#valentinesrequest
Note
Hi ! Can I request number 5 ? “People are always more honest at night” With Thomas Shelby of course !
Congratulations again ⭐️⭐️⭐️
Honesty ~ Tommy Shelby x Reader (Angst)
[Celebration] [Celebration Masterlist] [Masterlist]
Warning: drinking, mention of abuse (not by the characters shown here) (18/21+). I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.
Words: 1540 words
Her heels echoed with every step she took.
Compared to the hall filled to bursting with people and music, the silence and the night air were a refreshing break- or so they should have been.
He was leaning against the stone balcony that separated the terrace from the gardens, turned black by the late hour.
His glass of whisky dangled dangerously between his fingers, the half empty bottle he had brazonly taken from behind the bar was resting beside his arms on the bannister.
"What are you doing here?"
The light from the hall painted golden traces on his pale skin as he turned to face her, pushing himself off like it took an incredible amount of strength for him to turn.
He was dressed in a black smocking, befitting the occasion. Undoubtedly only the finest one could buy in Birmingham, or in his case extort.
"I was invited."
When she stepped closer, she could smell the whisky on him, but even if he was drunk or on the way there, she wasn't as foolish as to imagine Tommy Shelby was anywhere near incapacitated.
"Ada was invited.", She snapped.
"I'm her plus one.", He announced, taking another as if to toast his sister's name- a sister who had apologised profusely once she had realised Tommy had come too, proclaiming over and over again that she didn't know how he found out.
"Just leave!", She snapped and turned on her heel, ready to storm back inside in the hope she could burn some of that rage fueled energy until she crossed the threshold.
His fingers closed around her wrist and stopped her. Then, agonizing slowly, he traced his fingers down her hand to her fingers, his thumb brushing along the metal that now enwrapped the fourth finger on her hand, inspecting it as if he was trying to weigh it's worth.
"That's a pretty ring.", He mused.
"It is a ring.", She retorted, making Tommy Shelby's eyes snap up.
He opened his mouth to respond, but closed them again, shame burning on his cheeks.
While he refused to let go of her hands, he could no longer meet her eyes.
"Why are you here, Tom?", She repeated.
"You know why.", He told her shoulder.
"No!", She scoffed, "I don't. So please explain what you of all people would do here? Have you come to taunt me? Or do you have your boys on standby so that they can turn it all upside down at your command!"
"I wouldn't- that's not-"
He broke off again, shaking his head and mumbling words so low she could not hear.
But she made sure he could hear her words.
"Whatever the reason, you can leave, since you haven't been invited."
He didn't even flinch, instead he kept looking away like a child about to receive a scolding or worse, anticipating another strike.
But the blow came from him.
"Do you love him?"
"Stop it!", She hissed through clenched teeth.
"Tell me.", He demanded, pinning her down with his gaze alone.
She opened her mouth just to close it again.
But no, she was certain.
And so she took a deep breath and met his eyes.
"He loves me and we will marry and he will be a good husband to me."
He nodded as if she had asked him.
"But you do not love him."
"I said stop!"
Her tone made him chuckle.
She had half a mind to strike him, but she was better than that.
Besides, that was their first promise, wasn't it?
That they would be better than either of their parents.
Out of all the promises they had made, it was the one he had never broken, the only one he upheld like a holy oath.
"You don't love him because you still love me."
He didn't say it like he was gloating or mocking her- instead, he said it without any trace of emotion, not even giving her that.
As if it was some divine decree that set that into stone, as if it was as given as the sunrise in the morning or the stars shining above them now, as if it came with her mere existence.
It would have been kinder if he had broken that last promise too and struck her with all his might. Then she could hate him as much as she wanted to.
"That doesn't matter anymore.", She said, her voice, to her own surprise, almost gentle. "You made sure that doesn't matter."
There it was again, that look. The same look he had had when his mother or Polly screamed, or when his father directed his rage at him.
No anger. Just a mixture of shame and agony caused by more than any physical blow.
"You're out here for a long time missing your own engagement party for something that doesn't matter.", He said, never knowing when to leave things alone.
"Well, I won't be wasting any more."
Thomas Shelby was her past, and for a long time nothing but him had filled her present while she could have sworn he was her whole life.
It turned out he was but a small, aching part of it that she was more than keen to forget.
And she would forget, in time. With a good, decent husband. She'd grow to love him the way he already loved her, after a child or two maybe.
She could already feel the thick air of the hall when his voice made her freeze, his hand hovering above the handle.
"I still love you.", He said. "That's why I'm here. Not to gloat or make trouble, or to change your mind. Just to tell you."
He raised his glass once more.
"That's why I'm here."
When he realised she wasn't moving, he continued, staring into his glass while the remnants of the whisky still glistened on his lips.
"I never stopped and I won't stop.”, he hesitated, but then thought better of it and finished his thought out loud. “Even if you marry him."
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to steady herself. Else she would explode, or collapse into herself until there was nothing left.
There was no way she would give him the satisfaction of seeing either one.
But it took all her strength.
“Why would you do this to me? Why would you say that? Why now?”, she demanded to know, steadying herself on the wall.
Tommy glanced at his drink, the bottle having replaced the glass.
“It’s a truth serum if ever there was one.
“No.”, she argued, shaking her head. “No, Tommy, not with you.”
He could be as drunk as a dozen sailors and still have his wits about him.
Even if he was so drunk he could see four of her, he was still a better liar than half of Birmingham put together.
Clicking his tongue, he took a step back and looked up at the midnight sky.
“Well, they say people are always more honest at night, so maybe that, eh?", he said.
(Y/N) shook her head.
It was him that had taught her the names of the constellations, him who had wrapped her in a blanket while they had been sitting on the roofs - him, always him.
He had claimed her, marked her body and mind beyond what the eye could see. He had even taken the night from her, not just this night, but all nights, because like so much it was laced with memories and recollections and him. Always him.
He was a poison that had festerd, seeping into her skin, her muscle and her bones. She felt him in every touch, smelled him with every breath. He had ruined her, like a tar stain on a white cloth never to be washed out no matter how hard she tried. And she had tried.
“That’s not what I mean!”, she insisted.
“What do you want me to say, eh?”, he demanded to know.
“The truth. I want you to admit the truth, Tom!”, she snapped, glaring at his shining eyes.
“You’re not here because you love me- if you ever did!”
He opened his mouth to argue but she refused him that.
“You’re here because your pride can’t take it.”
Saying it hurt her more than she would have thought, but she had come too far to back down.
There was pain in removing the blade from one’s back. Even at the risk of bleeding out, she couldn’t stand the burning any longer, that in her heart and that in his eyes.
She could always see his tears before they had fallen, but he had no longer had a right to them, not in front of her. Not anymore.
“You promised you’d marry me, and I waited for you.”, she said, her throat tightening. “But as soon as you came back, you left me for her - for a stranger. And now that she’s gone, I’m suddenly good enough again.”
She bit down on the inside of her lip to be able to soothe the pain she felt for once as soon as she released it, pressing her tongue to the spot.
Then, she continued.
“You don’t want me.”, she insisted. “You don’t love me. You don’t need me - you just need someone, Tommy. And now it’s me again, is it?”
She snorted and shook her head.
“Until something better turns up.”
Tommy nodded.
“Alright.”, he whispered, inhaling deeply. “Tell yourself that if you want to. If it helps. But it won’t change things.”
And for once, she had to agree.
“No it won’t.”, she said, twisting her engagement around her finger.
“Nothing will change things now.”
Thank you, @gypsy-girl-08 for requesting for my celebration! I hope you liked what I wrote.
And thank you to all others for reading. If you too want to participate in my One Thousand follower celebration, click here.
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Requests are open as well as valentine requests. Even if it’s late.
❤️Happy Valentines Day (well night for me) to everyone.❤️ I hope everyone enjoyed/ enjoys their day. I may not have a special someone but I don’t let it stop me from having a great day with friends. If you have someone make sure to show them some love and if not I know they will come eventually. I don’t know why I rambled on so long. Just know you are loved!
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Early Valentines Request....... DWl 😂😁😄😆😀 #justforlaughs #jokes #valentines #valentineswishes #valentinesrequest #forfun #funny
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Together ~ (Sub!Tommy x Reader fluff and smut)
Summary: Tommy's wife gets bored during a weekend retreat with one of Tommy's many business partners.
Note: This is my first time writing sub!Tommy or publishing something close to smut. I know it is not as explicit as other authors would have done it but I hope you still like it @sonichkkaaascreams.
I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other. This hasn't been beta'd so I apologise for typos or mistakes. If you are interested in more, here is my [Masterlist]
Warning: Smut, oral (male recieving), sex (18/21+). Expect canon confirming tone, language and depiction of violence. Your media consumption is your own responsibility.
Wordcount: 3330 words
~
Together
"Tell me again why I'm here."
Tommy turned his head to look at her, as the car began to slow down, approaching the sprawling country estate somewhere in the middle of nowhere.
"Because Lord Ipswitch is an important business partner and he has invited us."
Tommy's voice was bland and uninterested, echoing from some distant part in his mind where he made his plans and dealt with business.
(Y/N) sighed as the car pulled to a halt.
Before their driver had the chance to get out, Lord Ipswitch's butler stepped forward, clasping the handle with white gloved fingers.
Tommy got out first and then helped her himself, purposefully ignoring the butler who had offered her his hand.
Lord and Lady Ipswitch were older than them, about fifty. He was a small, stout man with a round belly and even rounder face. His wife was a little taller, slimmer and with sharp eyes.
"What an honour to welcome you to our home!", Lady Ipswitch said, approaching them with her hand outstretched.
Tommy took it.
"You must be Mrs. Shelby.", Lord Ipswitch said, taking her hand.
"The one and only.", She said, offering him the sweetest smile she had on offer.
"My sons.", He said, waving to his side.
Both sons were closer to her age than their parents were, who had thankfully inherited their mother's build but their father's dark eyes.
"Pleasure."
