#Tommy Shelby fanfic

[zablife]

Ty for the reblog!

The Stable Boy

Tommy and daughter reader

Summary: Tommy’s sixteen year old daughter secretly falls for the new stable boy. What happens when Tommy discovers the truth and attempts to separate them?

Author’s Note: In this AU Tommy has a daughter (16) from before the war and she is being raised alongside Charlie (8)  and Ruby (4). Timeline might vary a bit from canon. The idea of Tommy’s daughter dating the stable boy and Tommy's reaction to a first date, were requested by a couple of lovely anons.

Fair warning: Tommy is overprotective and quite mean here. Ngl, this is going to be rough and I apologize in advance.

Warnings: drinking, weapons, mention of illness, mention of death, mention of murder, heavy angst

Arrow House, 1930

“Do you want to have a race?” Charlie excitedly asked little Ruby. It had been raining for days and this was his first chance to leave Arrow House. He was buzzing with the prospect of stretching his legs outside in the fresh air. 

“You know you always win. You’re older and you’ve got longer legs” you replied, rustling his hair. “What if I race you to the stables? Give you a real challenge, eh?,” you asked with a mischievous smirk. 

“Alright,” he agreed following you to the front steps. 

“One, two,…” you said before taking off before finishing the count. You heard Charlie squeal out, “Hey, that’s not fair! I’m going to get you, y/n!” Before running out the door after you.

As you neared the stables, you slowed considerably seeing a handsome young man petting your horse. He was talking to Uncle Charlie unaware of your presence until your brother ran up behind you and gave you a shove. You lurched forward into the thick, black mud with a shriek.

“Charles Thomas Shelby!” You cried looking down at your mud stained clothing. Charlie just laughed and ran off, leaving you to pick yourself up.

Uncle Charlie called out, “I think you lost that one, y/n!” with a hearty chuckle. Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, you stood slowly wiping yourself off with as much dignity as you could muster. “Come ‘ere and meet the new stable boy,” he said motioning you over. You made an effort to wipe the mud from your cheek and push your hair back, even though there wasn’t much you could do to improve your appearance now. Slinking over to the young stranger you smiled meekly.

“I’m Faron, nice to meet you,” he said warmly extending a hand. You wiped the mud from your palm and shook his hand quickly, ducking your head to avoid his gaze. He was even better looking up close and it made your stomach churn in a funny way. Before your nerves set in any more, you excused yourself back to the house to change. The whole way back you could think of nothing except the newcomer.

——————————————————————-

At dinner your father and Lizzie discussed household business. You picked at your food, barely listening until they mentioned the new stable boy. “Faron?” you called out with more excitement in your voice than you intended.

Your father turned toward you slowly with a raised eyebrow. “You already met him?” he asked. You quickly realized your father was watching you for a reaction.

“Uncle Charlie introduced us. We didn’t speak long, but he seemed like a nice lad,” you said trying to be nonchalant. You couldn’t let him know how much you fancied Faron or he would become even more protective over you than usual. 

“I see,” Tommy said with pursed lips. 

Unable to hid your curiosity you asked, “He looks young, is he my age?”

Pointing a finger at you in warning he said, “Don’t get any ideas, y/n. He’s here to help with the horses not to entertain you. Remember that.”

“Of course, Dad,” you said with a gulp.

—————————————————————————

Despite his stern warning at dinner, you couldn’t help thinking of Faron that evening. You didn’t want to leave him with that image of you playing childish games and covered in mud. In any case, you always visited your horse in the evenings. You were so sheltered at Arrow House, the mare had become your closest friend. 

When your father had retired to his study and your stepmother and siblings were in bed, you grabbed a shawl and headed for the stables. The sky had not yet turned to inky blackness, but it was still hard to navigate a path in the dim light that remained. As you got closer you wondered if you should turn back, nerves worsening with each step.

You shouldn’t have fretted over Faron’s reaction because you caught his attention the moment you walked in and he beamed at the sight of you. “Good evening, Miss Shelby,” he greeted you formally. 

“Hello, Faron. Please call me, y/n,” you said shyly. 

“What brings you out here so late?” he said continuing to brush the horses. 

“I always come down to say goodnight to Lady Buttercup,” you said lingering by the door.

Faron quirked an eyebrow. 

“I named her when I was a little girl,” you said blushing at the silly name. “Everyone just calls her Lady now,” you explained twisting your fingers nervously.

“Well I’ll be sure to take exceptional care of Lady then,” he said holding your gaze. You broke the tension picking up a brush to help him with his work. 

“You don’t have to do that, miss. I’ll see to it that they’re groomed properly,” Faron offered.

“I don’t mind. Before you came, I used to come help Curly as much as I could. I love horses. I was practically born riding,” you said, more at ease chatting now that you had something to occupy your hands. 

“I’ve spent my whole life around horses too. I’d like to be a trainer one day,” Faron said shaking his fringe from his eyes. He had a boyish charm that was sweet and disarming. You wondered why you’d been afraid to speak to him.

“How are you getting on with them?” You asked, jerking your head toward the other horses who could occasionally be heard turning and stomping in their stalls. 

“Fine, thanks. Although, Dangerous is aptly named. Unpredictable that one!” he said with a chuckle.

You giggled knowing full well what a handful he could be for someone who wasn’t used to him. 

“He’s sensitive so you have to be careful when you groom him or he’ll try to bite,” you warned.

“Wish someone had told me that earlier,” he said, sheepishly raising a bandaged hand for you to see.

You clapped a hand over your mouth so as not to laugh at his pain, but the sight was amusing.

“It’s alright to laugh. I should have known better, but I’ve not had much experience with thoroughbreds,” he admitted.

“You’ll get used to him, I promise,” you said with a reassuring smile. 

He nodded. “Mixed blood is stronger, you know? Like your Lady. She’s a good horse,” he said trying to pay you a compliment by way of your animal. 

You smiled unsure of how to respond. “She is...I’ll come for a ride in the morning after breakfast. I’ll say goodnight,” you said hinting at your next meeting. “I’ll have your horse ready for you,” he said with a grin. You thanked him before running back to the house, exhilarated by the happiness you felt. 

————————————————————

For the next few weeks, you arrived at the stables after breakfast for your morning ride. As promised, Faron was always there with Lady saddled and ready. This morning was no different. He greeted you politely, helping you mount your horse and watching you gallop off into the fields. You had no way of knowing he was watching you mesmerized by your every movement.

