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emotionalcadaver · 2 years

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Part 1: These Devilish Intentions

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: Matthew told her no one would ever want her after what he did to her. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Word Count: 4,621

Notes: Warnings for depictions of smut and references to past sexual assault. Also Tommy being the biggest softy when it comes to his girl.

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Chapter 8: Dancing with the Devil

“Ha! I win!” she set her cards down on the table, leaning back smugly. Tommy snorted, the amusement for once unhidden in his eyes as he scooped up her cards and dealt another hand.

The celebrations at the Garrison were in full swing, laughter and the clinking of glasses thundering throughout the pub. Even Polly seemed to be enjoying herself, her serious features relaxed into a laugh as she listened to John ramble drunkenly. At one point, Arthur leapt up onto the bar, glass of whiskey sloshing.

“To the Red Demon!” he bellowed out, swaying so dangerously on his feet Lucy was worried he would fall off the bar. Around him, the other Blinders shouted out in agreement, raising their glasses. Scrunching down into her seat, her cheeks burned at the sudden attention.

She was just beginning to grow rather tired, the noise from the party starting to get to her, when Tommy had taken her gently by the arm and shepherded her into the snug, where it was quieter and more secluded from the drunk shouting and shattering of glasses. They busied themselves playing hand after hand of cards, sipping on glasses of whiskey and talking.

A glance through the half open door greeted her with the sight of John sitting in a booth, head in his hands. Polly was rubbing at his back while he cried, clutching a photograph to his chest.

“Is John alright?”

Tommy glanced over his shoulder at his brother and sighed. “Yeah. That just happens sometimes when he’s drunk. It’ll pass. Polly’s got him.”

“What’s he crying about?”

“Martha, probably.”

“His dead wife?”

“Yeah.”

“What was she like?”

He hesitated a moment. “She was nice. A whole hell of a lot sweeter than the rest of us. She and John met while they were in school. When we were kids all he’d go on about was wanting to settle down with her. I think he was more invested in their wedding preparations than she was.”

“I suppose that’s rather sweet. If you’re into that sort of thing.”

“You don’t ever want to get married?” there was no judgment in his voice, just quiet curiosity.

“Nah,” she rubbed at the back of her neck. “Don’t think that I’m cut out for it, to be honest with you. I’d rather be riding horses and getting shot at than spend the rest of my life staying at home, cleaning the house, cooking meals, taking care of children. I wouldn’t be much good at any of that stuff anyway. Too restless, I guess. Bored easily. At school I could never sit still; got my ass beat by the nuns several times for fidgeting.”

“You were engaged.”

“Not like I had much choice in the matter,” she sniffed. “You know I never once lied to either of them about how I felt about the whole thing. Never gave any indication that I was going to go through with it. I think that Matthew thought he could mold me into what he wanted me to be. He wants what he can’t have. When I rejected him, it only made him more convinced that he had to have me.”

“None of it was your fault.”

“I know that,” her scars ached, mind swimming, uncertain if she wanted to keep talking about it or not. Her eyes narrowed at the cards he had played out onto the table. “If I find out later that you’ve been letting me win I’ll be furious,” The smirk he gave her in response revealed just the beginnings of a dimple in his cheeks. Eyes falling back to her cards, she attempted to hide a yawn behind her hand.

“You tired?”

“Yeah,” she rubbed her eyes. He examined her for a moment before setting his cards down and standing.

“Come on. I’ll walk you home.”

“You don’t want to finish the game?” even as she spoke she set her own cards down, standing to get her coat.

“Nah. It was a shitty hand anyway.”

Giggling, she pulled her hat on and followed him towards the front doors. “Won’t they notice that we’ve left?”

Tommy glanced over the gaggle of drunken men in the pub. “I’m pretty sure that they wouldn’t notice if the fucking pope walked in, love.”

The moment they stepped outside, her arms wrapped around herself, trying to shield her from the chill in the air as they began to walk.

The card game had been a welcome distraction from the unending stress weighing on her mind since reading her father’s letters. A jitteriness had settled into her bones that had her jumping at shadows, head swiveling at the smallest of sounds. But having Tommy close helped. Nothing could truly touch her so long as he was nearby.

“How are you feeling?”

“Okay. Tired.”

“You’ve done well,” he said after a moment. Lucy hummed.

“I’m glad to know that my work has been of satisfaction.”

Tommy chuckled, scratching at his nose. She could have sworn that he moved closer to her, so that their sides were almost brushing. Growing quiet, she glanced down at her feet. At her pair of shiny, lace-up oxfords. They were easily the nicest pair of shoes that she’d ever owned.

“Your brothers are going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

“Maybe. Arthur will be alright. John’s the one who will have to go home to four rowdy children.”

“When the hell did John find the time to have four kids anyway?”

“Fuck if I know. But you know what it’s like. When you’re young and in love,” he wrinkled his nose. “He and Martha were terrible. We could hardly leave them alone for two seconds and they’d be fucking against the nearest horizontal surface.”

Lucy laughed quietly, shaking her head. “I guess I wouldn't know.”

Tommy’s head snapped around to look at her incredulously. “Never?”

She shrugged, a little helplessly. Tommy seemed to be utterly stunned.

“You’ve never fucked anyone before?”

Her cheeks burned as she blushed. “Well, there was Matthew and his friends in the alley–”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Then I guess not,” she suddenly felt very self conscious. “It was all but impossible, with my dad almost always around, looking over my shoulder…”

“You don’t have to explain.”

She shot him a grateful look. But now that the box had been opened she seemed unable to stop her thoughts from pouring out. “Even after he left for France, I swear I could always feel his presence around me. His eyes watching me for any signs of…indecency. Even miles away, the thought of his rage if he ever found out terrified me. Kept me from misbehaving too much while he was away.”

“I guess I always thought of you as a troublemaker.”

“Oh, I got into trouble,” she smirked. “Just not the kind where I wound up on my back,” she thought for a moment. “Except that time a mare I stole from a nearby stable threw me off her.”

“You stole a horse?”

“They were beating her! Not that she showed much gratitude for the rescue,” she grumbled. “I had a bruise the size of an apple on my back for two weeks,” her shoulders tensed at a clatter from a nearby alley, but a glance in that direction revealed the sound to have been caused by a simple drunk. “What about you?”

“Hm?”

“You ever know what it was like to be young and in love?” there was a long silence. “Tommy?”

“Before France. Her parents didn’t like me, so we would sneak out to the canal to be together,” he coughed, looking down at his shoes. “Her name was Greta.”

“What happened to her?”

“She died. Consumption,” it was clear from his voice that he didn’t want to discuss it much further.

“I’m sorry,” there wasn’t much else she could think to say. Tommy grunted in response. Teeth pulling at her bottom lip, she weighed in her mind whether or not to continue with the topic. “What about Lizzie?”

Tommy’s brow furrowed, genuine confusion crossing his features. “What about her?”

Lucy shrugged. “Well, I didn’t know if maybe…”

“Lizzie’s just a whore, Lucy,” Tommy said simply, brow still furrowed, like the idea that the tall woman could be anything more had never even crossed his mind.

Lucy opened her mouth to respond, but closed it. They had reached the door to her flat. Pulling her keys from her pocket, she hesitated a moment after sliding them into the door. The cool air made her shiver. Tommy frowned, reaching out to rub his hands up and down her arms.

“You should get inside.”

“Do you want to come up?” the question passed her lips before she had much time to think about it. He raised an eyebrow.

“I thought you were tired.”

She shrugged non-committedly. Something twitched in his face, mind clearly working behind his eyes.

“If you want me to.”

Nodding, she pushed the door open and led him upstairs to her little room, shedding her hat and jacket to hang them on the hooks near the door, Tommy following her movements. She hoped that he wouldn’t notice the way that her hands trembled. He had been in her flat before; but there was something in the air between them that hadn’t been there before.

“It’s strange to think of myself as I was then. Before everything happened.”

“What do you mean?”

Shoulders shrugging, she reached out to absentmindedly straighten a painting on the wall.

“I had all these plans and ideas for what I was going to do with my life. After my dad and brothers were sent to France, I got a job as a stable girl. I was making my own money. I was beginning to consider the possibility that I could someday leave. Start to actually live my life on my own terms. There’s a part of me that wishes my father didn’t come back,” she admitted softly. “I was so hopeful…and then he came back and he pushed Matthew onto me and tore it all to pieces,” a sudden feeling of fury washed over her. Fury over the shame and fear that those two men had burdened her with.

Tommy reached out a hand, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. His thumb traced over her bottom lip as she gazed up at him.

“The idea of living…excited me. I miss feeling like that.”

The breath that left Tommy’s lungs shuddered, eyes fixed on her lips. She swallowed hard.

“Sometimes I feel like they ruined me,” she didn’t even mean her chastity; that had never been something that she held much value for. Instead she spoke of her mind, broken and twisted, or her body, marred by scars that still ached from time to time with phantom pain.

Tommy shook his head, the hand not caressing her face going to her waist. “That’s not true.”

“I know. Or…most of the time I do, anyway. Sometimes I still hear the things that they said to me, echoing in my head.”

She may not be interested in the prospect of marriage, but that didn’t mean that she wanted to spend the rest of her life alone. Under her father’s roof there’d been no chance at any sort of promiscuous behavior, but she’d often dreamed of the day she would escape his influence and would finally have the chance or gorge herself on the pleasures life had to offer.

Fuck them for what they had done to her.

She wanted so badly to silence their voices. To quash the feeling, however fleeting, of disgust when she looked at her scarred body in the mirror.

“What do they tell you?” Tommy pulled her closer to him, until their chests were brushing each other.

“They say I’m dirtied. That I’m worthless. That no one will ever want me.”

He was shaking his head, hand stroking her face. She moved a fraction closer to him, his warmth all around her, palms planted flat against his chest.

“They couldn’t be more wrong.”

“I don’t want to listen to them anymore,” foreheads brushing, he all but nuzzled against her, hand smoothing along her back. “You make me feel safe.”

“Good.”

All she did was tilt her head ever so slightly upwards, and their lips brushed against each other. Tommy kissed her softly, the hand on her back holding her close while the one on her face fell to her waist. Lucy’s own hands fisted in the front of his shirt, pulling him down more urgently to her. Practically purring at her eagerness, his head tilted to deepen their kisses. He didn’t seem to be put off by her clumsy and inexperienced movements, only cradling her closer. Hands moving from where they clutched at his shirt, she grasped the front of his suit jacket, shoving it off of his shoulders to the floor. Tommy groaned, stroking her jaw while her arms wound around his neck. Their noses bumped but that didn’t stop them, kisses still soft but growing more fevered and hungry. Her head spun as his lips moved from hers to press along her cheek and jaw, tickling over her neck, ghosting over the shell of her ear.

“Lucy…Lucy, are you sure? I need you to tell me that you’re sure,” the sound of his baritone, so close to her ear, sent a shudder of warmth down her spine. When had he removed her waistcoat? She didn't even notice until the heat from his palms seeped through the thin material of her shirt.

“Yes,” she tangled her fingers in his hair, thighs clenching together at the growl that rumbled in his chest when her nails scratched over his scalp. “Yes, I’m sure.”

His hands slid from where they’d been resting against her ribs to her ass, lifting her up onto his hips and carrying her the short distance to the bed, laying her down slowly against the pillows. He straightened long enough to remove his waistcoat and the shirts layered beneath it. Redness flared in her cheeks as she allowed herself a moment to admire him, all strong muscle and soft, freckled skin. A tattoo encircling his left pec. She was aware that she was all but drooling, but couldn’t bring herself to care much, even as he noticed her ogling and shot her a cocky smirk. Hands reaching out to him desperately, she drew him back to her, body hovering over hers.

“Shut up,” she grumbled, kissing him again. Tommy chuckled against her lips, bed creaking as he situated himself into a more comfortable position on top of her, growling again when she dug her nails into his back. When his fingers brushed along the buttons of her shirt she stiffened, a stab of anxiety fluttering over her at the thought of someone else seeing her scars. Tommy pulled back to look at her, still close enough for his long lashes to tickle her cheeks.

“Still okay?”

Looking into his eyes helped to ground her, the light blue nearly engulfed by the darkness of his pupils. She was alright; she was safe. Tommy wouldn’t hurt her. She forced herself to swallow her fear, to ignore the beginning chant of cruel voices in her head.

“Yeah.”

The first button popped open, Tommy’s head dipping to press a kiss to the newly revealed skin as he slowly opened each button of her shirt.

“Don’t listen to them,” he murmured, lips caressing over a scar that ran from the bottom of her breast over her ribcage. “You listen to me,” another kiss was pressed to a small scar near her belly button. “You’re beautiful. I want you.”

She sat up slightly so he could push her shirt fully off her shoulders and toss it to the floor, her own fingers undoing her bra and shedding that as well. Large hands squeezing her breasts, his mouth returned to devour hers, kisses growing more and more urgent. Hips dropping into hers, he rolled them forward, bulge rubbing against her. A startled moan exploded from her lips at the movement, hands scabbling at his shoulders, hips rising in a silent plea for a repeat of the motion. Tommy seemed all too happy to oblige, humping forward against her again with a groan.

“Fuck. Okay,” he fumbled with her belt, undoing her pants as he began to kiss down her body again, breath shuddering in her lungs as his tongue swiped over one of her nipples. “Lift your hips for me, love,” he mumbled into her skin. Hips raising, she helped him to pull off and kick away her trousers and remaining undergarments, fighting the urge to hide beneath the covers at being fully exposed to him. Frowning, she pouted when he didn’t return to hovering above her, instead resituating her legs, hooking her thighs over his shoulders.

“What are you–ohhhhhh,” she let out a sound she had never heard herself make before, head falling back against the pillows while a hand clenched in Tommy’s hair. He snickered, hands stroking her thighs as he swiped his tongue over her clit again. With quick, careful movements, he began to work her over with his tongue while she moaned and tried to push him even closer. A whine left her lips when he pulled back, eyes batting up at her innocently, temptingly.

“Why’d you stop?” she slurred, the hand clenched in his hair moving to cup his cheek, thumb rubbing along his slick lips. Leaning into her touch like a cat, Tommy’s features twitched, affection clear as day on his face.

“Can I put my fingers inside of you?”

She wasn’t sure if her flushed cheeks were a result of being flustered or aroused at the question, barely managing a small nod.

“Yes.”

Head dipping back down again, Lucy sighed in ecstasy, in relief, as he pressed his lips back to her clit. One hand continued to cradle her thigh while the other slid between her legs.

“Gentle,” she gasped out, another bout of nerves hitting her, though with his mouth between her legs it was hard to pay them much mind. Nodding, he pulled back, nuzzling at a scar on her inner thigh.

“I’m going to be so gentle with you, love,” he promised. She shivered as a single thick finger sunk into her, crooking as he resumed his ministrations with his tongue. Moans continued to bubble from her throat, head tilted back as one hand grasped at Tommy’s hair, the other fisting in the sheets beneath her. Her voice only raised an octave when he added a second finger, pumping faster as he spread her open.

“Tommy, Tommy, Tommy,” she choked out. He just purred in answer, the vibrations doing wonderful things to her clit. Back arching, she all but wailed as she came, thighs clenching around his head as she gasped.

Lapping at her until she was pushing his head away from overstimulation, Tommy wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, looking incredibly pleased with himself as he crawled back up her body to kiss her. She could taste the remaining tang of herself on his lips, arms looping around his shoulders. For a moment, his hands cupped her cheeks before falling down to undo his pants, kicking them off along with his undergarments.

Chancing a glance down, her eyes widened in a way she had to imagine was at least somewhat comical. Jesus fucking Christ, how the hell was that going to fit inside her?

Tommy’s thumb rubbed her cheek, quietly demanding her attention.

“Do you want to stop?”

She was shaking her head before he even got the question out, pulling him back down for another kiss. “No.”

His eyes examined hers shrewdly, nodding as he reached down to stroke himself. She squeaked when in one sudden movement he rolled them so that she was on top of him, thighs straddling his hips, both of them shuddering when his erection brushed against her entrance.

“Tommy, I don’t know what I’m doing–”

“It’s okay,” he said as he lined himself up, rising so that he could wrap an arm around her waist, kissing her cheek. “I’ll help you.”

She anchored herself on his powerful shoulders, his cock kissing her entrance but not penetrating her yet. Tommy rested his forehead against hers, arms wrapping fully around her. He kissed her nose.

“We stop whenever you want to.”

Nodding, a shuddering gasp left her lips as slowly, carefully, he began to push inside her.

He felt even bigger than he looked, stretching her so wide she thought that he might split her in two. But Tommy held her cradled tightly to him, kisses planted on her neck. She was wet enough from his previous actions that he glided into her easily. And every time he felt her starting to tense he stopped, rubbing circles into her back and nuzzling at her until she relaxed.

“Fuck, so tight,” he groaned once he was fully seated within her, head falling to rest on her shoulder for a moment before lifting it to check on her. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” she shook her head and he stretched up to kiss her. When she shifted her hips, ever so slightly, he growled and she giggled, earning herself a playful pinch to the hip. Arms wrapped around his neck, hands clinging to his shoulders, she gave an experimental bounce, and felt more than she heard his moan from where his face was pressed against her neck as he rewarded her with a tiny, answering thrust.

“Yeah, like that,” he breathed out, hands planting firmly on her waist to help support her as they started to move. Lucy’s brow furrowed with concentration, focusing on trying to keep her balance and the tempo of their thrusts.

“Go slow,” Tommy kissed her temple. “You’re doing good,” his breath caught a bit at the end of his sentence, as her movements began to grow more confident. The pace remained slow, but the thrusts were growing harder, more needy. Tommy lifted his head so that he could watch her face, and the look in his eyes nearly knocked her off balance. Those blue orbs were unmistakably aroused, but there was something else, a staggering softness, a near adoration, that left her stunned. She brushed away some of his dark fringe that had fallen into his eyes, his lashes fluttering at the movement, face leaning into her touch. Maybe…

Pressing her chest more fully against his, she sighed as she rubbed her hands along his torso, feeling the muscles ripple beneath her fingers. His cock twitched when she traced over that tattoo surrounding his pec, ghosting over his nipple with her thumb. A vulnerability shivered across his face as he watched her appraise him.

“Is it okay that it’s me?”

Her eyes darted back to him in shock at the sudden…unsurety in his voice, like he expected her to say no.

A ridiculous thought. She had never wanted anyone as much as she wanted him.

The need to comfort, to reassure spread over her heart, a want to soothe the eternally sad look in his eyes. Tightening her arms around him she kissed him as softly as she knew how.

“I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.”

His entire face softened, features relaxing, the thrusts that had ceased at his question picking back up again, hips bucking with more urgency while he cradled her face and kissed her like he was suffocating and she was air.

“I’m going to make you feel so good, love,” he promised, moans already leaving her lips as they began to fuck in earnest, bedframe creaking. With his arms around her he helped to lift and lower her onto his cock, their skin slapping together, bodies entangling.

“Tommy,” she gasped out. “Fuck. So big, so big,” that massive cock rubbed against a patch of nerves inside her that made her moan and babble wantonly. All it took was a few more well aimed strokes, and she was clawing at his back, all nervousness or self consciousness gone as she started riding him with abandon, his hips rolling up to meet her every thrust.

“Fuck. Oh, fuck,” Tommy’s hands were all over her, groping greedily at her breasts, palming at her back. “Can I touch your hair?”

The question took her by surprise for a moment. But of course. Of course he had noticed her aversion to having her hair tugged.

“No pulling,” she said and he nodded, hand sliding up her back and into her hair, just letting the strands pass through his fingers without yanking. Lucy sighed, head tipping backwards into his palm. He suddenly readjusted her slightly in his lap, and she wasn’t sure what exactly he did, but on the next forward snap of his hips she was howling in pleasure.

“Lucy,” the way he said her name, with such utter reverence, had a shudder going through her, his thumb rubbing at her clit.

“Please,” she didn’t even know what she was asking him for.

“I know, I know,” he began to kiss her again, greedily swallowing each of her moans. She was so close…so close…

He put a little more pressure on her clit, and she was done for, crying out his name as she clamped down hard on his cock, trembling through her orgasm. Tommy clutched her tightly to him.

“That’s my girl. That’s my girl. Come here,” he squeezed her to his chest, fucking her through it, thrusts slow and so deep she was sure she could feel him in her belly. His cock was beginning to throb so hard she would plainly feel it, pulsing with every deep plunge into her. A final, impossibly deep thrust home and he let out a massive growling moan, holding himself in place as his cock twitched and then throbbed powerfully. The sudden wave of warmth as his load pumped into her made Lucy answer with a moan of her own. Tommy’s head drooped to rest against her shoulder, body relaxing against hers as he orgasmed.

For a long moment, neither of them moved, still clinging to each other tightly while panting. Tommy stroked Lucy’s hair, nuzzling at her shoulder before finally shifting, pulling out of her and maneuvering them both so that they were laying on their sides, under the covers. She cuddled up to his chest, his skin so warm she doubted that she even really needed the blankets to keep the chill away when she was pressed up against him the way she was. Wrapping an arm around her, Tommy hugged her close, kissing her forehead.

“Are you okay?” he asked, curling around her as he got comfortable in the bed.

“Yeah,” she slipped an arm around his waist, head resting against his pecs, the smattering of hair on his chest tickling her cheek. “Thank you.”

“You really don’t have to thank me, love,” he chuckled, brushing some hair out of her face, expression unbearably soft as he looked at her.

“What?”

“I think you might be the prettiest person that I’ve ever seen.”

