#Tommy Shelby

[cillianssweet]

Tommy???is that you???

get yourself a main character whos two primary emotions are "little cunt" and "catatonic with grief"

[peaky1wh0re]

Smash.

[cillianmyhusband]

(full credit to fischrmorrow on tiktok for this masterpiece)

GOOD LOORDDDD IM NOT WELL

[ninja-potato-shelby-solomons]

[brummiereader]

@runnning-outof-time you had me giggling at that little bar argument between those two punters at the beginning of this story, K!

"I'll tell you what bullshit is...bullshit is when someone claims a drink is theirs without checking what it is!"- "I'll show you bullshit..." the first man growled. I loved this because I swear, in Britain, you would definitely find two guys having this exact argument somewhere in some pub 😂. And if Y/N wouldn't have stepped in, that would have turned into a brawl in the streets 🤦🏼‍♀️.

"Oi! What the fuck is going out here?!" a booming voice came from the right-hand side of the altercation. (Y/N) turned her head to see a glaring Tommy Shelby looking through the small window that separated the private snug from the rest of the establishment. You had my heart skip a beat! Ooh I love him all commanding and shouty 🤭. But what I loved the most in this scene is how her injury went momentarily unnoticed by her, but quickly noticed by him. I was swooning how insistent he was a ot taking care of it 🥰.

"I, uh...I wanted to give these to you, Mr. Shelby," she said as she held her hand out in the space between her and her employer. She gave him flowers 😭❤️. And not just any flowers, but ones she'd purposely picked out for him. Honestly, I'm not surprised he was taken aback. I'd bet money on him blushing too. Usually it's women that receive flowers, but to have a woman give them to a man...well, I find that quite special and just as Tommy thought, endearing.

(Y/N)," Tommy's voice stopped her before she could open said door. She sucked in a breath as she turned back to face him. "Call me Tommy from now on, eh?" That little panic in her just before this part felt too real 😩! But I love how Tommy quickly calmed her doubt. For him to have her call him Tommy, is quite something considering their working relationship. I'd say this could definitely be the start of something 😍.

Loved this read, can't wait for the next part ❤️!

A Little Thank You | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by @darlingsfandom - sent as a blurb request

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!Reader

Summary: In which (Y/N) (Y/L/N) repays her employer in a way he wasn’t expecting.

Warnings: language, an almost bar fight (series typical violence)

Word Count: 1856

A/N: I wasn’t expecting this to turn into a full on story, but it did - thanks so much for giving me the inspiration to write this, Em! I’m sorry it took so long for me to share it. The prompts sent in are bolded in the story. Enjoy! :)

COMMENTS & REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED — I’d love to know what you think of the story!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged!

"I put me order in first!" one drunken man yelled at the man standing next to him.

"Mate this isn't even what you ordered!" the other man replied. Both men's hands reached for the pint glass at the same time.

"How the fuck do you know what I ordered?!" the first man questioned, his now brows deeply furrowed.

"Because I was here when I heard ya say it!" the second man responded.

(Y/N) stopped the order she was working on when she heard the squabble start. "What's happening here?" she asked the men, hoping to get some insight on why they were screaming at each other.

"That's bullshit!" The first man was not backing down. The screaming matched continued without acknowledgement of (Y/N)'s question.

"I'll tell you what bullshit is...bullshit is when someone claims a drink is theirs without checking what it is!"

"I'll show you bullshit..." the first man growled through gritted teeth before lifting the glass and slamming it down on the bar top, making the glass shatter and liquid spread across the wooden surface. He then lifted the handle, that was so conveniently still in his hands, in a threatening motion at the second man.

Nothing good was going to come out of this.

"Enough!" (Y/N) exclaimed, trying to get their attention by slamming her hand down on the counter.

A sharp pain surged through her hand the second it hit the surface, but she was too caught up in breaking up the bar fight to check and see what the cause of it was. "You both need to stop acting the way you are or you'll be thrown out."

"You need to start pouring the right fucking drinks in the right fucking order!" the first man yelled right back at the barmaid. He quickly turned to face her, the sharp handle of the glass now being waved in her direction.

"You might want to think about what you're doing right now," (Y/N) said to him, speaking in a low, leveled voice to try and get him to see sense in that moment.

She had no idea how this was going to go down.

"Oi! What the fuck is going out here?!" a booming voice came from the right-hand side of the altercation. (Y/N) turned her head to see a glaring Tommy Shelby looking through the small window that separated the private snug from the rest of the establishment.

"It's getting handled, Mr. Shelby," (Y/N) said in a quiet, but assured, tone. She hoped he could see that she could handle these sorts of situations by herself without having him stop he was doing to step in.

Tommy looked at (Y/N) for a moment, processing what she said before surveying the situation. In a matter of seconds he was out of the snug and approaching the bar. Anger was starkly apparent in his features. "I want both of you out of this fucking pub right now. Continue this if you want, but it won't be in front of me." He spoke in an almost growl-like tone. (Y/N) had never seen his this angry before.

The men didn't try and argue with him. They responded to his demand with a quick 'yes, Mr. Shelby' before they hung their heads and exited the establishment.

Tommy turned his attention to (Y/N) once they were out of sight.

"Mr. Shelby I was going to..."

"Let me have a look at your hand, (Y/N)," Tommy cut her off, his eyes zeroed in on the hand of hers that was still resting on the bar.

"It's fine, it just...oh, shit," she stopped what she was saying when she actually saw her hand. The sharp pain that she felt was caused by what looked to be a shard from the broken glass becoming stuck in the side of her hand. "Fuck," she breathed out a sigh, looking around for a rag to try and stop the bleeding.

"Let me look at it, love," Tommy cut in on her search, hoping to stop it before she could cover the injury up.

"I'll go to the washroom and sort it out," she insisted, continuing to look for a rag, "and then I'll make sure to clean the counter."

"It looks like there's a piece stuck in it," he pointed out, disregarding the action plan she'd just laid out.

"Let me see it."

"It's fine, Mr. Shelby," she insisted.

"Let me help you, (Y/N).” He wasn't taking no for an answer.

"Ok," she answered with a breath, finally relenting and holding her hand out for him to inspect.

He looked at it for a moment before taking it into his hold and stepping ever so slightly closer to her.

The breath go caught in (Y/N)'s throat at their close proximity. One challenge of working for the Shelbys that proved hardest to her after all of this time was keeping herself composed around Tommy. There was just something about him that she couldn't quite shake from her mind. She had a crush on her employer.

As he took hold of her hand, he brought her forearm to rest between his torso on his own forearm, hoping that it would stabilize her injured hand more for him to have a better look at it. It did the trick...but it also got (Y/N)'s heart racing.

"Hold still, love. This might sting a little," he said to her as he readied himself to pull the shard out of the side of her hand. (Y/N) gritted her teeth and sucked in a breath in preparation, then let that same breath out as a hiss as Tommy pulled the glass from her hand.

"There…it's out," he announced, gently letting go of her hand so that he could throw the glass in the bin under the counter.

"Thank you," she smiled at him, appreciation clear in her expression.

"You're welcome," he answered, nodding once as his lips slightly curved upwards. "If anything like that happens again please come and find me. I'll handle it."

"I will," (Y/N) nodded, not even trying to fight him on it. She had no problem sticking up for herself, but she also wasn't going to argue with him wanting to handle any future altercations.

Tommy nodded again after hearing her response. He then watched her as she grabbed one of the clean rags to hold on the cut she'd gotten. "There's some bandages in me office...go and get one to stop the bleeding."

"I will. Thank you, Mr. Shelby," she smiled at him in appreciation before turning and walking to the part of the pub his office was located in.

(Y/N)'s smile was spread from ear to ear as she entered the Garrison on her next shift day. She did a quick search around the pub's main room before concluding that the person she was looking for was - hopefully - in the private snug.

She found him upon opening the door. He was sitting in his usual spot: the head of the table with his back to the bar. A quick glance around the room made her realize that his brothers, John and Arthur, were also present.

"Good morning, (Y/N). What can we do for ya?" Arthur was the one to greet her first.

"Good morning," she returned the greeting, smiling at the two men sitting in the booth before looking back at Tommy, "I, uh...I wanted to give these to you, Mr. Shelby," she said as she held her hand out in the space between her and her employer.

Tommy took a moment to look down at what she was offering him. There was no glaring emotion present on his face as his eyes returned to hers, and (Y/N)'d be lying if she said that seeing this didn't make her clam up a little bit. She was also able to feel Arthur and John's eyes watching the interaction, their gaze��s weight adding an extra intensity to the situation.

"You got me flowers?" Tommy finally asked her, his eyes falling down to the small bouquet that was grasped in her still outstretched hand once more.

"I...yeah, I picked them on my walk to work today. I wanted to offer a little thank you for your help the other day," she explained the reason behind her sudden gift offering.

"You didn't need to thank me, (Y/N). It was..."

"I wanted to thank you, Tommy-" (Y/N) rushed to insist, her words coming out before she could realize she was calling her employer by his first name, "I, er...I meant Mr. Shelby, I'm sorry..." she stammered out, trailing off as she felt herself heat up at the mishap.

Tommy kept his eyes trained on her, which only made her want to sink into herself more, a somewhat of an amused expression forming on his face. If anything, he found her actions at this moment endearing.

He let a few more beats pass before he spoke again (Y/N) was getting closer and closer to dropping the flowers and running out with each one. John and Arthur were watching on intently, like one would with a close sports match.

"I appreciate the gesture, (Y/N)," Tommy finally spoke, taking the flowers from her - still - outstretched hand. He took another moment to look at them...no one had repaid him for doing a deed in a thoughtful way such as this before. A part of him truthfully preferred the sentiment to any lumpsome of money he could have received.

(Y/N)'s nerves were becoming increasingly frazzled with each moment that passed. Is he going to comment on my mishap? Was he upset by it? Is he going to reprimand me for it? Maybe I should get out of here. Her trail of thoughts finally pushed her to act, and she finally broke eye contact with Tommy to look at the two other Shelby men in the room, hoping to let them know that she was addressing everyone now. "I'll be going to my position at the counter now," she informed them, turning on her heel to walk the short distance back to the door.

"(Y/N)," Tommy's voice stopped her before she could open said door. She sucked in a breath as she turned back to face him. "Call me Tommy from now on, eh?"

The way he said it made it sound like a question, but anyone would have been able to tell that he was not asking her if she could do so. A weird feeling coursed through her body as she heard his statement. She couldn't explain it, or put a name to the feeling, but it put a smile on her face.

"I will," she gave him an answer even though he wasn't expecting one, nodding her head slightly before she continued with the motion of opening the door and exiting the snug.

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @succubaby @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings

@just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @mischievouslittlecreature @stevie75

@lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick

@dandelionprints @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @justrainandcoffee

@dragons-are-my-favorite @mrs-bond @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @everythingelseisextra

@little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife @ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo

@novashelby @wonderlanddreamer

[cherrycilly]

Sobbing, absolutely Sobbing

[fel-09]

When Thomas Shelby Rests

Fluff

Thomas Shelby rarely allows himself to rest. Too much work, too much thinking, too little time. But when he does decide to take a break, it's something with something.