You had a pleasant ride and returned to the grounds surrounding the mansion. As you returned you spotted Faron in the distance and you smiled to yourself. Just then, Lady reared up and you were thrown from her back as she galloped off to the stables without you. You dropped into the grass with a thud, watching a black adder slither past as the blue sky faded to deep, dark fog.

When you awoke, you were in Faron’s strong arms being carried toward the stables. 

“Are you alright?” He asked looking down at you tenderly, bright green eyes glinting in the sunlight. His soft, full lips were so close to yours, your heart began to beat quickly at the sight. 

“Yes, I think so," you gulped nervously. "I’ll walk now,” you said suddenly breaking the trance, feeling embarrassed when you remembered he’d seen you fall off your horse.

Faron stopped and slowly placed your feet on the ground. You wobbled slightly as you stood, still feeling a bit woozy and he offered a hand to steady you. You looked at him and let out a nervous laugh saying, “I feel so foolish.”

“Don’t…It wasn’t your fault,” Faron said kindly trying to comfort you. You slipped your hand from his grasp, making an excuse that you needed to lie down and he nodded in understanding. As you walked away you shook your head muttering to yourself. You were developing feelings for Faron, but he was always such a gentleman around you. You doubted he felt romantically toward you and you wished you could stop thinking of him that way.

——————————————————————————————

Later that night you felt guilty you hadn’t thanked him for coming to your aid. You strolled back to the barn knowing he would be finishing his nightly chores. You often bookended your day by riding in the morning and visiting the stables in the evening to talk. Faron was much like you- gypsy mother, a love of horses and a shy, quiet demeanor that often left him feeling overlooked by others. While you were clearly easing each other’s loneliness, you still wondered if he saw you as anything more than a friend. 

You were still considering this possibility as a mouse ran over your foot and you squealed in shock. Your high pitched shriek announced your presence in the barn.

“Y/n?” Faron called, peeking out from the stall he was cleaning. 

“It was just a mouse,” you said looking around quickly for the tiny creature. It had disappeared into the night. 

“You need a cat,” Faron said with a chuckle. “It would help your rodent problem,” he said matter-of-factly.

“We’ve never had that problem before,” you stated feeling confused.

“With all respect, I think you do now. That’s why you have snakes so close to the barn. Ever since Arthur and your Uncle Charlie loaded that building a fortnight ago,” Faron said as though this were common knowledge. He rested his pitchfork against the wall and came to sit next to you. 

You didn’t care about your father’s business, but you were concerned for the horses and you knew your father would be as well. “You need to tell my father. He’d be upset if something happened. Maybe not to Lady, but Dangerous or one of the other race horses…he’d care about them.”

“What about you? Does he care about you, you reckon?” Faron asked sensing your relationship with your father was strained. 

“He’s not an easy man to get to know,” you said swallowing thickly. “He left my mum in trouble before the war. When she died of the flu, Aunt Polly raised me until he came back. I was four by then and he frightened me. She always said I was a reminder of his guilt.” You took a deep breath realizing how much you’d just told him about your past. Looking away quickly, you admitted, “I’m not sure why I said that…” 

You felt Faron move closer to you and you breathed in his comforting scent of leather, musk and hay. “I understand. My mum and sisters died of tuberculosis when I was twelve. I was the only child who survived. My dad left camp because he thought I was cursed. I started working with the horses because they were the only ones who listened,” he explained slowly. He ducked his head to find your gaze. “So you see? We’re the same, you and me.”

Faron began looking at you with a curious expression. Then he leaned forward to brush your cheek gently with his fingertips and asked, “Would it be alright if I kissed you?” 

You sat up suddenly, unsure how to react when faced with the reality of your daydream.

“Have you ever been kissed?” he asked sweetly.

“I…yes….and no…” you said answering both his questions at once. He could tell how nervous you were as your voice faded and you bit your lip.

He chuckled softly at your response and said, “Close your eyes,” before cupping your chin and placing a soft, slow kiss to your waiting lips. Your heart pounded in your chest and you felt the familiar return of butterflies in your stomach. You leaned into his touch, melting at the feeling of being so close to him finally. His hand released you slowly and you pulled away with a goofy smile lingering on your face. 

Wanting to remain in the moment, you buried your head in his chest and he held you there, running a hand along your back and up into your hair. You looked up at him with soft eyes and he bent his head for another kiss, one with more passion this time and you never wanted it to end. You pulled the back of his head to you and he allowed his hand to wander over your thigh as you moaned softly at the contact. You were still panting for air when you heard the thud of boots close by.

“On your fucking feet…” you heard your father’s voice call out the warning in a low, dangerous tone. You heard a gun cock and your heart raced, suffering the fear his enemies knew well.

You knew you couldn’t let Faron get hurt when you were equally to blame so you came out from the stall first, hands raised as you called out in a shaky voice, “Don’t shoot, Dad.” 

Tommy lowered his weapon quickly and holstered it, exhaling loudly. “What the fuck are you doing out here this time of night, eh?” 

Before you could reply, a pitchfork fell over and Tommy raced into the stall to find Faron. Piecing the scene together quickly his rage began boiling beneath the surface. 

“Out,” Tommy commanded angrily, reaching for his gun once more.

“Mr. Shelby, sir,” Faron said cautiously raising his hands. 

You rushed to your father’s side, pulling on his arm. “Dad, stop it!” Although you were accustomed to your father’s neglect, you’d never been on the receiving end of his temper. You were about to feel the full weight of it now as he turned and struck you across the face. “That’s enough, y/n,” he spat.

You held your burning cheek as tears blurred your vision. You glanced at Faron and saw the fear in his eyes. “Go to the house,” Tommy commanded, shoving you by the shoulder in the direction of home. Afraid and hurt, you stumbled in the darkness. You fell as you reached the front steps, collapsing in a heap. 

Soon after Tommy stomped through the gravel, stopping long enough to point at you, “I want to speak with you in the morning. Can’t even look at you right now,” he said before taking the stairs two at a time.

——————————————————————————

You tossed and turned all night wondering what your father would say to you. As dawn approached, you studied your bruised cheek in the mirror wondering how the most wonderful night of your life had turned to horror so quickly. You dressed slowly, dreading the walk to your father’s office. Hearing your footsteps, Tommy called in his intimidating timber, “Y/n, come!”

You entered with hunched shoulders, feeling very small in his presence. “Yes, Dad?”

“Have a seat. I’ll be brief because I have business in London this afternoon,” he said stamping out his cigarette in the ashtray.

You shifted in your chair, waiting for him to hand down his orders as though you were one of his soldiers. 

“Y/n, why did you disobey me when I asked you not to interfere with the duties of the staff?” 