Tommy's eyes met hers as Lady Ipswitch escorted him inside, followed by her on Lord Ipswitch's arm.
Somewhere along the way business meetings had changed location from the Garrison to country homes and estates.
It wasn't comforting in the slightest.
Inside they were met with high walls, large floral displays, refreshments and other guests.
This get-together Tommy had dragged her to was just a cover-up for yet another gentleman's business deal.
Once more, Tommy knew everyone, and she knew no one.
But she was used to that by now and her smile was more than practised.
"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes, Mrs. Shelby.", One of the other guests remarked, making her smirk.
"Now I know why your husband prefers to keep you all to himself."
She glanced at Tommy who watched the whole interaction with cold detachment, a cigarette between his lips.
"Ah, I fear my husband has little to do with it.", She mused. "I'm not too fond of cities."
"A country girl then.", One of the wives chirped. "We all know of Mr. Shelby's race horses- do you ride as well, Mrs. Shelby?"
"Oh yes.", (Y/N) said, biting back a grin as she took Tommy's arm. "I believe I can manage, don't you, Darling?"
He gave her a short glare, one of warning, before nodding.
"She rides fine."
Fine, eh?
"Then you must come out with us some time.", Came the suggestion. "There is a fox hunt planned at my parents in a week- I will be sure to invite you."
"We don't hunt for sport.", Tommy said sharply, making the other man's eyes widen.
With that, he left without excusing himself, leaving nothing but cigarette smoke behind.
"I meant no offence.", He quickly said, wringing his hands.
"None taken, I assure you. My husband merely doesn't approve of chases and he would never let me participate in them."
Not the way you people ride.
He had taught her himself, back when they were little more than children, and he had taught her the best way he knew- the way he rode.
She would be useless in a side saddle.
(Y/N) rejoined Tommy just as they were ushered through to lunch.
The table was set beautifully, under the eyes of larger than life portraits of age old ancestors with silver cutlery and grand displays of flowers.
Tommy and her found themselves sitting right across from each other as they began to serve the meal.
Before long, (Y/N) could feel the piercing gaze of his eyes dig into her when he ought to be talking to the woman on his right.
Tsk tsk
Her conversation wasn't even half bad, but after it had been time to turn, she was met with a terrible bore.
"Your husband builds cars, doesn't he?", He asked, and before awaiting her reply, he continued. "I am a bit of a car man myself."
That was when her mind disconnected, replaced by occasional huffs and hums that could be taken as approval or disapproval in equal measure.
She had always hated to be bored, and it brought a smile to her face when she saw Tommy's eyes widen as he nodded, bobbing along the same way she did, without any interest to his neighbour.
(Y/N) stifled a giggle as she flexed her foot, stretching it out under the table. Soon enough she felt the fabric of his trousers brush against the tip of her Paris bought shoes.
They had a pointier end than most others she owned and were easy to slip in under the fabric.
As soon as she began to trail a line on his skin, his head snapped around, giving her a glare.
"How interesting!", She told the man at her side.
"Oh it is- it is.", He said, before rambling on.
Leaving his bare skin be, she made do with tracing a line from his ankle all the way up to his knee on the inside of Tommy’s leg.
But even if his eyes darkened as they glanced in her direction, he didn't pull away, nor did his face betray him.
I’ll get you sooner or later, she thought. It was the price she demanded for him dragging her here, to these people. And an opportunity was served to her on a silver platter - literally.
Dessert was a delightful little tart with pieces of fruit and a fresh, still warm chocolate sauce, so it wasn't (Y/N)'s fault that her tongue had to dart out to wipe the remains of the sauce from her lip after enjoying a particularly luscious bite, licking them.
If anything it was his fault for watching.
Tommy shifted in his chair across from her, making her smirk even further. She had even more fun with the sugar coated strawberries, reminding her of one particular lazy day they had spent.
They had taken a horse and left Birmingham long behind them, soon stumbling upon a collection of wild strawberry bushes. They had made the most of them and until now every strawberry she ate, tasted of his lips and the sweetness of his kisses. The powdered sugar couldn’t compare.
But the way he glared at her almost could.
Alas, luncheon soon came to a close.
"Perhaps, my dear,", Lord Ipswitch said, turning to his wife, "you should show the ladies the gardens, so that they won't be bored with us men and our business talk."
Meeting Tommy's eyes, (Y/N) bit back a grin that would give it away. He swallowed his amusement with icy discipline.
To Ipswitch and the other newer acquaintances of her husband she was just the wife, the missus, the one who offered nothing but smiles, drinks and courtesies.
They didn't know that she had been one of the pillars on which the Shelby empire had been built, that she had stood steadfast since they were still operating out of the betting shop in Birmingham, during everything.
"That would be lovely.", (Y/N) said, and followed Lady Ipswitch out, along with the other wives.
It turned out that she was a decent woman, even if she couldn't have been more removed from real life if she had tried.
They returned to find the men still talking and so (Y/N) allowed Lady Ipswitch to lead her up the stairs and to where she would be staying.
"This is your bedroom, Mrs. Shelby.", She announced.
It was a lovely room, with light colours and a breathtaking view of the gardens and the treeline. Most of her things had already been unpacked by the Ipswitch maids.
"Mr. Shelby will be staying one door down."
No he won't, she thought and regretted the fact that she wouldn't be there to see his face when they told him.
But his absence gave her time to take a relaxing bath and get ready for dinner.
She had gotten her hair done and was just finishing up the touches on her makeup, when she heard the door open without a knock and that could only mean one thing.
"Separate fucking bedrooms.", Tommy grumbled, his suitcase in his hand as he slammed the door shut.
(Y/N) hid her giggle behind her hand as she watched her husband heave the suitcase onto the coffee table, making the flowers shudder in their vase.
By the looks of it he had thrown everything the maids had unpacked back inside as quickly and as inefficiently as possible.
She got up and made sure his dress shirt wasn't too wrinkled. He'd need it later.
As she took it out and smoothed out the lengths of the arms, she caught him staring.
"Tommy.", She warned as his arms snaked around her waist, pressing himself into her back.
"You look very beautiful, Mrs. Shelby.", He whispered before pressing a kiss to the back of her neck.
"Do I?", She asked, letting her hands find his.
He hummed in response, continuing to trail kisses down her shoulder, the silk gown slipping away as if it melted from his touch.
(Y/N) closed her eyes and leaned into his arms- his touch, but when his fingers slipped out from under hers to undo the buttons on her back, she turned in his arms.
"Uh-uh.", She reminded him. "You'll mess me up again."
"Won't.", He mumbled, leaning down to kiss her- not her lips but her neck, knowing it always made her weak in the knees.
(Y/N) bit back a sigh, digging her teeth into her lip. With one hand, he held her as the other began to pull her dress up.
"We've still got time.", Tommy assured her between kisses. "Time to make you feel good."
When he began to suck, she inhaled sharply, but she also had to brace her hands against his chest.
"No marks, Tommy."
"Yes.", He insisted. "Show them you're mine."
"No!", She said sharply.
Only when she pulled back slightly, did he lift his gaze to meet hers.
His pale eyes had turned dark with anticipation and his lips were slightly flushed.
"No marks.", She repeated, as she began to walk forward.
His hands still on her waist, he walked back until his legs hit the bed.
Sitting down, he pulled her in his lap in one smooth motion, hiking up her dress to keep the fabric out of the way.
He better, she thought. Else they'll notice.
When he wanted to kiss her again, one of his hands came up to find the back of her head.
(Y/N) caught it just in time.
"No!", She insisted, "you'll just make my hair untidy."
"Promise?", Tommy tried, glancing up at her with wide eyes, but she already knew where this would lead if she didn’t stop it now.
Shaking her head, (Y/N) brought his hands to her lip, pressing a lingering kiss to his palm.
"No touching, Mr. Shelby.", She warned, as her other hand found the one at her waist.
"Not my hair and not my dress."
Tommy groaned in frustration, but before he could voice his protests, she rolled her hips slightly, pressing down onto him.
Whatever he wanted to say ended up in another groan.
"No touching, yes?", She asked.
He nodded.
"If you do, I'll stop."
Swallowing hard he nodded once more.
(Y/N) grinned as she sealed their agreement with a kiss to his lips, then another to his neck, then a third.
She trailed the kisses down to his collarbone as her fingers began to undo the buttons of his shirt, granting her further access to place her kisses.
He sighed softly, braving himself on his elbows, as her fingers slipped into the inside of his trousers, to undo the buttons that held them together.
Only when she reached for one of the pillows from the bed, did the realisation of her plans hit him, making his eyes widen.
"Remember,", she chirped, as she dropped it in front of the bed.
"No touching."
"(Y/N), that's not fair-"
She crooked her eyebrow.
"Tommy Shelby talking about fairness."
She clicked her tongue and hummed.
"Although it would be fair to do nothing- to get dressed and to make sure we greet our hosts on time."
He shook his head, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. A few strands of dark hair had fallen into his face, throwing shadows over his face.
"But you don't want that, do you?"
Just faintly, he shook his head and (Y/N) hummed in approval.
"No hands.", She reminded him as she settled between his legs.
She felt him twitch as her hands brushed against the burning hot skin, letting them ghost over him - just barely- enough to leave much more to the imagination.
Tommy Shelby's impatience was his greatest weakness, in life, in business and in the bedroom.
And it was one she so loved to exploit.
Her fingertips ghosted over the length of him, drawing lazy lines that she knew left tingles in their wake.
His breath hitched once more and she felt him shift to get closer to her.
"What's wrong, my love?", She asked, batting her eyelashes up at him before replacing the teasing of her fingers with teasing from her tongue, tracing the veins and flicking against the underside of the head, coaxing a sharp hiss from his lips.
It wasn't made easier by the fact that she had to smirk to herself.
Getting Tommy all worked up was a speciality of hers, one she had perfected over the years with pride. At first, he had been the one in charge, the one to lead, in the bedroom the same way he did during their dances. They had only switched when she wanted to help him relax and it had become addicting for the both of them.