He doesn't just rest. He dissolves into the moment as if the endless string of to-dos, conversations, wars, and plans never happened.

His favorite spot is your thighs.

As soon as he's near you, you know that in a few seconds his head will be nestled comfortably in your lap. He exhales heavily, letting himself relax, and closes his eyes.

You run your fingers through his hair, tentatively at first, like you're tasting the water before you enter it. But then you get used to it, and you continue to run your fingers slowly through the strands, feeling their softness.

Sometimes Tommy rumbles. So quietly that if you weren't so close, you might not hear it. It's an unconscious sound - like he doesn't realize how good he feels right now.

- If you keep..." he murmurs lazily, not opening his eyes.

- What?" you ask with a smile, already anticipating his answer.

He opens one eye, looking at you with a slight squint.

- I'm never going to get up.

You laughed, but you didn't stop caressing his hair. And Thomas didn't move. Because in that moment, he had no business, no enemies, no debts.

There was only you.

Drunken thoughts

Although Thomas Shelby often likes to relax at the Garrison, letting the alcohol ease his fatigue and envelope his body in a warm, lazy fog, tonight he'd clearly overdone it.

When he gets home, he can't stand up straight. The world shakes a little, but not so much that he doesn't notice you - standing by the bookcase, thoughtfully running your fingers over the spines of the books.

A strange thought creeps into his head.

Quietly, silently, he comes up behind you, and before you know it, he has his arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

You flinch, your breath hitching, but then you hear his husky, satisfied laugh.

- Tommy, shit..." your voice trails off in surprise, but he only pulls you tighter against him, nosing lazily into the curve of your neck.

He inhales deeply, savoring your scent, and then slowly runs his nose over your skin, leaving a warm, barely perceptible trail.

- I want to buy you some new underwear..." he murmurs suddenly, his voice low, breaking into a whisper. - Soft pink. Almost the color of the bed. With lace.

You stop talking, feeling a shiver run through your body.

- The back..." His fingers slide lazily down your back, eliciting an involuntary sigh you can't quite contain. - It would tie on a bow.

He leans closer, his lips touching the very edge of your ear.

- And it would be easier for me to take it off... when I'm drunk.

You swallow convulsively.

Tommy just smirks contentedly, like he's enjoying the effect he's having on you.

You turn to face him, slowly, as if in slow motion. Your fingers glide gently over his cheek, feeling the warm skin, the stubble, the trace of fatigue that always hides in the corners of his eyes. Then you lead your palm higher, to his forehead, gently tucking away a strand of hair that's scattered haphazardly.

He doesn't pull away. On the contrary, he succumbs to your touch, as if absorbing the warmth of your hands, as if he needs nothing else at this moment.

Silence.

It envelops you in a soft blanket, compressing the space between you, making it close, almost unbearably personal.

Silence - and no more words are needed.

Silence - and it's just the two of you.

Silence - and tonight he will sleep in your arms, and nightmares will not find their way to him.

And the next morning, you'll shave him - carefully, like you've done so many times before. You wet a towel in warm water and gently press it against his face, letting it soften. Then you soap up the brush, and the thick lather coats his cheeks and chin in an even layer.

Thomas sits in front of you, eyes half-closed. He barely moves, only occasionally turning his head under your palm. The razor glides smoothly, without jerking, from temple to jaw, from chin to neck. You work slowly, concentrating, and he's silent, savoring your every move.

The hangover he won't admit to, of course. He'll just let you take care of him, let you grumble that he's drunk again, staggering around the garrison again, barely making it to bed again. He even likes it when you're angry. He likes the way your voice shakes a little, the way you pant, the irritated pout.

He doesn't feel as bad as you think he does. He just wants you to touch him, to run your fingers over his cheeks, to linger at his temples, to squeeze his chin lightly. He wants you to smear cream on his face so his skin doesn't irritate, and then kiss his cheek-because he knows you like it.

[briefinquiries]

Under the Blood Moon | Peaky Blinders | Chapter 26

Tommy Shelby x Reader: Chapter 26

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 |Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26

Fic Summary: You came to Birmingham for a fresh start, to bury the past and keep your head down. As a former nurse in the war, you’ve seen enough blood and death to last a lifetime. But fate (and the Shelby’s) have other plans. After stitching Tommy Shelby back together, you find yourself drawn further into their world, a world of violence, loyalty, and power. When Tommy offers you a job, it comes with more than just good pay, it comes with expectations and lines you never planned to cross.

Chapter summary: Tommy leaves the hospital to handle business tied to the growing threat, you remain behind to watch over Finn. In the quiet hours that follow, the weight of everything they've endured begins to settle in. .

Word count:  5.5k

Warnings: Violence, injury, mentions of blood, physical assault, PTSD and war flashbacks, language, and emotional distress

--

Finn had been in the hospital for five days before he finally woke up enough to have a full conversation. 

The first few days had been touch and go. His eyes would flicker open, he’d offer a few slurred words, maybe a weak squeeze of the hand, before drifting off again. But that morning, when you walked into the room with a fresh cup of tea for yourself and a glass of water for him, he was already awake. Propped slightly on a pillow. Eyes open while he talked to Tommy. 

You paused in the doorway, just for a second.

Tommy sat beside the bed, his posture relaxed in the way only exhaustion could bring. One arm rested on the chair, the other lightly gripping the edge of Finn’s blanket. His coat was off and sleeves rolled. 

Finn looked small but alert. His skin was still pale, and the dark circles under his eyes hadn’t faded, but he was awake and speaking clearly. His voice was soft and hoarse, but steady enough to hold a conversation. He said something low to Tommy. It was something you couldn’t quite catch, but it made Tommy let out a short, quiet laugh. It was quick, almost under his breath, but you hadn’t heard him laugh like that in days.

The tightness in your chest loosened, just a little.

You stepped fully into the room, and the sound of the teacup tapping against the water glass in your hand drew their attention.

Tommy turned to look at you. His eyes flicked down briefly to what you were holding before lifting back to yours.

“He’s asking for sweets,” he said, nodding toward Finn. “Says the food here’s terrible.”

You walked to the side of the bed and raised an eyebrow at Finn. “Glad to hear you’re feeling better.”

Finn gave you a tired smile. “They just brought me by some toast. There was no jam. Not even butter.”

You set the tea down and moved to help him sit up a little straighter. “God forbid.”

“I mean, I’m already suffering, I might as well do it with some jam,” he said.

Tommy gave a small shake of his head. “You’ll get jam once you can stand without falling over.”

Finn groaned. “How long will that be?”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “You’ll heal faster if you do what you’re told.”

Finn looked at him, unimpressed. “You never did what you were told when you got hurt.”

You blinked and turned to Tommy. “Is that so?”

Tommy gave a slight shrug, clearly not interested in revisiting that particular memory. “That was a completely different situation.”

You and Finn exchanged a look.

“Shelby logic,” you muttered, shaking your head.

Finn smiled again, smaller this time. His eyelids were already starting to droop again.

You reached for his cup and set it aside, letting him settle back against the pillows.

“You can rest, love,” you said softly. “We’ll be right here.”

He didn’t argue. Within moments, his breathing slowed again, deeper now, steadier. His face relaxed as he drifted off.

You let out a long breath as soon as his eyes closed. It was a quiet exhale you hadn’t even realized you were holding. Not until the fear loosened its grip.

Tommy reached for your hand. His thumb brushed lightly across your knuckles.

“He’s alright,” he said. 

You curled your fingers around his before leaning back in your chair. You glanced at Finn, then at Tommy. “Tommy, what are we going to do?” you asked. “The men who did this– they’re still out there. They could come back.”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze was steady on Finn, but you could see the shift in his posture, the way his jaw tensed, the way his thumb stopped moving against your hand.

“They won’t,” he said eventually. 

You studied his face. “You don’t know that.”

“No,” he admitted. “But I’ll make sure of it.”

You hesitated, then asked, “How?”

Tommy looked at you for a long moment, weighing how much to say.

“I’ve had someone watching every point of contact since the night Finn was taken,” he said finally. “Every alley, every shipment, every man who’s ever shaken hands with the Italians in this city.”

You frowned slightly. “Since when?”

“Since the wedding,” he said. “I knew Luca wouldn’t stop.”

“And?” you asked. “What’ve they found?”

Tommy leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, voice low so as not to wake Finn.

“He’s got people doing the work for him. Not just the Italians. Locals, too. Some of our own.”

Your stomach turned. “What?”

Tommy nodded once. “That’s how they got to Finn. Whoever let them through knew when and where to hit.”

He sat back slightly, his eyes narrowing like he could see it all playing out again in his head.

“Luca doesn’t kick down the door himself,” Tommy said. “He bribes the man who’s meant to be watching it. Men like him don’t come to finish the job unless they know they’ve already won,” he continued. 

You glanced at Finn, your hand still curled lightly around Tommy’s.

Tommy followed your gaze. “He could’ve come after me. After Arthur. After any of the men who’ve had a hand in this war. But he chose Finn.” He paused, eyes fixed on the boy in the bed.  “A child. A boy who had no part in any of this.”

His hand clenched once in yours, then loosened.

“If Luca Changretta wants a war, I’ll fucking show him one.”

Tommy’s eyes were still locked on Finn, his jaw set, his shoulders coiled tight like a man already halfway out the door. The shift in him was subtle, but you knew it well by now. You saw the way he straightened his spine, the way his expression flattened into focus. It was the version of him that didn’t hesitate. The one who made decisions with blood on the line.

He looked down at your joined hands for a beat, like he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

Then he stood slowly, his fingers lingering in yours until the last second.

“I need to check in with Johnny Dogs,” he said, his voice clipped, already shifting back into motion. “We’ve got movement near the rail yard.”

Your stomach tightened.

Of course he had to go. Of course this couldn’t wait. But that didn’t stop the sharp prickle of unease crawling up your spine.

“You’re going now?” you asked, trying to keep your tone even.

He nodded. 

You glanced at Finn, then back at Tommy. “I just…” you paused, trying to find the words without making it harder than it already was. 

Tommy let out a quiet sigh. “You just what?” 

You shook your head. “Never mind.”

There was something in his expression. An understanding, maybe, or guilt, or just the same exhaustion you felt. Like he knew what you were trying not to say: that you were tired of him walking out the door and not knowing what kind of version of him would come back. Or if he would come back at all.

“Go on. Just say it,” he said. 

“I know we’ve been cooped up in this hospital for days, worried about Finn and eating shitty hospital food. But we finally got a minute. Just us. Without the next fire already waiting.”

Tommy didn’t move, didn’t interrupt.

“I knew it wouldn’t last forever. I know you have a job to do” you added. “But that minute was nice, that’s all.”

He looked down for a second, jaw working slightly, then back at you.

“I’m sorry.”

His voice was quieter now. It wasn’t fragile. Tommy Shelby was never fragile. But it was honest in a way he rarely let himself be.

You nodded, arms folding across your chest. “It’s alright. I just wish it could’ve lasted a little longer.”