You looked down at your hands folded in your lap and replied in a quiet voice, “I wasn’t interfering...,” you began. 

“No!” Tommy slammed his hand on his desk. “Don’t” he warned, holding up a finger. “Don’t you dare lie to me.”

Feeling emotional and exhausted from lack of sleep, you sadly admitted, “I never get to see anyone my own age. I was lonely, Dad.”

“So you decided to sleep with the stable boy? Your mum and I went through all of this. It’s not a game, y/n. There are consequences,” he warned you harshly.

You shook your head. “Dad, we weren’t doing anything. Besides I’m old enough to date if I wanted,” you pointed out.

“You’re sixteen years old, y/n. I won’t allow it!” Tommy shouted over you.

“Exactly, I’m sixteen, old enough to make my own choices! I like Faron, Dad. He’s good and decent,” you argued with him.

Tommy clenched his jaw and exhaled heavily through his nose. You were so stubborn.

“It doesn’t matter now. Faron won’t be staying here any longer. I need good men now that we’re moving opium and he’s accepted the job,” Tommy informed you. 

“He’s going to become a Peaky Blinder?” you said blinking in confusion.

Your father nodded quickly.

You furrowed your brow, "You’re worried about him corrupting me, but you're corrupting him!”

“That’s ridiculous. I'm giving him an opportunity,” your father said realizing it sounded like a lie the moment he said it.

"You just want to get him out of Arrow House and away from me!" you shouted accusingly.

“You don’t get to decide and that’s final," he yelled back.

You stormed out of his office, running for the stables. You had to warn Faron what he was agreeing to before it was too late. Even if it meant him returning to the gypsy camp and leaving you forever, you didn’t want to see someone so gentle forced to wield a gun and a blade. You knew how it changed people.

You’d often heard your Aunt Polly talk about the kind, gentle man your father was before the war and and his ambition to work with horses. You often wondered who he would have become if he had chosen a different path for himself after the war. Perhaps he could have healed. 

———————————————————————————

When you reached the stables, you found Faron packing. He stopped you wordlessly searching for your father or any other blinders who might be around watching. “Y/n, I’m sorry about last night. Your father’s still agreed to employ me. It was very generous of him,” he said with hope in his eyes. 

You caught sight of a peaky cap laying beside his bag and winced at the sight. “Do you know what we do? We Shelbys?” You asked with tears forming in your eyes.

“I think so, yes,” Faron replied, turning pensive once he saw your stricken expression.

“You might think you understand now, but you don’t know the reality of it. It will change you,” you said, pushing the stray lock of hair from his forehead in concern.

“I’ll help your father with whatever he asks, but I’ll still be myself. I care for you, you know. Do you think you could still care for me too?” Faron asked shyly.

“You want my father’s blessing, but you’ll never have it. He doesn’t want me to be with someone like him.” You paused for a moment, chewing your lip before looking in his eyes and admitting, “I don’t want that either. I like you because you’re different. I thought you’d never hurt anyone.”

“I wouldn’t hurt anyone, y/n,” Faron said taking your hands in his. “This a business agreement. Your father says if I work for him for a time, he’ll introduce me to May Carleton. Maybe I can still be a horse trainer one day,” he justified.

You dropped his hands and scoffed in frustration, “You’re being naive. They’ll have you take that cap to someone’s eyes the first week and then the work will only get more dangerous,” you said gravely. Faron tried to grab your arm, but you pulled away, “No, Faron. I won’t watch you change into a monster.” You turned from him, stumbling away with Faron calling out to you. The only thing you could think to do was run as quickly as you could, feeling the burning in your legs so you wouldn’t register the ache in your heart.

———————————————————————————-

Six months later….

It was late one evening when Finn trudged into the parlor of Arrow House. Although he was your uncle, he’d been more like a brother to you growing up as you were only a few years apart. This evening he crossed to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a drink before joining you by the fire. 

“Why are you here so late, Finn? Have you only come to steal Dad’s expensive whisky?” you joked, stifling a yawn. Finn downed his drink anxiously causing you to stare. You marked the page in your book shutting it gently. “Finn, what’s wrong?” you asked with trepidation.

“Bit of trouble with our business partners,” he said cryptically going back for another round. There was silence as he uncorked the decanter once more and poured another drink slowly. 

Finally he blurted out, “Bonnie Gold is dead,” in a somber tone, as he swirled the liquid in his glass thoughtfully before turning it up and gulping it down. It was difficult for him to say. You knew the two of them had been close. All the junior Peaky Boys were like family. 

You were shaken by the news as well. Another man dead, probably because of a new feud your father had started. It all seemed so senseless to you. In that moment you wanted to ask about Faron, but wondered if you should. Although you thought about him constantly, you only had sporadic contact now that he was working in Birmingham. As if reading your mind, Finn offered a bit of news.

“Your man, Faron, killed a Billy Boy last night. He did well,” he said, nodding to himself as if that brought him a small bit of comfort. 

You felt your ears ringing with his words. “He what?” you asked standing to be sure you heard your uncle correctly.

“Tommy’s orders, said he had to get his hands dirty this time. If you ask me, I think he took satisfaction in it though. He wanted revenge for Bonnie just as much as any of us,” he said telling you more than what you wanted to hear. You stopped yourself from being sick and excused yourself, rushing to your room to be alone. 

—————————————————————-

One week later…

It was dinnertime and your father had joined the family at the table for the first time in weeks. He said business was keeping him away, which irked your stepmother. She would sulk about his absence, but never say much about it. This evening they were fighting and you sat pushing your food around the plate, unable to eat. You hadn’t had much of an appetite after learning the truth about Faron’s actions. 

Frances appeared in the doorway, effectively ending their argument. You were grateful for the peace until she announced the arrival of Finn, Isiah and Faron. You tried to take slow, steady breaths as everyone filed out of the dining room.

As you looked down the corridor for signs of the men, you noticed your siblings being lead to the nursery with the nanny. You wondered how long they would stay oblivious to everything that went on in Arrow House. Charlie had begun asking questions about his father's business and little Ruby kept a toy gun by her tea set. No one was truly innocent in this house, you thought. 

As you passed by the office you caught sight of the men assembled before your father's desk, soldiers in front of their general. When Faron saw you watching them from the hall, he came toward the door and you wondered if he wanted to speak with you. As he came closer, he stared past you with a vacant look that gave you chills. Every bit of light and warmth had gone from his beautiful, green eyes. Without a word he closed the heavy door with a thud, shutting you out forever. 

