her lips, her pale skin was like the silk of the petals of white roses in the summer. Tommy glances down at her lips, his thumb gliding over her plump bottom lip. Alice inhaled softly at the touch, her lips were as good as her eyes. Painting a picture of her emotions.

"i love you" Alice blurts out.

In the stillness of the moment that follows her confession, there so much both of them can say. Alice doesn't regret what she say, sudden moments are a risk but sometimes they are necessary to get what you want. So instead of tommy replying, he gently puts his hand on her cheek and pulls her in. Kissing her.

Kissing her softly but with passionate purpose. Kissing her, immediately stopped the sound of shovels and the sound of mens screams.

Theres a muffled sound of shock from Alice before she softens into the kiss. Her delicate hand finding her place on the back of tommys neck , her lips move against his, as if she was whispering a question over and over again for him. He pulls back slowly, thinking she would want him too.However, Alice follows him, chasing after his lips. Her glazed eyes opening.

in that kiss, was the sweetness of their passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into one moment.

Alice smiles happily, looking between tommys eyes, her eyes full of love. If any one moment in Alice's life were to ancher her soul , creating a tie to this reality. it would be the moment she fell in love with him. She realised that she had a protector born for pure love and how could she not love that? How could she not love all of Thomas Shelby. He is the rope and the knot to her vessel that is now in safe mooring. For this, she will forever be his.

Alice strokes tommys cheek softly " you've come home to me"

A/N: EEEK! i am so proud of this one. Please leave a like, comment and/or re-blog. It is all appreciated xx

#peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby imagines #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fandom #peaky blinders masterlist #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby fic #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fluff #tommy shelby fluff #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby angst #tommy shelby angst

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scorpiussage · 11 months

Text

Tommy Shelby + Age Gap

Pairing: Tommy Shelby/ Reader

Warnings: smut

For @peakyltd

He’s known you since you were little; you were always running about with Ada and your home life was worse than theirs so you spent an inordinate amount of time living in their house.

When he left for the war, you were still a child — skipping classes and causing mischief with his sister. When he get’s back, though, it’s to his own surprise that you grew up in the time he was away. You’re still young, barely 19, but those years changed you in so many noticeable ways.

It’s the day after he got back and he stumbles down the stairs of his home to find you sitting at their kitchen table, probably waiting for Ada to come down. He pauses at the bottom of the steps, almost not recognizing you but when you turn to look at him, your appearance hits him like a punch in the gut. God, you’re beautiful.

“Ah, y/n,” he rumbles after clearing his throat, “It’s been a while.”

You nod, your own eyes tracking over his form curiously as you take in his more chiseled features that years in a trench carved out.

You get up and carefully pull him into an awkward hug, “I’m glad to see you’re okay.”

Tommy, feeling like a deviant, uses the hug as an opportunity to smell your hair. It gives him a strong sense of calm to take in your unique clean, sweet scent. He feels at peace for the first time in years.

He reluctantly pulls away from your arms and sets a firm hand on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze, “I’m fine. We’re all fine.”

Ada chooses that moment to come clomping down the stairs and Tommy quickly pulls away, turning tail and heading for the door without saying anything else.

…

After seeing you in the kitchen the other day, Tommy can’t seem to shake the thought of you. You absolutely consume his thoughts and even worse he sees you everywhere. The only place safe from your presence is his bedroom and only just, because he can hear you and Ada giggling away to each other through the thin walls. He feels like he’s going mad.

It all comes to a head one evening when you show up at dinner, presumably to spend time with Ada but she’s already left. Tommy tells you this and watches the way your cheeks flush prettily under his intense attention.

“Oh,” you say with a huff. Actually, now that he mentions it, you think you remember Ada saying she was going out with a boy and to not tell her brothers. You quickly try to wrack your brain for a decent excuse to give to Tommy while he slowly moves to where you’re standing.

“Silly me, she said we were going to meet at the dance hall,” You stutter as Tommy stands terribly close to you, the scent of his cologne making your thoughts fuzzy, “I should head out.”

Before you can turn fully, Tommy grasps your wrist in his big, calloused hand; his thumb reaching out to rub gently along your pulse point. That little touch is enough to make you weak in the knees. You’ve always fancied Thomas— he was the dashingly handsome older brother of your best friend. That was when you were a child, though, and you never really thought he’d ever see you as anything but.

“Tommy?” You question hesitantly, your eyes searching his. He doesn’t reply, instead his other hand reaches up to run along your cheek before he guides you forward into a sweet, testing-the-waters kiss. It’s a soft peck at first but you respond readily, your own lips chasing after his when he starts to pull away.

His arms slip to wrap around your waist and back, pulling you tightly into his chest as he ravishes your mouth. He tastes like tobacco and whiskey and you mewl whenever he nips playfully at your bottom lip. You feel like you could drown like this, in his tender mercies, and you wouldn’t care in the slightest. When he finally pulls away, you’re both gasping, your breaths mingling and your eyes hooded.

He reaches up and pushes your coat off your shoulders, and you barely register it pooling around your feet as he grasps your hand once more and begins tugging you towards the stairs. Feeling like you’re in a haze or a dream, you follow after him your eyes never leaving his. Every few steps he pushes you against the railing or the wall and kisses you until you’re practically shaking with a desire you’ve never known before.