He stepped forward then, gently, like he was approaching something delicate. He reached for your hand again, his fingers closing around yours.

“We’ll have more minutes,” he said. “Once this is done.”

You searched his face for a lie, but there wasn’t one. Just the same tired man who kept doing what he had to do because he didn’t know how to stop.

“Go,” you said finally, voice low. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

Tommy gave a single nod. He leaned in, kissed the side of your head, and let his hand fall away as he turned for the door.

You watched him go. Again.

You sat back down beside Finn’s bed, the chair groaning slightly under your weight as you settled into it like someone bracing for another long stretch of waiting.

…

The wind off the canal carried the stink of coal smoke and stagnant water. Tommy stepped out of the car without a word, shoulders stiff against the cold. Gravel shifted beneath his boots, sharp and loud in the stillness. He paused, glancing around the loading yard.

Tommy hadn’t been entirely honest with you earlier. He’d said it was a check-in with Johnny Dogs, nothing more. No point in making you worry about another possible setup, not when you’d just started to breathe again with Finn stable.

But the message that came two nights ago had been too precise to ignore. Someone claiming to speak for Luca. A neutral party. Promising terms. A place to talk.

Tommy didn’t believe in clean negotiations. Not with a man like Changretta. But if there was even a slim chance he could end this before another bullet flew, he had to see it through. 

Arthur climbed out after Tommy, scanning the dark edges of the yard with sharp eyes. He sniffed once, wiped his nose on the back of his glove, and muttered, “Place looks like it’s been dead a week.”

Tommy didn’t answer. His eyes were already tracking the shadows, the dim pools of light cast by a few failing lamps. 

Arthur stayed close, scanning every movement in the distance, but Tommy stood still. His gaze lingered on the far end of the lot. A delivery van passed in the street behind them. No one got out. No one pulled up. Nothing.

Johnny Dogs waited near the edge of the loading yard, half-hidden behind a stack of old crates. He didn’t wave. Just watched Arthur and Tommy approach with that taut, wary look he wore when something didn’t sit right.

Tommy lit a cigarette as he came up alongside him.

“Well?” he asked.

“No one’s shown,” he said without waiting for a greeting. “Nothing all day. Lads been posted since morning. Not a single fucker.”

Tommy nodded once, but his mind was already turning.

“Sure this is the right spot?” Arthur asked, stepping beside him. 

Tommy didn’t answer right away. He looked at the crates again. The open space. The clear exits. Too convenient.

“I’m sure,” he said. 

Arthur frowned. “You think they backed out?”

“No,” Tommy said. Even as he said it, the weight of the realization settled in his chest, cold and sharp. He took a slow drag from his cigarette and exhaled through his nose. “They were never going to show,” he muttered. “They wanted to know where I’d be.”

He’d known the message felt too clean. He’d known Luca didn’t send warnings. So why had he let himself believe it might be different this time? Because he was tired? Because he wanted to end it without more loss? 

He swallowed hard, jaw tight.

Arthur said something beside him, but it barely registered. A thin ringing had started in his ears, the kind he hadn’t felt since France, right before the shelling would start.

He turned slowly, his breath coming faster now, though he didn’t show it. Not on the surface.

“They wanted me away from the hospital.”

Arthur went still.

And now Tommy slowly turned, looking over his shoulder like he could already feel how far away he'd let himself get.

“They’re going after Finn,” he said.

“Fuck,” Arthur spat, already running back toward the car.

Tommy dropped the cigarette and crushed it under his heel, then he turned and followed, fast.

…

You sat beside Finn’s hospital bed, your body folded into the chair like you hadn’t moved in hours. Your head rested lightly against the edge of the mattress, one hand still holding his. His fingers twitched now and then in his sleep, weak but warm, a small reassurance that he was still fighting.

The room was dim. Just the overhead monitor lights cast a soft green glow around. It had been quiet since Tommy left about an hour ago.

You didn’t sleep, not really. Just let your eyes close every so often, tuning in to Finn’s breathing, the soft beep of the machines.

Then, the door creaked open.

You lifted your head slowly, groggy but alert.

A doctor stepped inside. 

He froze just past the threshold, like he hadn’t expected anyone to be there.

“Oh,” he said. “You’re… still here.”

Five days in the hospital meant you’d seen just about every doctor and nurse on this floor. Even the overnight staff. But you didn’t recognize this one.

“We’ve been staying with him. Didn’t want him waking up alone,” you said quietly, forcing a small smile as you rested your hand back over Finn’s.

The man gave a tight smile of his own, stepping inside a little farther now. “Of course,” he said. “That’s… that’s good of you.”

He glanced briefly at the monitors, then down at Finn. Not in a way that seemed particularly concerned, more like he was checking the room.

You leaned back a little farther in your seat, watching him.

“I thought I’d seen the entire staff rotation these last few days, but I haven’t seen you before yet,” you offered lightly. “You just come on shift?”

There was the briefest pause before he answered.

“Yes. Just filling in.”

He stepped a little closer to the bed, flipping open the clipboard in his hands without really looking at it.

“I’ve got some pain medication,” he said casually. “Just to help him rest a bit easier. Should take the edge off.”

You frowned.

Finn had been given pain meds less than an hour ago. You remembered the nurse coming in gently. She’d even explained the dosage aloud while logging it in the chart.

You straightened slightly in your chair. “They already gave him something,” you said, voice still even but firmer now. “About forty minutes ago.”

The man didn’t look at you right away. Just stared at the clipboard like he was reading something.

“Oh,” he said after a beat. “Well, this is a different dosage. Coordinated by a different team.”

You tilted your head slightly, eyes narrowing. “Which team?”

Another beat.

Then he smiled again, too quickly. “Pediatrics. Just an adjustment.”

You glanced toward Finn, then back at the man.

“I’d like to check with the nurse on duty first.”

The smile faded. Just a flicker.

“There’s no need,” he said, a little too quickly. “Really. It’s all logged—”

“I said I’d like to check,” you repeated, louder now, rising slowly from your chair.

The man’s posture shifted, almost imperceptibly, but you saw it. Then, the man’s hand dipped into his coat. When it came out, he was holding a syringe.

Time seemed to stutter. For a split second, you couldn’t move. Your mind tried to catch up to what your eyes were seeing.

Then he lunged.

You stumbled backward, the chair screeching across the tile as it tipped over behind you. The man came at you fast, expression flat and focused, the needle clutched tightly in his fist.

You barely caught his wrist mid-swing, and shoved back with everything you had, your forearm slamming into his chest. The syringe dropped to the floor with a soft clatter, but his other hand grabbed your shoulder, shoving you hard into the wall.

You kicked out, caught him in the shin. He cursed, accent thick and definitely not local, and stumbled, but recovered fast. You barely had time to breathe before he slammed into you, tackling you hard onto the tile.

You hit the ground flat, the air knocked from your lungs, your head bouncing off the floor with a dull crack that made your vision blur.

Then he was on top of you.

Heavy. Hands everywhere. One clamped hard around your wrist, the other scrambling down toward your side—your coat, your pockets, something he was trying to get to. The syringe. Or worse.

You fought blindly.

Your knee came up hard, catching him in the ribs. He grunted but didn’t move. His other hand grabbed a fistful of your hair and slammed your head back into the floor.

The lights above spun.

“What’s going on?” Finn’s voice cut through the haze.

It was thin. Fragile. The sound of a boy barely awake and already afraid. But you couldn’t turn to look. Couldn’t reassure him. 

All you could see was the man straddling your hips, his face inches from yours, sweat beading at his brow, nostrils flaring, breath hot and sour on your cheek. His jaw clenched tight, lips pulled back just enough to show his teeth. There was a smear of blood on his neck now. Yours, maybe, you couldn’t tell.

His eyes never blinked.

You saw the spit gathered at the corners of his mouth. Saw the twitch of his fingers as his hand moved toward your throat, slow but certain, like he wanted to feel the life leaving you. 

You twisted beneath him, arms pinned, the back of your head slick with blood against the tile.

His fingers closed around your neck, squeezing hard. 

Your breath cut off instantly, a strangled gasp catching in your throat as pressure surged against your windpipe. Your back arched instinctively, heels kicking against the slick tile as you clawed at his wrist, nails digging into skin that didn’t give.

The weight of him crushed down on your chest. Your lungs screamed for air.

Your vision blurred at the edges, black creeping in like spilled ink. You heard your own pulse thudding in your ears, heavy and distant.

One arm was still trapped beneath his knee, useless. The other scraped blindly along the floor, your fingers twitching and skittering across smooth tile, desperately searching, grabbing at nothing.

The panic was animal now. Pure survival.

And then, your fingertips hit something. Cold. Flat. Metal. The trauma shears.

You wrapped your hand around them and wrenched upward, muscles screaming, body twisting.

The next second, you were swinging.

You swung upward first, the blunt-edged blades catching him across the ribs. He snarled through gritted teeth, fingers still crushing your windpipe, his face inches from yours, breath hot and sour. Black was creeping in around the edges of your vision now, your body screaming for air—

You swung again, harder.

This time, the shears connected with the side of his neck.

Not deep, but enough.

He shouted, voice guttural and animal, recoiling with a sharp jerk. The pressure on your throat loosened just enough for you to drag in a desperate, choking breath.

You coughed, wheezed, and drove your shoulder into him, pushing him off balance. He staggered back, clutching the side of his neck where blood was already welling between his fingers.

You lunged after him.

Not because he was still a threat. Not because he was getting back up. But because he might. Because he would, if you gave him the chance.

You straddled his chest, one knee digging into his ribs, your hand still clenched around the trauma shears. His eyes widened, but he reached for you again.

You didn’t let him.

You brought the shears down, once, through his chest.

Then again.

And again.

It wasn’t clean. It wasn’t careful. There was no technique to it, just the weight of adrenaline and terror crashing through your limbs like a storm.

He tried to yell, but it came out a gurgle. You didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

Your hands were soaked now, his blood warm and slick on your fingers, your arms, your clothes. Your breathing came in gasps, ragged and animal. You couldn’t stop shaking.

You raised the shears again.

The man beneath you wasn’t moving. His arms were slack, his face unrecognizable through the mess. But your body didn’t understand that yet. Your mind was still caught in the moment, in the fear, in the fury.

Your hand tightened around the handle. 

One more.

The door slammed open behind you.

“Jesus Christ—”

You froze.

Your chest was still heaving. Your knees still dug into the man’s ribs. But you didn’t move. Didn’t lower your arm. Just slowly turned your head toward the doorway.

Tommy stood there. Arthur right beside him, wide-eyed, a half-drawn pistol hanging forgotten in his hand.

The room was silent now, except for your breathing and the soft beeping of Finn’s monitor, still alive, still steady.

You didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just knelt there, frozen, blood smeared up your arms, drying in streaks across your hands and mouth. Your chest rose and fell too fast, each breath shallow and ragged. The trauma shears were still clenched in your fist, white-knuckled and rigid, as if some part of you believed he might get back up.

The room felt like it was underwater.

Then, Tommy's voice broke the silence. "Are you alright, Finn?"