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Tag list: @peakyswritings, @evita-shelby, @tommydoesntpayforsuits, @shelbydelrey, @alanadetigy, @wandawiccan60, @easilyobessedbutflighty, @severewobblerlightdragon, @lovemissyhoneybee, @kittycatcait219, @theshelbyslimited, @theshelbyclan, @celticmelody, @peakyrogers, @christinasyellowflowers, @retromafia, @peaky-cillian, @kpopgirlbtssvt, @look-at-the-soul, @l1-l4, @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie, @rikki-b-lake

[runnning-outof-time]

“You Came.” “You Called.” | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!Solomons Sister!Reader

Summary: Tommy Shelby and (Y/N) Solomons despise each other…….or do they?

Warnings: language, slight sexual situations, weapons, threats

Word Count: 1304

A/N: I’m sorry this isn’t as long as the others have been. I need to get these requests finished and this is what I was able to come out with. I hope you’ll still enjoy! Also I’ve tried something a little different at the end - hopefully you’ll participate and not be too mad at me for it! :)

A/N 2: Oh and this is the story where the Solomons!Sister won the poll — I’m not sure if it’s angsty enough…I tried my best with it. Also I’m sorry if Alfie seems ooc here…it’s been a bit since I’ve written him and I’m rusty.

COMMENTS & REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED! — I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THE STORY!

comment/message me if you’d like to be tagged!

"You came," she sounded surprised.

"You called," his response was nonchalant.

"Yeah, but I didn't call you."

The story of Tommy Shelby and (Y/N) Solomons is a long, complicated one.

To give a quick summary: they first met the day that Tommy showed up at Alfie's 'bakery. She was the first to greet him and instantly was able to realize that there was more to his motives than what he was letting on.

She was cautious when dealing with him at first, but his charm soon enough chipped away that hesitant exterior she'd put up.

Neither could help but cross the line one late evening after a successful business dinner.

She thought that that would be the end of Tommy Shelby. But now he'd shown up at her door...when she was expecting her brother.

"Where's my brother?" (Y/N) asked, looking to either side of the doorway, hoping that Alfie would be close by.

He wasn't.

"He's busy," Tommy answered.

"So he sent you?" she asked, her brows furrowed.

"Not exactly," he shook his head.

"I'm not understanding what you're saying. Ollie told me that he'd take a note down for Alfie and that he'd inform him as soon as he became available." (Y/N) was confused now.

"I saw the note," he began, "took it upon myself to see what was needed to be discussed."

(Y/N)'s jaw just about dropped. "Tommy, why did you...would you, you shouldn't, you..."

"My name was on the note, love," he cut off her attempt to string words together.

"Just because it was on the note does not mean you were to be involved!" she couldn't stop her voice from raising, her eyes widening as she spoke. Now she was wondering how Ollie had phrased his note to Alfie. A few beats passed before a sigh escaped her lips. She ran a frustrated hand across her face before asking, "what...what did the note say?" Her thoughts had gotten the best of her.

"It said that you needed to speak about Shelby...had some information you wanted to be made known," he answered her, his eyes boring into hers. (Y/N) opened her mouth to say something but he didn't let her, taking a step inside, making her back up in the process. "What is it you wanted to tell him, hmm?"

His close proximity made her heartrate increase. She was quickly losing her ability to think. "Tommy, I..."

"What really was your goal last night, (Y/N)?" he asked her, his brows raising.

The willpower to keep her hands by her sides and not reach out to take hold of him was leaving (Y/N) by the second.

"I thought your intentions aligned with mine..." he trailed off, raising his hand so that he could run it down her jawline in a slow, teasing manner, "at least it seemed that way when you brought me back here."

Instead of dropping his hand when he reached her chin, he grasped it; taking it between his thumb and index finger so that he could raise her fleeing eyes to match his. This action made the breath get caught in (Y/N)'s throat, and every valid argument left her mind the second her eyes locked onto his icy blue ones. All hope was lost now.

"What are your intentions with me, (Y/N)?" he asked her.

"You know them, Tommy, I.." she couldn't quite string a thought together.

"Tell me."

"I.." she paused again, interally freaking out. Think of something, anything, (Y/N), come on! "I wanted to tell him about you...about us," she decided on telling him a lie, hoping that he would take it as the truth.

"Yeah?"

She couldn't decipher what he was truly thinking from his one word response. His widened eyes didn't help either, other than making her fall deeper into his trap with each second that passed. Now she was wracking her brain to think of ways to sell this.

The last thing she wanted to tell him was that she was going to sell him out...to tell Alfie what she felt his true intentions were.

"Yeah," she breathed, nodding her head as much as she could with his fingers still holding her chin. Sell it, (Y/N)!, her mind screamed before she raised her hands up to grip his lapels. All coherent thoughts flew out the window as she leaned in and kissed him.

This wasn't a loving kiss. It wasn't a slow one, unlike the ones they shared last night. She kissed him hard, hoping that the passion she put into it would be enough to get his mind off of the damn note and seal her lie for good.

His hold tightened on her chin, but he didn't break the kiss. In fact, his other hand moved from his side to her hip, where he began bunching up her skirt in order to make contact with her bare skin.

Success.

(Y/N) also became absorbed by the passion that they both were showing. It was hard not to given the fact that he was Tommy Shelby. The night they shared was one of the best she'd ever had. Conniving business man or not, she would remember it for the rest of her life.

"What in the bloody fucking hell is going on here?!"

What (Y/N) did not remember before getting sucked into this situation was to shut the door to her home.

Her eyes shot open and she became frantic, trying to break the kiss and move away from Tommy as quick as she could. "Alfie!" she shrieked, surprise clear on her face.

"Why're you fucking kissing my sister, mate?!" Alfie asked Tommy, speaking with a seething anger.

While (Y/N) was just about shaking from the shock of her brother showing up, Tommy didn't seem to be phased.

"Alfie he...he was just..."

"No," Alfie cut (Y/N) off, shaking his head and stopping her attempt to cover for the man now standing beside her, "I asked him not you. He knows family is off-fucking-limits, so I want him to answer me why."

Tommy said nothing. (Y/N) shrunk into herself more and more with each passing second. She'd never seen Alfie this angry.

"I said fucking answer me!" Alfie bellowed, drawing the revolver he had tucked into his waistband. He wasted no time in cocking it and holding it in Tommy's face.

Tommy still didn't move; didn't even flinch.

"You're going to fucking answer me," Alfie demanded, his voice low and menacing, "yeah, you're going to fucking answer me or it'll be your fucking brains blown out all over (Y/N)'s fucking foyer."

"Alfie, don't," (Y/N) begged her brother, reaching a shaky hand out in hopes that he would see it and lower his weapon.