She let out an undignified squeak and buried her burning face into his chest. “Stop making me blush.”

He laughed, chest vibrating with the sound, hand falling from her face to join the other around her. His cheek rested against the top of her head. She squeezed the arm she had looped around him.

“I’m glad that I have you.”

Leaning his head down, he kissed her with a softness that made her want to cry, chuckling when they parted and she promptly yawned.

“Go to sleep, love.”

“You’ll still be here?”

Pulling her even closer, he tangled her legs with his.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

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mrsalwayswrite · 2 years

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Hoist The Colors In The Bleak Midwinter (Tommy Shelby x reader)

Summary: The voyage was meant to be easy, a simple trip between the Caribbean Islands. Until a mysterious ship was seen on the horizon. Then when its flag unfurled in the wind, a declaration of who exactly was following, any hope of escaping was slashed away as sharply as the rumored razors in their caps.

This is my first contribution to @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie hot fic summer challenge! I'm so excited for this Peaky Blinders Pirate AU! I saw the prompt and this immediately came to mind. Also shout-out to @punkrocknpearls for the advice with my moodboard! Thanks, hon!

Prompt- pirates

Words: 5100

Warnings: mild language, canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, death and mutilation

"I'm sorry, m'lady." The young sailor murmured on repeat, his voice cracking and breaking with the words.

The sound of it was now grating to your ears even if you forced yourself not to show it. "It's not your fault." You tried to reassure but he seemed not to hear you.

"We won't see the sunrise." He mumbled, staring at the cabin door. Yet it was the loaded pistol in his shaking hands that made you wary. He sniffled loudly before continuing his ramblings. "Damn pirates. Red sun rose this mornin'. Bad omen, Cook said. A bad omen. And now they'll kill us all."

At hearing his terror-laden words, instead of sinking into the pit of despair and hopelessness, a shot of determination infused itself into your blood. With a sudden resolution coating your spine, you stood up from the chair you had been waiting in with baited breath. No one was going to save you and the crew. That was a fact. Maybe, though, you could do something to bargain with the pirates. Maybe, just, maybe, there was a chance. A fool's hope….but you had to try.

On instinct, you quickly ran a hand over your gown, smoothing any wrinkles you may have gotten while sitting at the cabin window. Your mother and governess had ingrained into you to always appear your best, in whatever form that may take. You hoped one day to be able to tell them you still heeded their words when preparing to meet bloodthirsty pirates. You just had to survive the encounter.

Standing tall and poised, like the lady you were, you started towards the cabin door, uncertain what awaited you on the other side.

"M'lady! You can't–"

You spun on your heel and glared at him. "Either I wait here for my inevitable demise, for these pirates will find me, that is assured. Or I seek them out first and can walk with my head held high. I will not dishonor my family's name nor will I be marked a coward in the face of this danger!"

As the young sailor stared silently at you in awe, easily recognizable on his boyish face, you stepped past him and threw open the door to your assigned cabin. Taking a steeling breath, you proceeded towards the deck where you could hear the terrible commotion.

The morning had started out like any other while you were on your father's schooner traveling the Caribbean waters. It was ironic you thought now. Your father had been apprehensive about allowing you to travel. Yet you had vehemently fought, claiming the waters around your island were some of the safest in the Caribbean and that you wanted to visit your friend, a fellow Governor's daughter, who lived on the island the schooner was traveling to. Eventually he gave in and allowed you to go. In addition, he chose to assign you personally in charge of his correspondence instead of sending his usual man. You were stupidly proud for the responsibility and hoped this further proved to your father you could be useful for more than just a beneficial marriage arrangement.

The next day the schooner set sail from port with you aboard it. The first tastes of freedom danced upon your tongue, bringing a smile to your face. The wind blowing through your hair and the spray of the salty water against your skin made you feel more alive than any elegant party you were forced to attend by your mother's insistence.

Even this morning's sunrise was a masterpiece, the rich, warm colors blazing across the sky, chasing away the darkness of night and heralding a beautiful day.

Then four hours ago, a ship had been spotted following yours.

The captain was an admirable seaman, one of the best in your father's fleet. Unfortunately, accompanying his vast wealth of experience and knowledge, closely followed his arrogance. After a brief hesitation, he dismissed the concern of some of the sailors and told them to continue onward. The questionable ship was most likely another traveling merchant for the weather was fair and it was prime season for trading.

But everything fell apart as that questionable ship quickly drew closer. Then an hour ago, it unfurled the Jolly Roger flag. Which only meant one thing.

Pirates.

The captain forcibly demanded you to wait in your cabin while he and his men tried everything to outrun the pirates. Even as you hurried down the wooden ladder, almost getting bowled over by sailors running around like headless chickens, you knew the outcome was inevitable.

Then shouts and cries of dismay echoed from the deck, flooding your cabin as a second flag was raised, signaling which pirate ship was coming for them.

A black sail with a skeleton holding a pistol in one hand and a cap on its head.

The Peaky Blinders pirates.

Now your doom was truly assured.

The fight began far sooner than you expected. Neither side had even attempted to fire their cannons. The dark, dreaded ship seemed to suddenly appear beside the schooner, as if the wind and waves favored the vessel. From your cabin window, you could make out the figurehead on their ship- a barely clad woman with the face replaced by a skull. A fearful shudder shot down your spine.

Hiding away in your cabin, you listened as your father's men fought valiantly against the marauding pirates. The sounds dragged on ceaselessly. The clash of swords. The explosions of pistols. The cries and screams of the injured and dying. The blood-curling, manic laughter and war cries of the pirates. Even the water below began to rise and fall more drastically, as if sensing the chaos and expanding upon it.

Never before had you heard the sounds of battle and you prayed to never hear them again.

Eventually the sounds died away, along with any minimal hope of your father's sailors succeeding against the Blinders. You wondered why the pirates had not searched the ship yet. Surely they sought to plunder what they could from your father's vessel. Then they would find you.

And what then?

So you resolved to seek them out first. It was fool-hardy and rash. Everything you were taught not to be. The likelihood of your imprisonment and death increased with each step but you did not stop. The panic clawing at you was squashed with the booted heels of your fortitude. You were your father's daughter. A governor's daughter. Your worth and esteem were far beyond anything these pirates could ever hope to achieve.

As gracefully as possible, which was not much unfortunately, you ascended the ladder leading up to the main deck. Whatever dramatic entrance you had hoped to achieve was null and void for your gown caught on the last step and gave a dramatic rip. Mumbling under your breath, you cursed the pretty but otherwise useless gown as you stepped off the ladder and onto the deck.

The sight you beheld froze the very air in your lungs and made your heart plummet to the dark depths of the ocean below your feet.

The sailors still breathing sat bound with ropes against the hull of the ship. Many were still painted in blood, either their own or of the pirates they had managed to kill. The dead sailors were piled in an unsightly heap towards the bow of the ship. Lastly, your captain had been tied to the main mast of the schooner, back pressed to the wood. The gag in his mouth was turning red with the blood dripping from his crooked nose.

Yet it was none of those sights which chilled you to your very core. No, it was the unobstructed view of the many pirates swarming like ants on the deck of your father's ship and their own dark ship, tethered alongside yours with hooks and ropes.

"Oh ho! Lookie who we've got 'ere, boys. A real fookin' lady."

Startled, your head swiveled, seeking out the owner of the brusque voice. A well of wariness transformed into a sea of anxiety, rolling and crashing against your ribcage. It was now as you met the blue eyes of the pirate, the consequences of your actions cleared a path before you, highlighting the stupidity and hopelessness of it. Still, you straightened up, drawing your shoulders back and lifting your chin slightly. Your knees may be trembling under your dress but you refused to show it.

The pirate who had spoken, drawing unwanted attention to the two of you, stood behind you, leaning against the stair-railing leading up to the helm. With a push, he sauntered over to you, his steps not exactly even and you wondered if it had to do anything with the bottle he had in hand. Blood droplets slid down his face, seemingly gathering in this thick mustache, making him seem to have a perpetual bloody frown. You could spot blood splatters on the front of his white shirt and dark jacket. He ambled over, his proximity uncomfortably close. Tilting his head, his gaze scanned you, starting from your feet and rising like the tide to your face. His eyes met yours and you could not help the unconscious step back you took. There was something unbalanced in his gaze; like a sweet cat that purred when given a treat, but just as easily flipped to become sadistic as it played and tormented its prey.

"Think this is 'er, John boy?"

Another pirate approached with an easy, relaxed gait. A thick splinter of wood lulled about in the corner of his mouth, following the curve as his lips raised in a smirk. This one was not bathed in blood like the first, thankfully, but he appeared no less threatening. Twin pistols hung within view just inside his jacket, and you could not help but wonder if one of those weapons had killed your father's men. This new pirate, a John boy, looked you up and down, but instead of feeling intimidating like the other, it seemed more cheeky and mischievous.

"I reckon it could be….too many clothes on to tell." He winked at you. A gaping hole opened up in your stomach at his implication.

The first pirate chuckled darkly, reaching over to grab a fist full of fabric at your hips.

Immediately you spun and smacked his hand away with more force than strictly necessary. "You will not touch me, you miscreant." You spat at him, anger coating each syllable, only just barely hiding the fear brewing within you. "I am the governor's daughter and you will treat me with the respect afforded to my station."

Some snickering and laughter erupted from the other pirates nearby that heard your brash statement. It appeared the others were enjoying watching the spectacle. One of the pirates called out 'I'll show 'er my respect' causing more jeers and laughter to follow in its wake. Dread slithered up your torso to wrap around your chest like a constrictor. You tried to swallow but your mouth and throat felt as dry as the height of summer under the scorching sun.

The one behind you, John you thought, seemed to laugh the loudest. His eyes danced with mirth as he smacked his companion's back still next to you. "A real firecracker this one is, eh?"

"Yeah, nothin' but trouble for us. Mark me words." The first grumbled, watching you like he was tempted to throw you overboard and just be done with your infuriating presence.

You straightened up, ignoring the terror tainting the blood in your veins. "I heard you are led by a man called Shelby. I demand to speak with him."

"Yeah? Well it's your lucky day, love. You've found yourself two Shelbys."

"What?"

The smiling one continued, gesturing to himself and then his companion. "I'm John Shelby, and this 'ere is me brother, Arthur Shelby."

"No…" You shook your head as you looked between the brothers and then glanced at those around. The brothers and many others wore the infamous peaked caps which had given the pirates their name and calling card of terror and death. Something tinkled the back of your mind, somehow you knew, you just knew these two brothers were not the one you were looking for. "I've heard you're led by a….a Thomas. Thomas Shelby."

The first one, Arthur, eyed you skeptically then shrugged. "You're wanting the other one then. OI! TOMMY! THE LADY WANTS TO TALK TO YA!"

You jumped slightly as the man suddenly shouted, your heart speeding up like a racehorse taking off. Seemingly sensing your discomfort, he grinned down at you before looking over at his brother.

"This'll be fun to watch."

"My money's on the girl." John replied, still smirking.

Arthur hummed. "Two coins."

The brothers bumped their fists together, grinning like fiends at their bet.

But you barely heard their words, for everything had become just background noise as your eyes were locked on the man marching your way. Each step was taken with such authority, such assurance, like he owned the world and he was just biding his time until revelation came and the world submitted to him. His jacket flapped in the breeze behind him, giving the illusion of his shadow coming to life to haunt his steps. His peaked cap was pulled low over his face but somehow you just knew that his eyes missed nothing.

As he walked over, John slid closer to Arthur, making room for the third Shelby to join the circle of entertainment for those watching. Thomas stood next to you and immediately all the fine hairs on your arms and the back for your neck stood at attention. Although he had not spoken a word yet, the aura of danger hanging around him like a noose was almost suffocating to you. Even with all the guns and pistols, all the swords and daggers decorating the pirates, the spilled blood and the sickly sweet stench of gunsmoke lingering in the air, you knew that the most dangerous thing on board either ship was the pirate now standing beside you.

Then when his gaze found yours, a shiver of both heat and ice coursed through you. Those stormy eyes held you captive far more than any chain ever could. And it was in that moment you realized how wildly inaccurate the rumors and whispers of the shadowed leader of the Peaky Blinder pirates was. There was a calculating intelligence there that easily rivaled any businessman or lord you had ever encountered. Here was not a madman like he was made out to be. No, this was a man who knew how to play the game, who knew how to obtain what he wanted, whose ambition bleed from him just as much as the predatory presence he so casually wore.

His gaze reminded you of a man you had met long ago, who kept a hawk for hunting. Those same piercing eyes you saw in the hawk now met your gaze in the pirate. And with the way he was staring at you, you automatically knew he saw you as prey who he was just waiting to swoop in and devour. You wondered when the flimsy cage would break and his instincts would overtake him, just like that pet hawk you had encountered.

"So you're the governor's daughter, eh?"

If you lacked better self-control, your jaw would have dropped at the smooth voice that came out of his mouth. It was unnatural for such a charming, intriguing voice to come from….from a pirate! It was like the perfectly aged, fine wines that your mother coveted jealously; something you wanted to take a sip of and swirl around in your mouth to taste every flavorful note in it.

You rapidly blinked, dismissing the romantic notion of his voice and focused on the pirate beside you who wore a blank expression. "And you must be Thomas Shelby, infamous leader of the Peaky Blinders."

He hummed then stepped closer, his jacket sleeve brushing your bare arm briefly. "Not many are privy to that knowledge. How did you come by it?"

"Unlike most respectable ladies who only worry about the latest fashion or fetching themselves a handsome match, I listen and I ask questions. For knowledge is a far more superior tool than any gun or sword could ever hope to be."

His eyes widened momentarily, clearly not expecting your outburst or the hostility in your voice.

Before he could speak, you continued, never once tearing your gaze away from his. "I am here to parlay with you for the release of these sailors and their freedom."

"Is that so?" The corners of his lips twitched in response.

You internally questioned if he was amused by your zealous request, but it did not matter, as long as he listened you hoped for a positive outcome. "Yes. They are good men and do not deserve death."

"Hmmm…and what do you have to equal in value for their lives?"

You paused, for here was the gamble that had been playing out in your mind. You could only hope the dice was in your favor. "There is a small fortune on this schooner. I will hand it over to you without complaint on your word that with it, you will release these sailors and allow them to return home without further harm."

"And you would trust my word? The word of a pirate?"

Staring into his icy blue eyes that somehow caused your heart to burn with something you had yet to experience, the words sprouted from your mouth before you realized what you had said. "I would trust your word alone, Mr. Shelby."

His gaze kept yours ensnared, refusing you release. He stared at you, seeming to peer right into your soul, to probe into the very core of your being. You should have been frightened at the intrusion. You should have wretched yourself away from his gaze and dropped your eyes to the ground like a proper lady. Instead, you stared back, allowing him to see the sincerity of your request.

After a long moment, he finally gave a slow nod. "Alright. You have me word. The men will be released."

"Thank you." You breathed out, not realizing until now how you had held your breath while maintaining eye contact.

In the next breath, you told the other two brothers where exactly the small fortune of gemstones were hidden in your cabin. With their excited cheers filling your ears, they dashed down the ladder and presumably to your cabin.

Then you were left standing there on the deck with Thomas, his jacket sleeve still barely brushing your arm and sending shivers through your body. With a tone invoking confidence and leaving no room for argument, he barked out several orders, sending some of the pirates scurrying about.

It was now with his focus off of you, were you truly able to admire the beauty of the man. The defined cheekbones and sharp jawline. Those full lips that appeared soft despite his hardened exterior. Even his physique was attractive with wide shoulders over his agile frame. It was those eyes though, the unholy burning in them that captivated you the most. He was truly the most beautiful man you had ever met.

As if that thought summoned his attention, his gaze swung back to you. Butterflies erupted in your belly, dancing the foxtrot and bringing an embarrassing warmth to your face. Hastily, your eyes sought out the sea, hoping the rise and fall of the waves could settle your heart and nerves somehow. You sensed the weight of his eyes on you but purposefully kept your gaze away.

A loud groan came from one of the sailors still tied to the hull. Your eyes drifted to them for a fleeting moment, taking in the evidence of brutality that must have faced when fighting off the pirates. As an overflow of water saturated your eyes, you swiftly averted your gaze back to the sea. If you thought about your situation too long, you feared you would crumble. Now you needed to remain strong and resilient. So with your chin held high, and appearing aloof to the pirate beside you, you settled for watching the crashing and rolling waves just on the other side of the ship.

"You are not what I expected."

You stiffened at his unexpected statement. Still staring at the Caribbean waters, you blandly replied. "I apologize for the disappointment."

"On the contrary, you could never be a disappointment."

Your head whipped around to look at the pirate, shock clouding your mind. Especially when he met your gaze with a look of indifference, as if he had only made a passing comment about the weather. Butterflies erupted anew in your belly. Your mouth suddenly felt dry and you subconsciously licked your lips, prepared to question him about his statement.

At that moment, his brothers climbed up the ladder, with beaming smiles on their faces. Arthur lifted up the small, velvet bag into the air and proclaimed that Fate turned her face favorably upon them today. The cheering erupting from the pirates both still on the schooner and on their pirate ship was enough to wake the dead.

Yet the whole time your mind could only focus on one exact detail amidst the rambunctious celebration. As you licked your lips, those piercing eyes had followed the action fervently and something distinctly hungry had ignited in them for a second. But within the next blink of your eyes, it was gone.

"How did you come by all these jewels, eh? Steal 'em from someone?" Arthur chuckled at his own jest, handing the bag over to Thomas, who peeked inside and raised a single eyebrow before closing the bag and slipping it into his pocket.

"Does it matter?" You retorted, not about to admit it was part of your dowry and gifted to you by your late grandmother. You turned your gaze back to the leader of the pirates. "You have your promised fortune. Now release my father's men."

"Indeed I do." He stared at you for a long, tense moment, before he gave the order. "Free the sailors…and put them in the row boat."

"What? That wasn't–"

Thomas interrupted you, a formidable smirk plastered across his mouth that betrayed exactly how he felt about manipulating your request to his advantage. "You said to release them. You gave no further details, yeah? So that left it up to me own whims about how exactly they should be released and where."

"But–"

"And an island is within view. They will be able to row safely there by the end of the day. From there, they can find another vessel to return to your father and inform him of the pirating of his ship and goods." His smirk lost the predatory touch and morphed into someone more thoughtful as he looked around your father's ship. "Besides, I like this schooner. It'll be an excellent addition to my fleet."

Your heart pounded like a war drum inside of your chest. Anxiety twisted and rolled like snakes in your belly. Your head swiveled to watch the sailors having their bonds cut and then roughly hauled up by the jeering pirates and towards the single rowboat. Surely it could not hold all the men easily? It would capsize!

One of the sailors started to fight back, a young man you had known since childhood. He struggled against the two pirates half-dragging him towards the starboard side of the ship, curses spilling like oil from his mouth. For the briefest second, your eyes met his and you willed him to cease his futile fight. His freedom was at hand, why was he only making things worse for himself? Then he silently mouthed your name and increased his struggle. He managed to land a punch to one of the pirates that knocked him to the deck with a loud thud. Like a swarm, several pirates gathered around your childhood friend, beating him back into submission. With the extra help, they bodily threw the sailor overboard. You winced when you heard the answering splash.

"What of the captain?" John asked softly, having returned to his spot next to his brothers. "He insulted us. Fookin' bastard."

That explained why he was gagged like a common criminal, but you chose not to comment, a sense of dread rising in you like clogging smoke.

Thomas mulled it over, a wrathful disquiet emanating from his presence. "Arthur," the other brother turned his heavy gaze from the bound captain to his brother. "He insulted you. I believe an eye would be adequate recompense."

The answering smile, his mustache still coated in blood, looked purely sinister and malevolent. Like a shark with the scent of blood in the water, his eyes gleamed manically. Without another word, he stomped over, already pulling the peaked cap off his head.

The pirates still lingering about hooted and cheered as Arthur approached the now squirming captain, the gag muffling what most assuredly was begging and pleading for mercy.

But here, he would find none.

"No, please, don't do it." You begged, even though you knew in your gut it was futile.

"Too late, love." John chuckled, his gaze locked on the gruesome ordeal about to occur.

Without thought, your feet took a step forward, ready to intervene. But before you could take another step, a calloused hand wrapped around your wrist, preventing any further movement. A gentle but demanding tug made you fall back to his side again. Lifting your head, you opened your mouth to demand this atrocity cease, but the first scream from the captain cut through your mind, making the words vanish on your tongue.

Nausea crawled up your throat, the initial threat to your stomach emptying its contents right there on the deck. Your hand covered your mouth in both horror and an attempt to not be sick.

Lips brushed the top of your ear as a smooth voice murmured quietly for you alone. "No one will look less upon you for not watching."

You wanted to watch, to prove him wrong, that you were made of sterner material, but with another round of screams echoing in your mind like the sea gulls' cries, you turned away. On instinct, you pressed your forehead against the shoulder next to you, eyes squeezed tight even though it did nothing to blot out the sounds. Later you would question your sanity for seeking comfort from the very pirate who ordered the mutilation. Then to your surprise, you felt the hand still shackling you, turn just enough and a thumb press to the palm of your hand. It slowly swiped back and forth as if giving the resemblance of comfort in the agonizing moment.

Thankfully, the horrifying ordeal was not dragged out. With blood streaming from both eye sockets, the captain was lowered to his men waiting in the rowboat. You had heard the Blinders would take an eye in payment to any captain they captured and released. All you could assume was one eye was for this payment and the other was for the debt incurred by the insult.