“He was trying to kill me. But she stopped him.” His voice was thin and scared. "I'm alright."

You didn’t turn to look at him.

You just stared forward, eyes unfocused, fixed on the blood pooling beneath the man’s body, the red streaked across your skin, the shears lying motionless by your knee.

You couldn’t feel your hands. Or your legs. You weren’t even sure if you were breathing.

Tommy stepped forward slowly, like you were a wounded animal, still caught in the middle of the fight.

He didn’t speak.

His eyes dropped to your hand. The shears still gripped tight in your fist, the blades slick with blood, trembling slightly as they hovered in the space between you and the man on the floor.

“You can let go of them now,” he said softly, his voice low but steady. “It’s over. He's gone.”

Tommy took another step forward, slow and deliberate.

You didn’t respond. Your eyes didn’t leave the body. You looked like you couldn’t hear him, like your brain was still caught in the moment, waiting for the fight to start again.

“Give them to me, darling,” he said gently, reaching out but not touching you yet.

Tommy crouched down in front of you, just far enough to meet your eye line.

Your grip didn’t change.

Not at first.

But then slowly, your gaze lifted. It met his. Your eyes were wide, glassy, hollow. He saw the exact second you came back to yourself.

“Give them to me,” he repeated, softer this time.

Your fingers finally loosened. The shears fell into his open palm with a faint, wet clack.

Without taking his eyes off you, Tommy reached back and handed them to Arthur, who stepped forward silently and took them without a word.

And then your body collapsed.

You pitched forward into his chest, sobs breaking loose from your throat in jagged waves. You didn’t hold back. Your arms wrapped tight around his shoulders, your fingers fisting in the back of his coat as you clung to him like gravity itself had given out.

Tommy caught you instantly, one arm strong around your back, the other at the back of your head, pulling you in close.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured. “You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

Your entire body shook in his arms. Sobs tore through you with no rhythm or control. The weight of it all came crashing down at once: the fear, the blood, the way it could’ve gone so much worse.

Tommy’s hand moved gently, sliding up the back of your head to cradle it. He leaned in, forehead pressing against the side of yours.

You clenched your fists tighter in his coat, fingers aching, nails pressing into wool. The scent of him was thick in your nose. 

“He—” you choked. “I thought he was going to—”

Tommy pulled you closer, as if he could shield you from the memory itself.

“I know,” he said. 

During the war, you’d grown accustomed to death. You’d seen bullet wounds tear through men, grenades blow off limbs, and life slip away more times than you could count.

But you’d never been the one to take it. Until now.

And even though it had been his life or Finn’s, it still clung to you. In your clothes. In your hair. Under your nails. You could feel it in your bones, humming like something you couldn’t scrub off.

Tommy held you for another moment, then slowly shifted, rising to his feet and taking you with him. His arm stayed locked around your waist, steadying you as your knees threatened to buckle.

“Arthur,” he said, voice suddenly cold and clear. “Call John, he can help get the body out of here quietly. Have Polly come stay with Finn. I don’t want him alone.”

Arthur blinked, then gave a sharp nod. “Right.”

He moved fast, stepping around the blood, grabbing a sheet from the cabinet and crouching by the still form on the floor. You couldn’t even look at what you’d done.

Tommy’s hand came up to cradle the back of your head again, guiding you gently to his chest. “There we go,” he murmured. 

You didn’t argue.

You just let him hold you while the weight of what you’d done sank in, and the mess of it all began to be swept away. 

“Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s get you out of here.”

You didn’t resist.

Your feet moved clumsily beneath you, barely aware of the sticky warmth of blood drying on your skin, or the dull ache in your knees and shoulders. You just followed the pressure of his hand at your back, leaning into him like he was the only thing keeping you upright.

Behind you, Arthur was already moving. The sound of fabric dragging across tile echoed faintly behind you as Tommy opened the door and guided you out into the hallway.

You blinked against the overhead lights, everything feeling too sharp, too clinical after the chaos of the room. 

There were no footsteps. No voices. No nurses with clipboards, no doctors making their rounds. The station at the end of the corridor sat empty. Even the usual low hum of activity had vanished.

You slowed, just slightly, scanning the space.

Nothing.

Just white tile. Pale walls. Abandoned chairs pushed crooked beneath tables. Machines left idle. A silence that stretched too long.

You didn’t ask.

Tommy said nothing either. Just adjusted his grip on you and kept walking. His pace was steady, purposeful. Like he already knew this floor was clear. Like it had been expected.

Like this, too, was part of the war.

He guided you through the back stairwell, down the side corridor, and out into the night. The cold hit your skin instantly, sobering and sharp. Tommy’s car waited at the curb. 

Tommy helped you in gently. But you didn’t remember buckling in, and you barely even noticed the drive.

When you pulled up in front of the house, you didn’t move right away. You stared out the window at the familiar shape of the doorway, the stone steps, the light flickering just inside the hall. 

Tommy came around and opened your door. He didn’t speak. Just reached for your hand.

You let him help you out of the car, your body still trembling. Inside, the house was quiet. Warmer than the hospital. But even that couldn’t touch the chill that had settled into your skin.

 Tommy gently guided you up the stairs, his hand steady at your back, and down the hall to your shared bedroom. The room was dim, untouched. He walked you straight to the adjoining bathroom. 

He turned on the tap, warm water rushing into the basin. Steam rose, fogging the mirror slightly. He found a clean towel on the shelf, poured warm water into a bowl like it was second nature, and soaked the cloth.

You stood by the door, unmoving. Watching.

“Come here,” he said quietly, holding the towel in one hand, his other extended.

You stepped toward him slowly.

He dipped the towel again, then reached for your wrist.

You flinched—not because it hurt, just because your skin still felt on fire with urgency.

His fingers were warm. The towel was even warmer. He moved slowly, wiping in steady, careful motions.

He started with your wrists. The insides, where blood had dried into fine lines like cracked paint. Then the backs of your hands, where bruises were already forming across your knuckles. He worked methodically, rinsing the towel, wringing it out, coming back again.

When he reached your forearms, you caught yourself holding your breath. 

He moved to your jaw next. The cloth brushed away a faint smear there, the pressure just enough to remind you flinch.

When he got to the streak along your cheekbone, he paused.

Just a beat.

Then he lifted the towel again and wiped gently, following with his thumb, soft and deliberate, like he wanted to wipe the memory of it. 

“I killed him,” you said suddenly. 

The words barely left your mouth. They didn’t sound like yours.

Tommy stilled. His hand hovered just beneath your jaw, not pulling away, not pressing closer. Just there.

“I know,” he said quietly.

You looked down, your vision narrowing to the floor tile between you. There was a smear of blood on your shirt sleeve, nearly dry now, the edges gone dark.

You swallowed hard, your throat raw. “I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. He was already down and I just– I couldn’t stop.”

He lowered the towel, letting it rest on the edge of the basin. Then he reached up and gently tilted your chin, just enough to meet your eyes.

“You did what had to be done,” he said, low. “That’s it.”

You shook your head, the weight of it all pushing back up through your chest, but Tommy was already shaking his.

“Don’t,” he said quietly. “Don’t start second-guessing it now. It was him or you and Finn. And you did what you had to do.”

His voice wasn’t cold, but it was certain. Solid.

You didn’t respond. Just stood there, still trembling faintly, still feeling like you were trapped inside your own skin.

Tommy watched you for a moment longer, then set the towel down beside the sink and stepped past you.

You turned your head slightly, following his movement with your eyes as he crossed to the tub. He turned the taps, adjusted the temperature, let the water begin to fill the basin.

It was so ordinary a thing, so domestic, it made something ache behind your ribs.

Steam began to rise, curling around the edges of the porcelain. He tested the water with his hand absentmindedly.

You hesitated for a second. The thought of peeling off your bloodied clothes made your stomach twist, but the weight of them was worse, the way they clung, stiff and damp, heavy with what had happened.

Your fingers moved slowly. First the buttons of your blouse, then the skirt. You peeled each layer away with care, as if the fabric might tear you open if you weren’t gentle.

Tommy didn’t watch. He turned slightly, giving you just enough space to move without feeling exposed, but still staying close.

When you were down to your skin, you stepped into the tub. The water was hot, almost too hot, but the sting felt grounding. You sank slowly, easing your body beneath the surface until the warmth wrapped around your chest and shoulders like a weighted blanket.

Your hands hovered for a moment over your knees, trembling faintly. You weren’t sure if the shaking would stop, even here.

You heard the soft shift of fabric behind you. Tommy’s coat, his boots, his shirt hitting the floor one piece at a time. 

The tub creaked as he climbed in behind you.

You didn’t turn to look, but you leaned back the second his arms opened. He pulled you against his chest, one arm looped gently around your waist, the other resting on the edge of the tub. 

The water lapped gently around you both. His breath was slow against your shoulder, and his skin was warm and solid behind you. 

“You shouldn’t have had to do that,” he said. Regretful in the way only he could be.

Your fingers, resting just above the surface of the water, twitched slightly. You swallowed, but still didn’t speak as you laid your head back against him. 

“But I’m glad that you did,” he said finally.

You felt the shift in his chest as he spoke, the rhythm of his breath syncing with yours. The weight of the day pressed into the room like fog. Tommy tightened his arm around your waist, anchoring you against him.

<< Previous Chapter

Next Chapter >> (coming soon)

[vervainandspritz]

JUST ANOTHER OF YOUR MISTAKES

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Request made by @justsumtuffstuff: Could you do a tommy shelby imagine where you secretly have his kid but don’t tell him until one day aunt polly sees you and is like “holy shit” but that’s not the surprise, the surprise is you have twins. Just a lot of angst and fluff pretty please? ((:

This fic will have two parts!

Warnings: angst, swearing, violence, grieving, a lot of pain, eventual fluff, smut

A/N: It's a.. heavy fic, so beware. Interact for more

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE

~~

The land of Birmingham seemed to never change, not one bit. Ever since the first people settled there, the sky hung over them as if by force, never clear enough to see prospects for the future. Robbing the poor kids of dreams, of the loud thumping in their hearts caused by excitement for the good that never came.

It would seem that God has lost his way to Birmingham, not to mention Small Heath. Dirt, smoke and silence that rang too loud when working men would finish their shifts in factories seeking peace in their homes. After all, the human brain can get used to everything.

What was the difference between going to sleep hungry every night, and the relentless churning in the depths of her stomach that Y/N felt? Pain that never let go, waking up along her side like a loyal husband, never ceasing to accompany her throughout the day. Never loosening the hold on her heart.

Oh, how cruel the fate can be, Y/N thought, looking at the white ceiling of her bedroom. One she slept in for many nights too long, carrying the weight of the curse on her shoulders.

Because she was cursed, that one she was sure. Seeing the man she loved more than anything else in the world, losing himself in the grief after another woman.

Because that was the woman whose name Y/N dared not speak or even think. That's who she was, another woman. Embodiment of pain and betrayal of so many promises, taking away the beautiful, blue gaze Y/N yearned for so badly.

God must have been so cruel, putting her through the uncertainty of ever seeing him again throughout the war, and then taking him away.