Tommy had so much resting on his shoulders, so many relying on him and to not be in charge for once, to not have to be in control for once brought him relief he would never admit to anyone but her.
And the thrill of it had gripped her, to be the one controlling his pleasure, moulding it to her will, guiding him to let go, and catapulted her to new highs of her own.
She heard a low hum, vibrating in the depth of his chest as his fingers clenched the sheets until his knuckles turned white.
"Patience, love.", She reminded him, before setting her mouth, her lips, her tongue to work again.
To make sure he wouldn't get any ideas, she placed her hands over his, feeling the strain in his muscles.
But she knew he was close, and she wanted to see him when he came. So (Y/N) pulled away and pushed herself to stand. Even despite the pillow, she felt the strain in her knees, but it was soon forgotten her fingered wrapped around his length.
Tommy bit his bottom lip.
She fought the desire to straddle him, but it would only make a mess of her dress.
Later, she thought. Right now, her own pleasure was secondary.
It was almost cruel for her to forbid him to touch her while her hands did nothing but touch and caresse and tease, assisted by fleeting, well placed kisses.
A breathless chuckle escaped her lips when she felt his hands, despite everything, brush against the small of her back. She pried them forth and kept them in her grasp, pushing them into the bedding with as she sped up the movement with the other, with more speed, more need, more purpose.
Soon, she felt his thigh muscles tense.
Just before his release, she laced her fingers of her spare with his, feeling the tremble that ran through him as she guided him through it.
"Oh Tommy.", She whispered, just as out of breath as he was, once he relaxed again.
When his hands came up to hold her, she didn't argue in the slightest.
"I got you.", He promised, his voice still thick and breathless.
She could feel his heart thunder in his chest, racing to match her and closed her eyes for a moment.
Sometimes she wished she could make the world stop, so that it was just the two of them- just him and her with no one else in the world, no one to disturb them, to cause him worry and sleepless nights.
But of course she couldn't.
His lips were gentle as they brushed against her own, making her eyes flutter open.
"It seems I'm in your debt, Mrs. Shelby.", He mused.
It was a tempting offer. On the streets they sometimes called him the silver-tongued devil but only she knew that it could do a lot more than spin webs, tell lies and make threads, but with a sigh, she shook her head.
"We're already late.", She reminded him.
He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece.
"Not necessarily."
A grin came over his lips, one meant only for her.
But she shook her head once more.
"Why rush it now when we can enjoy it later?", She asked.
It took all her force of will to detangle herself from his embrace.
"We could have both.", He argued, but when she didn't respond, he relented with a sigh, falling back against the pillows.
After she had fixed her dress and makeup, she sat back and watched him get ready, the same way she had watched him countless times, back when instead of a chaise lounge she was lying on his twin sized bed in Watery Lane that had barely held the two of them.
No matter how large their beds got now, they still slept in a tangle of arms and legs, bodies pressed together.
She had watched him and could paint every movement, every moment of his routine by heart, knew the way he'd set his collars, the way he'd button his shirts, the way he'd always roll his shoulders once putting on the jacket to test the way his gun belt lay even of he didn't wear one.
Tommy dressed diligently, with purpose, fixing his black bow tie in front of her dressing table mirror, before reaching for his cuff links which were stored in her jewellery case.
At that, (Y/N) got up from the silk and satin pillows and crossed the small distance to him.
Lord and Lady Ipswitch might need maids and valets to get dressed, but they didn't, not while they had each other.
"There.", She told him, once both cuff links were secure.
Tommy gave her hands a little squeeze.
"Ready?", He asked, handing her her evening gloves.
"That depends.", She said, smoothing down the folding lines on his dinner jacket.
"Will I do, Mr. Shelby?"
"Perfectly.", He said, leaning down to capture her lips for a kiss. She met him halfway, letting him clasp her face with his hands.
"I'm glad.", She said. "Because you'll have to look at me all throughout dinner."
At her reminder, Tommy rolled his eyes, as he slipped her hand into his.
If they had sat next to each other, it would have been a lot more fun but (Y/N) was already thinking up ways to make it interesting -after all, the evening was long but she was determined to make the night even longer. They just had to get through the meal.
Separate bedrooms, separate seating at the dinner table- she didn't like it either but he downright hated it.
"No wonder all these people are so fucking miserable in their marriages.", Tommy scoffed.
End.
~
Thank you for reading! I’d be very grateful for feedback of any kind! If you are interested in more, here is my [Masterlist]
Taglist:
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#peaky blinders#tommy shelby#thomas shelby#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby imagine#thomas shelby imagine#tommy shelby fanfic#thomas shelby fanfic#tommy shelby fic#thomas shelby fic#valentineswritings#valentinesrequests#sub!Tommy Shelby#together
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Philopator ~ Tommy Shelby & Daughter!Reader (Angst)
Summary: When Michael presents his offer to Tommy for a restructuring of the company, he mentions his daughter - after all, she is already involved, even if Tommy doesn’t know it yet
Note: Thank you for the request, anon - I hope you like it. This is my first time writing Tommy in this way and I've chosen S5 Tommy..-in this, Tommy’s daughter is ~ 15 (the child he conceived before the war) Here is my [Masterlist].
I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other. This hasn't been beta'd so I apologise for typos or mistakes
Warning: Expect canon confirming tone, language and depiction of violence. Your media consumption is your own responsibility.
Request: Please can I request a Tommy x daughter reader where she keeps rebelling and he finds it really difficult?
Wordcount: 4115
Water was running down the outside of the old pipe of the factory building right next to her. It could have been a distraction but her eyes were too focused on the scene in front.
There, Isaiah was perfecting the art of acting- truly. He should be up on a stage, or on the movie scene, perhaps. He had the looks too, and not just the skill, not that she’d ever admit it.
But he was good, almost too good.
He kept his face a complete mask, without any trace of emotion, of mercy.
“So, you thought you could steal from the Peaky Blinders, did you?”, he asked the factory front man in front of him, tsking as if he was scolding a child. As if this was nothing but a minor discrepancy.
“Not stealin’, Sir, no, not stealin’, jus’ not tellin’ all, Sir!”, he babbled, bubbles of saliva forming at the corner of his mouth, his eyes wide with fear.
Pathetic, (Y/N) thought.
She had soon learned that it was never good to let emotions show on her face, not outside. It would only show her weakness.
She had inherited her mask along with her name, from the man who had shaped them both.
But she had inherited more than just that, and she licked her lips in anticipation as Isaiah hummed, pacing up and down in front of him.
“Just out of curiosity,”, he began, “what did you think would happen if we found out about your little…side hustle?”
He stretched the words out beautifully, just like she had told him too. But she had told him more.
It was like a dance, really - one always knew which steps the other person might take, but in this, for once, she led and not the man tied up on the floor. And not Isaiah either.
After all, she was the Shelby here.
“They’d…they’d take me eyes.”, he stammered.
Bingo, (Y/N) thought, knowing Isaiah’s voice and her words had created the perfect assist.
Isaiah, ever the professional, didn’t even glance at her as he continued.
Chuckling softly, he shook his head.
“Taking the eyes, eh? Is that really what you thought? What you feared?”
All colour faded from the man’s face as his eyes widened.
“No?”
Averting his eyes, he shook his head frantically.
“B-but Sir, it wasn’t much…I’ll pay you back, I swear I will, I’ll do anything, I swear…please don’t…please, please don’t-”
He hiccuped pathetically and coughed up a mixture of saliva and phlegm as his desperate babbling continued
Bingo, (Y/N) thought.
“I’ll do anything, Sir, please!”, he begged.
“Anything, eh?”, Isaiah asked.
“I swear I will - I’ll never do it again. I’ll do anything…”
With that, they had him.
Isaiah instructed him that he would give them all the names of everyone involved in exchange for his life.
He not only gave them those names but also those of workers who had done as much as mutter a word against the Shelbys.
Isaiah left his men to take care of it and walked out, (Y/N) closely on his heels with her head lowered and the peaked cap pulled far into her face, leaving little to be seen and almost nothing to be recognised.
Once the car doors closed, Isaiah dropped his facade, glancing at her through the window.
"Well done, (Y/N). Just like you'd predicted."
She had earned her smile as the car sprung to life.
"What can I see? People fear nothing more than their own imagination. Nothing we could ever do or say would scare them more than their own nightmares."
As she spoke she reached for the bag she had brought with her when Isaiah had picked her up earlier.
In it she found all she would need- a small mirror, a brush and a clip for her hair, a light blue dress and heels polished to perfection.
"Straight to the location?", He asked as (Y/N) slipped out of the waistcoat and suspenders and pulled the shirt out of Finn's old trousers, while kicking off the old marred shoes.
"Yes. I'd hate to be late."
Charlie was so proud of his concert and she wouldn't miss it for the world.
During the drive she got changed, did her hair and even applied a little bit of the lipstick Lizzie had gotten her for her sixteenth birthday, behind her father's back of course.
He could disapprove, but knowing him, he wouldn't show.
Isaiah helped clasp her pearl necklace before sending her off.
"I'll see what I can do about the paperwork.", She told him, instructing him to have it dropped off as the house.
As always, he would slip it in between the pages of a fashion catalogue so that Frances and the maids wouldn't get suspicious.
A scrawny young boy had climbed into the car with him, with scratched shoes and torn trousers, a shirt too large for him and a peaked cap with razor blades sewn inside.
Out stepped a young lady with lace gloves and pearl earrings.
But so was the life of (Y/N) Shelby.
Her heels, imported from Paris, clicked on the steps to the concert hall where all the children from the most expensive music school Birmingham had to offer, would perform one by one.
It wasn't difficult to find their seats. They were, after all, the best in the house.
Ruby saw her first, waving at her excitedly.
(Y/N) couldn't help but beam at her little sister as she opened her arms for her to rush into.
She had loved both her siblings, but with Charlie excitement about his arrival had been laced by a sense of dread.