"She called for you," Tommy spoke, his voice level and stoic.

"She fucking what?" Alfie asked, his brows furrowing slightly, confused by why Tommy was saying this.

“She called your office. You weren’t around. But my name was on the note,” Tommy shared more details.

“And what does that have fucking anything to do with you fucking kissing my sister?!” Alfie’s anger had returned.

“It has everything to do with it,” Tommy was still level-headed. “You see, she was going to tell you about this, about us,” he then dropped the bomb, motioning between himself and (Y/N) to emphasize the point he was making.

“I can explain,” (Y/N) was quick to blurt out, her eyes trained on the gun in Alfie’s hand, which he’d - thankfully - lowered from being aimed at Tommy’s head.

She couldn’t read the look in her brother’s eyes. The seconds felt like hours as they passed. She stood frozen as Alfie rose the revolver again and…….

Ok I’m evil, I know but……..

Don’t fret, if the poll’s closed by the time you’re reading this, you’re still more than welcome (and I’d encourage you, actually) to share what you think would happen next!!

p.s….this story won’t be getting continued. I’m just curious as to what y’all think.

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

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[lunarflux]

x: Thomas Shelby found his match in an information bookie who has eluded the grasp of the Peaky Blinders long enough to crumble their power over Birmingham. But at last, he found you. The ghost he'd been chasing was finally in front of him, but you were trickier than he expected. Dangerous, cunning - and a bit too much like himself. To buy your loyalty, he would have to sell his in equal measure. Loyalty for loyalty - blood for blood - how much were either of you willing to spill before the game changed entirely?

part 9: an uncommon kindness

word count: 1,875

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You knew it was coming—the sensation you half-heartedly referred to as an adrenaline crash. It could have been the whiskey, but that would have been an excuse, a poorly crafted one at that. The vision of scarlet ribbons stayed at the forefront of your thoughts, severed flesh and the whites of that man's eyes just after that. No matter how many times it happened, it never got any easier. Or maybe it did, but those moments did not come often, and that's how you preferred it.

After finishing your last drink, you quietly left the Garrison without announcing your departure. You heard the faint shouts of your name as the door closed behind you, but the acid that quickly traveled up your throat at the first taste of cold air kept you preoccupied. You stood alone in an alley, hands bearing down against brick, and let your body do what it had to. That part never lasted long, and it was only a matter of time before the tremble would follow.

For that, you blamed the oncoming winter, and if anyone asked, you were just foolish enough to keep your coat undone.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

The silence after the pub emptied lingered, a heavy weight hanging in the air. Arthur and John let the laughter die out, the adrenaline from the confrontation still buzzing in their veins.

Arthur glanced at John, noticing that his eyes kept returning to the spot where you stood with whiskey dripping from your fingers, the flicker of cold anger in your eyes still fresh in his memory. He was trying to make sense of it all, the way you moved so effortlessly, how you took charge in a situation that most people would’ve hesitated to act in.

“Fuckin' hell...” John started, shaking his head slightly. “One slip, and she could've taken my head off.”

Arthur snorted, leaning against the bar with a half-smirk. “She saved you, John boy. How'd that feel?” He paused, eyeing the door where you walked out. “I reckon you're not gonna give her a pretty little cut now.”

John's brows furrowed as he walked behind the bar, pouring himself a drink to steady the nerves that were steadily returning. “Should we tell Tommy? Fuck—Arthur, I swear to God—if she'd waited a second too long, you'd be stitching me up right now.”

“I’ve seen Tommy do that,” Arthur muttered, almost to himself. “He doesn’t waste a second. Just... Brought the hammer down on their heads. She's the same.”

John looked up, his expression unreadable. “She could’ve let it go. Let us handle it.”

A small smile tugged at Arthur's lips. “Not used to a woman who's not Esme being able to take a swing, eh?"

“She’s one of us now, isn’t she?”

Arthur nodded slowly, his face thoughtful. “Looks to be that way. You heard what Tommy said—told him it was 'just business.' And today's business was either to leave you with a hole in your back or to waste her whiskey. Guess that makes you more valuable than whiskey.”

John cleared his throat. It was a crude but accurate comparison. “But you reckon she cares, yeah? About us, I mean. Or is this just business to her? Because of what we found?”

Arthur doesn’t immediately respond. He looked towards the door, his mind clearly elsewhere. “She didn’t do it for anyone but herself. Made one hell of a point by doing it. Thought she was all talk.”

John watched Arthur, his eyes narrowing as he processed everything.

Arthur rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his gaze still on the door. “She's smarter than us, John boy. In her eyes, there wasn't ever a debt to be paid to you. Fuck... You probably owe her now.”

John’s expression flickered with a realization.

Arthur’s eyes flash with a sharp, knowing look. “Only thing left to do now is make sure you won't owe her something you can't afford. That's what Tommy's gotta deal with now.”

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

After the dust settled the next morning, you returned to the betting house, your breath steady and face as unreadable as ever. Tommy was already speaking with the others, his voice commanding, his attention fully back in control. But it was Polly who lingered near you, studying you in that way only she could.

“You’ve got a habit of making people nervous, you know that?” She stood with her arms crossed, not bothering to spare you the eye contact. “Arthur and John—they’ve been talking. And I’ve been listening.”

You sighed with the same cold demeanor she gave you. “And what exactly have they been saying, Polly?”

She smiled, but it was thin, sharp. “Your little stunt at the Garrison last night is quickly making its rounds. If you were secretly hoping for fame, it looks like you're on your way there.”

Her next question hit you heavy with scrutiny and suspicion. You clenched your jaw, preparing for whatever she might ask you because the last thing you wanted was to be unprepared two days in a row. All this fuss made your actions feel more like a burden than a mindless reflex activated by your awareness, something you usually took pride in. It shouldn't have been a surprise Polly thought otherwise.

“So what exactly are you trying to prove by saving John? Was it for him? Or was it for you?”

You swiftly lit your cigarette, answering into the cupped palm of your hand and the flickering flame. "Does it matter?"

"It's that kind of rash thinking that could get you in trouble," she said, her voice low but firm, "Just ask Tommy. He's had to clean up John and Arthur's messes before, and you adding to that mess was not part of the deal you made."

You didn’t respond immediately, letting her words hang in the air, only shifting slightly as you looked at her. Your voice, cold as always, cut through the silence.

“I didn’t want to wait,” you said simply, your eyes locking with hers.

Polly’s eyes narrow, a flicker of something dangerous crossing her features. “Darling, you’ve got everyone’s attention, and I’m not so sure that’s a good thing. You think just because you step in at the right moment that we’ll forget what’s really going on?”