Taking him away from Y/N, and letting her watch the process. Letting her see the distance growing, the dilated pupils in his eyes after each doze of opium, fruitlessly trying to numb the pain he carried.

Y/N couldn't help but wake up everyday, wondering how different his grief would be if it was her who died. Would he cry? Would he push the other woman away, like he did her? Sometimes the pain felt like too much to handle, but Y/N would never try to pull the trigger. Subconsciously feeling the weight of shame in her chest if she'd ever somehow found out she was right. That he wouldn't care.

So she lived, losing pieces of her heart day by day, warming his bed whenever he saw it convenient.

Until that one day came, that was. Hearing the... Scary, oh so scary news from her doctor she visited in secret. Putting both of her hands on her still flat stomach, she didn't feel anything physically. Yet it was enough to find the strength, buried so deep in her heart.

The love she felt for her unborn children outweighed the love for him.

The tension in Arrow house felt heavier than usual, as Y/N dragged her heavy suitcase down the stairs before slowly making her way to his office. The pain, longing in her heart slowing her down, extending the seconds into forever.

Y/N took a deep breath as her hand pressed down on the metal handle, the loud click echoing throughout the mostly empty room. Wordlessly she slipped inside, walking up to his desk quietly, letting out a shaky breath when she stopped mere inches away from the wooden furniture. His eyes didn't move from the documents he was reading, an empty gaze fixed on black letters despite knowing she was there. Y/N waited for a second, giving him a chance to look at her. Hoping he would.

But he didn't.

”I'm leaving” she said, loud enough to be heard. Silence followed her words, loud like never before as her heart squeezed in anticipation, silently begging him to stop her. To say something. Several moments passed before he finally did, making her heart stop for a mere second.

”Safe travels, Y/N Y/L/N” He responded in a cold, husky voice and for a moment, Y/N wondered who he was, wearing his face but sounding so different.

But the dust settled, just like the weight of his words as soon as she closed the door behind her back for what she thought would be the last time.

~~

Polly's eyes cut through his skin like a blade, her gaze never changing after that one feral day. The look of contempt and disgrace not even a bit different than one she gave him finding out what happened, back then.

”I was hoping you wouldn't be so stupid” She hissed, leaning forward, reaching for a cigarette with a shaky hand. Her eyes were teary, as she inhaled the smoke. ”When you were younger I saw your mother in your eyes. Now, they're full of greed and foolishness. Just like your father's” She spat out with contempt, raising from the chair. Quickly walking up to his own, she kneeled down for a moment, to meet his gaze.

One so empty, that gave her goosebumps.

”I will never forgive you, and... Neither will you.” She whispered. ”But you will have to live with the choice you made.”

Her words echoed loudly in his head several minutes after Polly left... And they never stopped ringing now, thirty eight months later. Thomas counted, every morning to be sure. After sobering up it was difficult to tell days apart. He rarely slept, fearful of the dreams he had at first.

He saw her, she was so close and yet no matter how fast Tommy ran, he couldn't reach her. Out of his reach no matter how hard he screamed or cried. Looking at him with the burning tears he caused.

It took him three months to sober up, give up on opium and... Feel. Thomas wasn't ready for the hellish pain that dawned on him once the drug wore off. The terrifying longing that dawned on him when he felt the remnants of her perfume on his pillow. The lack of relief he hoped for so badly, throwing away every single Grace's belonging he held onto previously, burning the photos and destroying the items, but it never came.

As time stretched, it became more intense. Thomas carried the pain and guilt wherever he went, finding the smallest bit of relief only in his office, searching for Y/N in every piece of England day by day.

Replaying the ways in which he treated her, internally setting himself on fire and forcing himself to feel every bit of it. Because that's what he deserved, to feel and carry the cross he created with his own hands.

Oh how beautiful the pain was, as he'd lean back in his armchair, closing his eyes and remembering her gaze. Her scent and her laugh, echoing so lively in his mind.

...but none of it worked, no matter how many people searched. How much money he spent on the search. Almost like she disappeared into thin air.

Day by day he was dying a little, bleeding through the wounds he so desperately prevented from healing every single time. Keeping the memory of her alive in his mind, not letting the hope die. Because it was all he had. Glimmer of hope. The leader of Peaky blinders became even worse than before. The pain shaped his mind in unknown ways, as the limitless cruelty became visible to anyone who dared to cross his path. Peaky Blinders were unmatched.

Nobody besides Thomas held onto the hope anymore. Knowing Y/N for so long, John and Artur knew she wouldn't come back. Not if her life depended on it. Polly only prayed for her safety.

...and Y/N? She stopped praying once her children were born. After finding out she'd have twins, she prayed every night for them to be born healthy. It was all that mattered.

Not the fact that she had to be using a fake name after moving to Coventry, mere miles away from Birmingham. But she couldn't afford to move further.

It's been.. so fucking hard. Everything. Y/N spent every night crying, begging any God that would listen to take away the pain in her heart. The pain that her babies only managed to lessen. Working as a waitress on nightshifts after accepting the kindness of her older neighbour. Mrs Wilson offered to take care of her boys while she works to help her make ends meet. Y/N had no idea what she would do without a woman she grew to call her only family.

”It's no problem, honey. They're little angels” She said quietly with a kind smile, taking one of the boys into her arms mere days after they were born.

The pain Y/N felt by having to leave her kids every night was stronger than the physical one. Having to work a demanding job after giving birth to keep the roof over their heads.

She cried, cried so much that eventually tears ran out and all she could do was.. keep trying. The two little people by her side were giving her strength. Light that she couldn't see before them, and only existed because they were here. Keeping her own heart beating.

***

”Are you sure? I can take care of them while you go, honey. You know how much I love them, don't you?” The older lady offered eagerly, caressing Nick's cheek with a smile, and a hint of concern while she glanced at Y/N.

”Thank you, but I will take them. The least I can do is spend time with them throughout the day.” Y/N responded, smiling sadly to her neighbour who just nodded along, understanding the allusion.

Letting out a sigh, she put her hands together.

”Be careful, dear.”

Y/N squeezed her hand lightly before pulling away as she held her son's hand, while carrying the other one on her hip.

”Always”

Travelling via train took no longer than forty minutes, and with each passing mile, Y/N's anxiety grew. She hasn't been in Birmingham for a long time now, not looking back.

Yet, because of her official address being still in the Arrow house, she needed to visit the office to complete documentation for boys. She put it off as long as she could, but it was inevitable now.

Despite the negative emotions, Y/N couldn't felt.. better, having her babies with her. The familiar facial expressions or blue orbs were enough to sometimes bring her to tears, but she couldn't love them more. They were a perfect little copy of the man whose name was engraved on her heart. The older they were, the more similar looking they were and now at dashing two and a half years, both boys were troublemakers.

Slowly making their way through Birmingham, Y/N held one little hand, chatting away with Nick, who was more energised than his brother who slept soundly in his mum's arms.

”...and dat?” He asked, pointing towards the building and glancing curiously at his mama. Y/N smiled at his curiosity, seeing how similar personality wise he was to her.

”that's a house” She replied calmly. The little boy cheered loudly, throwing his arms in the air.

"Yaay! Hooose!” He squealed making her chuckle, not caring about the scolding glances from other passengers.

A couple minutes later the other little one woke up, and started fussing because obviously he also wanted to walk now, while Nick wanted to be carried now. Sighing, Y/N put one of the kids down, and as she managed to pick up little Nick, she gasped loudly seeing her son's legs already in motion as he ran towards the crowd.

”Tommy! Thomas, stop!” She yelled after him, chasing him with Nick on her hip who watched the whole thing with his blue eyes wide open. ”Tommy!” She yelled once again, and he finally turned around, stumbling upon someone.

Y/N closed the distance as fast as she could, grabbing little Tommy and pulling him back to his feet, as she checked for any bruises – found none.

”I'm so sorry, i–” She started out, wanting to apologise to the random passenger, but words died on her tongue as soon as her eyes locked with the familiar brown ones.

”Y/N?” Polly stumbled out in shock.

Fuck

Part two upcoming

[noforkingclue]

yay requests are open! I’m not good with ideas but could you write dark! Tommy Shelby who manipulates Alfie’s sister and gets her pregnant and alfies especially furious because she’s not supposed to be in a relationship with a gentile but tommy wants to have leverage over him

Note: requests are currently closed

Of course anon. Hope you like the fic

Title: Leverage

Warnings: dark fic (manipulation, emotional manipualtion), period typical attitudes towards women who have children outside marriage, period typical sexism, period typical anti-Semitism

You held your head high as you looked at your brother. Alfie returned the glare before standing up and pouring two large drinks. He held one out to you and you said,

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Alfie snorted and downed his drink before finishing yours as well. He turned his back on you as he walked towards the window. An unusually tense silence fell between the two of you. You and Alfie never argued. Oh you had disagreements (which siblings haven’t?) but this was different.

“You,” Alfie was the one to shattered the silence, “are a fucking idiot.”

“No I’m not!”

Alfie briefly glanced at you over his shoulder before looking away.

“Y’know what people will fucking say.”

“Of course I do,” you snapped, “they’ve been saying it already. Whore, slut, bitch. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, usually with ‘Jewish’ or something much worse slapped in front of it for good measure!”

You settled back in your chair and folded your arms. It wasn’t the easiest action to do, not with your baby bump now showing. You smiled down at it and ran a hand over it. Alfie, who was now back behind his desk, rolled his eyes at the action.

“You’re lucky,” he said, “there’s plenty of fucking cunts who want to-”

“I’m not marrying anyone,” you said, “at least, not anyone of your choosing. Not some nice Jewish boy who would do anything to do you a favour.”

Alfie’s gaze became cold but you weren’t someone to back down about something. Especially to your own brother.

“And you think,” Alfie continued, “that Thomas fucking Shelby will what? Make you a fucking honest woman?”

“Alfie-”

“He’s fucking using you. Using you to get to me.”

“Not everything is about you!”

You stood up so quickly your chair clattered to the floor. You hugged yourself tightly and paced about. Alfie remained seated, his face blank as you walked about.

“You might not believe this,” you said, “but Tommy… Tommy fucking loves me and-”

You were interrupted by Alfie letting out a cold laugh. You turned sharply to look at him as Alfie leaned back in his chair.

“You really think that Tommy loves you?” he asked

“I…I do.”

“Why?”

“Why? He… He treats me right. How a man should treat a lady. He doesn’t care that I’m Jewish. He doesn’t insult me because of it. It’s…it’s a refreshing change to be with a man who doesn’t hurl insults at me.”

“There are plenty of men in London who don’t do that.”

“But he’s not Jewish and that’s why it’s important!” you yelled, “He cares about me. About our daughter.”

“Daughter? You think you’re having a daughter?”

“Why would you prefer a nephew to a niece.”

“I don’t give a shit. Although I’d have preferred it not to be Shelby’s. Tell me,” Alfie poured himself another drink, “are you going to raise it Jewish? Will the Shelby’s allow you to.”