Silently, you took a step in the direction of the rowboat, what strength and fortitude you possessed was draining away like dirty rainwater. You hoped the rowboat had room for everyone. Thoughts of the captain and his maiming made your stomach turn over and the nausea returned. Your gown was most likely cleaner than the clothing the sailors wore, surely they could help you tear some off to use as binding. There was already a large tear near the hem, it would not be difficult to rip the fabric from that spot.

Yet the shackle around your wrist prevented you from moving further away and joining your father's men.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To the boat." You looked up in confusion to the pirate still physically keeping you by his side.

He hummed thoughtfully, glancing in the direction of where the rowboat lay out of sight, before meeting your gaze calmly. "That was not part of the deal."

At his words, your heart oozed from your ribcage and splattered on the deck beneath your feet.

"I'm not done with you yet, darling." He crooned. Gaze never leaving yours, he lifted your hand still ensnared in his and pressed a chaste kiss to your knuckles.

You despised how your heart fluttered like a bird's wing and your skin tingled where his lips touched you. Such a courtly action from a pirate, who eventually would meet his demise at the end of the rope. It was unseemingly how your body betrayed you, especially with the cruelty you just bore witness to under his orders. You should be repulsed by him, but that sensation never even crossed your mind.

Finally freeing you from his hold, he turned to his brother, still standing nearby. "John, take her to my cabin."

You glared at the pirate captain with all the malice your body possessed, which only seemed to amuse him. He gave you a cheeky wink then sauntered away, his hands clasped behind his back. He stopped to speak with an clearly older pirate, based on his graying hair and weather-lined face, who was eyeing the rigging critically and muttering to himself.

"C'mon, love. Best not to anger 'im."

When John tried to grab your upper arm, you yanked it out of his grasp. "I am fully capable of walking myself, thank you very much." You spat at him, completely devoid of any social decorum instilled into you.

He grinned broadly, seemingly unoffended by your harsh words and attitude. "Oh, you'll be fun. Aunt Pol is going to love you."

You had no idea what that meant nor were you inclined to find out. Yet it appeared you no longer had a choice in the matter. Like a prisoner following the hangman to the gallows, you walked just behind the Shelby brother. Terror and panic attempted to cling to you like thorny tendrils but everything felt dulled, like a fog had crept into your mind.

As you approached the pirate ship, the Jolly Roger and their flag waving proudly like a standard under the Caribbean sun, the realization hit you anew, causing your knees to weaken and for you to stumble on the next step.

You were truly a captive of the Peaky Blinders pirates.

Tag List:

Peaky Blinders- @slytherinicequeen @geekandbooknerd @lilyrachelcassidy @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @minxsblog

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#cherry pie’s hot fic summer #mzwrites #peaky blinders #bbc peaky blinders #by order of the peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders fandom #peaky blinders fiction #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby #pirate au

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lilyrachelcassidy · 2 years

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Crescent (1)

A/N: Hey, you lovely people! It has taken a while for me to post it, but here goes the first chapter of the series. Some of you may have seen the INDEX that I’ve already prepared, and the summary included in it. If not, make sure to check that out!:D As a footnote, I also wanted to thank y’all for welcoming me to the Peaky Blinders community so warmly, you are the best, it’s so nice to be here with y’all;) One of the people who strongly encouraged and inspired me to start writing for the fandom is our lovely @mrsalwayswrite, to whom I also dedicate this series (plus, that's a form of contribution to her 1k milestone, it’s wild, she deserves it so much).

Against my posting schedule, which is totally all over the place, I really hope to start posting more regularly. BUT, enough of the ramble, sorry for the long intro. Enjoy:)

Word Count: 6.8k (ooops!)

IMPORTANT WARNING!: This fic contains a lot of dark elements and I’d regard it as pretty adultish. In every chapter, I’ll try to address the warning list but if you don’t feel like that’s what you are into, consider whether you really want to read. Should you need any more explicit clarification about this series, just message me! I’ll be happy to elaborate:D

Warnings: language, violence, mentions of alcohol, crudeness, shameless and yummy drama, insights into Tommy’s sensitive nature (probably the most bizarre one), and a rape attempt??

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They both were snuggling on the sofa, Y/N sitting with her legs wrapped around Tommy’s torso while he was settled in her embosom, an old French book in his hands, and he was reading out loud. Comfortable as she had already been, Y/N felt even more comfort prickling in her chest as Tommy’s smooth lilt echoed in her ears, making her eyes flutter in response to the repose she was experiencing.

None of the words read by Tommy did she understand. After all, she wasn’t the one who ever had had anything to do with French culture, and she was clinging to that premise rather resolutely. The mere fact stated, however, how much of a good reader Tommy was when he pronounced all of the syllables with such a passion and sublimity, with his perfect little accent and soothing voice. When he utterly surrendered to every single word of the book, ardently translating each one of them into the scenery of images played out in his head.

And his enthusiasm made her only fall for him even more.

When Y/N closed her eyes, try as might to, accepting the natural urge to give in to the melody of Tommy’s voice, he finally stopped reading and plonked the book on a table opposite the sofa. His breathing was steady and lulling, the chest against her leg with its heart drumming in the regular heartbeats. It all contributed to Y/N’s peace of mind, and little did she care for the bitter weather outside nor the flimsy house’s doors which prevented it from coming in.

“Why did you stop reading?” Y/N finally asked, rendering Tommy’s gaze rivet on to her rather than the obscure snowscape out of the window.

“I thought you were sleeping,” he said simply, giving her a small smile and then planting a kiss on her calve. Although Y/N and Tommy had been married for over two years now, it always made Y/N partly flustered when he did those little gestures of affection, causing her to blush like mad. Tommy had always teased her for that; whenever they had been out in public, even a chaste peck on a cheek could make her somehow so affectionately coy that it had never failed to make Tommy smile.

“No,” Y/N said, but her eyelids were indicating otherwise, feeling their rocketing weight on her eyes. She forced herself to open them at least half a fraction, and Tommy was already looking at her. “I like to listen to you read. It’s calming.”

It really drove Y/N crazy, the intensity of his gaze on her. Never had she admitted that but she wasn’t the one to thrust herself into the limelight, yet with Tommy, it was different - it was as if she was the only person in the world. She had never decided whether it bothered her or made her feel special.

When Tommy still remained silent, Y/N continued. “What’s the book about anyways?”

A corner of Tommy’s lip lifted as he spoke. “It’s about a princess who, against her father’s will, comes late at night by the lake to join the man of her life in a tryst. The man is a knight in her kingdom, and when the king finds out about her daughter’s romance, he sends the knight off to exile.”

“Oh, that’s tragic!” Y/N pouted, her eyes instantly filling with sympathy. The light in the lantern beside the sofa suddenly started flickering in irregular spurts of light, and Y/N had to tap it three times to mend it back to its normal state. It nicely illuminated Tommy’s features as he returned his gaze back to the window where now snowflakes were performing their little dance to the rhythm of whizzing frigid wind. “Honestly, I wouldn’t have suspected that would be your book choice.”

He frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” Y/N started, gentle giggles erupting from her mouth. “You are not the biggest romantic that I’ve known.”

What she had originally dubbed as slight indignation by her words was actually an attempt to retort to her with an amounting dose of banter. “What would make you think that?” Tommy asked deliberately, trying to act offended, but his smirk was betraying him. He swiftly changed position to the sitting one, so now his back was against the backrest of the couch, his gaze intensely fixed on Y/N’s posture while she was suiting herself to the cross-legged position.

“You know what I mean.” She glanced at him knowingly.

“I don’t. Tell me.”

“No.”

“Tell me.”

“No.

Exhaling dramatically and shaking his head, he pressed on. “Well, then, you leave me with no other option...” And then he edged closer to her and, without any proceeding warning, attacked her with the cascade of tickles, his hands quickly finding their way over her stomach and, with the two-year experience, careering across the most tickle-sensitive spots on her body. Y/N started laughing uncontrollably, little begs to cease the action escaping her mouth.

Every one of his touches, those smooth and itching touches, made her feel as if she was touched by a whole load of butterflies. His hands were traveling everywhere: her tummy, under her chin and armpits... That only increased the laughter in her throat and, soon enough, tears started rolling down her cheeks. Trying to defend herself, Y/N flailed her arms all over the place, but that only seemed to encourage Tommy even more.

“Stop!” she shrieked ultimately, and at once, he actually listened to her but not before peppering her with the last couple of tickles and a loving smooch on the forehead. Subconsciously, Y/N began neatening her impinged garments and trying to smooth down her - as for now - tousled hair while Tommy sat back on his spot and chuckled lightly under his breath. “You’re really horrible, you know that?”

His eyebrows raised the look of supreme innocence on his face. “Oh, but you love me for that, don’t you?”

“Sometimes I doubt,” she said, but a denouncing smile sprung on her lips which she tried to hide to no avail. He was already grinning at her.

“How about...” He took another dramatic pause there. “I read you another chapter of the book, and then you decide about the way you feel?”

Now it was Y/N’s turn to grin. “Let’s give it a shot.”

In moments, they were pressed to each other again, this time, however, he was the one cradling her between his legs. His arms reached around her sides to elevate her a little bit so that her head could conveniently rest on his chest while plucking the book from the table, and began flipping through the pages to find the latest chapter. So tranquil in that state, Y/N utterly gave in to the moment when Tommy’s voice, a low murmur next to her ear, began reading aloud again, his head hovering just over her shoulder.

“La fille n'était pas dupe des paroles du roi. Bien que dévouée à sa famille, il y avait une certaine partie d'elle...”

Tommy was warm and comfortable, and being with him like that while he read her the book with his perfect, husky voice, her body enfolded in his snuggly embrace, was nothing short of incredible. At once, Y/N’s eyelids started to droop, heard the words weaving pleasantly in and out of her consciousness, and she leaned her head back against his chest, beginning to fade away.

Bzzzz... Bzzz... Bzzzz...

The scenery started changing rapidly: the faces turned into artistic blurs so that now there was only a mere outline of silhouettes visible. The sunken holes in the facelessness, which were probably the equivalent of mouths, mumbled some unintelligible babble in overexcited, high-pitched tones.

Bzzzz... Bzzzz.... Bzzzz....

No longer was Tommy standing in the living room but in the place that was detached from any kind of comparison because it was basically a white, vast void with no ground or neither any kind of abyss. The light was becoming more and more bright, and eventually temporarily blinded Tommy, who closed his eyes now, not really capable of deducing what was happening.

Bzzz... Bzzz... Bzzz...

Suddenly, the scenery wasn’t so foreign anymore; when Tommy finally decided to risk it all and open his eyes, he found himself tangled in the floral-scented sheets, sweat dotting his forehead, and panting in half-fear, half-oblivion. The wind-up alarm clock was going on in an annoying buzzing, and it took Tommy one harsh thump on a small button on the top of the device to turn it off, ceasing sound in the bedroom and instead permeating it with silence.

What the fuck was that?

Was that all a dream before or, perhaps, was he dreaming right now?

Tommy’s heart was palpitating loudly against his rib cage, head pounding, and he, still in awe, looked around his surroundings and inspected the area he was in right now. Luckily, he was alone, and everything seemed to be the same way he had remembered it last time.

When he had returned to his house after the snobbish banquet he had been obliged to attend, without any more power gathered in him, he had thrown himself on the comfortable mattress in his bedroom and with that, he had drifted asleep, not even taking his smart tuxedo off of him and barely affording to cast off his oxfords. It had been a celebration organized by Oswald Mosley himself, and if it hadn’t been for that fact, Tommy probably wouldn’t have considered coming at all.

Yes, he remembered everything vividly now: the fake diplomatically smiley faces, elegant attire, a surfeit of foods and champagne, strict atmosphere hovering in the air... He remembered that he had shaken hands on some kind of deal inaugurated by Mosley; he couldn’t recall what it had concerned, however, maybe because of the amount of whiskey he had drunk. He remembered that Arthur had got into some intensive grapple with the other guest that night and reached such a crux when both had had to be separated from one another. He remembered the big-ass, stuck-up toast raised by Mosley’s brother, Edward, who had nettled him so much that, after that, he had had to get some fresh air to calm himself down.

Everything appeared to make sense now. Except for one thing - with all of the things that cropped up yesterday, how on earth did he end up dreaming about his secretary, Y/N?

Truth to be told, it had been rather a recurring occurrence because he had been having a similar series of dreams for the last month. They had never been the same, however - every night, it was always him and Y/N, every time in different scenery. Either some intimate moments of cuddling, kissing, and spooning in bed; or daily-life moments like cooking together or taking a stroll. What seemed to be a bizarre fact was that they were always one-on-one, without any other people appearing on the horizon.

And Tommy, very fervently actually, had tried to seek a reason, a probable explanation for those dreams.

However, to no use...

Sure, Y/N was an attractive woman, and there was no point denying it. But as for him, he had never had any other but professional feelings for her, and he hoped to keep it that way. And when he had employed her, he had made it very lucid that there was nothing but business standing between their relationship.

Yet still, a very nagging part of him, an annoying one too, made him somehow think that whatever had been transpiring could not be happening only in his head. A lingering feeling whispered next to his ear, tacitly, that all of those moments were far too real to be just a flight of fantasy.

When Y/N beamed, it was as if the whole room lightened up with her glow and, in those moments, it was the only thing he would want to watch. When she spoke, it was as if the sweet melody was tickling his ears. When he would play the music on the old gramophone, she rhythmically swung her hips from one to another side, and he could be her most avid spectator.

Or maybe he was a spectator? He was quite a cogitation for him if being honest. In dreams or whatever resembling them that was, he was placed in a strange, abstruse position because he actually wasn’t the one with the leading role in the scenery; it was almost more like he was observing the scene between two people, one so strikingly identical to him. And Tommy could do nothing but be a passive participant in the gnomic show that was playing out before his eyes.

That was just... inexplicably complicated to Tommy.

Another thing that startled him too was the place the couple was dwelling at - his old, dilapidated house in Birmingham, the area he would never wish to return to. The walls were drab, and the overall air was muggy and abominably icky; the only things that seemed to coat the unpleasant interior of the house were some female touches in an attempt to veil funguses or crud with some decorative details, like flamboyant curtains or a flowerpot on a tarnish mantelpiece.

Tommy’s actual house, on the other side, was the exact opposite. After spending many years of his childhood and adolescence in penury as his mother had strived to earn a single penny whereas his father had abandoned the family for a bimbo, he had promised himself that he would put any effort to elevate himself and, perhaps, even move out of the Birmingham area.

And so he did. He resided in a beautiful, vast mansion now and although it had caused some detriments on his health, and maybe he could deem a workaholic to some, at the end of the day, he was still grateful that he could pull himself out of disdain and impertinent he had been treated with throughout his life.

A knock came on the door and, instantaneously, jerked Tommy out of his contemplation.

“Come in.”

A maid treaded into the bedroom, and instantly, Tommy registered a wary look on her face. “Mr. Shelby,” she started. “Arthur and John are waiting in the car downstairs and anticipating your presence. They mentioned something about horse races.”

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

How could he have forgotten?

Today, he was supposed to come with his brothers to one of the most important horse races in this season, during which he would be trying to bid on one of the most talented mares in the entire territory of England. The range of horses during the race had been presented merely a week ago, and it was crucial for Tommy to buy out the captivating mare he had been attempting to acquire for years.

“Tell them I’ll be down in five minutes,” he instructed with what could seem a composed face, except he was panicking inside. In the mental calculation, he noted, he still had to fetch the ample sum of money from his office, change his garments to more appropriate ones, and make his way to the opposite side of the mansion.

Great...

“Yes, Mr.Shelby.” Mary nodded to his directions and walked stiffly out of the room.

As soon as the doors behind her closed, Tommy sprinted out of the bed and went over to the wardrobe where he picked up random clothes and put them on. It’s not like he cared for such trivial matters like appearance anyway. His lifestyle and the rush he was living in forced him to always go with the plain choices - in this case, a three-piece, overcoat, and a newsboy cap.

Another destination was the office, which was luckily located in the same corridor, basically a beeline between one room and another. He darted to the place, swinging oak doors ajar, and quickly approaching the desk drawer where the viridian envelope with plentiful cash was already prepared. Taking it out and scattering other papers all over the space, he didn’t pay any thought to clean the mess he had left behind as he was already racing to the main entrance of the mansion.

He peeked at his pocket watch - 8.32 a.m. How could have he overslept?

The alarm clock had woken him up, yet he had completely failed a job of setting it up at the earlier hour. The races were starting sharp at ten o’clock, and a way from here to Worcester took around two hours in the right weather conditions. That, fortunately, was the only thing that was on his side today - the streams of the sun penetrated the light blue sky, spreading the warmth around, and no signs of forthcoming squall appeared whatsoever within the vision.

It was 8.35 when Tommy left the threshold of his house and walked onto the front yard, exactly where the polished Bentley was parked with two brothers waiting inside of it. One of the front seats was vacant, presumably reserved for him, and he willingly accepted the non-verbal invitation.

When he finally occupied the leather-covered seat, two questioning glances were sent in his direction.

“You alrigh’, Tom boy?” asked Arthur, who was currently inhabiting the driver’s seat.

Tommy looked at him from the corner of his eye, ripples on his forehead. “Yeah, why?”

“’Cuz your never late, Tom.” It was John now who chimed into the conversation. He was holding on to the headrests of both front seats, apparently trying to show off his presence at the most by taking up some personal space.

“It’s alright, just overslept,” Tommy replied, shrugging. Reaching to his inner pocket, he examined his pocket clock again - 8.38. To busy himself with something and divert the attention of his brothers, he began searching for a stash of cigarettes and matches to light one up. Once he found it, he ignited a fag whereas Arthur turned on the engine and drove off to the main road.

“Tough night, huh?” After one minute’s silence John, who was still imposing himself to the forepart of the car, pressed on. “Bet yesterday’s beano upset ya a lot, aya? Mosley gave you a har’ time, for sure, with all of his codswallop about-”

“That’s enough, John,” said Arthur, warily, cutting in right before his brother could say something that would rotten the two-hour drive between the three of them. With a honed sense for deducing people’s attitudes about particular subjects, Arthur had learned just right when to cease talking about sensitive topics. It was the fact, however, that yesterday hadn’t been the most pleasant night of their lives; Mosley who apparently had thought himself superior to others had talked down Tommy during the entire banquet and denigrated his ideas every time he had spoken. Tommy’s unalterable response while receiving a cold shoulder was always a diplomatic silence, but that didn’t mean the occurrence hadn’t left him nettled afterward.

Arthur looked over at Tommy for a brief second, before turning his gaze back at the road. He let out a little sniffle and then stated matter-of-factly. “Y/N’ll be meeting us in front of the stables.”

Confused, Tommy frowned slightly. “What would she be doing there?”

“We thought we would invite her over, ya know, to take a peek before signing the documents. Ya know, as a precaution.”

“And you thought I wouldn’t manage to read on my own?” Tommy asked, suddenly somehow out of kilter. The cigarette was still in between his teeth, but he still managed to purse lips in dissatisfaction.

Arthur sighed. “Of course, you would, Tom. But Y/N, a clever gal she is... She can help us. And besides, she offered to come herself. Wanted to see one of the races. Has never been to one before.”

Tommy said nothing more and preferred to focus on the vista before him: they were driving through the middle of fields, the line-up of buildings stretching in the far by one side. It was a spring morning, so the sun was raising just now, but still, a warm breeze was accompanying them while they sped on the asphalt road. At the bottom of the road was an explosion of yellow and green which, landlocked, was surrounded by nothing but glistening trees and multicolored sky.

Sunrises.

They always made Tommy feel oddly sentimental as they reminded him of times before he had been sent off to the War.

And as he watched the sight sprawling before him, he opened a window, threw a stub of the cigarette, and ceased the only activity he could busy himself with for the rest of the ride. The rattling Bentley devoured the miles with stoic competence, but the journey had begun to seem interminably long and, involuntarily, searched back to the recollections of the morning’s conundrum - what did Y/N really mean to him, and how did their relationship evolve over the course of years?

Though he knew that the thought shouldn’t have even crossed his mind, Tommy wondered what would have happened if their relationship was elevated to a different level. Would that transmute his life to something he would feel comfortable with, or would that be too big of a load to handle? After all, it’d been six years since Grace had perished, and ever since, he hadn’t felt a woman’s touch on his skin throughout that time...

Or maybe, was it a commitment she wouldn’t want to put up with? There were always some undertones implying that, perhaps, there were some sparks kindled between the two of them. Y/N was self-sufficient, erudite, and easy to talk to, and he enjoyed having an occasional chit-chat with her during some spare moments. Although they never crossed the line of professionalism, circumscribing the topics of conversation to a pure employee-employer level; when she would happen to mention something about her personal life, he would be always eager to hear more. But he would never dare to inquire because it seemed to be a slippery road.

At the same time, Tommy was skeptical about entwining Y/N into his life - if he should consider such a possibility - which carried a lot of danger in it. Even so, she had signed up for a secretary position, which was risky itself, joining the Shelby family was a new dimension of jeopardy. And the simple thought of losing Y/N, the similar way he had lost Grace, was just unbearable.

While the robust debate transpired in Tommy’s head, Arthur was fervently pressing the pedal, accelerating, as the other car attempted to overtake their jet-black Bentley; John decided to give up on the thought troubling the Front-seat and, instead, was already drooling in the rear of the car, his head lolling in every direction.

“That’s right, you little nutter...” Arthur muttered under his breath, flipping the other driver off as he was passing him, the driver, gawking, startled by the obscenity. Despite that Arthur was the bigger brother, he could never resist the flash of temper.