She had feared her father would not love her anymore, now, with a new baby, and a boy at that.
But she had loved Charlie from the moment she had seen him- with his round cheeks and bright eyes and nothing but love to give.
Barely a year after he had been born they had been alone, two orphans in a big house with no trace of their father and just maids and servants to keep them company.
She had sworn to him one of the nights where he had only calmed down after screaming himself to exhaustion that no matter what happened, they'd always have each other.
Because both their mothers were dead and their father was gone.
"Are you excited, Charlie?", She asked, stroking over his nearly combed hair.
"My tummy feels funny.", He admitted.
"That's alright.", She told him. "I know you'll be great."
That made him smile slightly.
"I told you not to lift Ruby!", Lizzie told her impatiently, taking her from her arms. "It'll ruin your back!"
"It's not ruined yet.", She assured her with a grin.
Lizzie clicked her tongue and shook her head.
"When you're forty and hurting with every step, you'll think of me, mark my words.", She said, before guiding her to their seats- the best in the house of course.
"I want to sit on (Y/N)'s lap!", Ruby insisted, climbing onto her knees as soon as she had sat down.
Lizzie decided not to argue, instead smoothing down a spot she had missed on the back of her head.
They all clapped politely when the teachers made the introduction and the concert began.
As child after child went to showcase their prowess on the piano, flute or violin, (Y/N) let her mind wander to what else Isaiah had told her.
She already had an idea but she'd need to think about it more, and to gather a bit more information before telling him what to do.
But she banned all thoughts of smuggling when it was Charlie's turn, clapping until her hands ached even before he had started.
His eyes found them and all three of them gave him reassuring smiles.
"Good luck!", Lizzie mouthed.
Charlie began to play that song they had heard more than a thousand times in the last few weeks, accompanied by his teacher on the piano.
Each note he hit set of a firework inside of her, spreading tingling pride all throughout her body as she watched her little brother.
She'd have cheered even if he had played so bad that the windows shattered but he really was perfect and so every bit of her cheering was deserved.
Charlie seemed equally relieved and proud as he smiled at them once he was done, enjoying the clapping not nearly as much as seeing their faces.
"Again.", Ruby demanded as soon as the clapping had died down, making laughter erupt from the audience of other siblings and parents.
"Today he only plays it once.", She explained, giving Ruby a little squeeze.
"Why?", She demanded to know. "At home he always plays it more times!"
To celebrate, they went out for cake and on the way back, Ruby fell asleep with her head in her lap, while Charlie couldn't stop talking about his concert and how much fun he had had.
She handed Ruby over to Lizzie as they got out of the car and immediately went up to her bedroom, remembering what she had promised to Isaiah.
The room she called her own was facing neither towards the carefully laid out gardens nor the path back to the village, but towards the woods, with their age old trees and treacherous shadows.
To her it was a more welcome view than any fountain or rose bush could ever be.
Her father had originally given her these two connected rooms- one bedroom and a playroom.
But since she had turned the playroom into a small sitting room of her own, that and an office, complete with a desk and her own telephone connection from the main line.
The shelves in the library were covered with novels, poetry, dramas and above all history and science books.
History had never been her subject, not when men had tried to drill it into her.
Once she had learned it herself, it stuck.
But she cared little about Wellington, about Henry V and VII and their battles, about Richard III and his crusades, about Caesars and Alexanders- even if she had enjoyed the episode where he had claimed and tamed his legendary horse.
Her history consisted of Elizabeth, of Maria Theresia, of Telesilla of Argos and Penthesilea, of Sappho, Hatchepsut, Eleanor of Aquitaine and Kaiserin Adelaide, and even tales about the political women of the United States.
And their images graced her space, either as paintings on the wall, or even the miniature bust of Cleopatra VII that stood on her desk, her most proudest possession. The sharp and ever watching eyes of Egypt’s last Goddess-Pharao reminded her that one needed more than beauty if one hoped to govern a kingdom.
She found comfort in the stories of those women who had once been forgotten and overlooked girls like she was, with the world trying to dumb them down with dress fittings and meaningless conversations.
And they had all become greater than anyone would ever have anticipated.
(Y/N) drew strength from that and hope too- for her own future.
Besides, she thought, as her eyes went to one of the portraits she had, no one in the world had known of Sophie of Anhalt-Zerbst.
At first, at least.
Just like she had expected, the catalogue had been delivered in the usual closed envelope.
Taking her letter opener, she tore it open and slipped it out, but before she could flick it open, she heard a knock on the door.
"Yes?", She asked, slipping the catalogue in the top drawer and twisting the key.
It was one of the maids who had informed her that Finn was on the main line for her.
"Apparently, it's about a certain horse race?"
Her heart skipped a beat.
Neither Finn, nor Isaiah would say these words without cause.
If something was about a horse race, it meant one thing and one thing only- an absolute catastrophe that meant immediate attention. It meant that the gun had already been fired and they, meaning she, had to react fast.
"Put him through.", She asked her, her hand hovering over the hearer before she had left.
The second it began to make noise, she ripped it up.
"What is it?", She demanded to know, hearing Finn's heavy panting.
"He knows!", He exclaimed breathlessly, as if he had raced to the telephone. "The meeting went horribly wrong. Michael offered a restructuring of the company, and himself in your father's stead. Tommy got so angry, I thought he'd cut him but-"
Finn stumbled over his words as he hurried to speak.
"Michael told him and Arthur that their time was over. He talked of a new generation, (Y/N)! Fuck!"
She could feel the blood rushing in her ears. But she had to focus.
"What did he say, Finn? I need to know exactly what he said!"
After all, she needed to know precisely what charges would be laid against her, what she would have to deny.
"That Finn would be part of the next generation, a new generation of Shelbys with Michael at the helm. And with you already running the streets, it would be a smooth transition anyways."
(Y/N) spun, the hearer slipping out of her hand and crashing into the mahogany desk surface.
Her father was standing on the other side of the desk, the polished wood creating a no-man’s-land between them.
His piercing pale blue eyes locked in on her the same way a hawk would narrow in on his prey, but his face betrayed nothing.
"Dad!", She gasped, glancing around and realising that he had closed the door behind him, having twisted the knob so that no one from the outside would be able to enter.
"My daughter.", He said slowly, his voice as cold and rough freshly split marble, drawing the words out as if he was savouring it in a sick, twisted way, "running the streets of Birmingham."
~
(Y/N) Shelby felt her face burn, which was strange, because she also felt ice spread through her entire body, freezing her to the spot while her father just stared at her.
“I told you,”, he said, his hands buried deeply in his pockets, with only his emotions hidden deeper, “Small Heath is off limits.”
She swallowed hard. That had been a ludicrous rule. She had been born there, had grown up there. It had been her home for almost half her life, and it was where her roots were.
“I told you to start behaving respectably, just like they teach you at that fucking school.”
At the mention of that institution, she almost winced. It was a girl’s school, highly recommended, with the single goal of manufacturing the next generation of aimable, breedable, respectable young ladies - but she was a Shelby, first and last, and no amount of lessons, scoldings and punishments would ever persuade, manipulate or beat it out of her. She’d rather die.
“I told you,”, he continued, “no fraternising with the foot soldiers.”
The way he said it made her want to slap him. Those weren’t foot soldiers, they weren’t even really soldiers - they were friends, family even and hearing her father dismiss them so cut deeper than a freshly sharpened blade.
“So you lie to my face and go behind my back.”
He clicked his tongue.
“Running the streets eh? Out with Isaiah Michael tells me.”
By his tone one could almost think he was mocking her, but she knew better than to think it was just that.
She knew it was something far sinister.
“I can explain.”, she said, but she didn’t get further as her father’s voice cracked through the room like a whip.
“No you fucking can’t!”, he roared, his hand flying out of his pocket with his finger pointing at her as something snapped inside of him. “There is no explanation, no reason in the fucking world!”
His tone had made her flinch, but that wasn’t enough to make him stop.
“You,”, he spat, “out in the fucking streets of Birmingham, looking for what, eh? Eh?”
He had gotten so loud, (Y/N) only hoped Ruby and Charlie were downstairs. If they were in the day nursery playing, they’d undoubtedly hear him.
“Looking for some excitement, are we? Some rebellion?”
“No-”, she tried to argue.
“This is Lizzie’s fault.”, he said, cutting her off as he began to shake his head like a mad man. “I told her, I fucking told her to keep you in line and this is what I get for it. Me own fucking daughter slumming around in the streets of Birmingham like some third class whore.”
“You keep her out of it!”, she ordered, her voice reaching a slightly higher pitch than it usually would.
He only snorted, glaring at her with a strange mixture of disgust and rage and in that very second, (Y/N) realised it was hate.
But instead of feeling hurt, the anger that had accusation against Lizzie had ignited in her only spread, rising to an inferno that threatened to consume all around her.
“After everything I’ve done for her, for you - for this fucking family.”
“Don’t you talk about family, Dad!”, she hissed through clenched teeth.
He froze in his tracks, all colour fading from his cheek.
“What’d you say?”, he said under his breath. “What did you fucking say?”
She swallowed hard, realising that the line had been crossed, but she refused to back down.
Not this time, Dad.
“You always talk about family, but you know nothing about family, not about this one.”
The muscles in his jaw flexed, like those of a wolf about to bear his fangs ready to sink them into his prey, but her anger drowned out any sign of fear.
“Don’t I?”, he asked, raising his eyebrow and for a split second she wished he hadn’t done that, but she was too angry to let it change her course.
“What’s the name of the piece Charlie played at his concert?”, she asked.
“I wasn’t fucking there.”, he spat.
That made her chuckle in the most agonising way.
“He’s only been practising it for the last three months.”
That and nothing but so that they were all sick of it really, or would have been, if Charlie hadn’t been so proud.
“They all sound the fucking same.”
If you aren’t bothered to listen, maybe.
“What’s the name of Ruby’s teddy?”, she said.