“I-”

“Or do you think that once Shelby’s got what he wants from you, he’ll fucking dump you. Leave you like this,” he waved a hand at you, “not do the decent fucking thing, even though I fucking doubt he knows what that is.”

“And what is it that he wants?” you asked quietly

Alfie stood up and walked towards you. He tilted your head back so you were looking up at him.

“To take over my business,” he said, “our business. And we aren’t going to fucking let him, are we?”

When you didn’t answer immediately Alfie’s voice lowered. You recognised that tone although it was never used on you.

“Are we?”

“No,” you said quietly, “we’re not.”

[mydear-corinthian]

phone call

synopsis - tommy receives a phone call in the middle of having sex with his wife.

pairing - tommy shelby x reader / thomas shelby x reader

warnings - SMUT +18, rough sex, use of foul language, breeding kink, praising kink, creampie, just full of porn, unprotected sex, p in v

notes - short (w.c <850), gif and picture isn't mine, divider is mine

main masterlist | peaky blinders masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist

His hands explored every inch of your sensitive body with a satisfying touch that sent shivers down your spine. There was an irresistible affection between the two of you that was endless. Your breath caught as his dominant, wild hip thrusts into yours, causing hectic, unrestrained moans with every thrust.

"Oh my God- yes, Thomas!"

As he pushed you farther into the mattress, his weight and heat surrounded you as you lay beneath him, your bodies linked. He drew closer as your legs coiled around his hips, stretching you in the most delicious way as he slid deeper with each thrust. Tommy started to breathe hard, his chest heaving as sweat collected on his forehead and trickled down to mix with the heat from your smooth skin. He met your gaze with lust and something deeper than that.

"Yes, baby.. fuck- you take me so well.. so fucking well," he praised on your ear as he rested his head on your neck, his deep thrusts not stopping.

The telephone on top of the nightstand beside your shared bed rang loudly. Your husband stopped, looking at the phone near him.

Who the fuck is calling at this hour?

Tommy picked the phone up, not leaving the bed.

"Thomas Shelby." he answered.

You expected him that he would draw away and stop, especially when the phone rang. He stopped and reached for it, and you felt upset. Tommy, though, chose to stay still and answered the phone with one hand while tightening his grip on your waist with the other and suddenly thrusting his hips forward once more.

His thrusts continued to shock you, causing your body to tense in surprise, but before you could respond, pleasure took over. His cock sank farther, each malicious movement finding that exact spot. You ended up speechless by both of his soothing phone voice and the way he caused your body to react to him.

"What ha-happened?" Tommy asked over the phone, his breathing heavily telling each question with a struggled and unsteady voice. He attempted to keep his composure, but the force of his motions made it almost impossible as his chest rose and fell quickly. As he tried to concentrate on the talk, you could feel his heart thumping against your body and his breath rapid and hot against your skin.

Tommy looked at you, a smirk painted on his face. With his free hand, his fingers toyed with your hardened nipples, brushing them and squeezing it.

"Tomm-" you covered your mouth immediately as you nearly moaned his name out loud, afraid of whoever is on the phone hearing that Tommy is fucking his wife at the moment.

"Yeah, I'll handle that tomorrow morning," his voice was deep making you feel wetter and wetter. A familiar feeling coiled down through your stomach.

"Tommy, I'm so close," you quietly moaned. Your fingers gripped the silk bedsheets tightly as you felt your high coming.

The room was filled with the constant sound of your bodies meeting, the heat between you growing with each slap of flesh on skin. Your thoughts were taken over by the intense pleasure that was shooting through your entire body as your eyelids fluttered closed, buried in a fog of ecstasy. You vaguely heard Tommy drop the phone somewhere in the distance, but it didn't really matter. The way he grabbed you closer and pounded your hips with such merciless pace that every thrust sent shivers of pleasure through your entire body was all that mattered. Heavy intakes of breath from him, merging with your groans as he pushed you both to the edge.

"Good girl, yes, yes.. Finish on my cock."

Tommy experienced the same closeness as your cock clenched all over it. With a deep moan, he raised your right leg to his shoulders. He treated you like the most precious gemstones that thieves like him could take. Tommy groaned and praised as his head rolled back.

"D'you want me to cum inside you? Breed you? Make you mine?"

"Yes, yes! Fill me up, sir! Please!"

His back was scratched by your nails, and in a few hours, scars will definitely begin to appear. You groaned, breasts bouncing and the bed creaking with every pound.

And then, after a few more thrusts, he smashed deep inside of you until he poured all of his seed into your abused and tight walls. It was warm and filled. Tommy groaned loudly and pleased, then rested his head on the side of your neck to inhale yourself. He waited until every last drop of his cum filled you before pulling out.

As soon as he pulled out, a mixture of his and your load leaked outside your throbbing pussy. Tommy got up, grabbing a box of tissue and cleaned the both of you up.

"Who was that?" you asked.

"Just the betting shop asking for me to check on something."

"You think they.. heard me?"

"I'm sure they did and I'm glad so that they know how much I fucking please my lovely wife." he chuckled before planting another kiss to your lips.

You gladly kissed him back but the kiss deepened and the both of you know what that means.

Another round.

[lau219]

headcannon that came to me out of no where: how would the boys react if they got a shitty haircut

Hahaha!

Cillian: Considering he has voiced his dislike for certain haircuts he’s had, he’d probably just be like, “Well, guess we’re just gonna roll with it until it grows out.” Gareth would find a way to make it work. 😂

Emmett: Would wear a baseball hat 24/7 until it grows out.

Leonard: Wouldn’t go to work until he grew it out or got it fixed by a different barber. (Side note: his hair in that movie makes me weak)

Robert: Would spend a ton of money on a ridiculously expensive new barber who could fix it for him.

Tommy: Would beat up the barber.

Raymond: Wouldn’t set foot outside or go to work until his hair gets back to how he likes it. I mean, his hair is part of his whole look. (Side note: his hair in that movie also makes me weak)

Jonathan: Would get it fixed by a different barber ASAP. He refuses to look foolish or goofy.

Jackson: Refuses to pay the barber and then punches him in the face when he tries to argue.

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 77: A Proposition

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

*Warning: Talk of intimacy

The few days’ journey to Belfast slips by like a blur. I’m driven to an elegant hotel and am told to wait for my parents’ arrival, which should be tomorrow. The man I’m marrying is said to be in Scotland and will be arriving tomorrow as well. I’m to spend the night before my wedding in a quiet, lonely hotel room. Each minute that ticks by only increases the tightening in my stomach. Lord, I feel like I'm going to be sick. I really wish Dílis was here to keep me company.

But at least the selected dress is decent. A bit bland for my taste but it could be worse. I decide to slip it on and model it in front of the tall mirror. Moeder chose one with a high neckline and flowing skirt, although I could do without the long sleeves. Even the veil looks too bland on me. The only upside is that it helps to hide my fresh scar. Although this is supposed to represent the happiest day of my life I can’t help but feel incomplete.

My reflection in the mirror confirms it. I’m not the same person I was fourteen years ago. Back then I was carefree and naïve. Now I’m sad and tired. Tired of putting myself off. Surely I’ve gone the distance to earn romantic love? Perhaps this marriage will deliver it… Even if it will be with a man I might not love.

Is that the life Thomas was used to? Being surrounded by despair, desperate for any form of happiness even if it was paid for? Even after all this time I will still be clinging to past feelings. 

“God, you look beautiful.”

My eyes fly open and I gasp when I see an addition to the reflection. His scent of scent of mint, ash, and cigarettes fills the room and floods my senses.

“You-? You’re here?” 

I spin around, almost tripping on the skirt. I am not imagining this. He is here. Thomas is here. In my hotel room, staring at me in a wedding dress. Ada let it slip to someone. And now I can’t hide it from him.

“Please leave,” I request evenly and turn away. “If you don’t mind I’d like to spend the last few moments I have alone in peace before my life changes forever.”

Thomas, looking like he’s had no sleep during his trip here, drops onto the bed’s plush mattress. I don’t even bother to care about how much dirt he’s getting on it.

“Have you even met him yet?”

I take a breath and keep up the charade. “Vader says I’ll learn to love him. I’ve tried to love others in the past but they couldn’t look away from my connections to you.”

At least with Bonnie he understood how gangs work. But most of the men I explain my past to believe it’s unladylike. Lord knows I tried to move on but no one ever seemed the right fit.

“Honestly I don’t even know if I can love anymore.”

“You will never stop loving people,” Thomas assures. “But you can’t marry him.”

I quirk a brow and humor his statement. “If I remember straight, I seem to recall you saying that I don’t decide your life and that you don’t decide mine. Why the sudden change of heart?”

Thomas keeps looking at me and shakes his head, as if the situation is inarguable. “You just can’t.”

“Since when is my love life suddenly your top priority?” I poke at him. I need to know.

He stands up from the bed but I don’t feel spooked. “You think I don’t care?” 

I put my hands up my hips. “You never showed any interest until now. My moeder’s not waiting any longer for me to find someone so vader’s arranged for me to marry a complete stranger. One of Uncle Colon’s friends, apparently.” 

He takes another look at my dress. “I knew you were leaving. You never said anything about marriage.”

“I didn’t want you to feel… obligated to worry. You have enough on your plate as it is.” I bunch up the skirt and step over to set my veil down on the dresser. “What difference does it make? I still need to protect my familie’s legacy.”

Thomas watches me carefully. After a few seconds he tosses his cap on the bed and runs a hand through his hair. Damn it, Thomas! Come clean with whatever you’ve got to say and don’t make yourself at home here!

“First I thought Grace was the only one who understood. Even after you warned me about her,” he begins. “Now I have begun a new life. And I want you in it. Arthur’s right. I never showed interest because I was suppressing myself.”

That doesn’t sound like him. “Why would you do that? You always jump at the chance to speak your mind.”

“Because you deserve better,” he answers immediately. “You’re… You’re you, Verena. Innocent. Being caught up with a man like me only leads to trouble, as you’ve found out. I can’t let that happen to you again.”

He’s right. It is dangerous. But it has also been liberating. We’ve both lost people. We’ve both waded through battles. 

“Thomas, if you know me at all then you know I don’t care about taking chances. I mean, I decided to stay in Birmingham, didn’t I? I could have ran back to Brooklyn with my tail between my legs.” I push aside my conflicted feelings and step closer. “But I wanted more out of life than starting out as just a simple housewife. Working with the Peaky Blinders, working with you, has given me the biggest adventure of my life.”

He doesn’t know how to respond. I’m sure not many have shown gratitude for this. But there is another loose end I need to pull.

“If you don’t think I should be caught up with someone like you then why did you chase me here?”

Thomas presses his lips together and goes to lean his head against the wall, both hands holding him up. “I can’t forget you, love. No matter how hard I try, the thought of letting you go without a fight is something I can’t suppress any longer. I... love you.”

So we’ve been playing the same game. “We’re both at a standstill, then."

I hear him hum against the wall. “Could I at least talk to your father and get him to consider arranging your marriage with me instead?”

Praise the Lord. Did he just…? Is that a proposal?

My lips curl into a delicate smile. “You haven’t even asked me.”