You don’t move an inch as you reply, your voice colder than before. “Have you ever considered that I just do things, or, to you, there must be a motive behind it? That's exhausting, Polly. If you'd rather I give you a reason every time I leave to do fuck all, then eventually, it's all going to be lies.”

Polly studied you for a moment, then took another step forward, her eyes never leaving yours. “Yes, well, I can see it now. Let's say you 'just do things,' then what will happen when you don't? Hm? The next time you choose not to act, will it be your fault or theirs?”

She paused, the air between you both tense.

“I'll say this. Tommy does stupid things that most see as impulse, but he always has a reason. Do what you will—shoot the next man who's made you cross. But you better have a damn good reason for getting blood on our carpet. Being stupid with a reason, I can forgive. Mindless impulse, I cannot.”

You straightened your back. With a subtle roll of your eyes, you hung your head to the side, humming from the small ache in your neck. “Can't you fucking Shelbys say 'thank you' or is it in your nature to interrogate now and give thanks never?”

With a smirk, Polly shook her head and left you alone with smoke trailing behind her.

You swore under your breath. You should've left it alone, let John deal with his own mess. You didn't even know who the man was or why he tried to do what he did, and you didn't bother asking John anything. Your subtle mistakes were slowly catching up to you, and now it was a matter of keeping yourself in check before Tommy assumed like Polly did.

When you looked up from your cigarette, Tommy was slowly approaching you with two glasses in his hands. He handed one to you with his eyes steady in anticipation.

You took a brief sip cautiously.

He didn't speak. He just stood in front of you with his own glass, the silence steadily making you feel uncomfortable. This was the other part of being on his side that was getting to be exhausting—the way he used silence to convince you to say something first.

It mostly bothered you because you knew you did the same thing.

"His name was Leander," Tommy finally spoke. "Old fling of John's wife."

You didn't nod or even show that you acknowledged what he was saying.

"He's alive. His people patched him up. We made sure they left Birmingham. They won't come back."

You set your glass down, crossing your arms with the cigarette between your fingers. "Get on with it."

Tommy chuckled, "With what?"

"I'm getting tired of explaining myself to you. And to Polly. If you're going to ask me why I did it, then do it now instead of calling me back here later."

Tommy lowered his eyes with a smirk. It was fun, seeing you become undone. The back-and-forth between you two was slowly wearing you down. He was so used to people giving up after the first try. You just kept fighting back, and that made it all the more interesting. That was what made games, fun after all. You wouldn't stop, so neither would he.

Curiosity could be satiated, but you made it a challenge. He'd step forward, you'd step back. You made your move, and he'd match you in equal measure. One of you held the knife, and the other held the blade, daring blood to fall just to see who'd pull back first.

He wasn't a fool. There was purpose behind your actions even if you didn't want to admit it. There was no part of your bargain that insinuated you needed to act in any way that forced you out of hiding, and yet you did.

There was a part of you—though you'd rather die than admit it—that was invested. Invested in Tommy, maybe, but it went beyond that. Perhaps, you couldn't help it. It could have been in your nature to be protective of your things, but because you stayed hidden for so long, the only possessions you'd been protective of until this point were sentimental trinkets, the ones that you used to decorate your office.

Now, you were protective of something else. That just meant there was more to lose.

Tommy wouldn't admit it out loud, but what you did forced the slightest change in his perception of you. You could protect yourself should it be necessary. It also hinted that you were fully aware of everything you did—you just held onto those reasons like you did everything else. Tucked away like a secret no one was worthy of.

When he finally grew tired of the silence, Tommy gave you a short nod, as if acknowledging that there was nothing left to be said. You watched him walk away, unable to see the the satisfaction on his face.

[kat-mobile]

could i request a small fic/imagine where tommy is soft with only his girlfriend/fiancé/wife and his kids?🫶🏼

Scary? My God you're divine!

A/N: hey babes, this is actually longer than I was expecting lmao. It still is under 1000 though. I am a huge sucker for soft!Tommy so thank you so much for this request 😍. I named the baby Charlotte before I realised how much her full name sucks and then couldn't be arsed to change it, so apologies to Charlotte Shelby. This is probably also ooc but I don't give a shit, but I hope you like it anon!!! 💕💕

You knew what Tommy did, what came with his job. All the illegal affairs and cutting people up. You'd be a fool not to. But you couldn't help but feel as if the real Tommy Shelby was the one who came out when he was with you.

Ever since the start of your relationship, Tommy had always acted differently around you, much softer, always there to place a soothing hand on your back or hunch over to talk to you with his lips brushing your ear, his words meant for no ears but your own. His hardened gaze softened and the corners of his mouth would quirk up in a a miniscule smile, only momentarily but you would count that as a win no less.

Arthur had employed you to help run things at the garrison, you weren't exactly excellent at maths but you were certainly better than Arthur so you would help with the books as well as working as a barmaid. The two of you met for the first time when Tommy burst into the office of the garrison with a cut on his sharp cheekbone, he thought he would be opening the door to his brother, you thought he was the most handsome man you had ever seen. You insisted on helping and sanitising the "wound" and although he initially refused he soon gave in to your worried frown and relentless offer of help. The two of you had been practically inseparable since, rarely seeing one without the other and if one was missing they were never very far behind.

Tommy took to you almost immediately after meeting you, and Polly clocked him the very next day. The woman always was good at reading Tommy and that day was no different.

Over the next couple of months, whenever he was around Tommy barely let you lift a finger, always eager to help lift things and assist in anyway possible, never letting you out yourself in any risk whatsoever, no matter how small. At first you were offended, thinking that he was doing it because he thought you incapable, what with you being a woman, or if he didn't trust you enough to do things on your own. But when you brought it up one day, thoroughly fed up, he was quick to quell your suspicions and doubts by instead admitting his growing feelings towards you. Absolutely zero persuasion was needed for you to agree to a date with the handsome Tommy Shelby, and now three years later you're married with an adorable little four month old baby girl named Charlotte.

Tommy often refers to your small family as his greatest weakness, saying that if it ever gets out how soft he is that his reputation would never recover. But you just laugh to yourself and cuddle in closer, hand coming up to stroke Charlotte's head. No one would believe it if it got out, he has nothing to worry about.

The first time Tommy had held her you would've thought she was made out of cheap glass, fragile and likely to break at even the smallest of mishandlings. You knew from the moment that little Charlotte Shelby first opened her eyes, sharp and blue like her fathers, that she had Birmingham's most feared gangster wrapped around her teeny tiny pinky. Once the doctor had shown him how to hold the baby properly, supporting her head and all that, it was hard to separate the two.