“Why would I care about a toy?”, he asked through clenched teeth.
“Because she cares about it!”, she snapped back. “She cares about it so much she can’t fall asleep without it.”
That was the reason why Lizzie, Frances and (Y/N) had spent three hours searching the gardens in the pouring rain so she could get it back.
“Everything,”, he said, his voice dangerously low, but it didn’t stay low long, “everything in this fucking house in all your fucking lives is because of me so don’t you tell me what I have or haven’t done for this family. I do everything for this family!”
His eyes flashed once more, as if behind them the gates of purgatory had opened.
“You,”, he roared, pointing at her once more, “you don’t get to talk to be like that, not when I went through hell for this family - for you!”
Usually that would have shamed her into silence. She had already been born when the war had started, too young to remember the man that had vowed to return to the motherless child he had fathered by accident, but she had remembered the aftermath.
But they had gone too far to return to usually, the both of them. And there was no path remaining but forward.
Her own voice was loud enough to equal his.
“And why do you think I help Isaiah and Finn? Why do you think I solve their problems? Why tell them what to do?”, she screamed back at him, her treacherous eyes burning with tears.
“So you don’t have to!”
It had happened by accident. After a long day, which came after a long week she had seen her father asleep in his office chair when she had been on her way to fetch something to drink in the middle of the night and saw the lamp still burning.
But soon she had seen the headlight of the approaching cars, which had carried Finn with news of some irregularities in the books they noticed.
She had offered to give the papers so that Finn could go home and he, frightened of the reaction of his older brother in light of his mistake, had agreed.
And yet, (Y/N) hadn’t wanted to wake her father, not when he was finally sleeping so she had sat down at her schooling desk until she had figured out just where the problem lay. It was all too write some instructions up on Lizzie’s typewriter and fake her father’s signature.
Isaiah had been the one who had caught her out, but he too preferred her solution to her father’s wrath.
That had been the beginning, but by now Isaiah came to her not only with problems, but with weekly reports and they worked together on ideas how to make things more efficient, easier and better.
It had worked for nearly a year.
Tommy Shelby’s lips twisted into a grimace mocking a smile.
“Yeah.”, he scoffed. “Like you know the first thing about running the streets.”
The same way you know the first thing about this family, she thought, glaring at him.
“If that’s the case then why are you even bothered?”, she asked, not bothering to hide the condescension in her voice.
If he could do it, so could she.
His jaw twitched dangerously once more.
“I should send you to those fucking nuns in Switzerland.”, he snarled.
That frightened her more than his anger had done. The thought of being sent away, to some monastery school up in the mountains in the middle of nowhere without her friends, without her family - without anyone that knew her made her stomach coil.
“Lizzie won’t let you!”, she argued.
She had promised her that when he had threatened her with it the last time around, when she had gotten a little drunk perhaps on the whisky he had lying around everywhere.
“I am your father and you will do as I tell you!”, he spat.
Without a moment’s hesitation he reached to the side of her desk and grabbed the telephone, pulling not just at the apparatus but at the cord as well until he tore it out of the wall, chipping the wooden panelling.
It sent half the contents of her desk flying, scattering the letter paper, tipping over the picture frame of her and her siblings, and toppling the likeness of the last Queen of Egypt.
“You will stay here while I decide what to do with you. In this room, in this house.”
While he still fought to gather the cord of the telephone in his grip, she rolled off of the edge of the table.
She dented the ground, but it wasn’t enough to break her fall.
With a thud and a crash, the image of Cleopatra VII Philopator shattering into a thousand little white pieces, spread over the floor like the first snow on a winter’s day.
And with it shattered more than just her anger as tears burned in her eyes she only hoped Thomas Shelby would not see.
“You know what?”, she asked, when he was already halfway out of her room and to her surprise, he stopped to turn at her.
She met his eyes, her eyes, the Shelby eyes - blue and pale and piercing, as unyielding as they were cold.
“Sometimes I’m glad that I am the only one who has these memories with you.”
(Y/N) did not know whether it was the sudden softness of her tone or the words she had said, but confusion began to wash out her father’s anger, not completely of course, for that he was too suspicious and too smart.
“Because at least Charlie and Ruby won’t ever know what it’s like to miss you the way I have to.”
Not even a single muscle in his face twitched, not a single sign he even cared, but it didn’t surprise her. She had known that long before she had dared to admit it, and all this while she had still held onto some form of foolish, childish hope.
But she could see that hope now, in the shattered ruins of what had once been her prized possession.
“Hell,”, she said, her voice just as void of emotion as Tommy Shelby’s face was, “Ruby doesn’t even have a Dad she could miss, even if she wanted to.”
End
~
Thank you for reading! I’d be very grateful for feedback of any kind!
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If you see reader and tommy getting married in tbitw would you maybe write a headcannon or a one shot (your choice) for them please
🍷Join me for a Drink 🍷 - TBITW: Marriage
[Celebration] [Celebration Masterlist] [Masterlist]
This was written as part of my Series The Boy in the Window and contains spoilers
There wouldn’t be a grand proposal. Back in France, they had already made the decision to spend their lives together (or at least try), however the topic of marriage would be another they would dance around
(Y/N) would not be the one to bring it up, and Tommy would be too uncertain to do so, at least not without a lot of thought and prepared talking points (he may or may not even have written some notes). Instead, they would have an honest conversation and come to the realisation that it would not only be something that would be for the best of everyone but also something that would make them happy
Even though there wasn't a classic proposal, Tommy decides to give her an engagement anyways. He has to fight the instinct to get the biggest flashiest largest diamond ring he can find, but once he stands in that London jewellery store, he realises that anyone could buy a ring like that and so he takes a ‘business trip’ for a few days.
He goes all the way to France, to that very same fishing village and searches for the vendor they had visited where he not only bought to sets of pearls (a pair of earrings, a bracelet and a necklace each) but also the best single pearl he can find with the smallest of imperfections (but there is one because it is real). Once back in London, he can’t resist setting it in tiny diamonds, creating a star shaped halo around it. These are the highest quality and cost more than most other larger diamonds, but he never tells (Y/N) that
They would tell the children together, but it would leave them a bit confused, since nothing would really change in their day to day life. But they would quickly realise that there would be a party, which excites them.
The wedding itself would be a quiet affair. (Y/N) is not a performative person and doesn’t really like attention and while Tommy likes showing off, he would agree
Tommy doesn’t care about religion but it is something that is important to (Y/N) so they have another church wedding. I see them getting married in a very small ceremony in a little chapel not too far from Birmingham, as Tommy is a family man and would definitely want his Ada, Polly and Arthur around. So it would be a smaller wedding with only the Shelbys inner circle and their close friends there (not more than 30 people)
I do see them wanting to avoid a lot of fuss, mostly coming from (Y/N) so they might spring a surprise wedding on the family on Christmas Eve since they are all already there
They are certainly wearing matching dresses/suits. It is the main reason why (Y/N) does go for a wedding dress even if it is more cream than white and she skips the veil. Emma and Charlie pick the bouquet. Her something borrowed is a bracelet from Polly and her something blue is the names of Tommy and the children stitched into the inside of the dress with blue thread.
They are active participants in the wedding and even though Arthur was supposed to stop them, they climb into the cart after the ceremony
Charlie and Emma are both very proud that they got to drive their parents back, and even though (Y/N) is more than a bit anxious, Tommy has taught them well.
There is a lot of good food and dancing of course, and not just Tommy and (Y/N) - the children refused to be sidelined so there is at least one moment where Tommy has to follow Emma's lead in her made up dance (it involves a lot of spinning for both of them), while Charlie is super keen on imitating his father while dancing with (Y/N).
Their honeymoon is comparatively short, just three or four days where it is just the two of them. After five days at most, the children join them and they have a family holiday instead
Bonus fact:
Both keep their old wedding rings and place them in envelopes with letters to their children which they will receive when they are old enough. Both agree that their new marriage doesn’t erase or diminish the old one and they keep including Grace and Emma’s father in the children’s lives.
I want to thank you for participating in my celebration, @just-a-harmless-patato and I hope you like this little headcanon.
If you want to join in, click here to find out everything you need to know!
~
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A Thousand Reasons and One ~Tommy Shelby x Reader (Fluff)
Summary: After more than a decade since her parents had decided to leave Birmingham for a better life across the sea, she wasn’t sure just what she would return to
Note: @dandelionprints Thank you so much for requesting.
Here is my [Masterlist].
I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other. This hasn't been beta'd so I apologise for typos or mistakes
Warning: As I am an adult, all my writing I share is unless explicitly stated for adults (18/21+). Expect canon confirming tone, language and depiction of violence. Your media consumption is your own responsibility.
Request: yes, by @dandelionprints I hope you enjoy it!
Wordcount: 3701
She had read a story once, about a girl who had woken up in a dreamworld so lifelike and similar to the one she came from, it took a while before she realised it.
And as she heard the crunching under her tightly laced brown leather boots, she couldn’t help but think this was a dream too.
She could no longer tell how many night she had closed her eyes so that in the darkness, she could walk these streets again, balancing on the edge of the pavement on the outskirts of Small Heath, sneaking through the back streets and alleyways for the quickest way to the canal or even climbing up to the roofs so that she alone would tower over the city. Only she hadn’t been alone.
Back then, she had never been alone.
Even now, after a decade that had shaken the foundation of the world, it still felt familiar, even if the paint on the shop sign was a little more chipped, the facade of the houses a little darker and the smell a little harsher.
But somehow it all was smaller than in the memories of the streets of her childhood. Even the towering stretched necks of the factory chimneys that still loomed over the city no longer seemed the giants they once were.
And yet that calming sense of coming home never came.
Instead, her heart thundered in her chest. If it were anyone else, they could have pretended that it was due to the bad company and the rough streets that were safer to walk as a child than a young woman, but that wasn’t it.
She was too foolish and too brave to be scared in a place like this. In her place, or at least what it had once been.