“You’re right. How inconsiderate of me.” 

Thomas steps back from the wall, now wearing a small glorified smile of his own, and walks right up to me. Our chests are nearly touching. Slowly, he sinks down to one knee, never letting his gaze fall. He looks beautiful like this. Blue-eyed, rugged, and covered with dirt.

“Verena.” He reaches for my small hand. “Verena, Verena. Before I lose you forever will you please do me the greatest honor of letting me be your husband?”

The oddly-phrased question makes me smirk teasingly. “Hm. Never heard it put that way before.”

“Please?!” He begs and leans into my dress’ fabric. “Don’t leave me. Not again.”

As I stand there looking down at him I can’t fight this blooming feeling of desire. “Are you sure-?”

“I’m absolutely fucking sure. I love you so much and if I see you with another man then my mind truly will be lost.” His eyes look up to me again. “Admit it. You want this too.”

“Thomas…” I murmur as a prayer, hoping God will hear me.

Should I risk this? Who's to say that the mystery man in Scotland can't do better? But all my heart can do is replay the pining for Thomas inside my head. 

“Do you still love me?" Thomas whispers. "With God as your witness please tell me you still love me.”

The question he asked before. Back when I thought my love would never be good enough for Thomas Shelby. Now he kneels before me, imploring for it. 

“I could never stop loving you, Thomas Shelby.”

“Then stay with me,” he asks, snaking his arms around my waist. “Let me keep you. The family loves you, Charlie adores you.”

In his eyes I see the same vulnerable look from the first night I comforted him. Back when opium was the only suppressant he trusted, and love was unheard of. He has become my adventure and I have become his peace of mind.

“I will stay.”

Thomas lets out a long-held sigh of relief. “You’ll stay.”

“I will marry you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Thomas Shelby, I would love to be your wife. So, so much.” I bring my hands down to cup his face, running my thumbs over his stubble. “But you need to tell me this is exactly what you want because I’m never waiting around again. This is a done deal.”

“Yes, yes! I want you so much, love. I need you to keep me sane.”

I smile wider and lean down. “Alright. Then you need to promise me three things.”

He doesn’t blink. “Anything.”

“No cheating,” I demand firmly. “There will be no other women. I don’t care what the situation is. If you have any problems you need to work out then you come straight to me. Understand?”

Thomas’ smile drops and he looks up at me with a serious expression. “I promise. I promise, Verena. And if I ever am fucking daft enough to break that promise you can shoot me down in cold blood.”

I study him for any signs of uncertainty but there are none. “Thank you. I’ll remember that. My next request is that you won’t shadow me everywhere I go. I don’t need a bodyguard, Thomas.”

He hums and presses himself closer against me. “Can’t help it, love. You know what kind of business I get into.”

“That’s the last part.” I tap his head. “No more burning the candle at both ends. You need to set some time aside for Charlie and Duke. To be a vader.”

The gangster stands up and begins to get a naughty gleam in his eye, running his hands over my dress. “And what about setting time aside to please you?”

My breath catches but I fight to stay calm. “The kids come first. Charlie needs his vader, especially since he just lost his zuster.”

Thomas slinks closer and I feel him back me up against the dresser. “What if he needs another brother or sister?”

A child. As if my life hasn’t been filled with them. But the thought makes me giddy nonetheless.

“Another Shelby running around? Sounds dangerous.”

Thomas brings my arm up and starts trailing kisses down my pale skin. “You will make a wonderful mother, Verena.”

My face flushes and I swear each kiss he gives me makes my heart soar. “You sound awfully confident.”

“It’s like you said. Our warranties are about to expire.”

I gawk at him playfully. “Are you saying my biological clock is ticking? Still cocky as ever. Pun definitely intended.”

“God, I love you,” he sighs and buries his face in my braided hair. “You’re still not offended by me, eh?”

That’s odd. “How so?”

“Because others still say it’s dirty to mix with Gypsy blood.”

“This again?” I utter and run a hand over his neck. “Thomas, you could be half alien and I would still love you. Being a Gypsy gangster’s wife is not something I will be ashamed of. Do you know the dark deeds my Uncle Colon has done?”

Thomas grunts darkly. “‘M sure I don’t want to.”

“Marrying you is not the worst thing my familie has done. So do you promise not to cross familie with business?”

“I promise,” Thomas reassures and goes back to feeling a hand across my bodice. “Darling… I can’t wait to see you round with my child.”

God, those words are music to my ears. The wheels are already spinning in his head. He’s been wanting this just as much as I have! And yet I’m still held back on account of my faith and my familie’s wishes.

“We need to wait, Thomas,” I note sadly. “It needs to be official.”

He lets out a deep whine. “I’ve waited this long…”

“You can wait some more. I am not having a child out of wedlock.”

“So proper,” he jokes softly when I lead his hands away from me.

“Take it or leave it.”

Thomas rolls his eyes and leaves a kiss on my cheek. “I suppose my patience isn’t completely worn out. But the minute we’re alone after the ceremony I’m fucking you until you can’t walk for a week. I want to show you just how much you mean to me.”

The image of him laying in the tub flashes through my mind and I feel myself start to get excited. My body feels like it’s about to melt from all the romantic attention. My chest is wound tight and my face feels red hot. But it’s not from embarrassment. It’s from anticipation. 

I am his, and he is mine. Although that sounds like a marvelous statement I cannot help but think of how that image could look.

I swallow and regain a steady tone. “A thought just occurred… I- I don’t want people to assume I’m only marrying you for profit.” I bite my lip and keep my eyes focused on Thomas’ muddy shoes. “Like Gina.”

Thomas presses his lips together and leans down to look at me with profound admiration. “Fuck that bitch. Darling, you are nothing like her.”

“I know. But it’s people like her who give Americans a bad name. People will see me marrying you and assume I’m just another woman out for money.”

He runs a gentle hand over the scar on my cheek. “People don’t see you that way. If they do, I will correct them. You are a respected part of this family, Verena. Everyone will respect you even if I have to encourage it further.”

By “correct” and “encourage,” I think he means “force.” I would press against it but there’s something about the way he promises it that makes me believe Thomas will always protect me.

“How should we tell the others?” I ask softly.

“Simple. Tell ‘em we’re engaged.”

I tilt my head at him. “With no explanation?”

“Your father says you need a husband.” Thomas shrugs and smirks. “I’m your man.”

He leans in to kiss my cheek again and I look back at my veil. “Speaking of which, you better talk to vader before the sod I’m supposed to marry gets his hopes up.”

Reluctantly, we both pull away and go back to standing apart. I fuss with my dress and he retrieves his hat, as if the last ten minutes never happened. Did I dream it all-?

“I’ll be very convincing,” Thomas sasses as he strides back to the door.

I point a finger at him. “No killing.”

He reaches for the doorknob and stops. In the blink of an eye he paces back and wraps his strong arms around me, pressing us together. My body goes stiff but I think it’s because of nerves. No part of me wants to back away from this. No longer does my heart hurt from fear or rejection; instead I am confident and feel taken care of. When Thomas leans in and our noses touch my knees feel like they’re going to collapse.

“Soon you will be mine,” Thomas whispers, running a hand over by braids.

“I am yours, Thomas. Have been all these years.”

To say that kissing is meaningless is absolute nonsense. But when Thomas leans in and I can finally kiss him it’s not as grand as books make it out to be. There are no sparks, no butterflies. It feels… wet. It is certainly something I need to grow used to, not that I am being too critical. 

I’ve waited so long and, in this moment, the sensation of Thomas’ soft lips on mine and the feeling of his warm hands caressing me makes me feel more special than anyone else in the world. I am no doubt new to this but it’s no secret why every married couple I know treasures romantic affection. This is a love that has been growing for a long time.

@sherbitdibdab @meadows5

[cherrycilly]

Yoooo who gave tommy an iphone????

[redroomproperty]

Ohhh the sin 🌝🔥 I love it! So good 🤌🏼

Safety - Tomm Shelby (smut)

I'm down with a heavy cold, but this came to me in the middle of the night, so I had to write it. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader leaves her convent, ending her path as a nun to find safety in Tommy Shelby's closeness

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, loss of virginity, religious connotations, leaving a convent, doubting faith, friends to lovers

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (3k words)

Her heels met the ground, hurrying along while she looked back every now and then. Her dark coat managed to hide most of her body as she tried to blend in, avoiding the streets where life was still passing by so late at night. Exhaustion clung to her bones, but she couldn’t stop, couldn’t rest until she would find her way to him. 

She felt naked with her hair no longer covered, without a cross dangling from her neck. Even though she knew she had made the right decision, it still didn’t feel like it. Something seemed to hold her back, perhaps it was God’s disappointment in her, perhaps it was the years she had lost to the convent she was now mourning. Whatever it was, (y/n) knew that she had left a part of herself behind and she wouldn’t ever get it back again. 

Raindrops began to fall from the sky, one by one as if the angels were crying over her betrayal, a broken promise she had once clung to as if it was an artery supplying her heart with blood. She could see The Garrison from afar, luring her closer while the downpour only grew stronger. 

With trembling movements she stumbled into the pub, shuddering as her eyes locked with the pair of blue ones she had been searching for. For a second nobody moved, he looked at her, just like the other men always surrounding him, and she didn’t dare break the silence just yet. A cigarette was hanging between his lips, engulfing him in a thick cloud of smoke that appeared to be one last warning, a chance to turn around and go back to the place she had run from. 

“Sister (y/n).” His raspy voice made her tense, straightening her spine. Tommy’s eyes wandered over her frame, seemingly wondering why she wasn’t wearing her habit. 

“Just (y/n).” Her reply was mumbled, too quiet for anybody to pick up on it.

“What was that?” Tommy leaned back in his chair, almost challenging her. He had known her for years, had watched her grow into the woman she was now, a woman who had always looked at him with something unfamiliar, a longing for freedom he seemed to taste on his tongue but she couldn’t even dare to dream of.

“It’s just (y/n) now.” The words drew a hum from him. And then they were wrapped in silence again until Arthur cleared his throat and rose to his feet.

“How about a drink, aye?” The tall man pushed past her while he offered her a small smile. She didn’t dare reply, didn’t even move while some more rain drops rolled down her cheeks, dripping from her wet strands of hair. 

“Take a seat, (y/n).” Tommy guided her closer while he pointed towards the empty chair Arthur had sat on, right next to him. With slow movements she made her way towards him, avoiding eye contact as if she knew that she’d fall apart the second her eyes found his again. Her body couldn’t get rid of the tension clinging to her, not as she shuffled out of her wet coat to expose the simple blue dress she had received as a birthday gift years ago, not as she took the glass from Arthur with a grateful smile.

“Did you run or did they throw you out?” Arthur’s strong voice rang in her ears, but she didn’t reply. All (y/n) did was drown the drink in one go, welcoming the burn it made her feel, seemingly managing to wake her from her tense state.

“I knew I had to leave, I just didn’t know where else to go.” For the first time since she had found her way closer, (y/n) allowed herself to look at Tommy. Something had always connected the two, something she hadn’t dared to dwell on as she knew it was wrong and speaking against everything she had once promised to cherish.