Every night when he came home to you he would lie in the centre of the bed with you curled up into his side, head resting on his firm shoulder, and he would place the small babe to lie on his bare chest, small legs tucking up in a scrunch like a frog and cute babbles making the corners of his eyes crease.

[your-nanas-house]

Sweet treat

◇ Pairing: Stepdad!Thomas Shelby X stepdaughter!Reader

◇ Warnings: SMUT, stepdad x stepdaughter, they both off age, cheating, sweet words.

◇ Summary: Thomas needs a bit of a sweet treat after a rough and long day at work.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Took me ages to finish this, sorry for the wait... been quite stuck and busy lately. 🙏❤️

"Darling..." his low sweet voice called as his rough hand brushed away the hair that was on Y/n's face.

It was still dark when the young woman opened her eyes, still half asleep and a bit confused of what was happening due to the deep sleep she previously was in.

"That's my princess," the voice cooed almost mockingly and she could feel the callous hand move on her neck now... against her warm skin.

She knew too well what was going on but her groggy mind didn't allow her to fully take in what was surrounding her.

Almost reflexively a small smile appeared on her face when Tommy's lips kissed her forehead tenderly, the fingers of the sinner now moving the fabric of her nightgown off her shoulder... exposing her tender body to the cool air of the night.

His extension at work that day meant only one thing... he was searching something specific from her... and it was urgent since the man woke her up just for that.

He usually didn't wake her up on purpose... but he made an exception just in those desperate nights.

"Wake-up for daddy, sweet girl" his accent thicker than usual, she could tell it clearly when his low raspy voice pulled her completely back into reality.

The young woman inhaled sharply as soon as she felt the contrast of the tender caress on her cheek and the dirty feeling of Thomas' throbbing boner which was pressing down her lower stomach.

Her tired eyes flattered open for the second time, wandering slightly confused before meeting her stepdad's light piercing eyes and his towering frame.

Sleepiness was still blinding her mind and she needed to get fully awake to understand completely what was happening— but her body reacted faster than her mind.

"There she is. Good girl" Thomas hummed at the view, removing skillfully his shirt before opening his pants as well, pulling them down with his underwear.

The only light present in the room was the little candle he brought there and the soft smoothing light of the moon, which made her understand that it was still pretty early to actually wake up and start the day... and her mom was probably still in her own bed.

The girl could really feel now the rough circles that her stepdad was doing on her clit through her panties, which made her body jolt slightly in pleasure and bite automatically her bottom lip to be quiet. He always liked that she was so responsive for his touch and his praises. It made it easier to get her wet and go to the main part quickly when he needed.

"Tommy—" the young woman nearly whined out as she spread her legs wider to indulge in that pre-orgasm sensation which was the amazing path of the perfect stimulation of her body caused by various factors. Like his tongue swirling now around her hard nipples, mixed with the rough massage her clit was undergoing and his calloused free hand which was busy kneading her flesh.

"Had such a.... fookin'... shit.. of.. day..." Thomas revealed between open mouth kisses, never stopping to work on her so to get her ready for him as he continued to ramble about what happened.

Sadly he had little patience that night so as soon as her smaller body shook due to the orgasm, which hit her like a train, he sucked his fingers clean and easily manhandling her into a position he liked.

Lay down on her belly, ass up and hands flat on the sheet so that the man could easily reach for them.

The young woman's head was resting on the soft pillow, her breathing was heavy as she heard just the soft sound of the fabric moving and the cracking of her bed. She didn't dare to look and check on what her stepfather was doing, opting to behave and close her eyes as she waited patiently.

Thoughts swam in her head, making her bite her bottom lip inconsciously as her body kept buzzing from her earlier orgasm.

Her mom was still in the other room and there were so many maids they could have been easily caught if they wouldn't have paid attention.... not that Thomas was worried about it. In contrary, it was quite exciting for him— for them.

"Always so good for me, luv" The man's low and raspy voice interrupted the silence as the tip of his cock teased her entrance, thrusting carefully in the tip a couple of time to make her relax a bit before the definitive push which made her nearly scream and take his lenght all at once.

Tommy's rough hand flight to her mouth, covering it completely as he slowly pulled out, after waiting to allow her to adjust, enough to leave just the tip inside before thrusting harshly back in.

"So good" he breathed out with a grunt, continuing with his slow but rough movements not caring about her at all now that he had manage to be deep balls in her cunt

"You like it, love?" he asked breathlessly, as his hand sneaked to her chest so that he could play with her perky tits while still keeping one on her mouth to prevent her to be too loud.

It was perfection, Thomas loved those moments with her... his wife was nothing compare to Y/n. His sweet Y/n.

The bed kept cracking at each rough thrust he did, nearly covering the sensual noises of their skin slapping together as his hips snapped forward hitting her joggling ass.

Their body were covered of a thin layer of sweat which started to soak the bedsheets as the time passed and Thomas's cock kept bullying her warm walls inside, his tip hitting her g-spot roughly a couple of time before sending her over the edge.

He didn't stopped at all, rather he increased the speed now that his own control was slipping away since his dick was being milked by his stepdaughter's tight pussy. One thrust, two thrusts, three— and his body tensed, his hips pressing flat against hers and his lenght deep inside of her so not to dirty the sheets with the warm thick load that was filling her up.

"You're fookin' amazing, love. Daddy really needed it" the older man praised in a breath, his hips rocking in lazy swings before he finally let himself collapse on her smaller body— caging her in a hug till early morning.

[lovelybucky1]

Treat Me Wrong

Kinktober Day 16- Degradation Kink

warnings: AFAB!Reader, manipulation, gaslighting, cheating, sex work, roleplay, spanking, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy, 18+ minors DNI

main masterlist

kinktober masterlist

“I think we should break up,” you say.

Tommy’s face twists in anger and confusion. “Where’d you get that idea?” he asks.

This is exactly why you want to break up. He’s so dismissive and he doesn’t respect you. He’s sitting relaxed in his chair like you didn’t just suggest ending your relationship. Why is it so difficult for him to care about you?

“I’m not happy!” you say.

Tommy scoffs in response. “You live like a princess. What else could you possibly need?”

“Love and attention,” you huff.

“Christ,” he shakes his head in disbelief. “Are you a child? Do you really need me to attend to you all day to be content?”

“Not all day, Tommy. Just sometimes. What's the point in even having a lover if you won't spend time with them?"

"You act like I have a lot of free time to waste. I'm a very busy man."