Despite all the time, her feet knew the way all on their own from where the cabbie had dropped her off with a polite warning.
“It’s not safe, ‘specially for foreigners.”
But she wasn’t a foreigner. She had been born in this place, taking in the smoke with her first breath and feeling the dirt under her feet with her very first steps.
All the other changes had been little, so much so that a slightly less interested glance wouldn’t have noticed them at all, just enough to cause a little unease the same way the perceived stillness on the deck of a boat had made her stomach flutter during the passage over.
She noticed though, but even someone blind, deaf and stupid would notice the glaring difference presenting itself to her now.
She had to blink, pinch herself and look again at this glimmering glittering hideous mess of gold paint that awaited her where the Garrison once stood.
Gone was the old dark brown wood, replaced by gilded paint and white without a single stain upon it. It looked as if it had been plucked from a different place of the earth and set down here by mistake.
Inside, it was hardly better. The last time she had been, there had not yet been electric lights, but these looked to be of the newest generation, just like the telephone behind the bar.
The countertops had no scratchmarks, no bullets stuck in them.
The legs of the chairs had not been cracked and broken and the old wooden benches had been softened by upholstery, which she could see a thousand times over in the reflection of the many mirrors.
The old faces of her childhood were no more, the regular’s table sporting new patrons.
And somehow, even if she had only ever cared about few of them, it filled her with sadness.
Mr Barrow had been a gruff old man who had smelled so sour it sometimes made her eyes water, but he had belonged here, right up at there on the furthest place of the counter.
And Mr. Mintley with his nose the shape of a potato looked so mean it would scare a stranger, but his voice had almost been that of a mouse.
Fannington was another who wasn’t there, with his long beard and bushy moustache.
She remembered blue-nosed Galling who sometimes, when he was particularly drunk, would pay them for matches they never gave them and squinty eyed Mr Pickett who could drink like a cow and yet still walk a straight line.
They were all gone, but she could see some lingering trace of them in the other people- the colour of familiar eyes, the shape of noses she recalled and the sound of laughter that had etched itself in her memory.
“What can I get ya’ love?”, a booming voice roared, sending her head snapping from where sometimes that old greyhound had laid under the table to the man behind the bar.
Old Mr. Fenton had been the one behind it, with the help of his boy Haggard Harry, but even though the lines in the face she saw were frighteningly familiar, they bore no resemblance to either one of the Fentons.
She know those small eyes, knew the line between the brows, the shape of the jaw - even the moustache. It was like looking at a ghost, because he had to be a ghost.
He looked just like he had done when she had last seen him, all those years ago.
“Didn’t mean to startle ya!”, he said in that booming voice she remembered in the depth of her bones as he braced himself on the counter. “Go on!”
“J-just a gin please.”, she croaked out, staring at him with wide eyes.
Surely not.
“Finn, make yourself useful and get the American some good old gin, eh?”, he instructed as he continued to draw a few pints.
“I’m not ‘ere for work!”, a young man who was sitting on the customer’s side argued. He had short blond hair, with the edges cut in the way the soldiers did it, and piercing blue eyes. He too looked frighteningly familiar.
“You do as you’re told!”, the man insisted and rolling his eyes, the youngster put out his cigarette and began to obey.
“Here.”, he finally said, pushing the glass over to her as she paid.
“Heard you talking about Americans.”, a sneer came from the direction of the snug.
“Ah, don’t worry John!”, the man waved off, making her head snap around.
“We don’t mind foreigners when they look like that, eh?”
Yes, it was John - undoubtedly so with his boyish face and bright eyes.
Her own travelled back to the boy who had served her, while John mustered her from top to bottom.
“C’mon Arthur.”, John said, nodding inside.
Arthur, yes of course it was Arthur, but the younger not the older.
Pull yourself together!, she scolded herself, reaching for the biting liquid to steady her shaking heart.
She hadn’t expected any of it to be easy, but she hadn’t expected it to be this confusing…this difficult. And now she couldn’t even think straight.
Everything around her was familiar, but not the same, similar but slightly different, all things she had remembered but all things that had changed.
It made her head spin to the point where she felt ill.
Downing the drink, she grabbed her purse and pushed out of the new shiny glass door into the cold air in an attempt to steady her racing heart and restless thoughts.
On their own accord, and with far more sense of direction than her spinning head and racing heart, her feet took her down to the cut.
The water was even darker and fouler smelling than she had recalled it on the most boiling of summer days.
She wondered how many secrets had disappeared into it’s darkness, which too many times had been witness to hidden truths of her own - words she had only told the sky, the canal and the boy by her side.
In it she could see the reflection of the moon play tricks on the water. Unlike a river, it did not run, but it wasn’t still either. There was always some movement in the cut, even if she didn’t know where it came from.
It contorted her image, so unlike the one it had been the last time she had looked into it’s depth.
But just like back then, all these years ago, a second reflection came up beside her.
She spun and took a few steps back as precaution only to be met by unimpressed eyes with an eyebrow raised.
Her mouth dropped open as she stared at him.
He had grown, of course he had grown, and his cheeks and jaw had gotten sharper with age. A few small lines had been added to the corners of his eyes.
And even though his cap threw a shadow deep into his face, they shone so brightly just like they had always down.
A breathless gasp escaped her lips as she stared at him, trying to take in all of him while her mind attempted to sort it all, every similarity, every difference.
Gone were the wide shirts of his brother that were far too broad for him, the trousers that never would have held without the suspenders, and in their place was a well tailored suit. Those long dark lashes still caressed his cheeks and his eyes had lost none of their shine or sharpness, rivalling only the shining gold chain of his pocket watch.
If she had thought her head was spinning earlier in the Garrison, she had another thing coming as her stomach began to rebel like the time she had been ten years old and tried stolen (and probably spoiled) beer for the very first time.
He’d held her braids back then, as she threw up all over the cobblestones.
Now he just watched at her, smoke escaping his lips.
“So,”, he said, not a trace of emotion in his voice or in his eyes, “you talk funny now.”
Every word was accompanied by their own shape of white which disappeared as quickly as it had come.
But she didn’t mind in the slightest. Even though his voice had changed in more ways than she could list, they confirmed what she had known as soon as his reflection had appeared beside hers and within the bat of an eyelash she had her arms wrapped around his neck, forgetting all sense of propriety and of dignity that society and their age demanded.
She hugged him the way she had hugged him when she had been a child, the way she had hugged him for the very last time, fiercely and tightly and wishing she’d never have to let go.
But unlike then he didn’t mirror the desperation of her embrace.
He smelled of smoke, soap and whisky and a little bit of horse, which brought a smile to her face, as that was how he had smelled since she could remember.
“I’m so glad.”, she whispered, her breath hot against his neck as tears began to run down her cheeks. “Oh I’m so glad that you’re alright.”
That you’re alive.
It wasn’t easy to get information about the casualty lists back home. For that, the war was simply too far away, and what little she got was entirely unreliable. The memory of all the hours she had spent reading the lists, all those names.
It had shamed her to feel as glad as she did for every single name her eyes glossed over, because she felt nothing but relief that it wasn’t his.
“I always looked for you, for all your names. I couldn’t be sure, Tom. I couldn’t be sure.”
With that she pulled back to look at him, her own vision blurred by tears. She cupped his face, letting her thumb stroke over his cheek as he just looked at her unflinchingly.
Still, she couldn’t help but smile.
“Oh thank heaven!”, she whispered.
Slowly, he shook his head.
“No.”, he whispered under his breath. “Just hell.”
His words were like a string closing up her throat, not only their meaning but also the cold way he had said them.
And suddenly she wasn’t so sure anymore, about coming here, about embracing him - about anything, really.
The ice in his voice had wiped all the confidence from her, leaving her helpless and confused.
What if he no longer cared for her? What if he hated her? What if he hadn’t forgiven her for being too scared to run away with him?
The only thing worse than his anger would have been his indifference - after she had spent every day and every night for the last decade thinking about him, praying for him, worrying about him.
Wordlessly he reached out, took her hand and began to walk, pulling her after him as his long strides led them down the length of the cut, away from those parts that led into the city.
At first she was confused as to what he was doing, but when the old storage units came into sight, the realisation came.
They had spent countless hours playing hide and seek there, or just hiding, when the rest became to loud or too much to bear.
“You smoke?”, he asked once he had slowed his steps, leaning against some of the stacked boxes.
Shelby, the lable read.
She nodded and so he handed her one of his cigarettes before placing another between his lips.
Beckoning her forward with a gloved hand, he lit hers first, creating a golden gimmer for less than a second.
“How’s America?”, he asked, tilting his head as his eyes looked her up and down.
“Alright, I suppose.”, she said. “We didn’t stay in New York for long. Instead we went further south, all the way to Mississippi. I took a job in a house as a housemaid and later I moved to New Orleans to work in a hotel to make some money.”
To make some money to come back.
To come back to you.
Only then the war had happened and changed everything. But as soon as it had finally ended, she had scratched together all savings she had collected from the money that didn’t go to her family and bought a passage over.
It seemed strange to sum up nearly half of her life in so few words, but when she elaborated, it felt wrong. What did it matter if the people she worked for were kind or that New Orleans was a bright wild city?
Tommy had listened without making a sound apart from the crinkling of his cigarette paper.
She shifted uncomfortably, her feet pushing the dirt back and forth as she didn’t know what to do now.
Even after her own voice had died down, he kept his silence until he was finished with it.
“Mum’s dead.”
He said it so bluntly, it made her mouth drop open.
“Oh Tom!”, she whimpered as her mind was flooded of the dark-haired beauty that was - that had been his mother.
“I am so, so sorry!”
Tommy only shrugged as he tossed the end of his cigarette into the darkness where it’s light died but a moment later.
“It’s been a long while.”
"How?", she finally managed to ask, her tongue feeling thick and useless in her mouth.
“A bit after you left she got pregnant again. It worked this time, right to the end and she had another boy. Finn. A few months after he was born, she died.”