Tommy ignored the urge of pulling another fag out as his eyelids started to droop rather dangerously. He had slept only two hours, after all, which was mainly due to the buzz and adrenaline left after the banquet.

‘One nap,’ he told himself. ‘One nap won’t kill anybody.’

XOXOXOXOX

“Get up, get up, mate.” A poke with a slight jiggle jerked Tommy out of his slumber.

Initially nonplussed, he started blinking rapidly, his eyes adjusting to the dazzling light of the day. After a moment’s haze, things finally got more into distinctive shapes, and now he knew that it was John’s voice that woke him up as he was standing in front of him, lining with his forearm on the car.

“You okay?” asked John, the second time this day. His head was bowed slightly so that it was lined up with Tommy’s, his foul breath huffing unpleasantly in Tommy’s face.

“Alright, yeah.”

Straightening himself up and mending his attire to make it look less wrinkled, Tommy took out a fag and lit it up as his old habit suggested. He took a swing with his long legs and got out of the car, where he encountered a light breeze brushing against his face. The fag was already in between his teeth, a gray string of smoke rising from the end of it while Tommy was examining the hour on his gold-plated pocket watch - 9.54.

They made it. Arthur had apparently completed a good job at chasing time.

Three of them - Arthur, Tommy, and John - were now halted in front of the stables that abutted a white, enormous tent where the whole event was about to take place. The neighs and nickers were erupting from stalls, horses in the progress of preparation before the luxurious show-off.

“Hello, boys,” the voice from the back said. Turning around, Tommy beheld the woman that had been trespassing his thoughts, and he suddenly felt as if he was dragged back to the hinterland of his dreams.

Y/N was smiling sweetly at each one of them, looking particularly radiant today. A thin auburn coat was sprawling around her shoulders, vaguely muddy galoshes pulled on her feet, and a dark Breton arranged in harmony with her low, tight ponytail. She was clutching a small purse in her hands.

“’Morning,” Tommy replied, accompanied by his brothers in the background. He sent her a meager smile in response to her grin.

In mere seconds, they began heading towards the main entrance of the tent where every person was gathering and hastily taking the available seats in the front row before all of them were occupied. One man deliberately bumped into some woman, who was just about to sit, to flump on a seat himself; they got into a rather vigorous quarrel.

“So how was yesterday at Mosley’s?” A soft voice rang up in Tommy’s ears again. He and Y/N were walking arm-to-arm, and from this proximity, Tommy could get a nice whiff of her perfume - a floral note with something he couldn’t quite recognize. Perhaps, vanilla?

“It was... fine,” Tommy lied, but he wasn’t specifically in the fancy of receiving a pitying look.

“Oh, okay. That’s nice!”

"I guess." He shrugged, deciding to change the subject. “Do you happen to know the order of an array?”

“Yes, I’ve just checked actually. Your mare, Mrs. Shelby, will be displayed as third.” In the peripheral vision, she could see him nodding - accepting the information - at what she had said, but something twitched in his expression. Not expecting him to pick up on the conversation, she recalled the details stated on a black-and-white page pinned to the cork board at the door of the stable; then she continued: “After that, the bidding will commence. The good news is we have high chances of winning.”

“That's what I'm hoping for.”

The tent looked pretty neat inside, once the four of them reached it. It was bustling with people, mainly those from around the village who did not intend to participate in the auction and merely hoped for quality entertainment; Tommy, however, could spot some wealthy people in the crowd too with unidentifiable for him faces. None of them did he recognize but, on the other hand, he presumed that not many folks from Birmingham would actually show up here anyway.

“Good mornin’, ladies and gentlemen...” the presenter started with a thick Irish accent, incomprehensible to those who didn’t listen intently enough. A loud yawn escaped Y/N’s mouth. She covered it with her hand, but that didn’t help much with subduing the sound. The presenter went on with his exuberant babble for a while, earning two more yawns from Y/N, before finally letting the first horse on a paddock - a heavily muscled gelding with red ribbons tangled in the mane, and white patches contrasting with the rest of its black hair.

It took several minutes but, exceedingly bored, Y/N made up her mind on taking a little stroll as a form of wake-up. “I’m gonna fix some water from the shop. It’s just around the corner. Want some?”

“No, thank you.” And as she collect her things, a nagging thought popped up in Tommy’s mind. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, that’s alright. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she said in a thankful tone towards his offer, smiling. Subsequently, she directed herself to the main exit, leaving her group behind, and soon vanished from Tommy’s view.

Tommy didn’t like it but was forced to concede to the fact that Y/N was simply his employee, and he was in no capacity whatsoever in questioning her whereabouts. Accordingly, with that persisting notion in his mind, he was compelled to sit and watch as the second horse was hauled on the paddock by a groom who made an impression of being slightly annoyed with the horse’s resistance. He poked it at its haunch with an elbow and, consequently, received a faint neigh with a few, back-legged twitches.

Ten minutes elapsed...

Still no sign of Y/N which was increasingly worrying because, as she had said, the shop was just around the corner and obviously queues couldn’t be that long since everyone was assembled in the tent. Tommy was constantly glancing between the paddock and his pocket watch, fingers fidgeting in nervousness. He was hyperaware that maybe he was just panicking, and maybe the whole storyline he had visualized in his head was a figment of his overheated imagination; but he was also hyperaware of the danger during such events whereas some men, vicious men, wandered around with no good intentions in them.

“Our next precious gem is the one and only mare dragged all the way from South England...”

This was Tommy’s horse or the one he intended on owning after the auction. He should have focused on the beautiful mare that had just trotted in with its glistening mane reflected by a dozen of floodlights. He should have focused like the rest of the audience, Arthur and John included, as all of them began cheering loudly from the stands. He should have focused when the presenter started tossing the compliments all over the mare, making it double enticing for other contestants of the auction.

Instead, his attention was racing far beyond that as fifteen minutes elapsed in absence of Y/N. This tiny voice in the back of Tommy’s head, maybe a hunch, was giving him the hints - something had happened, something had happened.

He would drive himself mad if he didn’t check what was going on.

“Oh, where’re ya going Tom?” asked John, who instantly turned his gaze around when Tommy got up.

“To the loo...” was all he said before departing. Quickly, he made his way towards the main exit, subconsciously picking up on the pace with every step, the invisible noose tightening around his neck.

As he left the tent, he traveled across the muddy patches of the green land, his eyes frantically scrutinizing the area. Nothing, in particular, caught his eye: a mixture of shabby and extravagant cars, scattered paper cups, horses’ dung-

But then, he heard something. Almost inaudible that was but the silent whimpers, like the quiet tussle, were emerging from somewhere. Tommy, now even more panicked, started looking around the place inspecting every single corner, every single stall... Reaching one of the last spots he could possibly check, he halted at the storeroom where the all items and accessories for horses were stored. And, as the door flung open, the sight in front of him struck him to the core: trapped in the extremely small area, Y/N was pinioned to the wall, both of her hands pinned above her head and she was squirming tremendously. The sleeve hems of her white shirt were almost completely torn and material dangling. The Guy, who very likely initiated the scuffle, was trying to impose himself on Y/N, one of his hands harshly seizing both arms to the wall, the second one marveling all over her attire. At the moment, he was struggling with the upper buttons of Y/N’s shirt, the auburn coat she had on before thrown somewhere into a distinct corner of the floor. The little cries Tommy had heard beforehand must have been muffled by the closed door because now they were excruciatingly loud, pleading to let go.

What the-

Without a second thought, Tommy launched himself on the Guy, and with all his strength he could gather, pulled him away from Y/N, rendering her free. He was in a state of utter stupor, the blunt rage blinding him and provoking anger to boil in his chest. He had no restraints now; fists all over, he was punching the Guy with a whole new vigor, the Guy strongly flabbergasted by the abrupt plot twist. The unsuppressed moans were erupting in the room, the man constrained to the ground attempting to fight back, but unsuccessfully.

Tommy was hitting him and, heedlessly, he didn’t want to stop. Not until the blood spluttered, not until the man understood what kind of doom he had brought onto himself by imposing on the woman. The woman that meant a great deal to him. He didn’t care for the screams, somewhere in the nebulous background, telling him to stop. He didn’t even notice when he was extricated from the Guy, still grappling against the grasp that was holding him back as he tried to pursue the fight.

“That’s okay, let go now,” the male voice said in a calming manner. It was Arthur if Tommy had to guess, but he was too occupied with his untamed fury to verify that. “Breathe in. Breathe out.”

Although unwillingly, he complied to the command. Mere moments later, after his nerves had soothed down back to what could be regarded as a normal state, Tommy’s view became more clear and, for the first time, he looked around - Arthur was indeed anchoring him in the place, his hands on Tommy’s shoulders, wearing a sympathetic furrow on his face. Tommy’s gaze passed on, discreetly searching the familiar face in the crowd of spectators who had come to witness the accident.

And there she was - weeping meters away from him, encircled by a bunch of women who were trying to affirm her emotionally with what had just happened. One of them, seemingly the oldest one, placed a hand on her bare shoulder to which Y/N flinched at first; however, when she turned and saw the woman smiling down at her, she appeared to be thankful for her non-verbal support.

Tommy decided to walk over to her. “Oi, Y/N, I’m so sorry for wh... Whoa!” He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence because a pair of arms flung around his neck, clasping him in an embrace. Instinctively, he reciprocated the gesture by wrapping his own arms around Y/N’s waist, burying his face in the crook of her neck. She started weeping again, weeping hard, but more in gratefulness than hysteria as she had done before. Her fingertips were clawing at his overcoat.

“I do-n’t kknow what... if you we-ren’t there,” she half-cried, half-mumbled, her weeps intensifying when the probable images bobbed up in her head. Her fingertips dug even deeper into the material. He cradled her from side to side, assuring her that everything was alright, that she could feel safe now. Truthfully, it shattered his heart when he saw her like that - broken, tears staining her beautiful face. He wished to could take her pain, expunge these nasty memories from her head with a snap of fingers; murder the man who dared to lay his dirty fingers Y/N. She felt so vulnerable now, unlike usual when she would make an impression of strong and independent. Like a little girl, she was helplessly sobbing into his torso, and all Tommy wanted for that moment was to take proper care of her.

The realization clicked within him suddenly - Y/N meant a great deal to him, his emotions building up for years now, and only fortified by the dreams he had been recently having.

They stood like that for minutes, hours maybe - Tommy really couldn’t tell. Meanwhile, the Guy was taken over by one of the coppers who was luckily attending the event as a form of scanty security; Arthur and John were talking to the second copper, presumably clarifying what had just happened at that very place (the scenery was pretty self-explanatory); and the bunch of women who previously accumulated around Y/N, moved over to give her and Tommy some privacy.

“How d-did you fin-d me?” asked Y/N suddenly, after her respiration returned back to normal, her voice less shaky. She removed her head from his chest but shifted only mere millimeters so that she could get a better view of his dial.

“You were away for a long time. I thought something happened...”

‘...and something did,’ was the part he thought of, but chose to leave to himself.

“Oh...” Her face flinched and she furrowed her eyebrows slightly. “Okay.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Uh... Not now, no.”

Tommy accepted that with a silent nod. Of course, he understood why. What had just happened must have been extremely overwhelming to her.

Undoubtedly.

Back in the days when he had been dispatched to the War field, he had encountered so many victims, so many dejected people who had participated in the bloody battle, espying far too many deaths of strangers, friends, or families. They would never want to talk about their experiences as he had offered, but they had always seemed to be secretly touched by the indication that they could freely talk to someone. It had subconsciously united them.

The heavy steps approached them from the back. “Y/N, you alrigh’?” asked John.

Hastily, as if the bucket of water was poured onto her, she untangled herself from the embrace. Tommy secretly missed the warmth of her body but didn’t vocalize the thought.

“Have been better,” Y/N replied, truthfully, wiping the residue of tears on her face with one swift hand movement. She gave him an awkward attempt to smile. “If that makes you feel any bettea, Arthur has taken care of the guy.”

“Thank you,” said Y/N, her voice still a little bit hoarse. “That actually means a great deal.”

“How has that started? If you don’t mind askin’.”

Clearly uncomfortable with the question, Y/N squinted and Tommy, with the power of his mind, slapped him across the face. “I- I’m sorry, John. I’m not ready for that. Not yet.”

He understood that; nodding, his hands plunged to the depths of his pockets and started rummaging. Tommy looked at Y/N again, not able to resist the itch. But she was completely lost in her rumination, it seemed, as her gaze was absentmindedly fixed on the calm sky above her.

Tommy knew what she was thinking of, the tranquility of the sky being the contradiction of her knotty mind. And the images floated again: Y/N trapped in the firm, ferocious grasp, the Guy breathing down her neck with his stinky intentions. Something was suddenly churning in the pit of Tommy’s stomach.

The clinking of the car keys echoed. “Want us to give you a ride?” asked John.

“Umm, that’s really sweet John but I’ve already decided to go with Mary.” She pointed at the elderly woman who had been clutching her arm previously. “She’s my mother’s old friend.” Then, yet again, she turned to Tommy who had been staring at her the whole time. She gave him a coy smile now, suddenly realizing that the embrace they had shared may have been a little bit out of line. “Thank you once more... Mr.Shelby. If it Hadn’t been for you-”

“I know,” he chimed in, reassuringly, concerned that she may start tearing up again. “Take your time and come back to work whenever you feel like it.”

“Thank you.”

And then, he did something he wasn’t aware he had the courage to do - grabbing her by both arms and pulling forward, he planted a kiss on her cheek. Luckily for Tommy, she reciprocated the gesture, bringing her hands softly on his torso and lining into the kiss. As they departed, Tommy could feel that his cheeks were on fire, bright red, something he hadn’t experienced many times in his life. Y/N had a similar reaction.

“Be careful, alright?” he asked, a hint of desperation in his voice.

“I will,” she said, smiling like mad.

She left afterward, leaving Tommy worried about whether she would keep up with the promise.

#Tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #Tommy shelby x you #thomas shelby x reader #Thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby fanfic #Tommy shelby series #Thomas shelby series #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fiction #drama

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justafairytailofinnocence · 3 years

Text

Peaky blinders headcanon:

When their drunk vs when your drunk 🍻

Thomas Shelby🚬:

- when he's drunk it would often lead to you trying to help him.

He would be very dreamy and quite dreary.

He has a higher tolerance of alcohol then you.

You would be trying to help him get to bed.

Expect Tommy to be speaking about his past regrets and revealing his deepest thoughts about you.

He would be very clingy to you. You have never seen this side of him until now.

You would bring him water and play maid until he Sobers up.

The next morning he would be in a grumpy mood since he has had hangovers. You would need to tend to his aid.

- you would be very happy and high as a kite always feeling like your flying through space.

Tommy would watch you dance around the garrison with his brothers.

You would be singing really loud and speaking of utter non-sense.

You would try to get Tommy do dance "come on Tom let's dance~"

before Tommy replies "no y/n your drunk"

You would be emotional "tommyyyyyy whyyyy dooo youuuu hateee meeee" *sobs*.

Tommy rolls his eyes "for the last time I don't hate you your drunk y/n".

You: *falls to the floor* "ohhhh I'm down here now".

Tommy: *facepalms* "why I put up with you I dont know"

You: "I love you" *kisses sloppily*

Tommy: "I know, now go have a shower you smell of whiskey although the good kind" *smiles*

Your hangovers would be spent with Tommy looking after you. Your the person who would be moaning alot and not wanting to get out of bed.

John Shelby💖:

- he would be the type of drunk that would sing out loud and start acting cheeky towards you.

You would have to tend to his aid often when he does something stupid.

Expect alot of singing and dancing.

Your going to either join in or stay out of it.

John: "aye y/n join in eh"

You: "no, no it's alright"

John: comeee on~

You: mm alright *grabs his hand*

John: *dances with you drunk*

You: mmf um prehaps I'm not the best dancer

John: oh don't worry love your fine *laughing*

Expect a lot of laughing even if it's not funny hell laugh anyways.

The next day he would be in bed at least he isn't grouchy but rather sick. You would tend to him all the time.

- you would be very louder then usual even being a mess.

You would laugh and dance with John drunk even trying to get everyone else to join in.

Your good at singing at least trying to keep in tune.

Your moody as well if someone touches you expect to shove them off.

Your the one to help out by trying to keep everyone having a fun time.

Your hangover is rather alright you didn't drink to much. John would stay by your side until he knows your fine.

Arthur Shelby🍻:

- he would be an aggressive angry drunk yet would be very happy at the same time.

Expect alot of beatings and crazy intentions it'll be your job to keep him grounded.

He would be the type to try and blow something up.

Your going to have to be by his side to calm him.

Arthur: by order of the peaky Blinders I fookin own this place *shouts above the garrison*

You: Arthur come on nows not the time *comes up grabbing his arm*

Arthur: this ere is me wife y/n fookin touch er, any of ya I'll shank me bloody knife into ya fookin throats.

You: no, not he really won't *smiles awrkwardly*

Arthur: love c'mere *tries to snog you*

You: *snogs* oi not now *laughs*

Arthur: that's right your me bloody wife *holds onto you*

You: I know *kisses cheek*

He would be very happy sometimes only when he's with John or Tommy.

He would be rowdy trying to start bat fights at times.

The next morning you would have to be the one to take care of him. Expect groaning, mumbling and swearing throughout the process.

- when your drunk it's messy your not yourself but rather dreamy.

You would cling to his side laughing a lot.

Being very out there entertaining the other men whom would get beaten later.

Your very superficial about who gets to be around you.

You would zone out a lot off with the fairies.

He would be fond of your humor as you ramble on about utter non-sense.

Your hangover is the same as your husband's expect a response of moaning and grumbling.

Finn Shelby💓:

- Finn is the type of drunk to get into mischief.

He would be very goofy trying to get you to dance unless you don't want to.

He would try to keep you close by beating anyone who bats an eye on you.

Your very clingy to him since he may or may not mistake other wemon as you.

Finn: hey y/n I fink I fancy ya *talking to a bar stool*

You: that's not me finn *crosses arms*

Finn: oh Fook your right *touches the stool*

You: come on let's get you home *carries him around your shoulder*

He would be very distant incase he may end up accidentally bumping into you.

He would even be confident enough to speak up against his brothers. You would need to make sure it doesn't break out into a fight.

His hangover would involve swearing and you making tea for him. Your the best wife for him always being there in his times of need.

- you would be giddy starting jokes and laughter.

Your the type of person to hang around other men and wemon joking while giggling about your husband.

You reveal a deep dark secret you've had. You might even spill one of Finn's to.

Tommy starts to call you out for being to intrusive in the meetings.

You would often try to take off your dress.

You: whew I don't need this thing *lifts dress up*

Finn: woah y/n no, not here *stops you from flaunting*

You: ohhh Im hot

Finn: I know but just stay put for me

You: alright fine *kisses cheek*

The hangover would be very irky you would be sick. Finn would stay with you trying to make sure your perfectly fine.

Alfie Solomons✨:

- Alfie is the scary drunk you wouldn't even want to be near let alone put a gun with him.

Expect the man to shout alot and wave guns in the air as Ollie is sitting in the corner frightened for his life.

He would be very giddy with the way he talk often speaking of you.

He is the type of person to be aggressive it's hard to tell you'll need to be careful.

You would be very happy he's at least having fun compared to how he usually is.

Alfie: alright y/n grab me another bottle love

You: no you've had enough

Alfie: c'mon y/n let's celebrate you and me *kisses forehead*

You: oh alright *smiles blushing*

The hangovers would involve the Buisness being closed as you don't want him to over do himself.

- your the drunk to be flirty and clingy.

You would be by his trying to touch him in any way possible.

He would allow it as you cuddle in his lap trying to be loving.

He would keep you to himself not sharing you with anyone else.

The hangover he would keep quiet about just to please you.

#peaky Blinders imagine #peaky Blinders headcanons #peaky Blinders x reader #Thomas Shelby x reader #john shelby x reader #arthur shelby x reader #finn shelby x reader #alfie Solomons x reader #peaky Blinders whiskey #peaky Blinders preferences #peaky Blinders headcanon requests open #peaky Blinders requests open

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closhelby · 3 years

Text

On and off - Thomas Shelby smut

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Warnings: swearing & smut

Word count: 2.1K

AN: please give any feedback on smut and what you want to see next? Tried a different writing style...

he seemed to be the ex that you couldn’t get over. You couldn’t escape him as hard as you tried, so why were you surprised when he showed up on your doorstep, soaked from the lashing rain that was falling outside at two am.

“You said we were over,” you muttered as you rubbed your sleepy eyes. You were actually awake, feeling sorry for yourself because of how different you wanted your life to be. Somehow you still wanted your relationship to work, despite how much he continued to push you away. You were too good for him, too proper for him, and most of all, you were too nice for him.

These were just assumptions. No one had rarely seen you get wound up, never seen you break or pushed you to that point, because no one needed to. But it was certainly brewing.

“I just wanted to see you,” he slurred.

You sighed, “Ex’s shouldn’t want to see each other though Tommy.”

He pushed the door open slightly, suggesting he came in, and you let him. Gave in to him again. I mean, how couldn’t you?

“Y/n, I don’t want you to be upset.”

“Tommy, if you’ve came here to say the same thing I’ve already heard, then politely fuck off,” you were starting to get annoyed at the assumption you were too nice, because you weren’t. You just gave off that impression. You gave everyone their first chance, as you believed they should, but depending on that, you would give your side. You were caring, but wouldn’t dare to be crossed.