“You’re safe here.” Tommy’s voice wrapped itself around her, guiding her closer. “I promised you years ago that you can always come here whenever you need it. Nothing has changed about that.”

“Thank you.” Before she could stop herself, she reached out to pat his hand, trying to ignore the tingles shooting up her body as their hands met. She wanted to pull away, not used to feeling a sensation this strong, but something held her close, something that made her relax in the chair, finally. 

“So, what happened? What made you run, eh?” Her teeth nibbled on her lower lip, eyes wide as she thought back to the past few days. 

“It’s your fault really.” Her eyes met Tommy’s again as she whispered the words before clearing her throat. “I guess it all became too much, the lies, the betrayal. I no longer felt safe, especially when I couldn’t do anything for those my sisters seemed to punish for only existing.” 

“I’m not sorry for helping you wake from this feverish dream you were stuck in.”

…

Her eyes couldn’t stop wandering, taking in her surroundings. Minutes ago they had arrived at his house, he had guided her inside with a hand placed on her lower back as if he was scared that she was close to passing out. Exhaustion clung to her still, but she no longer felt unsafe, no longer felt eyes watching her from afar. 

“Come, you can take my room for the night.” He looked at her with something unreadable swimming in his pupils, waiting for her to follow him through the house. No further words were spoken between them as she stepped into his bedroom, hands crossed in front of her body to stop them from shaking. 

“Thank you, Tommy. I know you don’t have to do this.” He only nodded his head at her before grasping a shirt of his, wordlessly reaching it out for her to take. She pressed the shirt against her chest as if it could protect her from any pain to come. 

“I will get you some tea while you change.” Her body followed the command, undoing the buttons of her dress to let it fall to the ground. For a moment she wondered about taking off her undergarments, slowly shuffling out of them while knowing she wouldn’t be able to catch any sleep with them on. The fabric of his shirt reached her knees, hiding anything his wandering eyes could find in the dimly alight room. The shirt smelled of him, a faint mixture of cigarettes and tea and a hit of something she could only describe as danger. 

Her body still moved without listening to her mind’s command, but just as she was about to sink to her knees for her evening prayer she froze. Would God still listen to her now that she had left the convent? Just the thought made fear rise in her system, close to breaking out in sobs. 

The sound of Tommy nearing ripped her out of her panic, wide eyes finding his confused ones. Slowly, he placed the cup of tea down while seemingly waiting for her to speak up.

“I, uhm,” she fumbled with her fingers. “I don’t know if I am still allowed to pray.”

“Why shouldn’t you be?” (Y/n) had to avert her gaze while blinking away her tears. She sat down on the bed, covering her legs with the blanket before sinking into the covers. 

“Because I’m no longer a nun. I left, selfishly. Why should God still answer my prayers?” Tommy deeply exhaled before moving closer. Carefully he sat down next to her, while she couldn’t help but pick up on the intimacy this situation offered. She had never been this close to a man, Tommy Shelby had always been the only one she had dared to even think of, ever since meeting him all those years ago. And yet she couldn’t help but feel comfortable with him this close, with his shoulder and outer thigh pressed against hers.

“Well, if God no longer answers your prayers because you left a corrupt and unsafe home, then I wouldn’t call him God no more. He is supposed to love and cherish you, especially in times like these.” (Y/n) watched him alight a cigarette, eyes fluttering close as he inhaled. Her fingertips tingled, wanting to reach out to touch him, but she didn’t dare cross that invisible line, not knowing what she was doing. 

“Why are you helping me?” The question was whispered, and yet it filled the bedroom as if a shot had gone off, a sound so loud and strong, she feared the walls would collapse any moment now. Tommy took another drag before the smoke engulfed them once more, picking up every whispered secret.

“I always knew you’d end up here one day. I could see it in your eyes. You never fit in with them, and I was waiting for you to realise it.” The words made an unfamiliar heaviness settle in her bones. Had she really been this oblivious for so long? Had she really fallen for all these lies without thinking twice about them until this very week? “You should get some sleep, (y/n).”

“Can you stay?” The question left her before she could stop the words from leaving her. He froze for a second before he put out the cigarette, piercing eyes wandering over her uncertain features. 

“Have you ever shared a bed with a man, (y/n)?” She could only shake her head, trying to ignore the wave of shame and embarrassment threatening to drown her. Her eyes didn’t leave his frame as he began to undress, offering pieces of the body she had never seen before but could only hope to remember until her life would end. But the second he began to undo his trousers, she had to look away, knowing that she’d burn up from heat otherwise. 

Tommy laid down next to her, with one arm behind his back and his eyes still lingering on her features. She began to shuffle around, unable to bite down her yelp as his warm arm found its way around her waist to pull her into his chest. Tension clung to her for a second before (y/n) slowly began to relax. Deep breaths left her as she calmed herself, fully wrapped up in his comforting scent. 

Warm fingers danced up and down her side, making goosebumps rise on her skin. The shirt of his did little to hide the way she reacted to his touch, but (y/n) was too distracted by him to focus on anything but his closeness.

“There was always something about you, eh? You were always a curious thing, and yet you never spoke up.” She raised her head to look up at Tommy, urged on by the challenging undertone of his words. Without knowing what she was doing, her hand began to wander up his front, until she reached his chin. Carefully, (y/n)’s fingers traced his lips, wondering how it must feel to be kissed by him. 

She had only been kissed once before, by a boy in her childhood years she had once been good friends with. There had been nothing sweet about it, it had only been a press and touch of clumsy lips for a second or two before she had run from him. But now her curiosity spurred her on, desperate for any kind of distraction he’d be able to offer. 

Tommy seemed to pick up on her thoughts all too easily, a hand found the back of her neck to pull her closer. Their lips met softly at first, allowing her to get used to this new sensation. He tasted of whiskey and the cigarette he had just smoked, a taste so addicting she couldn’t help but press even closer. Without breaking the kiss, she pushed herself up his body, straddling his waist to reach his lips without having to stretch her neck.

“Careful there, darling. You know I won’t hold back, I take what I want. Your first time should be sweet, slow, I won’t be able to give you that.” Something close to pain dripped from his words. Tommy’s big hand cupped her cheek, making her feel his warmth, but no matter how many warnings he seemed to speak, (y/n) couldn’t and wouldn’t part from him. 

“I don’t want sweet, Tommy. I just want you. Show me what I’ve been missing out on for all these years.” The words made him groan against her lips, he kissed her again with more pressure this time. Experienced hands tugged the shirt over her head to expose her completely naked body.

Perhaps she was too inexperienced to feel ashamed while being completely bare in front of him, but perhaps it was simply the way he looked at her, taking in every inch of her naked body as if she was a holy appearance, something so divine, Tommy was sure he didn’t deserve seeing it.

Slowly his hands moved up her sides to touch her breasts, letting his thumbs stroke over her hardening nipples. The new sensation made her gasp, back arched further against his touch while she was greedy for more, “You’re so responsive, eh? I knew there was more to you than that habit and cross you seemed to hide behind.” 

While holding eye contact his hands moved down her sides again, finding her naked heat. He brushed his thumb over her bundle of nerves, the touch shot sparks down her spine the second her eyes fluttered close. She had never touched herself, guided by talks of sinning and the fear of disappointing the One, but now (y/n) couldn’t help but curse her naive self for falling for these stories.

Being touched by Tommy felt like being reborn, something so new and sweet, she never wanted the moment to pass by. (Y/n) rolled her hips, pushing herself further into his touch before he decided to flip them around. Her naked back met the spot he had rested on, warm from his heat, letting the mattress mold to her form.

“Keep your eyes on me, darling. Watch me touch you for the first time.” (Y/n) struggled to hold her eyes open, but she didn’t want to protest, didn’t want to speak up while he brushed his fingers through her slit. Tommy stilled for a second, pondering over his choices, before he slowly pressed a finger into her tightness. The touch drew a loud moan from her, torn between the feeling of his thumb circling her bundle and the way he fucked her with his finger.

He had warned her, had told her that he’d take whatever he wanted, but something about this moment felt by far sweeter. Tommy was taking care of her, making sure that she felt comfortable while being pushed closer and closer to something she couldn’t describe with words.

“Tommy,” his name rolled off her tongue as the coil inside of her began to tighten. She wanted to speak another word, but the syllables died on her tongue the second he pushed a second finger into her. Something washed over her, something that made her tighten around his fingers, something that stole her air right from her aching lungs, something that felt so sweet she was aching for it again and again.

“Take a breath, darling.” Her heart was racing as she tried to steady her panting. Tommy pulled away from her to undress, exposing his hard cock to her wide eyes. (Y/n) couldn’t help but shuffle around to reach for him, carefully wrapping her hand around his length, but Tommy’s hand darted out to find her wrist, keeping her from exploring like a lost wanderer stumbling through unfamiliar terrain. 

“This is your last chance to put an end to this, (y/n).” She shook her head at Tommy, too blissed out to speak another word. She wanted this. She needed this. She ached for Tommy Shelby, who seemed all too willing to take the last thing she had cherished until this very evening. 

He pushed her hand away to align himself with her entrance, piercing eyes flickering up to hers one last time before pushing into her. Discomfort stretched itself through (y/n), heavy pants left her while trying to adjust. Tommy sank fully into her, allowing her walls to flutter around him before he pulled back, only to set a slow pace. 

“That’s my girl, you feel perfect.” Heat clung to her, it only grew more fierce with every thrust. She lost herself in the sensation, back arched, fingernails clawed into his shoulder, holding on while the discomfort slowly let go of her shaking body. Something else made its way through her system, something that robbed her of any doubts she still had.

Being fucked by Tommy Shelby felt perfect, fuelled by the groans he let go of, by the way his lips fit against hers to kiss her breathless. It was anything but sinful. (Y/n) was sure that she was about to pass the pearly gates.

“Fucking hell, (y/n). You’re not supposed to feel this good.” His mumbled words made her feel proud, unable to bite down a soft laugh that turned into a moan as he pressed against a spot deep inside of her. Moans kept clawing out of her, over and over again as if it were all those years of doubts and fears finally leaving her.

The sensation she had felt earlier when he had touched her began to arise in her system once more. (Y/n) choked on Tommy’s name, eyes fluttering close to savour the feeling. He kept fucking her, adding more speed to his thrusts to tip her over the edge so he could follow moments later.

Their sounds began to mix together, blurring into something so sweet, she hoped she’d never forget it again. She lost her grip, thrown into the sensation while his sounds guided her, moans that made her walls clench around him. Tommy seemed to lose his strength, hand tightening its grip on the pillow she rested her head on as he pulled out of her, covering her lower stomach with his release.

“Christ,” Tommy mumbled the word as he cleaned her with his old shirt, letting it drop to the ground before pulling her back into his chest. “Are you alright, darling?”

“Mhm, thank you for showing me this, Tommy.” She felt him press a kiss to her scalp before relaxing further. Even though her mind was racing, replaying the past moments, she couldn’t help but sink into his touch, grateful for experiencing something so divine it made her forget all about her pain.