Finn, the boy who had given her the gin. He had seemed familiar, but he was so tall now. Had it really been so much time that a baby could have grown up in her absence?
“Yep.”, Tommy Shelby said, clearing his throat and glancing out into the darkness.
“Mum’s dead. Dad left. Ada’s married and had a kid. John’s got five by now. Just us, us and Aunt Pol.”
He nodded as if to confirm his story to himself and even in the dim silver light of the moon she could see him swallow hard.
“I am so sorry, Tom!”, she whispered, reaching out to touch him again.
Her hand found his arm and gave it a squeeze, as his head snapped around.
“Yeah, so am I.”, he admitted, averting his eyes.
The moon tinted his pale cheeks silver and for a moment it wiped the marks of years from his face.
The hair was different, the man was different, but he was still her Tom.
Lacing her arm with his, she leaned her head against his shoulder and allowed herself to weep in silence, for him and for her, for Mrs. Shelby and the way she had been so good at braiding all the girl’s hair, for all the years that had passed and all the pain they couldn’t share.
She could not tell how long they stayed like that, her leaning into him and him staring off into the distance.
“Are you back or just passing?”, Tommy finally wanted to know.
“I don’t know.”, she admitted, almost ashamed at her lack of planning. “I…I didn’t really think things through.”
“Will you leave again?”, he asked.
“Why?”
He only shrugged.
“Remembered you leaving the last time ‘round.”
She couldn’t answer that, but as her mind went to that time, a cold shudder came over her.
“I don’t remember the journey over at all.”, she admitted, “just the days before leaving.”
It was unlikely he would have forgotten either.
It had happened so quickly - her parents had already had everything planned, sold and booked by the time they told their children. She had been frightened and distraught. Tommy had been angry and desperate.
“I remember you and my father fighting. You even punched him.”
Tommy only shrugged as cleary the years hadn’t added a mere iota of regret to him.
“Wouldn’t have had to if he hadn’t said no.”
Even now she could hear the repressed anger in his voice.
“Tom, we were kids back then. He never would have said yes!”
His jaw clenched in anger as if preparing to fight a man who was hundreds of miles away.
He couldn’t possibly still be enraged about that?
“Tommy, you were fifteen. No parent in their right mind would have agreed to let you marry me. We didn’t even knew what marriage was!”
She had barely figured out kissing, but only to the point that it wasn't much fun with anyone, well anyone apart from Tommy and then it had been shy pecks and imitations of what they saw Arthur and the other older kids do, fumbling and foolish ending in red faced laughter and the realisation that it was so completely embarrassing they'd never dare to do it with anyone else.
“Knew it would’ve let you stay.”, he mumbled under his breath, bringing her back to other, far less happy memories.
“Husband comes before the father in the eye of the law. Not even the coppers could ‘ave done something about it.”
She didn’t know where to start on that- Tommy Shelby referencing the law, or relying on the coppers, or perhaps being angry that her father hadn’t allowed his thirteen year old daughter to marry a fifteen year old boy.
Or that he was still angry about it.
Crossing her arms over her chest she looked at him in disbelief.
“Tom-,”, she sighed, “Putting your hurt pride aside, you have to admit you are at least a little bit glad he said no.”
They had known nothing then and if his looks were anything to judge on, he’d have women and girls fawning over him all the way from Bristol to Liverpool.
“No.”, he merely said with a shrug, “I said what I said and I meant what I said. Nothing’s changed.”
She shook her head in disbelief.
“Nothing’s changed? You only expect me to believe that? It’s been over a decade!”
He gave no response apart from digging his eyes into her with such intensity it made her stomach coil.
“Tommy, you don’t even know me anymore. I am a different person now. So are you.”
It wouldn’t do to hold on such old grudges and so she reached out and cupped his cheek.
“So much has changed since then. The world has changed since then.”
Nations had changed, proud kingdoms had fallen and century old empires that had shone like mythical gods had crashed and crumbled into dusts. Emperors had been deposed, shot, or banished, kings had been deposed and their family members chased through the streets and orders which had shaped the world for as long as anyone could remember were reduced to nothing.
“That was all in the past.”, she told her.
He huffed almost in amusement and shifted, burying his hands into his pockets.
“And yet you’re not married.”
It wasn’t a question but rather a statement of fact.
“How’d you know?”
“No half decent man would’ve let his woman walk these streets on her own.”, he said, “and there’s no ring on your finger.”
She glanced down and saw her gloves, but before she could ask, he remembered how he had taken her hand to lead her away, thereby getting his answer without having to ask.
Sneaky bastard.
“New Orleans, eh?”, he continued, looking at her again and trapping her with his gaze. “That’s a long fucking way to come for something that’s in the past.”
His words made her cheeks burn.
“Yeah thought so.”, he said more to himself than to her when he realised she couldn’t find an adequate response.
“Still, Tom.”, she argued, “we were children back then, who knew nothing and understood even less.”
And now we’ve seen too much, you probably more than me.
It would be foolish to pretend otherwise.
“Did you come with a suitcase?”, he asked, catching her off guard once more.
“I…I did, but why?”
“Got any trousers in that suitcase of yours?”
“No, why?”, she asked, a frown ever growing on her forehead.
“‘s alright. We’ll find some of Finn’s.”, he said softly.
“For what?”
There was a glint in his eyes that came from more than just the skies and she even imagined the faintest hint of a smile.
She knew that glint. It had gotten her into a fair share of trouble and not a small amount of beatings when they had been caught doing whatever mischief that mind of his came up with.
Of course, he'd always tried to take the blame, but that rarely swayed the hands of the adults.
“Because we’ll go to Charlie’s yard and get you sorted and then we’ll take the horses and go out into the country like we used to and only come back once we’ve figured everything out.”
Her mouth dropped open at his suggestion.
It was ludicrous. Back then they had been children hiding under trees and among meadows, but two adults?
It would never work, not truly. It would be cold and uncomfortable. They’d have to get food from somewhere and find or build shelter.
There were a thousand reasons to call his idea madness, to throw it into the winds as soon as he had spoken it.
Seeing her hesitation she saw a glimmer of worry in his eyes.
As he closing the distance between them, he pulled off his gloves and shoved them into his coat pocket.
She felt the warmth radiating from his skin as he cupped her face.
“Please come with me this time around, (Y/N/N).”, he whispered. “Come with me so I don’t have to see you leave again.”
End
~
Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed. As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts!
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I just want to say congrats!!! You deserve everything and more! I do have a request if that’s alright for a blurb with Thomas Shelby and it is prompt 3. “They are all looking”. Congrats again doll!
"They are all looking" ~ Tommy Shelby x Reader (fluff)
[Celebration] [Celebration Masterlist] [Masterlist]
Warning: Social anxiety (18/21+). I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.
Words: 754 words
Her heart was thundering violently in her chest. She could feel it, and she maybe could even hear it too.
When she glanced down at her midnight blue evening gown, she even imagined seeing it move in tune with her racing heart.
The champagne in her glass shook from the earthquake that was her hand and so she made sure to hold it out of the eyesight of the people she spoke to, trying to smile, trying not to sound as breathless as she felt.
Thankfully most of Tommy’s acquaintances liked the sound of their voice far better than hers.
It was a blessing really, because she couldn’t think of an adequate response for the life of her. But even if she did, her mouth was so dry and her tongue felt so thick, it wouldn’t get out anyways.
She could try to wet it with champagne, but she had to be careful.
Alone the fact that she knew she would have to come here had turned her stomach for days now, and since breakfast not a single bite had passed her lips.
Perhaps that was why she felt so dizzy- no, she knew it wasn’t that.
It was him, the man in front of her, and the woman at his side and the people she had talked to before that, and the ones to her left, and those by the pillars and those watching from the windows and the doors to the balcony, oh and those-
No, don’t think!
If she started to think like that, she’d fall down the rabbit hole.
When she felt the hand on the small of her back, she flinched so hard she nearly dropped the flute of champagne.
But it was only Tommy.
He offered her a small smile before sliding right into the conversation, like a fish taking to water.
She knew he didn’t enjoy tonight, not one bit, but at least he seemed like he did.
She might as well have stuck a sign to her forehead, but that wouldn’t be necessary.
They all knew.
One glance at her would be more than enough.
“We’ll have to do that!”, Tommy agreed to whatever the man was saying before turning away and bringing her with him.
“How are you feeling?”, he asked as he walked across the crowded ballroom they had chosen for their gala.
“Like I’m going to pass out.”, she whispered.
He stopped in his tracks, his hand finding her waist to stop her.
“Hey, look at me.”, he insisted, as his other hand found her cheek.
Her eyes burned as she met his icy blues.
“You’re doing amazing.”, he assured her. “Thank you for doing this tonight.”
She averted her eyes. It was easier to glance at the sheer endless pairs of shoes rather than the faces.
“Everyone’s looking at me, Tommy.”, she whispered, her lip quivering.
“They are all staring and judging and-”
His thumb stroked over her cheek as he leaned in even closer.
“They’re not judging you, and if they did, who cares what they think?”
I care, she thought, even if she didn’t want to. She did, even if he didn’t.
But she wasn’t as confident as he was, not as strong as he was, not when it came to this.
The worst thing was, that she didn’t even have a reason.
Whether it was back in that grimy old school room when the teacher snapped at her to “Speak up!”, when she didn’t dare raise her voice, or now, decades later in a shiny sparkling ballroom - it was always the same. She was always the same, and so was everyone else.
They weren’t laughing now, not at her, but they would as soon as they were back in their shiny cars and luxurious homes.
“Look at me!”, Tommy insisted, pulling her back from her spiral of memories.
He offered a small smile as he cupped her face with both hands.
“I’m proud of you!”, he promised, before trying to lean in, but her hand closed around his wrists and stopped him.
“Please don’t.”, she whispered. “Not here.”
He frowned and tilted his head in surprise as if this was shocking to him.
Well, she usually never stopped him from kissing her.