“I’ll always love you, bu-“

“But, I’m too nice. I couldn’t deal mentally with what you do. How you make your money. Well Tommy, you’ve got me very wrong. But that’s your choice, now please” You spoke quickly, “get out of my fucking house.”

You could see the defeat in his face. He meant well, but he was pushing it and you were coming close to breaking point at being nice anymore. He left quickly after that, muttered a bye then disappeared in the horrific night.

The next morning you were awoken with loud bangs coming from your front door. Sighing as you walked towards it, “Tommy, how many times have i to te- oh hi Ada.”

Ada pushed her and baby Karl straight past you, “get ready. It’s happening today, and I’ve got a point to make.”

“Bloody hell Ada. Some context.”

“Billy Kimber.”

“Funeral attire by the looks of it then.” You snorted, and Ada laughed, “yes, the point we are making.” following her into the bedroom.

“Understood,” you agreed, then making an effort to dress solely in black, just exactly how you would if it was their funeral. You and Ada had in fact been friends for a while, you were in Johns year at school and had gotten close to him therefor you were always at the Shelby household. No one expected that yourself and Mr Thomas Shelby would ever become anything, but circumstances change before the war. He promised the world to you in his letters. Always telling you that you both would be married and have children on his return, but deep down you knew that the war changed that outcome and his outlook on life in general.

You had barely gotten time to think before Ada had you storming up the road, in the distance up the empty street you could see a group of men. You and Ada split off as you reached them, both pushing through the men who you assumed were Billy Kimber’s.

“Ada,” Freddie seethed.

“Y/n, what the fuck are you woman doing,” Tommy shouted.

Ada continued to scream, rambling on about people having family’s at home. How they are all worried, and would be attending their funeral. But of course, Billy likes to mock, and made a fly away comment. You were stood at an angle to Billy’s men, so the gun that was in your hand was out of their sight, slightly tucked under your skirt.

Danny Wizz-bang had already lunged towards Billy on the back of his comment. Billy’s men shooting him dead, dropping to the ground instantly. Guns were now raised on both ends, Ada shouting for them to lower them, while Billy moved forward shooting into Tommy’s direction, managing to shoot him in the left shoulder.

Your eyes shot red, without the slightest hesitation, lifted the gun from your stockings, turning and shooting him straight in the head. You got there before anyone else did. The silence was loud as Tommy’s men couldn’t quite get their head around you, the nicest woman they had met, you had just shot someone dead without hesitation.

Billy’s men instantly raised their weapons in your direction, but didn’t shoot, “Tommy and Billy fought fairly. He didn’t win, end of story. Now fuck off” you ordered, turning and marching through the peaky lot before disappearing into the Shelby household.

Not even a few minutes later, the group followed and pulled in a wounded tommy. You didn’t even bat an eyelid, used to this shit, it was his shoulder. He would survive. But it still wasn’t nice seeing him in pain.

You sat in silence, while Jeremiah Jesus worked on trying to get the bullet out of Tommy’s pierced skin, downing whiskey after whiskey. No one seemed to talk to you, instead looked at you with worry. Their outlook on you had changed within the space of 20 minutes.

Tommy was now up, the bullet was now out of his skin and we were then all pushed into the room where Danny Wizz-bang’s body lay before us. You had rarely seen a dead body, infact everyone seemed to shield you from the violence but not today. You stood to the right of Tommy, it didn’t bother you in the slightest. He kept giving you an eye, full of concern, unsure how you were going to act.

You zoned out when Tommy spoke, you had never really spoke to Danny before. So this wasn’t much of a deal to you personally, you were awakened from your thoughts when Tommy was shoving a bottle infront if you, “Danny Wizz-bang,” you spoke, raising the bottle then downing a bit before passing it on to John for him to do the same. It went round the group that surrounded the table, before it got back to Tommy.

The place was lively, full of people drinking, and talking of heading to the Garrison. You couldn’t be arsed, sick of the sight of Tommy looking over at you constantly.

“Why do you keep looking at me?,” you spat. Having enough of him.

“You just killed an enemy of mine without even blinking an eyelid.”

“You all seem to think I’m so nice, eh. Not the right woman for Tommy, eh. Well I’m done being fucking nice.” The pause was loud, as you walked to the door, “and may I add, that did not bother me in the slightest. You all have just shielded me so much you didn’t know how much I could handle.” Slamming the door behind you, turning up to go back to your house.

“You’ve got to give her a chance Tommy. She’s tougher than you think.” Ada advised her older brother. Tommy nodding in response, knowing he was starting to realise what he really had.

You were in your house not only five minutes before he burst the door open, finding you sipping a whiskey on your couch, “I’m not going to keep doing this tommy. This is the second time in two months.”

He had done this before, and like you, couldn’t stay away. He couldn’t bare to walk past you in the street, perhaps you being with another man. It would tip him over the edge that he was already so very close to.

“We’re not going to keep doing it. I’ll give credit where it’s due.” He started to come closer to you, taking your hands in his, pulling you up to him, “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

He took your hand placing it at the back of his neck, twisting his hair in between your fingers. You pulled him into you, pressing a kiss onto his lips. He pulled you in closer, hands holding your waist.

“I love you Tommy. When will you fucking realise that.” You whispered to him, your forehead touching his. He smiled, “I love you.”

He pulled your face into his, his fingers intertwined in your h/c hair. Their tongues intertwined with each other’s, as the kiss deepened. You started to unbuckle his trousers, dropping them revealing his already hard length. You pulled back from the kiss and dropped to your knees, not breaking eye contact as you took his erected length into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip. He let out a soft moan, carfullly moving your hair out of your face. You started to suck on it, bobbing your head up and down, satisfying him, as he threw his head back in pleasure.

He couldn’t wait any longer, he just longed to fuck you hard. He pulled you off your knees, taking your hand into his as he pulled you into the bedroom, pushing you back on the bed as he lifted up your dress over your head. He traced his fingers over your thigh, placing soft kisses as he went reaching your pussy he pulled down your black lace thongs off, you flicked them off your legs. He placed two fingers in between your slit, running up and down slowly, “wet eh?” Pushing his finger into you, slowly going in and out,

“Tommy.” You breathed. He smiled before pushing a second finger and going a more steady pace, pulling them out and sticking his thick shaft into you, thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace. You started to arch your back, gripping at his hands, and he started to increase his pace, beginning to thrust at a rapid pace.

You pulled back, and pushed him back onto the bed, sitting on top of his erect penis, slowly bouncing on the tip, every few bounces pushing it all the way in. He threw his head back, mouth just ever so slightly open, “y/n” he stuttered.

You instantly started to ride him, his body almost non existent, starting to twitch at how close he was becoming. “Make me cum,” he edged you on, “please.”

You give him a smirk, before increasing the pace, he gripped your thighs, rocking you as you took the lead. Bouncing on his cock, was making you very close, bouncing as you both came to the high, falling into his bare chest, both of you breathing heavily attempting to recover from the love that you both had made.

Following the weeks of the murder of Billy Kimber, you noticed a drastic change in how people treated you. People would always still mutter a hello, however would step out of your way, and you were close to being feared just about as much as Tommy himself.

You were walking Into the shop, placing your coat down as you went to make a cup of tea before starting the day. You noticed Polly staring at you, “what are you looking at pol?” You laughed slightly, turning to face her, cup of tea in hand.

“Come here,” she motioned towards you, cupping your left boob into her hand. You furrowed your brows, wondering what the fuck she was doing, “your pregnant. It’s a boy.”

You were in total disbelief, you stumbled back into a chair closest to you, “fuck sake.”

“Tommy’s?” She asked, and you gave her a look of disgust, “yes obviously it’s Tommy’s.”

“For fuck sake”, you moaned, just as Tommy himself walked into the shop. Placing a kiss on your cheek as he walked past into his office, you rolled your eyes at pol who raised her eyes brows in response. Sighing following him into the office, “morning.”

You sighed, “got something to tell ya.” He placed the bit of paper that was in his hands down, turning his full attention onto you. “eh, I’m pregnant”

His eyes went wide, “are ye really?” He smiled, quickly getting up and making his way over to you, taking your hands into his.

“Boy.” You could barely string a sentence together, you knew he would be happy but with how rocky everything was recently you were slightly unsure.

“Boy eh? Someone coming for my crown.” He repeated, “this is great news, now go home. No woman of mine will be working here while carrying my child”, he ordered.

He placed a kiss onto your lips, soft, sweet, “I love you so much, you have no idea,” he muttered to you.

“I love you too, and baby boy,”

“And baby boy,” he repeated, a wide smile spread across his face.

#tommy shelby #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby fluff #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby smut

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peakascum · 4 years

Text

Bury Me

This is kind of shit. Sounded better in my head. Also sorry for Linda, just needed for you to visualize one scene. Anyway, inspired by this song? Maybe at the beginning? Idk heard it as I wrote it. Still hope u likeee.

Part 2 | Part 3

The family wore tense shoulders and face splitting frowns as if they were a trend. Stone cold eyes, as well as doubtful ones, always seemed to follow like accessories to their distinguishable rigidness. But as of right now their lungs gasped for air and their cold, doubtful eyes settled upon the two oldest brothers.

“Thomas,” whispered Polly in disbelief.

“It’s our best shot. Otherwise we will be asking for war.” Tommy replied looking directly into Arthur’s eyes. The latter stared intently at his brother almost at a loss for words.

“Tommy,” he started, “I’d do anything for the business and the family, but this… this is out of the question.” He swallowed the thick lump in his throat, yet unable to fully recover from the echo of his brother’s words.

“She’s the only one who can help us-“

“She’ll die, Tommy.”

“She won’t. She’ll be protected by the Peaky Bli-“

“She won’t! Don’t matter how many men you send, it only takes a bullet Tommy!” Arthur roared from his seat.

Ada stared at both her brothers in disbelief- a shadow of disappointment at witnessing the depths in which her family would go for a penny more. But it wasn't about the money and they all knew. It was life or death- a war in the making that would potentially end not just the Shelby empire, but the Shelby name.

Arthur stood up shakily, running a hand through his face and combing his hair back in a frantic manner and left. All except Polly followed him out as if on a silent strike, leaving her glaring at her raven haired nephew.

“You're using his loyalty against him. You know he follows orders, you know he’s obedient-“

“Poll-“

“Don’t! This is inexcusable, even for you. They both love and look up to you. They have dedicated and risked so much for this family and I will not stand by and watch him lose her- I won’t lose her!” Polly said in a thick voice that surprised Tommy, but not herself. She loved you like a daughter.

He looked down at his desk with a clenched jaw and tight fists, “The meeting is already set up. They will be expecting to see her. Decision is hers to make and that’s final.”

Polly stood up and scoffed in disgust. “Shame on you Thomas Shelby, shame on you.” With that she left a sulking Tommy by himself. Now by his lonesome he allowed his face to fall in an uncharacteristic pout.

Arthur opened the front door with careful hands, mind still rattled by Tommy’s proposition.

“Oh, Arthur, you're home!” You squealed, whipping around from the stove to face him. Your hair was in disarray, apron and face stained with what he could only presume was tomato sauce.

“Ain’t this a sight.” He chuckled.

“I’m cooking something for once. Can’t keep scrapping bread and whisky every night and I thought a home cooked meal would be nice, yeah? I know it’s a mess but it’s all fix-“ He cut off your rambling with a passionate kiss that made your eyes flutter shut and your body melt like butter. His hands cupped your tomato-stained face as your lips smacked against each other. Tongues dancing in a delightful waltz that made him light on his toes.

You gasped as he pulled you both apart, a smirk decorating your face in disbelief at his sudden burst of love, “What was that for?”

“For being here.” He sighed in blissed out tenderness.

“Silly man, you knew I’d be early tonight.”

“What, can’t a man love on his woman?” He scolded playfully, earning a whole hearted laughed from you.

You turned around and continued stirring the sauce, still dizzy from the kiss. You both fell into easy routine of asking and answering about each other’s days, but Arthur’s mind was elsewhere, to which you attributed to troubles in the business. As you attempted to save the clumping sauce, your son came in a euphoric state at the sight of his father. George was Arthur’s carbon copy, at least physically. His personality was all yours.

You and Arthur had been married since before the war but had George a few months after he returned. Although very different from them, the Shelby’s loved and admired you as if you were one of their own. You were one of the only women who was allowed to practice law, and given that you grew in the slums of Small Heath you became an expert negotiator and advisor for many companies, small businesses, and of course, the Shelby Company Lmtd.

But words weren't enough to express how much you were loved by the family. They had not known kindness like yours. You had let your admiration for them be known, something that never ceased to amaze them.

Once dinner was over and your child put to bed, you made your way over to Arthur, who sat by the fire in his own quiet bubble.

“What’s on your mind, bird?” You asked, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Tommy just… said the stupidest thing today,” He began.

“Oh?”

“He- uh- there’s this other gang from Manchester that keeps taunting us. Spreading rumors, killing our men, caused a frenzy back in London,” he paused to take a breath, “anyway, apparently they know more about us than we thought and they're demanding a truce, a division of assets or some shit.”

“Nothing that hasn't happened before,” you shrugged in response.

“True,” he hummed, “but these men are smarter than we thought, smarter than us. They want to make a deal with ‘ a more educated individual’” he said miming quotation marks with his hands.

“As far as education goes it doesn't really matter, does it? Tommy has done many-“

“They want you, love,” he cut you off in a beat, “They want you as the negotiator.” He looked at you with a pained expression.

“I- how do they know who I am? I don’t- I’m practically invisible-“

“They know everything ‘bout us. Wives, jobs, schooling, our fuckin’ childhood! They-“ he cut himself off quickly knowing how agitated he could get. Now was not the time for that. “They are ruthless Y/N. If you go they will kill you.”

“You don’t know that. I could help. I know my way around these men, I could steer them in another direction.” You frowned at him.

“I didn’t tell you so you’d consider.”

“Well I am. I imagine there could be a large sum of money and- and if Tommy needs the help I’m there.”

“Y/N-“

“I said I’m in Arthur!” You raised your voice slightly, eyes widening with finality and a daring tone that angered Arthur further.

“What if you die then, eh? What then? Leave me without a wife, leave a kid without his mother?”

“Keep your voice down Arthur! That won’t happen. Trust me with this, I can outsmart them better than anyone ever could.”

That night your house trembled with never ending arguments fueled by stubbornness and, well, love. Your determination did little to quiet his suffering heart as a dreadful picture of loss was painted before him. Because tomato stains may as well be a splatter of blood, as well as loving giggles could turn into teary pleadings from an open wound.

#arthur x reader #Arthur Shelby x reader #Arthur Shelby imagine #Arthur shelby #Arthur Shelby fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders tommy #thomas Shelby imagine #thomas shelby #John shelby #john shelby imagine #polly gray #Ada Shelby

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tommyspeakycap · 4 years

Text

Everything is Changing (5)

pairing: tommy shelby x reader

word count: about 3.5k

based loosely off of taylor swift’s “mary’s song (oh my my my)”. (takes place during the events of season 1) flashbacks to childhood- which they’ll be lots of throughout the series- are italicized.

summary: i suck at summaries lol. you and tommy have been the best of friends since you were big enough get from your doorstep to his and have been bridging the gap between best friends and a little more for years now. with the new arrivals in small heath, everything is falling apart and everything is changing.

part summary: Tommy finds a way to get back at Campbell in a way that won’t get him killed but get himself mildly injured in the process. He turns to Grace to patch him up instead of his best friend.

a/n: i havent written in ages lol!! also there's kind of less dialogue and interaction between reader and Tommy in this chapter as it kind of centres around Tommy and his feeling/thoughts. hope you guys still enjoy!!

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4

Grace attempts to use her large hat as a facial cover as she makes her way into the grand art gallery where she knew Inspector Campbell would be awaiting her to report back. He stands, blankly admiring something rather ugly to most and completely confusing to her really, but appreciated by the bourgeoise nonetheless. "I think the job is going to be more difficult than we originally thought." She states flippantly, making it look as though it's just casual conversation between to friends in an art gallery. "They're pretty solid. There's barely a crack to drive the wedge into." Campbell sighs heavily.

That's what he had been afraid of.

"That being said," She hums, "I think she loves him, and love may be the perfect wedge. If I pursue him and she continues to pursue her own love life then the pair will drift apart." A small part inside of her aches as she says it because she sees Tommy as the war-torn man that he is, and in driving you away from him she knows that she truly does run the risk of ruining completely any chance for him to hold onto the image of the man that he once was. She's heard the whispers on the street of what Thomas Shelby used to be like. She's heard stories in passing from older woman taking in hushed tones about the Shelby boy who had distinct goodness in his heart that seemed to have been blackened by the war that had stolen so much from so many.

Flashes of that boy are seen when Tommy Shelby allows his lips to pull into that smile and release that laugh. It happens rarely and Grace has only ever observed it when he was in your presence, but in those moments she often finds herself doubting that her job is doing what is truly right. Hurting that man, taking from him the only thing that seemed to really hold meaning to him, seemed so far from right. But then she was often reminded by men sitting at that bar maybe a little too drunk that Tommy was bad. They were grown men, scarred by the same war but still petrified of what the likes of Tommy could do to them if they didn't comply with the agenda that he was pushing.

Amongst words used to describe Tommy in the drunken rambles of emotional men were those such as 'that man is pure evi' though some even went as far as to call him 'the devil in a trench coat and peaky cap.' Though Grace of course didn't know much in regards to the validity of this statement, she had heard some of the very unsettling things for which he was responsible. However, no matter how bad everyone made him out to be or how afraid everyone was of Tommy Shelby, it was clear that you were almost always at ease and protected with him and the way that he always stood that little bit in front of you just in case because God knows that man is as paranoid as they come and his biggest fear is a life without you in it.

She learned very quickly that the whole of Small Heath knows your life is one people do not mess with. Tommy's most violent lashings were to those who may bring you harm. She could see why he loved you. You were gentle and loving and you looked past his sins to see the man beneath you had grown up with. You, unlike just about everyone else, seen the man that he could have been and the man that he was so deep down instead of the man he actually was. She just couldn't understand why you were so dedicated to him. You were much smaller and far less strong but she had been you stand up to men twice your size in his defence. She had seen you look after him and she could see how much you cared for him. It leaked out of you.

You gave him so much more than he could ever deserve and he still couldn't see how much you loved him.

She just couldn't understand it.

----

"Ada. Pol." Tommy says, acknowledging his aunt and sister as he enters the kitchen. His aunt barely flicks her eyes up to look at him standing there, taking off his cap while looking around trying not to be too obvious. Trying being the key word. Polly rolls her eyes.

"She's not here, Thomas." Tommy looks a mix of surprised that she knew exactly why he was there and disappointed that you weren't where he'd hoped you'd be. Ada sniggered slightly at this uncommon facial expression on her brother. "Ah," he hums, a somewhat uncomfortable silence filling the air as the two women could see Tommy having to restrain himself from asking where you were for fear of his desperation to speak to you leaking through in his words. This was the longest duration of time - since France - that you had gone without seeing each other. He had been spending a lot of his time thinking about how he could get back at Campbell for ever laying his hands on you.

"Right," Tommy says, clearing his throat and fixing his cap back on his head, "Suppose I uh," He stops to clear his throat again in a way that seems to have become common for him, "Better get back to work." Ada and Polly share a look as Tommy opens the front door, and the older woman sighs.

"The cafe round the corner from the Garrison." Tommy turns back around, leaning back around what had been the nearly closed door to look at his aunt with an eyebrow quirked questioningly. "You'll find (y/n) there." Relief flies through Tommy's eyes and he offers her a curt nod, but says nothing as he leaves.

"That fucking man," Polly sighs heavily, rubbing her forehead with her hand in frustration. Ada shakes her head with a sigh of her own. "And (y/n)." She says, "God knows she loves him too. They're the only ones who don't fucking see it." Polly only shakes her head, tearing her eyes away from the photograph on the window ledge depicting a pretty girl grinning at the camera with a smitten young man looking at her. That pretty girl was you, and the man was Tommy in a suit far too big for him. Young adults playing dress up in a world far too big and bad for such pure souls. Your smile is so big and so bright and you lean ever so slightly into the Shelby boy on your left who has has his arm around your waist. He had looked over at you at the last minute, just before the old camera clicked when you had laughed. It's a grainy old black and white photograph, but a even the hard of sight could see that Tommy Shelby's eyes shone in admiration for you. At that point life was by no means easy for either of you, but there had been no traumatising world war and Tommy didn't have to run a violent gang of men or a similarly violent business. Sure, there was a huge amount expected of him and he was definitely darker than most of the men his age but Tommy and he was present and not riddled with post traumatic stress.

"Makes you wonder doesn't it?" Ada asks, "If without that war, where they'd be?" Polly sips her now nearly cold tea in thought at her nieces words. "Probably together." She replies. "They've loved each other since they were just kids. Your mother used to talk about it all the time."

Dwelling on the fact would only cause more pain for Polly, who would be forced to think of her late sister in law who would've given anything for Tommy to have a life that would allow him to just love you the way he always wanted to. That was what everyone knew you both wanted. Ada remembers quite little about her mother, but she did know that Tommy was so special to her and that she would be devastated if she were alive to see how his life had ended up.

One thing that would never change, though, was that no matter what Tommy Shelby was doing - he was almost always chasing after you at the same time. You were often at the centre of whatever it was he was doing

That's why he had gone to try and find you that afternoon. He had to make sure you were with someone so you wouldn't go looking for him. He had given you a promise he wouldn't go after Campbell directly, but God knows Tommy had to find a way to get his revenge. There was no way that he was going to let someone, no matter who they were or how important they were, get away with hurting someone he loved. Especially not you.