He pulls you down the hallway and into his room, a sacred space you’ve never dared enter before, not even when he was away at war. It’s the largest bedroom in the house and scarcely decorated but there are a few personal touches here or there that paint an intimate picture of what kind of man Tommy is. Photographs are lined neatly up on his dresser with loving care and across the room you spot a small bookcase with worn books and a little tin horse figurine. He lets you inspect his space while he divests himself of his jacket and waistcoat, leaving him in a partially unbuttoned shirt and suspenders hanging loose around his hips.

His gaze is almost hungry as he makes his way to you; his gait like a lion stalking a rabbit. He’s quick as one, as when he reaches you and before you can say anything, he’s hefting you up into his arms and pushing you down onto the creaky bed. You manage to breathe out his name before he kisses you again, this time far more heatedly and desperate than when you kissed in the kitchen.

“‘Tell me to stop and I will,” he whispers into your ear as he pushes your dress up. Nothing could get you to stop now, you think, you would die to keep what’s happening going. You try to keep up with him, your shaking fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. He helps you along, practically ripping the shirt off of himself and the following undershirt. You’re likely staring in a most uncomfortable way but he’s so damn handsome. He’s all lean, corded muscle from his time in the war and is even decorated with a few tattoos that you trace curiously with the tips of your fingers.

As if he’s reading your mind, he smirks in that infuriating way of his and presses your hand more firmly to his chest, guiding it down to run over his abs and to the hem of his trousers. This is where you clam up. You tug your hand away and flush in what you’re sure is a terribly unattractive color and admit, “I’ve never done this before.”

It’s embarrassing to still be a virgin, you think, especially when compared to someone like Tommy who’s experience precedes him.

He kisses you again, this time not as hurried and tells you with such open honesty, “I’ll take care of you.”

His hands trace around to your back and he finds the ribbon holding your brazier with perfect accuracy. With a single, sharp tug, you’re breasts are barred to him.

He tries to be gentle as he runs his hands up along your sides, his fingers dancing out to graze over your breasts. You let out a soft gasp as he fully cups them both and rubs his thumbs over your peaked nipples. His gaze is reverent as he looks over you and he rumbles out a hushed, “God, you’re perfect.”

You have to fight the urge to cover your face in embarrassment, struggling to accept the compliment especially knowing how beautiful some of his past girlfriends have been.

“Don’t believe me, eh?” He asks, taking in your furrowed brow and red cheeks.

He leans down at begins placing nipping kisses along your collarbones, worshipful words leaving his mouth every so often, “Ever since I saw you that morning after I got back, you’re all I can see. All I can hear. You’ve ruined me, Y/N, absolutely ruined me.”

His kisses trail down to your breasts, his lips sucking in the first nipple he finds and laving at it like a starving man. When he pops off of it, he blows a teasing breath over the peaked nub and watches the way you squirm with rapt attention.

He slides his hands further south and carefully tugs your knickers down, leaving you fully bare before him. When you try to close your legs to hide yourself, he doesn’t let you, his firm hands holding your thighs apart with unerring strength.

“Don’t you ever hide from me, eh?” He orders you sternly, but his eyes never once leave the sight of your dripping core and he licks his lips as if he’s suddenly salivating. Without warning, he surges down and begins licking along your slit with avid enthusiasm, his tongue expertly drawing teasing swirls to your clit before dipping down to lick at your opening.

You let out a squeal and reach down to grasp at the longer hair on top of his head, unsure if you should push him away or tug him closer.

His chuckles vibrate through your core in the most confusingly pleasurable way and he looks up at you, “I want to be surrounded by you, by your smell and taste.”

With those seductive words said, he dives back down to continue licking you. He’s relentless in his exploration, his tongue leaving no place untouched.

Meanwhile, you’re sprawled out across his bed, your fingers yanking at his hair and your back arching lewdly. You’re building towards something you’re not sure of that has you feeling like a bow string pulled too taut. Tommy seems to know this and is apparently eager to encourage it.

One of his thick fingers trails up through the mess of your cunt and starts pressing into you. That’s what makes you come undone, and the most fantastical feeling washes over your entire body, making you cry out Tommy’s name in pleasure.

He works you through the experience, his ministrations gentling until you’ve gone lax in satisfaction. He sits up and looks down at you, his lips stretched in the first smile you’ve seen him give since he returned. Placing both hands on either side of your head, he hovers over you and tells you, “You’ll only get that from me, understand?”

You nod sleepily as all the adrenaline causes you to crash. You see that his trousers are tented and you ask, “Do you want me to-?”

He shakes his head. Standing up he shucks the pants off before crawling back into bed with you, drawing up the quilt to cover you both.

“I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you when I got back,” he says to you, his fingers tracing up and down your bare arm. He leans forward and gives you a sweet, slow kiss that has you tasting yourself briefly before he pulls away and turns the light out.

He holds you throughout the night and is the first thing you see when you wake up; those blue eyes of his peering into your very soul. You’re his.

…

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