“Tommy - they are all looking!”, she hissed through clenched teeth.
He glanced to the side for a split second.
“So let them look!”
The gaze she gave him made him chuckle in amusement.
“Or-”, he tried, but while his tone was gentle, he had a certain glint in his eyes, “we could go somewhere where no one would see us?"
~
Thank you @watercolorskyy for requesting and participating in my celebration - I hope you liked what I wrote.
Thank you everyone for reading and as always, I hope you enjoyed and would love to hear your thoughts!
If you want to participate in my celebration, click here!
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The Thing about Smiles ~ Tommy Shelby x Reader (fluff)
Summary: Smiles never came easy to her, and that was harder for some to accept than for others.
Note: Here is my [Masterlist]. I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other. This hasn't been beta'd so I apologise for typos or mistakes
Request: yes: “Tommy Shelby and a reader who rarely smiles”
Warning: None. Your media consumption is your own responsibility.
Wordcount: 1763 words
The Garrison was booming with voices and laughter, with shouts and cheers and even a song here and there.
(Y/N) yet remembered a time such things wouldn’t have been possible, where there had been nothing but silence in and outside of the pub. With hardly more than a handful of men remaining, none were found gracing the benches and chairs. And after the war, they had been crowded in here like chickens in a coop, drinking and speaking in muttered voices. That had been a different kind of silence, a more painful one. After enduring so much noise, they had to get used to silence again, and how to fill it.
But by now it almost seemed like a long forgotten dream, especially on nights like these.
(Y/N) only helped out in front of the bar on busy nights, on paydays and weekends, when there was simply too much going on for one or two people to handle. Usually she chose to stay in the back or behind the bar, but all the regulars knew her.
Then again, in Small Heath, everyone knew everyone, and so they knew which name to shout when they wanted more beer and more whisky and more beer again.
One of the Shelby horses had won and there had been a lot of payout for the people here, who always got better odds than all others if they bet on the house.
Even the Shelbys themselves had come to cheer their success.
And they too drank their share. Why wouldn’t they? After all, they didn’t have to pay.
“(Y/N), (Y/N)!”, Arthur, the eldest, called, his booming voice carrying over the noise.
When she met his eye, he raised his finger and circled around the group .
In one glance, she had the headcount and knew how much she’d have to bring.
Stacking it all on a tray, she dodged a whole host of patrons until she reached their table. Usually, they’d sit in their own private room but in the light of the celebration they had decided to mingle.
“Ah- perfect!”, Arthur hummed as she set down the new array of drinks.
Just as she turned, she collided with none other than the third of the Shelby brothers.
“Sorry, Mr. Shelby.”, she quickly mumbled.
“No worries!”, John laughed, his hand at her side to steady her and before she could do much of anything, he had grabbed her other hand and pulled it up as if leading her to dance.
He gave her a twirl.
“Haven’t you heard, our horse won?”, he asked, grinning from ear to ear.
“Of course, I’ve heard.”, she said at once. “Congratulations!”
“Would you look at that?”, John said, still holding her in his arms.
“I tell her our horse’s won and she still looks like a week of bad weather.”
(Y/N) felt her cheeks begin to burn, and quickly averted her eyes.
“Ought to give us a smile at least for some good news, Sweetheart.”, Arthur agreed, slamming his hand down on the table. He always talked so very loud, just like John, and so it was a marvel that their middle brother hardly ever raised his voice. Then again, he didn’t need to.
“Leave her be.”, Tommy Shelby said.
He was sitting in the far corner, his eyes - the only pale eyes she’d ever describe as hawkish- watching everything and missing nothing.
Some people said he had a gift, some gypsy magic that allowed him to see into people’s souls.
(Y/N) didn’t believe in all that, magic and spells, but in moments like these, she didn’t have the courage to doubt it.
“Why? A smile can’t hurt.”, Arthur argued.
(Y/N) tried to slip away, but John’s hand tightened around her own.
“She’s not bad looking, but I bet you’d be downright pretty if you stopped looking like Debbie Downer all the time.”, he said.
“Come on, give us a smile, (Y/N).”
Her mouth dropped open as she struggled for words, but someone else found them quicker.
“John, that’s enough.”, Tommy said sharply.
Right in front of her, John’s chest muscles tensed.
“Let her get on with her work.”, he instructed.
(Y/N) didn’t have to be told twice. Instead, she grabbed the tray, smoothed down her apron and made herself scarce.
It wasn’t the first time she had heard it, not even the first time tonight. Many asked, few demanded, as if they had a right to dictate not only her presence, but her emotions too. This time, comparatively, she had gotten off lightly.
The thing about smiles was that to most people, they came as easy as a morning’s greeting - they could hand them out as if they were nothing but air. She was not one of these people. Her smiles were few and far between, and nearly never in public. It wasn’t a conscious choice, it was just the way she was, even if sometimes the alternative would make her life a whole lot easier.
To keep her mind off of things, she busied herself with drinks.
“(Y/N) , we’re running low on the white rum.”, Harry shouted from the bar. “Run back and fetch some, will you?”
Wiping her hands on her apron, she nodded, slipping behind the bar and opening the door to the back.
As it fell shut, the noise was dulled ever so slightly. They didn’t keep their extra drink upstairs and so she had to climb the small, steep steps down to where the air was cooler to find what he had asked for.
Like an incoming wave, the noise got louder before it ceased again, but she thought nothing of it until she heard the steps creak behind her.
“I’ll bring it up, no worries.”, she told Harry.
“I’m sure you will.”, a voice very much not belonging to Harry said.
(Y/N) got up at once and turned.
“Mr. Shelby!”, she said, taking a few steps back. “Can I help you with anything?”
Thomas Shelby shook his head, leaning against the wall and watching her.
“What are you doing here then?”, she asked, glancing around.
In a normal pub, in a normal city, she would have thrown him out, but he was not a normal man and so all she could do was wait for instructions.
“I, ah, wanted to make sure you were alright…after that.”
It was almost a dismissive wave as he gestured up in the vague direction of the bar.
Her fingers smoothed down the fabric of her apron.
“Of course I am.”, she said.
He hummed, his eyes travelling the whole length of her body.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Cause my brothers made a scene where none was needed.”, he stated, bringing a cigarette to his lips.
“It’s quite alright.”, she assured him. “They were very happy and they wanted me to share their joy - so it wasn’t ill intentioned.”
Which only made it marginally less uncomfortable.
“No, they weren’t.”
His words and the way he had said them made her bristle. Perhaps there was some truth to the rumours. Perhaps Tommy Shelby really could read people’s hearts and minds and know the secrets they didn’t want to share.
“Do apologise to them on my behalf.”, she quickly said. “And I am glad for your horse.”
The others could claim victory as much as they liked, but it was Tommy’s doing. Everything was Tommy’s doing.
The man himself pushed himself off of the wall slowly, and approached as if he had all the time in the world.
“The thing about smiles,”, he began, "people lie with them just as much as they lie with their words. You don’t.”
“Everyone lies.”, she argued.
He clicked his tongue in disapproval as if he was her school teacher.
“Even you, Sweetheart?”
Not as much as you.
When she didn’t answer, he continued.
“Well, people can lie with their lips, but eyes don’t lie. Especially not yours.”
“My eyes?”, she asked.
He nodded, tilting his head as if to catch them in a slightly different light.
“And your hands don’t lie either.”
His hand found hers and brought it up between them, his touch lighter than that of a feathers’ as he slowly turned it.
They were damp from the spilled drink and had rough patches from scrubbing the floors.
When his finger brushed along the inside of her palm, she shuddered, although it was the lightest of touches.
“When you’re annoyed, you tap your fingertips against your thumb like a little woodpecker.”, he said, brushing over the spot as if to sooth it from attacks past.
(Y/N) felt her cheeks heat up once more.
She could have denied it, wanted to even, but in the back of her mind the endless scoldings of her mother rang, who had hated that peculiarity of her daughter, especially when it caused her irritation
“When you’re nervous, you smooth out your dress or your apron even if there’s not a wrinkle to be had.”, he continued.
She swallowed hard and fought the desire to do just the same, like she had done only moments ago.
“And,”, he mused, turning her hand once more until her palm was facing him.
“When you’re glad, you lace your hands behind your back or under the bar where you think no one can see and give them a little squeeze, no?”
With that, he laced his fingers with hers, holding their connected palms up between them, as her heart thundered in her chest.
How did he know all this? It wasn’t anyone’s business to know and no one cared enough to see…no one but him, it seemed.
“Am I wrong?”, he asked curiously, his hand still holding hers.
“No, but how-”
“How do you think?”
The faintest hint of a smile played on his lips as he leaned forward, his eyes digging into hers.
“By watching you of course.”
There was a lightness to his tone now, one she was not used to hearing from him.
“Oh.”, she whispered. “But why?”
She wasn’t particularly remarkable or interesting or anything really.
If he watched her then that could only mean she was in trouble, that she had displeased him or Harry or his brothers, and yet he spoke with such a gentle, lighthearted tone that could almost be mistaken for playfulness.
He shook his head slightly, his thumb brushing over her’s.
“That,”, he said, “is a question for another time, eh?”
When he left, she needed a moment to compose herself, to think of all he had said and done and in the dim light of the Garrison celler (Y/N) wondered how such a faint, delicate touch could leave such a lingering trace on her skin.
End.
Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and would be delighted with feedback of any kind.
#Tommy Shelby#Thomas Shelby#Tommy Shelby x reader#Thomas Shelby x reader#Tommy Shelby imagine#Thomas Shelby imagine#Tommy Shelby one shot#Thomas Shelby one shot#Tommy Shelby fluff#Thomas Shelby fluff#Peaky Blinders#Peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinders one shot#valentineswritings#valentinesrequests#the thing about smiles
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Thomas Shelby with a reader who rarely smiles.
I know I haven't officially made a statement about requests but this fluttered into my inbox last week and I've decided to give it a go. Thank you for sending this in. You can find it here.
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