He couldn't hurt Campbell directly, but if Tommy had learned one thing in his time - mostly from his grandfather - it was that there is always more than one way to issue a warning.

That's what Thomas was going to do.

Tommy presses his forearm down harshly, leaning over to the side to spit blood from his mouth. He turns back to the tall burly man who was definitely a fair bit bigger than he was. That clearly hadn't mattered much in the grand scheme of things because currently Tommy was the one who had the taller man pinned down on the wet scrapyard ground with the blade sown into the blinders hat pressed against the neck of the man Tommy had discovered was one of Campbell's. It would be so, so easy to make one flick of his wrist and the man beneath him would bleed out so fast. Not only was it easy, but it was also ever so tempting for the head of the Shelby family.

"You go back to your fucking inspector," Tommy seethes, moving the blade from the mans neck to next to his eye, "And fucking tell that if he ever lays a hand on (y/n) again-" He pauses to press the blade down and slide it along above his assailants eye. This promotes an agonised scream of writhing agony that makes it a little more difficult for Tommy to keep him pinned down. The gangster uses this opportunity to chuck his cap to the side and stand to rip the man off the floor and slam his back into the wall behind him. He leans in closer to his ear to enunciate his words to be heard clearly through the pain.

"You tell him Thomas Shelby will take more than his fucking eyes."

When inflicted with such pain, the biggest and harshest men often do crack and scuttle off like little boys to do as was told. That is exactly what this one did too.

Tommy 's chest jumps as he tries to catch his breath behind what was probably a few broken ribs that ache when he crouches to lift his cap up off the floor. His runs his hand over his face before spitting more blood out onto the ground as he makes his way out of the scrapyard knowing that the rain would wash away the blood pool he had left in his wake. His body does ache with every step that he takes, but really that isn't anything he isn't used to. He tunes more into the feeling of satisfaction he gets from hurting someone who present with Campbell in the market -keeping watch when you had gotten hurt.

Every time he looked at you and saw that big black eye and when he stood by the door as Polly cleaned the blood off the back of your neck from where Campbell had bashed your head against the wall, his heart would pump unadulterated rage through his entire body. You had nothing to do with missing guns, taking bets, collecting money, chasing bookies off of courses or any other of the violent, dangerous business that Tommy and his family get involved with. You were just a woman who grown from a little girl with a soft spot for Thomas Shelby. You didn't deserve to get hurt because of him.

That was why, when he seen Grace in the street and she stopped to ask him if he wanted to go back to the Garrison so she could clean him up, he said yes instead of going to you. From his very first bloody nose and black eye you had been the one making sure he was alright. After every fight and every bruise he came to you. Partly because he knew you would worry yourself sick if you didn't know he was safe and partly because you always made him feel markedly better - even if your medical expertise wasn't so fantastic.

He hated worrying you and he hated drawing you into his dirty business. He didn't want you to know that he was out there tearing people apart because people hurting you causes him so much anger and fear and grief that he physically couldn't contain himself whenever it happened. Somewhere deep down, he knew that he was truly just so in love with you that he didn't even know what to do with himself and he didn't want you to ever think poorly of him - not knowing that you honestly never could.

The man is always so busy thinking about what he can do to make sure you stay safe and that no one can get to you or hurt you that he often forgets that he can hurt you. He's pretty much dedicated his life to protecting you because he has absolutely no idea how to handle life without you in it. He loves you so much that his brain won't even let him accept it. He's mashed it down and mashed it down for so long. But he doesn't seem to realise that in mashing it down and letting the darkness the war brought to him take over the sweet, loving and bright man you had known four years ago - he is breaking your heart. Each day that he keeps you at arms length to try to keep you from a life he knows you don't deserve, he pushes you closer and to a man that isn't him.

Maybe that's why he's pursuing Grace. He honestly doesn't know why he does what he does.

He just knows that, as he sits in waiting for Grace to get the medical stuff form the back office in the pub that he wishes it could be you.

Thats when the door bangs open.

"Tommy!" You yelped, door clanging shut behind you as you rushed towards him. It was safe to say that he had no idea you would walk into the Garrison alone this late. "What the fuck happened to you?!" He stands up as you reach him and he goes to lift his hand to swat yours away in show of his distaste to your fussing, but his shoulder protests with a shot of pain that makes him wince when he moves to raise it. You can read him like a book and you could have caught that wince from a mile away.

"God Tommy, sit back down!" You're probably the only person who can give him an order that he'll actually follow. He doesn't really know what to say to you and can honestly barely bring himself to look you in the eye as you inspect the gash above his eyebrow that you knew must have been from a very forceful punch. You had gotten good at knowing what kind of injuries are caused by what after how many times you patched those boys up in that Watery Lane kitchen. "I think that'll need stitches," You mumble, the obvious concentration in your voice that sends a pain through Tommy's heart for what he knows is about to happen.

"(y/n)-" He tries, but you shut him up quick enough. "Why did you come to me? Were you just planning on sitting here bleeding 'till Harry opened in the morning? You know I don't mind-"

"I found some stuff in back-oh."

You whip your head around at the sound of another voice. You feel hurt and anger wafting through your body in a way you hadn't really felt before. You have to muster all of the strength that you have within you to not let the pain show on your face when the person you turn around to see standing there with gauze and alcohol.

"Ah," you mumble, turning back away from her and picking up your bag that you had dropped on the floor in your hurry to make sure that Thomas was alright. "I'll leave you guys to it."

Tommy stands up again in a hurry, his good arm clutching his painful shoulder as you turn on your heel far too quickly for him to catch up. You didn't slow down when he called out your name weakly and before he even had the chance to get half way to the door you were long gone. There's a silence between Grace and Tommy that hangs heavy in the air.

"You love her?" The new barmaid asks softly as she cleans out that cut on his eyebrow. The sting from that alcohol coated cloth burns, but there's no pain that anyone could inflict on him that would be worse than the pain he feels inside after watching your face fall like that. He knew you felt betrayed. You thought he could and would go to you for everything, to let you know he was okay when he got hurt. It was what he always done.

He knew how much you hate when things change, and with the amount of loss you've suffered in your life, people leaving you was one of your biggest fears. He knew you must've been heart broken right now. There's no physical pain that he doesn't feel like he deserves for being the cause of your hurt.

"Not in the way you think." He responds, watching her face to gauge her reaction. "Okay." She says, but Tommy knows she doesn't seem to believe him. "We grew up together," he states, clearing his throat, "Only real friend I ever had." The thought of that makes Grace grin softly at the hardened man trying to stop the adoration shining in his eyes just at the thought of you. "I see," she replies, "Why did you come here to me instead of going to her then?" That draws a slight sigh from the man in front of her.

"I fought next to her brother in France and his dying wish was that I protect his little sister. He gave his life for it. She got hurt because of me last week, Grace. I won't let it happen a second time." Grace doesn't know what to say to that. It almost hurts her heart a bit knowing that her mission was to further push him from you. Her mission was to get what she could from Thomas Shelby and her only way to do that was to separate him from you as much as was possible.

She knew this would break an already shattered man.

"It's good she's got Henry then?" Grace suggests, briefly flicking her eyes up to see what Tommy's reaction would be. His eyes are closed in discomfort from the alcohol she had just poured into the open wound on his shoulder, so she doesn't see the agony in his heart at those words. His eyes are one his only emotional giveaways if you look close enough. Those beautiful cerulean blues truly were a window into his heart if you knew how to interoperate him.

Tommy doesn't respond with words, he simply makes a sound through closed lips that sounds kind of like "Mhm." But less sure. Thinking about recounting this conversation to Inspector Campbell definitely raised a dash of guilt for the blonde woman. She truly did like Thomas. He was certainly not hard on the eyes, and she knew that somewhere under the million layers of armour and general discontent with the world was a man who truly deserved a lot more than the cards that he had been dealt.

That didn't change her job though, she knew what she had to do.

"Maybe this would make that feel a bit better?" Tommy only get a moment to open his eyes to see what she was going to do before her lips land on his. He doesn't know how to name the feeling he gets from it, but he knows that he will do anything he can to get the thought of you out of his brain.

So Tommy Shelby leans into the kiss and moves any feelings he might have about anything at all into the back of his mind.

And Thomas Shelby decides he is so over having feelings.

#tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic #tommy shelby fic #everything is changing

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whatsmyline-pb · 3 years

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Respite

My first entry for Peaky Bingo Summer 2021 courtesy of @boundinshallows

Ao3

Prompt: Uitwaaien (Dutch): to go out in windy weather, particularly into nature or a park, in order to refresh and clear one’s mind.

Tags: Slightly mature content; angst; not much more other than Tommy being Tommy and Alfie being Alfie.

RESPITE

Fucking Alfie Solomons is an altogether infuriating exercise in balancing conflicting realities. Tommy learned this early on, when after just one hurried, frantic kiss, Alfie had called him the next morning and demanded to know when and where Tommy was taking him to dinner, as if some random, late-night dalliance equated to commitment or anything of the sort.

Tommy had said just as much, during that call. Rolled his eyes on the other end of the line and tried his best to render any such delusions as just that.

“Find yourself someone else to play house with, Alfie. I’m busy,” he advised. But Alfie had promptly ignored this counsel and responded instead with a date and a time and a place and then hung up on him.

Tommy had no intention of following through on this request (or demand, more like). But on the said date and time and place he found himself exactly there, sporting his most fitted suit and gnawing anxiously on his lip.

Somehow, without his consent or his even knowing it, this had led to something more. To what Alfie, delighted at his own prowess, now deems a relationship, and what Tommy, happy to remain obstinate, still calls just fucking.

Whatever it really is, it’s assuredly something Tommy has never wanted. He’s Tommy Shelby, after all, and he’s always been just fine alone, better off, in fact, and he’s quite convinced that relationships are just an excuse the weak-minded use to unload their discontent onto anything and anyone but themselves. He wants no part in it.

He tells Alfie this, constantly.

“This is nothing,” he says, as they discard one and other's clothes in hurried haste.

“Don’t mistake lust for something more,” he warns, taking Alfie into his hand.

“For fucks sake,” He seethes, when Alfie calls him love.

Alfie just grins in response. Grins as if life is some cosmic joke that he alone is in on and then proceeds to render Tommy helpless and writhing with pleasure.

When Tommy stills in the aftermath of release, Alfie talks. Talks about nothing and everything but more than anything unleashes floods of praise onto Tommy that make him cringe and rage and want to fade into nothingness.

Tommy tells himself the only reason he puts up with Alfie and these inane ramblings is the skill of that mouth when put to better use. He tells himself this is all just a matter of convenience; why waste effort on finding new fucks when he’s got a good one here and now, at his beck and call?

When Tommy curls into himself late at night and Alfie wraps tightly around him and whispers soothingly in his ear, Tommy lets him; it’s better than the alternative, he figures, and he always makes sure he’s long gone before both the sun and Alfie rise.

In the day, he ignores the pangs when Alfie isn’t there and the flutters when he is, and finds it easy to do so; he’s got more important things to focus on.

But when, one night, Alfie tells him he loves him, Tommy’s had enough. He rips himself wordlessly from Alfie’s embrace, throws on his clothes, and storms out into the night.

Were Tommy something else entirely, it’d be a length of rope, woven tight and pulled taught, strands curling infinitely inward. It’s only ever been a matter of time before he snap altogether. The night breeze is brisk, though, and offers some relief, loosening him slowly, and the snap doesn't come.

Sometime later, a familiar warmth presses into his back and strong arms wrap around him, locking against his chest. “You’re fucking impossible ,” Alfie says, his breath hot and wet against Tommy's ear.

Tommy reaches up to grip the arms around him, and nods in agreement, the tear running down his cheek simply a product of the wind, stinging his eyes. Same with the next.

“Come back in, Tommy,” Alfie urges. But Tommy’s feet are anchored to the pavement and he wouldn’t move them if he could; inside is a cage of stifling stillness and he needs air, light and moving and fresh, to untangle his insides.

Finally, he says, “I’ve told you, Alfie. I don’t want this. You never fucking listen.”

Alfie grazes his teeth over his neck. “Part of my charm, innit?”

No, Tommy wants to protest, no it’s fucking not. But the words are caught in his throat so he just tightens his hold on Alfie’s arms and squeezes his eyes shut to keep out the wind and stop the tears. They only come more steadily, streaming salty tracks down his face and onto his throat.

Alfie pulls him round, swipes a thumb over his cheek, and places a delicate kiss over each of his eyes.

“I do, though, you know,” he smiles, when Tommy at last looks at him. “Love you.”

Tommy should run now, run and never look back. But the air whipping around him has a steadying effect, supplying enough movement that his body remains still, but for his nails digging firmly into Alfie’s sides.

“Don’t,” Tommy pleads, but the wind whisks his whisper away with ease, and he’s not sure it even reaches Alfie’s ears, and not too long after his breaths come more easily. When the tension in his body finally unfurls fully he sags against Alfie, exhales heavily, and says, “Ok.”

#Peaky Blinders #peaky bingo #Tommy/Alfie #tommy x alfie #tomfie #fanfic #angst #and all the silliness that goes along #hurt/comfort #just a bit #Uitwaaien #prompts #Tommy Shelby #Alfie Solomons

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smuggsy · 5 years

Text

So i have a problem with michael gray, that little shit who went and fucked a girl and then left her alone when she was going to abort even though she was clearly teriffied and asked him to stay

#hm???#anyone else??#im not going to say i always disliked him #from like the first moment they showed his face #but i did #lmao #he just always looked like a little shit to me #hm #take responsibility for your actions michael #fuck you shelby men tbh #finn is the only one worthy of my love #peaky blinders #michael shelby #is this an unpopular opinion?? idk #lemme know #michael gray #rambling

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zodiyack · 4 years

Text

I’ll Be There

Requested by @imaginesbymk: hey! if its alright could you write a Tommy Shelby imagine about him noticing y/n been acting weird lately and when he visits her home he finds out they’ve lost a loved one, so he comforts them? x

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, mention of death, mention of depression, fluff, alcohol, nudity not smut

Note: Title is inspired by The Jackson 5, I’ll Be There. This isn’t a song fic, but I do recommend listening to the song, maybe while reading? if you want! also 1, sorry if this isn’t what you wanted and 2, sorry, i didn’t know how to end it oof

Taglist: @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @stydia-4-ever, @matth1w, @redspaceace, @simonsbluee, @jenepleurepasbaby, @peakysputain

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

At first, Y/n was muttering to herself, constantly. Things like, “no”, “it’s alright, it’s not real”, and “I’m just imagining it”, things that made the family exchange looks of concern and confusion. One person would raise their eyebrows upon hearing Y/n’s quieted rambling, only to earn mirrored eyebrows and a shrug from the other person.

Next, she was acting...off. She’d find excuses to go home early, or to reschedule dates her and Tommy were supposed to go on. He assumed she wasn’t interested in him any longer, until she confirmed that his assumptions were incorrect, but it was her small tone of annoyance that continued to Tommy after that day. If anyone else asked anything, she’d have actions that’d suggest she just wasn’t in the mood.

Then she began to show up everywhere late, tired, puffy eyed, sometimes she wouldn’t even show up at all. It was beginning to concern Tommy, but he brushed it off, as she pleaded for him, again and again, not to worry, offering to do anything that would make him feel better.

Now, she hadn’t left her house in almost an entire month. He was done “not worrying”. Polly visited her as much as she could, but like when Ada had lost Freddie to the coppers, Y/n refused to even let Pol know she was alive. Ada joined her aunt some times, but both women were unsuccessful in getting Thomas’ lover to do anything.

He himself was in a panic, trying to figure out what on earth could’ve been preventing her from leaving. Was she in danger? Dead? Gone? It was nagging at him.

Tommy was beginning to do the same; not leaving his office unless he need to, determined to find a way to get the woman he loved back. He often sent his aunt or sister, sometimes even Lizzie, to check on Y/n, but they all came back with the same answer to his hopeful expression. Nothing.

“Listen, Tom, you need to go to her yourself. We’re not the one in love with Y/n/n, nor are we your little messengers.” Polly leaned against Lizzie’s desk, the woman nodding in agreement with Pol.

Thomas hesitated, but closed his eyes and nodded, waking back into his office to prepare. He grabbed Y/n’s favorite treats, which he stashed in a small cupboard in case Y/n ever waited for him at work, and a bottle of gin. The blinder rushed out of his office, leaving Polly and Lizzie with raised eyebrows and slight smiles, amused by how fast Tommy walked out of the building.

He decided against going in the family car, against stopping to do anything in general. His speed-walking turned into a slight jog, then to a faster jog, until he finally gripped the things in his hand as hard as he could and took off, running to Y/n’s home as fast as he could.

To be honest, he was excited to see her after they’d been apart for so long, but there were other things. Like his curiosity to why she’d been hiding in her home for so long, his desire to kiss her roughly and make sure she was okay, so many things were racing around his head. The point was, he just needed to know she was alright.

When he approached her door, slowing to a stop, he reached for the knob, twisting it to find that it was locked. He knocked a couple times, earning no response. Knocked again. Still nothing.

“Y/n? Love? Are you alright? It’s me, T-”

The door swung open to reveal a puffy eyed Y/n, the tip of her nose a shade of reddish-pink to show she’d been blowing it a lot, dried tear stains on her cheeks, her home was dark, though it was the night.

Tommy let his eyes study his beloved as much as he could in the small amount of light a bonfire, taking place across the street, provided. Her hair was messy, her clothes looked like they’d been the only thing she’d worn during the time she’d been in her home, she looked smaller than before, and she had circles under her eyes.

“Love...”

“Tommy.” Her relived smile began to deteriorate, Y/n falling into Tommy’s arms as tears escaped once more. He caught her the best he could, gin and snacks still in his grip, and walked inside with her, closing the door behind him after setting down the items on the small table by the door.

“What’s wrong, my love?” He asked her as they sat down, Y/n resting her head on his shoulder.

“They... they’re gone...” Tommy furrowed his eyebrows, confused. “Tommy,” she turned to him, watery eyes and a shivering bottom lip, “they died...” Y/n pointed to a newspaper from her hometown, the headline’s big bold black letters guiding Tommy to the realization.

“Shit...” Her little brother died due to a fever spreading throughout the smaller place, only two years old, so pure and innocent, he felt her pain almost immediately. The boy played with Tommy and Finn, enjoying Finn’s company more, but still having a special place in the Shelby’s heart.

Y/n cried harder, moving and shoving her face into Tommy’s chest, wrapping her arms around him. His arms came around to hold her close to him. The paper explained not only her physical and emotional state, but the state of her home, things remained unused, unmoved, as if she’d been in one spot for the entire month, doing nothing but mourning her sibling.

“Come, love, let’s get you out of these clothes.” She didn’t say anything or move, so Tommy helped her up, picking her up like one would his bride, and carried her to her room and set her in the small tub sitting across her bed.

She just sat there, unmoving, expression still empty, heartbroken, grieving. He knew she had to be cleaned one way or another, luckily, he’d help her clean up before, so he knew all of her cleansing preferences. Some might say it wouldn’t matter with her catatonic-like-state, but it did matter. He wanted her to feel better, and he knew just the ways to do so.

He grabbed a cloth, dipping it into the warm water, and scrubbed the soap onto her body, then washed it off using his hands and the small jar she had for that very reason. Once she was properly cleaned off, he moved behind her, bringing his hands to her hair.

Y/n shivered, lip trembling again, the salty droplets slowly sliding down her face again. She wasn’t entirely bawling or crying like she’d been earlier, she was calming and had taken the time of her silence to process everything, slowly coming to another stage of the grieving process.

Acceptance.

And Tommy was the one to thanks, as she moved past the depression stage, finally. He helped her from the tub, helped her dry off, then walked to her wardrobe. He picked a soft nightgown and slipped it over head. It was the gown she said made her feel like she was sleeping on clouds, the gown he bought her the first night she slept in his home.

Finally, he brewed some tea and poured a cup for Y/n and himself. Taking the two glasses into her room, he brought the gin and snacks as well. “Here, darling, you’ll need to eat, as well as drink something. And here’s some stuff that’ll help with the... pain.”

She nodded, reaching for the gin and taking a swig. “Thank you, Tommy. I don’t know what I’d do without you...” Tommy moved the tea towards her, wordlessly telling her not to just drink the gin, and that she’d feel better with the tea as well.

“There’s no need to thank me, Y/n/n. I’m here for you and with you through this.” He shifted on her bed, taking her face into his hands and pressing soft kisses to her hairline, then forehead, then her lips. “I’ll be there for you, whenever you need me, I’ll be there.”

“L-likewise, my love... And um.. Tommy?” He nodded. “Do you promise?”

“I promise. Whenever you need me, just- just call my name, and I’ll be there."

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 5 years

Note

Can you do 48 with Peaky Blinders please x

Prompt 48: “I refuse to have a baby on Christmas!”

Tommy:

Live music echoed through the room as your low heels clacked on the white granite floor. A large spruce adorned in red and white decorations stood tall in the corner and people bustled around with polite laughter. It was Christmas Eve and Tommy had decided to throw a professional Christmas party and had invited some of the most influential business people from London.

This was a really important night for him so halfway through the night when a pain hit you out of the blue, it caught you off guard. You were careful not to let the sudden discomfort show on your face while you stood beside Tommy being introduced to a man from London but Tommy could sense the sudden change in your composure.

“Would you excuse us, please?” Tommy pardoned the two of you graciously and escorted you to a secluded area, “Are you alright?” He asked, hand going to your nine-month swollen belly protectively.

You nodded, “Yes, Tommy, I’m fine. Just a weird pain.” You smiled in an attempt to convince him.

His deep blue eyes scanned your face before leaning in, “Tell me if things get worse.”

Three hours later, you found yourself in a back room, leaning against a table breathing hard. The pains that had very recently been erratic and mostly just uncomfortable had quickly become consistent and more painful. You hadn’t been officially timing your contractions but you assumed they were about ten to fifteen minutes apart.

“Y/N!” Tommy sighed, shoes squeaking as he stopped himself from passing the hallway when he saw your hunched form, “Are you alright?”

You were almost hyperventilating and he rushed to your side, trying to figure out what was wrong. You weren’t hyperventilating because of the pain, you were terrified. “Tommy, I’ve been having contractions all night and they’re speeding up faster than they should be and I feel like I can’t slow it down but I’m not ready to have a baby right now and besides, tomorrow’s Christmas! I refuse to have a baby on Christmas and-” You rambled on, barely breathing as you spoke rapidly.

“Y/N, stop!” Tommy gently pulled you up by the shoulders and held you, “One, you should have told me that this was moving so quickly! Second, you are going to be a fantastic mother and you are very capable of doing this. Who cares if they’re born on Christmas? Besides, it’s not Christmas yet. It’s only,” He pulled out his pocket watch, “nine o’clock.”

He was so close to being right. Just after the strike of midnight, your daughter was born in your bedroom back at your home, with Tommy rushing in just after your last push. Cries filled the air as he made stopped by your side, apologizing profusely for being so late but that all stopped when Ada handed you newborn daughter, “Oh my gosh…” You whispered, staring in disbelief at the child in your arms.

“She’s perfect.” Tommy breathed.

John:

You breathed deeply, taking a long draw from your cigarette, hands behind your aching back as you paced around the kitchen. You focused on anything but the impending pain of another contraction. You stared outside at the snow on the ground and back to your living room where the Christmas tree was standing proudly.

And then it hit. An intense pain in your lower stomach sent you doubled over the kitchen table, hands slamming down to brace yourself. “Y/N, I’ve had enough kids in my life to know when my wife’s in labor.” John said.

You put your hand up through the pain, “No! I refuse to have this baby on Christmas. They’re just gonna have to wait.” You stated defiantly. Finally, the pain let up and you were able to stand up straight again and you resumed your pacing.

John could see the pain you were in. Even if you wouldn’t admit it, he could see the tears in your eyes and he was well aware of the fact that your whimpers were becoming louder and more frequent. This baby was coming on Christmas whether you liked it or not.

“I’ll call Tommy and tell him we won’t be making it to dinner.” He announced.

“I’m fine, John! This baby is staying in and we are going to have a merry fucking Christmas!” You shouted, pain picking up again towards the end of your statement.

John walked over to you, holding your shoulders at first but soon you gripped onto him, your weight nearly collapsing. He caught you quickly and embraced you, supporting your weight. He felt your body shiver and shake from the tears that you finally let fall. “I’m calling Pol.” He said firmly, no room for discussion.

You just nodded in response, giving into the fact that, yes, your baby would be born tonight on Christmas.

Three hours later, you sat on your couch in the living room, baby in your arms. John sat beside you with one arm around your shoulder and the other gently stroking the top of your daughter’s head. “Can we see the baby?” A small quiet voice asked from the hallway.

You craned your head over to see John’s children from his first marriage, your other babies, “Of course, sweetie, come on over.”

The young children came over to you two carefully, standing in front of you next to the couch as they curiously peeked over the blanket the baby was wrapped in. “Is this our Christmas present?” The little boy asked.

You and John laughed and John reached over, lifting your kids up to sit on the couch with you, “She sure is.”

Arthur:

Arthur ran to the phone at Shelby Limited which was ringing off the hook. He laughed residually at something John had said but he couldn’t wait to get home to spend Christmas Day with you. “Arthur Shelby.” He announced.

“Arthur!” Your voice sounded terrified over the phone.

His heart dropped at the sound, “Y/N?! Are you hurt? What’s wrong?”

You were panicking on the other end, your skirt completely soaked from your water just breaking, “Arthur, my water broke! The baby… the baby’s coming!” You were at home alone, your contractions having sped up so quickly that you hadn’t had much time to process that your labor might be progressing so soon.

Arthur grabbed his hat and nearly threw it on the ground in distress, “‘Ang on love! I’m coming! I’ll bring Pol!”

Your husband came bursting through the door less than twenty minutes later with Polly hot on his heels but you were already sitting in a kitchen chair, screaming with your eyes screwed shut. “Y/N! Darling, I’m ‘ere! I’m ‘ere!”

Polly flipped your skirt up as Arthur stood beside you, letting you grip his hand as tightly as you needed to. “Oh God, she’s crowning.” Polly said hurriedly.

You screamed again, feeling the pain of both contractions and the stretch of your baby crowning. Reaching up to grab Arthur’s arm tightly, you cried, “Arthur, no, I can’t. I refuse to have this baby on Christmas!”

“It’s a little too late for that now, love.” He said, brushing your hair from your face.

“Arthur, get a bowl of warm water, a towel, and a blanket.” Polly demanded and Arthur was on it right it, rushing to gather supplies.

Twenty minutes of pushing and cursing later, the cries of your newborn baby could be heard, “It’s a girl.” Polly announced, inspecting the child and cleaning her off.

“Oh my goodness, it’s a girl!” Arthur said excitedly, taking the baby from Polly and wrapping her in the blanket.

He walked her back up to you and you looked over at the baby tiredly but so much excitement, “Hi, baby girl!” You whispered, taking her as Arthur gently handed her over, “Merry Christmas.” You smiled.

Michael:

This was happening. There was no way to deny that this was happening and yet you still refused to admit that this was happening. But the pain that tore through your lower abdomen screamed otherwise. “Y/N, love, don’t worry. Me mum’s almost here with Ada!” Michael stroked your hair as you leaned back against his chest, the both of you sitting on the tile floor in the bathroom.

“No, I refuse to have a baby on Christmas!” You cried, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. You tried so hard to keep them from falling, not wanting to look weak but screw that, a human being was coming out of your vagina. A few tears were allowed.

You grip on Michael’s arms tightened as you squeezed your eyes tight and let out a whimper. “You’re already in labor! It’s a little too late to start refusing that now.” He said cheekily, which you normally would have giggled at but now you just wanted to hit him.

“We’re here!” Polly announced from another room, sounding calm yet hurried.

“In here mum!” Michael hollered. Polly and Ada followed his voice and came in, both in beautiful dresses that they were wearing to go to Tommy’s family Christmas dinner.

Polly knelt down and drew your skirt up over your knees, inspecting you, “How far apart are your contractions?” She asked you.

You panted, finally coming down from your last one, sweat beading on your forehead, “I don’t know… maybe a few minutes at most.”

She came up from your nether-regions and looked at you, “Alright, you’re nearly crowning.”

Thirty minutes later, you lied there, still on the bathroom floor, in Michael’s arms. But now you weren’t screaming in pain. Now the smallest little baby boy was cradled in your arms, pressed against your chest. Michael looked down over your shoulder, his fingers coming around to gently stroke his cheek, “He’s so soft.” He commented.

You couldn’t help but giggle, “Yeah, he sure is.” You beamed at the child in your arms, completely in shock that you and Michael had created something so beautiful.

“Thank you.” Michael said simply, nuzzling his face in close to your neck from behind.

You looked up at him, confused, “Why?”

“This is the best Christmas gift I could have asked for.”

Isaiah:

You sat with Isaiah in the front pew at church, listening intently to his father give his annual Christmas sermon. Well, trying to at least. All day, you’d been getting very intense cramps sporadically but none of them seemed close enough together to signify being in active labor. Normally, feeling like this, you wouldn’t have gone to church but you knew how important going on Christmas was to Isaiah so you pretended like it wasn’t a big deal.

Unfortunately, it was becoming a bigger and bigger deal. “So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David.” Isaiah’s father read the story of Jesus’s birth. Suddenly, a contraction hit you hard - harder than the rest - and your grip on Isaiah’s hand instinctively tightened.

His eyes flashed over to you, worry written all over your face, “Are you alright?” You whispered.

You nodded, eyes focusing on one spot on the ground and trying to breathe through the pain without making a big scene, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a cramp.” You lied but the way your voice cracked gave away how much pain you were in.

“He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child.”

“You’re in labor!” He whispered hurriedly, “I told you you were earlier and that we should have skipped mass tonight!”

You shook your head, readjusting yourself now that the contraction had finally passed, “No, I refuse to have a baby on Christmas. This baby is staying inside me until at least tomorrow.”

Isaiah rolled his eyes, “Y/N, you’re being ridiculous. We have to get you to a doctor!”

Just as you began to refuse, another contraction hit you, a little too close to the previous one for your liking. This time, pain was visible on your face and you nodded your head quickly, “Fine!”

Isaiah quickly hopped into action, waiting out your contraction and then quietly escorting you out of the church.

“While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son.”

Later that night, just after the strike of midnight, you lied in your bed with Isaiah by your side, cradling your new baby boy in your arms. He looked down lovingly at the two of you in utter disbelief that he had a family now. A real actual family with a baby and everything. And he couldn’t think of any better way to spend Christmas.

*I would like to point out that I’m not comparing the baby in Isaiah’s to Jesus. I thought it would be a cool parallel with the sermon that would probably be given on Christmas

#peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction #Peaky Blinders #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagines #isaiah jesus #isaiah jesus imagines #isaiah jesus x reader #Michael Gray imagine #michael gray x reader #Michael Shelby #michael gray #arthur shelby #arthur shelby imagine #john shelby

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oh-theres-a-woman · 4 years

Text

Flowers in a Peaked Cap; Part One

A/N: Heres to attempt two at writing this author’s note… Let’s just say, I haven’t perfected the art of saving drafts. Note to self to actually find out how to make the draft before losing three solid paragraphs of rambling about the story… Sophie Points; Nil. Laptop/Internet Points; One. Welp, honestly internet and laptop have won a hell of a lot more than that. Just don’t remember how many times I’ve lost work because of not quite understanding how to post on here…. Safe to say I’m still a noob.

Any hoot! Enough rambling about that stuff.

After posting the first piece to this story; in the very very early hours of this morning. I couldn’t help but feel the massive urge to continue and work on the more of Tillie’s little adventure. It made me want to think about her as a person outside the relatives that we already know. What this girl’s goals are and ambitions. Unlike the rest of her family, I think she has a relatable amount of vulnerability and anxieties that are more from society’s working in the 1920s compared to her brothers; Arthur, Thomas and John that all suffer war-related mental illness and scars.

Actively she’s a romantic escapist that wants to make her brothers and aunt proud. Making a name for herself in the means of writing and exploring the tales that are brewed from the memories of old days.

In the progression of this story, I want to be able to explore the growth in Tillie as a young woman. The stepping out of her brothers’ shadows and coming into her own. Growing into a more confident young woman that could be from meeting new people like in this chapter and moving away from her fears.

I do see romance in this story, something like and full of all the trend first experience one faces at one stage or another. In terms of smut, I’d think it’s lighter and would be something that is worked towards. Tillie to me doesn’t seem rather lust-driven. So, it’ll happen if it does, and if not; its simply because Tillie Shelby isn’t interested in that sort of thing.

Important note; I’ll be working on organising the Taglist a little more throughout my next few posts. Please notify me if you’re interested in anything specifically and want tags there or if you mind just being on the general tag list and included in every story I post. Thank you!!!

Requested By; @csigeoblue

Parts; [ Prologue ]

Taglist; @zodiyack, @itsfrancisneptun, @amys-small-world, @fandom-fucking-shit, @hesagod-notyet, @hinagiku0, @dylanlover24, @amirahiddleston, @a-dorky-book-keeper, @theamuz, @csigeoblue, @smallheathgangsters, @beautycinders

Word Count; 1400

Watery Lane wasn’t the play that supported the wild fantasy’s of Tillie Shelby, but the little bookshop that was filled with many hopefuls or lads that were born a little more well off collectively grouped together. Reading the stories they wrote. This gathering was apparently one that caught the attention of the paper since the known publishers and well-off lads from another book club around England had found themselves doing a sort of travel for their source material.

Since the profile of this club of prolific writers had taken interest in the area of Small Heath and its inhabitants. Inviting upstart writers or aspiring tellers to come and meet them. So, onward the youngest Shelby strolled until she pulled open the door of the quaint little bookshop. The signal of her arrival was the sound of her kitten heels and the ringing of the bell on the door. Doe-like blue eyes that were like the crystal-clarity of the purest of water found themselves settling on a group of well-dressed gentlemen. Her eyes flicker between some faces she knew of Small Heath, most of them being the arseholes she went to school with and thought themselves privy to a better life.

It wasn’t that Tillie didn’t believe they weren’t welcome to it. Mostly, it was the way they treated people in order to get there the young woman didn’t quite agree with. She was rather foolish coming to her though since her brother’s had a very vision about how the Shelby family should be seen. Their measures to getting things done with it were also less than admirable. Perhaps, it was the fact that Billy Bronson, James Fitz and Joe Gilbert made hers and Finn’s school life a living hell one way or another. But, it also made it seem extremely unfair to talk to their older brothers about what happened. Since most knew better than to fuck with the kin of the Peaky Blinders.

Plooms of cigarette smoke clouded in the air, filling the bookstore with a spiced herbal infusion and rippled tailored sticks of tobacco. Moving her gaze from the lads she knew; to the new arrivals. The youngest of the Shelby mob offered a little smile. “Is there room for one more?” Tillie finally spoke up, pulling her book that contained the novel she had poured hours and hours over. Smiling hopefully. Arms hugging the expensive leather made book that her brothers banded together in the hopes for a lovely birthday present in the days before the war.

Hoping that she’d fill in with various things she enjoyed to draw, but instead, Tillie hadn’t touched it until she was old enough to respect things. Asking Aunt Pol to help her keep in a safe place until then. Scraps of paper were best for sketches in any case.

Eyes ever hopeful looked at the posher sort, some seemed wary until a certain collared lad smiled and offered a little nod then the place he’d been sitting. Away from the boys that seemed to make life a little more bothersome. “Thank you,” she whispered, settling down in the seat. Resting the book down on her lap before looking to the other lads who straightened their composure.

“We were all about to introduce ourselves since we’ve never travelled outside of London for such a meeting before. Yet, it seemed like a brilliant idea when bought up. Birmingham seemed like the best place, so raw and thrilling. Small Heath alone.” Spoke finally a lad in a handsome waist-coat, the colouring of coal, stiff collar and matching suit made her think of it being something her brother; Tom would wear. Only on the best occasions, or when he was dressing-to-impress. Unlike Thomas, this lad had handsome hazel eyes, the slightest tan to his skin like he enjoyed the frolicking on the beach. His name was Walter, but everyone called him, Walt.

“Even the presence of criminal activity and organisations like the Peaky Blinders, it does make the area a prize for writing. Wouldn’t you agree, lads,” spoke up for eccentric Norman, who took delight in the thing that only made Tillie smile in a measure of great awkwardness. The name seemed to follow her everywhere she went, and there was a measure of awkwardness for that. “Sorry, miss, I didn’t quite mean to be so rude, it’s just you don’t seem the sort to know much on that end, too kind and pretty, huh?” Norm covered himself for any form of rudeness that could have been interpreted.

Only causing a polite little lowering of her head, as her hands wrapped anxiously around her book’s spine. Before relaxing at the conversation drifting off elsewhere. Sobering to the notion that the following cough from Joe Gilbert had goosebumps appearing on her arms. Causing a vast amount of discomfort in the young woman. Tillie traded glances with the nicer of the Londoner’s; Robert. Whom quickly coughed to get things back on track.

“In any case, back to the introductions. We shouldn’t dwell too long on the story topics if we’ve lacked the proper course of introduction. Shall I start?” Robert spoke up, settled against set up for the purpose of meetings. “My name is Robert Augustine, myself and these other gentlemen,” he said, gesturing to the others in the group of London lads.

“Are from a collective of young men that wish to write and publish arts. Never before have we had a lady join us, but surely in this modern world we’d be able to welcome the bright minds of femininity amongst us. After all, lady authors are blooming into the publishing world more and more with each generation.” His words seemed to still the anxiousness within her soul at the agreement of his other companions. Looking forward to seeing a hand extended to her, Robert allowed her to stand. The mix of coarseness and softness met between the two palms meet.

Holding her book, Tillie looked down smiling a little at her feet. Hugging her book to her chest, like it was the most precious thing to her. That was… Because it truly was the thing that held so much value to her heart. Her right hand still gently in the hold of the Londoner, cheeks lightly warming. “I’m Tillie Shelby, and I like to write about my brothers, their stories before the war. When we were kids,” she lit up sweetly talking of her brothers. Her hand and Robert’s naturally finding it parting, before he settled in his spot by the desk. Arms folding at his chest with a little smile.

“Would you be willing to share any of those stories?” Robert asked in a light voice. Tillie could only think of one response.

“Would I ever,” she beamed with a presence that seemed to warm the room and the quiet little shop around them. Settling down into her seat once more, she didn’t think about when the others were introducing themselves. Instead, she found herself lost within stories. The more whimsical tales of lads that laughed and partied. Or the ones that filled with a warmth that made her think of the family that suppressed or lost who they were before the war. Among them, none had known those woes and horrors.

They’d seen things happen on the outside. Felt the absence of a brother, father, uncle or grandfather that either died or lost what kept to their memory that their younger-selves recalled. Tillie was young then. Merely a baby in some regard. But she couldn’t ever forget the days of laughter, wherein night terrors; her heroes would just come up and curl into the undersized cot she called a bed. Soothing their fingers along with the softness of infant or child hairs–that had yet to understand dryness or damage.

When business didn’t entirely rule the Shelby family but happened in the background. Those were her tales. The tales of rawness and loss from a different scene. Where her brothers; the men who took over the role of an absent father, became; fathers, uncles, older brothers and best friends. And… Pol became the only mother she ever knew and remembered. Her voice spoke of the volumes to family values and how terrible things broke people. Yet, she never uttered their names aloud.

Only recording them within her mind when she read the tales that meant something to one of her brothers. Art. Tom. John.

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heathsbitch · 4 years

Text

Treat You Better ➳ PEAKY BLINDERS

xxi. THE AFTERMATH

"He's back." Ada announced to the small group. Polly, Ivy, Michael and Ada were stood in the study of Thomas's house, waiting for him to come back. It had been a few weeks since Grace's death. Tommo was distant with his family and Ivy, barely speaking to them at all. But that day was different. There was business to be done, and it was important by the sounds of things.

Since the murder of Grace, Ivy had been... different. Loud noises made her jump and she cried whenever people would shout at each other. Something had changed, but she didn't know what.

Finn was also becoming more protective over the girl. He would always be there for her, no matter what, to protect her or to comfort her. She said that she didn't need help but she was glad the boy was there, especially after that moment they had shared in the car together.

"Was he out there all night?" Michael asked from behind Ivy. Something had changed between them too. Ivy was sick of all the bickering and the arguing and Michael knew that. He took it into consideration and was kinder to the girl. Their relationship had changed. Instead of it being a boss-to-employee relationship, it felt more like friend-to-friend. The girl thought it was strange but she accepted it because she was tired. So tired, of everything.

"Every night since the funeral," Ivy said in response to Michael's question. "He comes back in the morning to see Charles and feed the horses, and when it gets dark, he goes off again." The girl finished. Polly looked up from the newspaper she was reading to listen to Ivy speak.

Polly shook her head slightly, "He used to sleep out when he was a kid. Curly would find him in the pasture," She told them. She folded up her newspaper and set it to one side. "How's the baby?" She questioned Ada.

Ivy noticed Michael tense up when she had asked the question, she wondered why but neglected to ask any questions so she pushed it to the back of her mind. "He asks for his mum at night," Ada took a deep sigh and went over to pick up a piece of paper that rested on the desk behind Ivy and Michael.

"Tommy made a list. He wants to see Polly and Michael first." Ivy's eyebrows furrowed at her words. "What about Ivy, John and Arthur?" Polly asked before Ivy could get her words out. Ada was about to answer the question when Thomas came stomping into the room and straight into his office, completely ignoring his family.

The group exchanged glances with each other. "Good luck." Ivy wished Polly and Michael. The girl lightly patted Mickey's shoulder and he gave her a small smile in response. Ivy walked in the direction of the lounge where John, Arthur and Finn were sat around the fire.

"Ivy." Finn began and went to get out of his chair to go up to the girl but she stopped him with a small gesture of her hand. He sat back in his chair and Ivy sat next to him. He threw his arm over the girl and she cuddled into his side.

"Ya' alright, Vee?" Arthur grumbled as he necked a glass of whiskey. Ivy just hummed as a response. "Can ya' sing us a song?" John quizzed with high hopes. "Not today, Johnny." She told him as she snuggled further into Finn's shoulder.

"Please." Finn begged. He looked into the girl's eyes and pouted. "Fine." She huffed. She sat up slightly but was still partially cradled by Finn and his freakishly long arms. Ivy took a deep breath and began to sing.

"What say the rebels In this great war of souls. The time has coming who will Take back control. Heaven is knocking but we're Holding that line. We keep on fighting till the day we die,"

Tears began to brew in Ivy's eyes. She made up the lyrics on the spot. The girl thought of all of the emotions rampaging through her head, all the rage Thomas had given to her in the past few months. All the pain that her father had ever given her.

"Some will say that this is the end, We're surrounded but we won't give in. Who will save us, Who will save us. Sometimes you gotta let it go Leave it up to the heroes."

When she finished, Finn smiled down at the girl, placing a light kiss onto her forehead before bringing his hand up to her face to caress her cheek. The mark from her father was long gone and both of them were happy for it. The men, and Finn, all lazily clapped. "Beautiful, Vee." John said with a lopsided smile plastered on his face. "Thanks." She sighed and lent back in her chair again.

A few more minutes of soothing silence passed before Polly, Michael and Ada came into the room. "Right," Arthur stood up. "Let's go." John, Ivy and Finn followed the man's actions and all stood up. "We've already seen him. Didn't you tell them, petal?" Polly directed the question at Ivy.

"Sorry, I forgot." The girl rubbed her eyes with her hands and Finn rubbed small circles on her back. She appreciated the comfort but, maybe, it was just too much. Arthur looked at Ivy, a questioning look on his face. "He wanted to see people in a particular order." Ada butted in.

"I can normally read him, but he's difficult to read so be careful. Ivy, you might be able to, but take caution." Polly stroked the girl's hair then pulled her in for a quick hug. "I thought it was a fucking family meeting. All of us together, I thought." John huffed. Ivy shifted on her feet, she technically wasn't family still.

"John, he's grieving. To see everyone together would be too much." Polly informed her nephew before lightly slapping him over the head. "Yeah, well, come on, John. Ivy." Arthur began to walk to the office and beckoned for John and Ivy to follow. "What about me?" Finn asked, sadness laced in his voice. "You stay here, Finn." His aunt told him.

Ivy followed Arthur, John close behind. "Arthur," Polly called out. "We need him back. Sabini and Solomons have already sent condolences and flowers, so it won't be long before they come marching up the A1 like wolves."

"I think Tommo's got his eyes on me for that job, Pol." Ivy said. She had been thinking, why would he want to see people separately? Polly and Michael would be business and the others... killings. It would also explain why he wouldn't need to speak to Finn at all. Ivy wanted to avoid any arguments but if Tom was going to ask her to murder one more person, she was going to flip.

She was fed up of it. The bodies were piling up. The blood was beginning to drown her. She needed to escape. And fast.

Polly shot Ivy a sympathetic smile. "Go on. There's a timetable." Ada ushered on. The trio anxiously made their way into Tom's office. He was sat at his desk, his head in his hands.

"Well, there he is." Ivy cringed at Arthur's words. He was trying to be encouraging but it wasn't working. He raised his fists a couple of times but eventually swung them back down at his sides.

Ivy fingernails were digging into the palms of her hands. She was nervous of what Tommo was going to ask her. Anger built up inside the girl. She had repressed herself for the past two weeks, barely moving or speaking or eating just in case she had another panic attack.

She did not want to experience that again. The sickening feeling of not being able to breath. The worry that pounded it's way through her head. The thought terrified her.

But Tom's words terrified her more.

"Hi, Tommo." Ivy timidly said. John stayed quiet. "Hello boys. Ivy." Thomas said with a monotonous voice whilst rubbing his eyes. "We, uh, didn't get a chance to see you after the funeral. Well, you just disappeared on us, but, well, me, John and Ivy just wanna say that-" Arthur rambled but Tom cut him off. "Arthur, shut up."

He brought his head out of his hands and looked at the trio. Arthur and John both lent on the chairs in front of Tommy's desk and Ivy stood between the pair. "Alright." Arthur mumbled. Tommo stood up from his chair, Ivy took a step back. "Alright, talk to me. Ivy first." The man told them.

The girl looked between John and Arthur, confused at what he meant. "What do you mean T-Tom?" She questioned. "Your father. Any word from him?" He snapped. Her fingernails cut in deeper. She knew it.

"He sends his condolences, and flowers." She half muttered. "He'll be up here soon," The man partly said to himself. "Ivy," Thomas lent on his desk so he could give the girl orders. "I want you to go to Camden Town-"

"Why?" The girl cut him off. She knew why but she didn't want to hear those words. Tommo took a deep breath, clearly annoyed that she had cut him off mid-sentence. "I want you to kill him," She tried to cut him off again but he held his hand up to stop her. "I want you to kill him so you can take over his business. That way we can import and export through London easier and we have one less thing to worry about. Arthur, Joh-"

"No." Ivy stopped him. "What was that?" The man turned back to the Solomons girl. "I said no." She repeated louder the second time. Arthur and John exchanged a shocked glance between them, clearly surprised that she was standing up to their brother.

"It wasn't a question, Ivy. It was an order." He lowered his voice. "And I said no." Ivy's fists clenched tighter and she gritted her teeth together. "You, don't get a choice." Thomas informed her. "I don't care, Tom. I don't fucking care. Do you want to know why? Hm?" She asked, straightening her posture.

"Enlighten me." He said mockingly. "You are not my father. You don't get to tell me what to do. Not anymore. I am sick and tired of playing toy soldiers for you, Tom! It doesn't matter who my family is or what 'business' I'm involved in, killing solves no problems! It only creates them or makes them worse! I am sick of it, Thomas. 'Do this, Ivy. Do that, Ivy. Kill your fucking father, Ivy!'" She slammed her hands down on his desk as she finished her rant.

The two stared at each other, both stunned at what had just happened. "Not anymore." Ivy repeated as she stood up straight and stormed out of the room. She slammed the door once she had left the room. The girl closed her eyes and lent on the door. 'Where did that come from?' She asked herself.

Ivy could feel something dripping down her hands and she looked down to see blood. Crescent-shaped cuts rested in her palms, drops of blood falling from them. Blood. Everything was blood. Once you've got it on your hands, you can never wash it off.

The girl went to walk into the kitchen but was stopped by something. Or rather, someone. Her eyes were cast up to see Michael staring down at her. He was about to say something but Ivy burst into tears. Confusion filled the man but still, he pulled her into his chest to comfort her.

He ran his hand through her hair. "Come 'ere." He led her to the sofa that was in the room. When they sat down, Ivy moved to cling on to Michael again. "What happened?" He questioned, his hand stroking her arm and the other one moving through her hair. "It's just too much. Everything's too much."

Mickey was perplexed at her words but decided not to ask anymore questions. They had broken the deal but he thought it would be best if he didn't ask anything else. "Shh, it's okay. Everything is okay." He soothed her.

"Hey, Michael hav..." Finn wandered into the room, about to ask a question but his words were cut short when he saw Michael and Ivy cuddling on the couch together. He ran out of the room, not saying another word. Neither of them noticed him enter or exit the room. The pair pulled away just as Finn left. "Let's go into the other room. Mum will make you some tea."

Everybody apart from Michael was sat in the kitchen, enjoying some tea and relaxing from the tense interactions with Tommy just minutes ago. Ivy was playing with Karl, she was trying to distract herself from the anger that Tom had riled up in her just moments ago. She had cleaned the cuts on her hands with the help of Polly. The woman had blocked Finn from seeing them because she knew he would over-react.

Karl giggled as he threw a block of wood at Ivy, hitting the girl straight in the middle of her forehead. "Oi." She reached over to the boy and started tickling his sides. He fell on the floor, sprawled out with legs and arms flying everywhere.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed somebody staring at her. She looked up at the boy and gave him a small smile. Finn smiled back. "I'm gonna go speak to Uncle Finn, okay?" The child nodded and continued playing with his blocks of wood.

"Are you alright, Doll? I heard you shouting earlier." Finn placed a hand on Ivy's shoulder. "Yeah, he just, um. Well, he..." The girl struggled to speak. She took in a shaky breath and composed herself. "Recently, I've been thinking about all the cuttings and killings Tommo's making us do and I just-I just think it's too much. Killing solves no problems and nobody deserves to be murdered. No matter what they've done."

She cast her eyes to the floor, not wanting to make eye contact with the teen in front of her. "He asked you to kill Alfie, didn't he?" He kept his voice low. Ivy nodded her head and looked back at the boy. He pulled her in for a quick hug but pulled away when John started shouting.

"It's fucking freezing in the big room!" John shouted as he raised a glass in the air. As Polly walked passed him, she tapped him over his head, "John, mind your language in front of Karl," She placed a tray of food on the counter and Arthur walked over to his brother.

"Ada, we're in the servant's quarters because it's where the fucking booze is kept." John stood up and patted his brother on the back, walking over to the other counter. They both removed their jackets as Polly told them off, "Arthur, find better words!"

"Yes." Was all he responded with. Ivy giggled at their interaction, trying to find some humour in just the little things. Anything to keep her mildly happy was good. "Pol, does swearing in gypsy count?" He tapped his aunt on the shoulder. She spun to look at him and rolled her eyes.

"That's no reason for us to be speaking rocker or shelter in any case," Everybody exclaimed at her words, even Ada. "Hey, I'm just saying there is no need." She walked around the kitchen, waving a knife around which partly scared Ivy, but she knew she'd be careful with it. Hopefully.

John searched around for another bottle of whiskey to drink, "When she's drunk, my wife can't speak fucking English," He told everyone and Ivy chuckled. He lightly slapped her shoulder when she laughed. "Hey, you're not one to fucking talk, Vee."

"John!" Polly told him off again. As John walked passed the entrance to the servant's quarters, Michael walked in. He pointed the bottle of alcohol in his direction but carried on to where he was going in the first place.

Ivy shot him a small smile as he came into the room. She was grateful for his help earlier, even if he was an annoying piece of shit the majority of the time. "You dealt with it?" Polly asked her son when he passed by her. The girl's interest piqued at what she was hinting at. She was a curious girl and she couldn't help herself. Plus, it was another distraction.

"Incentives, no threats. Implied consequences without any specific reference to physical harm." He began to pour some tea and Ivy leaned on the table so she could look at Michael when he spoke. "That's why your Michael is the boss." Arthur told his aunt.

"Hey, I'm not that bad." Ivy joked even though she still wasn't too sure what he was talking about. "Yeah, but I'm better." Michael joked back with a smirk on his face. Usually, he would mean it in a snarky way but this was kind, friendly. Ivy stuck her middle finger up at her boss.

"He knows better words, right, Pol?" Arthur rambled on, a whiskey glass firmly grasped in his hand. His voice was low and his words were drawled out. "Arthur. Stop. Please." Ivy warned, she had had enough conflict for the day and both Michael and Arthur were too stubborn to step down from a fight.

"Since when was I your boss, Arthur?" Mickey questioned, sipping his tea. "First, the boss meets you. Then the workers meet you." John added to the conversation. "When did either of you two do a days work?" Finn queried, a cigarette in his hand. Ivy glanced back at him and gave him a small giggle.

"In the old days, Finn," Arthur answered whilst pouring some tea for himself. Michael took his own jacket off as his older cousin spoke. "Family meetings used to be all of us together." Ada took a deep sigh, "Arthur, shut up." She told her brother, already fed up of his nonsense ramblings.

"Now me and John, we're just fucking bin men, whose duty it is to obey. He's even got our little Ivy clearing up his shit. Hmm?" The man bowed when he spoke, mimicking Tom and his orders. Everyone stayed silent, too scared to speak up. Arthur was drunk and they all knew it.

"Arthur, shut up. Finn, go and get us cigars. Take Ivy with you as well." Polly softly told the group. The woman had noticed the uncomfortable look on the girl's face so she made a quick decision.

Finn sighed as he stood up, Ivy followed shortly after. "Just be glad you're not getting ordered to murder your own father." She downed the whiskey in front of her before walking out of the room. "Ivy. Vee, hey," Finn said as he caught up to the girl. "Are you sure your okay?"

He carefully placed his hands on the girl's shoulders. His bright eyes bore into Ivy's, concern swimming through them. "What do you think, Finn? I'm a mess. I don't know how to respond anymore or what to do or how to act. I just don't know anything anymore." She vented.

Finn went to pull Ivy back into another hug but were cut off by the sound of a horse and carriage. The pair rushed to the front doors to see Johnny Dogs, Charlie and Tommy driving off in a cart. They both rushed back into the kitchen to tell the other Shelbys.

The pair burst through the doors and everyone's heads snapped towards Finn and Ivy. "Tommy's gone. Swear to God, he's in a wagon with Johnny Dogs." The Shelbys stared at each other but didn't move. "He's got Charlie with him as well." With that, everybody raced out of the servant's quarters and out of the door of the house.

"This is what he does now," Arthur grumbled as he threw on his jacket and followed the others. "Tommy! Wait!" The man chased after his brother, screaming at the top of his lungs. "Arthur." Polly warned him as she walked at a fast pace.

John, Arthur and Finn were shouting at Tommy and were chasing after the wagon. Polly, Michael and Ivy followed them out of the door but didn't run. "Arthur, let him go." Their aunt told them. Ada came out of the house when the boys started to come back, she held a small piece of paper in her hand. "He left a note." The women and Michael span around to look at Ada.

"Says he'll be back in Birmingham in three days." Polly sighed at Ada's words. Ivy rested a hand upon her shoulder to provide comfort. "Let him go. The important thing is, if he says he'll be back, he'll be back. Come on, let's go light a fire in the big room. Let's go drink whiskey, with water." Polly squeezed Ivy's waist and led her back into the house as the boys gradually filtered in as well.

"I'll be back in a minute, Pol." Ivy pulled away from Polly's grasp and wondered to the servant's quarters, she could hear someone close behind her. "Need a bit of booze as well, eh, Vee?" John said to her as she raided the cupboards. "Let's have some fun." She smirked as she pulled out the strongest bottle of alcohol she could find.

The sun had set long ago. Two lanterns rested on the rock wall. Four people were outside, all drunk out of their minds, all armed with guns. What could go wrong?

Ivy giggled as she brought the bottle back up to her lips. "I thought you were done with guns and violence?" John asked the girl as Arthur handed a small revolver to Michael. "I am but I'm drunk." She snorted. John patted her on the back as they both took another swig of alcohol.

"Alright, now cock it with your thumb," Arthur instructed Mickey. Michael had asked how to use a gun and since everyone was drunk and in a state of misery, they said yes. Polly would freak out if she found them but they didn't care, the whiskey was too strong.

Mickey lifted the gun up to his eye-line and cocked it with his thumb. John let out a breathy laugh at his cousin with a gun. "There you go. Now she's been cocked. She's alive in your hand," Arthur's voice was raspy from the amount he had drunk. John let out a loud howl and Ivy cackled.

"It's like waking up a girl when you cock that trigger." He added as he got closer to his cousin. Ivy placed the bottle in her hand on the wall she was leaning on and sauntered over to Michael. She stood behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders. "It's like waking up me, Mickey. Do you remember what I was like? Hmm? I roll over, my eyes slightly droopy and I go,"

The girl lent in close to the man's ear and moaned, "Michael. Mickey, what are you gonna make me do, Boss?" She threw in the word at the end just to tick him off. Ivy pulled away from his ear and stood off to his side, one hand still on his shoulder. John, Arthur and Ivy all cackled with laughter.

"You lot are fucking crazy bastards!" Michael shouted and he took a side glance at the girl clinging to his shoulder. "And you're my dirty little whore, eh." He muttered. Ivy bit her lip and drifted back to the bottle that was in John's hands.

Every previous thought she had had of Michael drifted out of her mind. The deal. All the nights they had spent with each other. The way he had treated her. They all flew out of the window. All replaced with drunken thoughts, and a strange drunken lust for her boss. She couldn't control herself.

"Yeah, but you feel it, though, right?" Arthur continued. Mickey hummed in response. "You feel it," The man's voice deepened and became a lot more menacing. Ivy and John passed the bottle back and forth between them whilst they watched the Shelby men. "Yeah, you can feel the power. Now, squeeze it."

Michael pulled the trigger, the sound echoing for miles. He missed every target but the feeling was still there. "Powerful." He smirked to himself. "Fucking useless." John murmured, referring to the fact that he had missed all the targets. "Piss off, John." Mickey whispered.

Ivy went back over to her boss and placed her hand on his shoulder again. She let out a small laugh, complete with a smirk. "Michael, why does a pen pusher who sits on his arse all day wanna fire a gun? Hmm, eh?" Arthur questioned, the alcohol slipping down his throat.

"Cock it again." He ordered him. "Cock it again," John repeated his brother's words. "Round two." He slurred. Michael followed their orders and cocked his gun again lifting it back up to his eye-line. Arthur hummed and more whiskey flowed through his system.

"Look at that fucking face, John boy. Look at that face." He did have a point. Mickey's face was screwed with concentration, John mimicked him and Ivy lightly slapped his arm but still held on to Michael. "Now he feels it." Ivy added in a quiet voice.

"But, you won't feel nothing until you point that thing at a man. So, do it." The oldest Shelby drawled as he stood behind his cousin. Worry seeped through Ivy's veins. She was still highly intoxicated but she didn't feel like getting shot that day. There was a long pause as Michael pondered Arthur's words, but he eventually spun around and pointed the gun at Ivy.

It rested in between her eyebrows, pressed against her skin. The cool metal sent shivers sliding down her spine. "There you go, young boss," Arthur coaxed, not caring that Ivy could get shot. John stood off to the side, silent. Ivy held her breath. "There you go, now you feel it. Now you feel what we feel. This is what it's like."

Mickey's face was painted with a demonizing smirk. Shadows were cast over his face, covering his features. The girl's heart thudded against her chest, 'Surely, he wouldn't shoot? Right?'

"Michael, that's a Webley. Jumps on the hammer." John warned. Both Arthur and Michael ignored his warning. The older man continued to harass his cousin. "How does it feel, Michael, eh?" The gun slipped to move under Ivy's chin. He brought the girl closer so their faces were almost touching. His breath fanned her face. It was hot and heavy. She could tell that he was just as nervous as she was.

"Better than having a pen in your hand, isn't it?" Arthur took another gulp of whiskey. "More like having your cock in your hand. Yeah." Her boss pulled away from her and turned to his cousin who kept talking.

"Yeah, it is." He mumbled, pointing the gun at Arthur. "One squeeze. I'm gone." He continued to urge Michael on. Ivy moved to stand next to the pair, her hand placed firmly on Mickey's chest. John did the same thing with his brother. They were both as unpredictable as each other. "Mickey, it's not worth it." Ivy told the man.

"Michael, you fucking watch that Webley don't jump. You know that?" John warned him. "When you pull that fucking trigger, and that body of the man you shot wraps itself around your ankles, they pile up. It gets to the point where you can't walk in a room without bringing a load of them with you." Ivy looked to the ground, she was familiar with that feeling. And it sickened her.

Michael breathing picked up and soon he was taking heavy gasps for air. The gun was still firmly pointed at Arthur's head. "What's going on?" A softer voice startled the group. Polly.

Ivy wrapped her hand around Mickey's arm to bring the gun away from Arthur's face. "What's going on?" She repeated. Michael smirked but faced away from his mother, the gun still resting in his hand.

"Polly, we're just educating the boss here on our side of the business." Arthur muttered, slightly scared by his aunt. "Ivy, Michael, get in the house." She ordered, her voice low. The teen pulled away from her friend and they began to walk towards the house. But Michael stopped after a few steps.

He turned back to his mother and got in her face. "I'm not a fucking kid anymore." He hissed in her ear. Ivy smirked at the man. Michael caught up with the girl and they walked back to the house. The girl nudged his arm and when he looked at her, she could see a darkness brewing behind his eyes.

"You're fucking crazy, Mickey." A cackle left her mouth and one came out of his shortly after. "Where have you two been?" A voice called from the threshold of the house. Finn was stood there with his arms crossed and a scowl across his lips. He looked at Michael looked at him like he had just murdered a baby.

Finn wrapped his arm around Ivy's shoulder, "Let's get you to bed." He told her. "No, I wanna stay with Mickey," She grumbled, trying to pull out of his grasp but the alcohol stopped her. Her movements were slow and easy to predict. Finn hoisted her over his shoulder and carried the girl away from Michael and up to a spare room upstairs.

"Finn, stop." She tried to push him away but his grip was too strong. He placed her on the bed and gradually took her clothes off but left her in her shirt. "Noo." She whined as he tucked her into the bed. But her eyes became droopy and sleep threatened to take over. "No, Ivy. You took care of me at Tom's wedding, let me take care of you now. Please, doll."

His words warmed her heart so she let him finish what he was doing. Ivy's eyes closed as she snuggled into the blankets that cocooned her. The teen placed a light kiss on her forehead and left the room, but he was stopped by the whisper that came out of Ivy's mouth.

"Finn." The girl started. He stopped in his tracks and spun around to face her. She was nestled into her blankets and her face was partly pushed into her pillow. Her sapphire eyes were half shut and there was a small string of spit dangling from her plump limps but he thought she looked...

Perfect.

"Yeah, doll?" He questioned, hand resting against the frame of the door. "Stay with me." Ivy whimpered. The teen struggled to say no to her request, he just couldn't bring himself to do it. She was drunk after all, and everything she said or did was down to the alcohol, Finn thought.

He complied to her wish, however, and undressed himself down to his underwear, mumbling a small "Alright." As he climbed underneath the covers, Finn could feel Ivy's warm body pressed against him. Her bare thigh lifted up to rest around his waist. Finn's heart furiously thumped against his chest as he cautiously placed a hand on her thigh.

"Thank you." Ivy muttered as her eyes closed and she drifted off into a state of drunken unconsciousness.

xxii. TENSION

MASTERLIST

#finn shelby #harry kirton #michael gray #finn cole #smut #fluff #angst #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #alfie solomons #treat you better

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