His way of having excuses for everything make you feel like you're going insane.

"You have enough time to spend with prostitutes," you say bitterly. This makes Tommy perk up. "I know you go to see them after work and lie to me when you get home late. Why do you bother stringing me along if you'd rather pay for your companionship?"

Tommy chuckles darkly. "That's what this is about, eh?"

"Why the fuck are you laughing, Tommy?"

He stands up from his chair and crosses the room to stand in front of you. He places one hand on your hip while the other holds his cigarette. The smoke swirls in front of your face, the pungent smell burning your nose.

"You're jealous of my whores?" he asks smugly.

"What do they have that I don't," you ask angrily.

"I have certain needs that they satisfy."

You scoff and push his hand off of you. "We're together, Tommy. You should come to me to satisfy your needs, not step out on me."

Tommy rolls his eyes and grabs ahold of your wrist. "What I need isn't appropriate for a high society woman like yourself."

You furrow your brows in confusion, but no matter what he's talking about, you want to be able to provide it for him. "You don't get to decide what's appropriate for me or not. Besides, you'd know that I'm very adventurous if you ever took the time to actually be intimate with me."

He blinks slowly at you and licks his lips, then smirks devilishly. "You want me to treat you like one of my whores?"

"Yes, Tommy."

"Right." Tommy stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray on the side table, the turns his attention back to you. Both of his hands are on your hips now, holding you firmly. "You promise not to get upset?"

"Why would I get upset?"

Tommy fights back a smirk. "Because I tend to be a bit... harsh."

"Harsh?" you ask.

"You said you want me to fuck you like a whore. A dirty, cheap, used up whore that's only good for taking cock. Is that right?" You hesitantly nod. "Then until I'm finished, that's exactly what you're going to be. I'm only going to stop if you tell me to, otherwise I'm going to have you just like I have them."

"Okay," you breathe.

Tommy steps away from you and sits back in his chair. "Take your dress off," he instructs.

You find it a bit odd that he's just watching instead of also getting undressed, but it does make you feel better that the prostitutes he visits don't get to see him naked.

You strip piece by piece until you're bare in front of him. He stands up again and looks over your body, occasionally prodding and groping you.

"Turn around," he says, voice low. You do as he says and you allow yourself to be moved over to the couch. Tommy pushes you so you're bent at the waist over the arm rest, bare ass on display.

Tommy continues to grope you; he slaps your cheeks, spreads and slaps them, and teases at your folds.

“Wet already? Didn’t think whores got off on their work,” he says.

Without much prep, he shoves two fingers into your cunt. Like a true whore, you take them easily. He opens you up by scissoring his fingers inside you. He's going quickly, not bothering to take his time and make it pleasurable for you. You suppose he pays for his own pleasure, not yours.

"Already loose too. How many others did you have today?" he asks. When you don't answer him, he delivers a slap to your ass.

"N-none," you whimper.

"Sounds like business is slow."

He pulls his fingers out of you and wipes your wetness on your thigh. He then moves to press his hips against yours, allowing you to feel the bulge in his slacks. He grinds up against you shamelessly, making you feel even more humiliated now that he's simulating fucking you while he's fully dressed.

"Tell me you want my cock," he orders.

"I want your cock," you parrot with a whine in your voice.

"You can be more convincing than that," he says with a slap to your ass. "Be a good whore and beg me to fuck you."

You take a deep breath. "Please fuck me. I need your cock so bad... Mr. Shelby," you add for good measure.

That seems to please him, because he moves away from you far enough to pull his cock through his fly. He rubs the head through your folds, teasing your entrance with it.

"I'm not going to catch anything from fucking you raw, am I?" he asks, though he knows the answer.

"No, sir," you reply.

You're glad he bent you over like this, because that means he can't see your embarrassed face and you don't have to look into his intimidating eyes.

"Mm, good."

He pushes inside you, not gently but he doesn't aim to hurt you. Once he's fully seated inside, he begins to thrust before you're ready for it. You gasp in surprise, but you're helpless to do anything but take it.

"Didn't think pussy so cheap would take me so well," he groans. His hands grip tightly on your hips and he slams you back to meet each of his thrusts. His cock bumps against your cervix uncomfortably, but it feels best for him when you take it all the way, and that's the only thing that matters.

With each thrust, you make a punched out little moan. Tommy, however, is silent above you, save for a bit of heavy breathing. It isn't until you arch your back and really start putting on a show that he speaks up.

"Like a fuckin' professional, eh? I should come to you more often. Y'know, my woman's a real bitch sometimes. Never lets me fuck her like this. Thinks she's too good to get bent over. Has so many opinions, too. But you're a good woman; quiet, tight," he leans down, draping himself over your back to speak into your ear. "Obedient."

You can't help but moan at his filthy words, despite how degrading they are. You shouldn't find your lover talking badly about you so arousing, but you cant help it.

"She gets so mad I cheat on her but I think she'd understand if she felt this cunt for herself. 'm gonna marry her and fuck her full of babies to keep her busy while I give the real good stuff to you."

"Fuck," you whimper and immediately regret it.

"You like when I talk to you like a whore? You like getting fucked hard like I don't love you?"

It's rare that Tommy says he loves you. So rare, in fact, that you often doubt if it's true.

"Yes, yes," you gasp. "I love you."

"Mm," he hums. "Save it for when I'm not paying you."

[willsdreamgirl]

“morning mr. shelby.” — tommy shelby x reader ⋆｡˚

tommy shelby x fem!reader

you meet tommy as a nurse during the war, but happens when he realizes that he’s known you all along? (loosely based around some s1 plot points, but all set before the war)

18+ minors dni please! angst, fluff and smut

cw: mentions of war, shooting, stabbing, suturing, ptsd, friends to lovers, eventual smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!), slight breeding kink

word count: 5.4k+ (sorry lmao)

a/n: ahh first fic alert!! i’m so excited for you guys to read this! don’t be a ghost reader and lmk if you want to be added to my tag list for future tommy/cillian stuff!! 💌

you met tommy shelby during the war. he was a soldier, you were a wartime nurse. before the war, you had obviously heard of him. tommy shelby, leader of the fucking peaky blinders. arrogant bastards.

you lived in small heath, and everyday you’d pass him on the street. and everyday, you’d smile and say, “morning, mr. shelby.” and everyday, he would barely look up at you. you were sure he wasn’t even aware of your existence. prick.

your parents had always told you to stay away from the shelby boys. your dad would say that “they’re dangerous and make whores out of innocent girls” and your mum would make some comment about “the shelby men and their stupid cocks and their stupid judgements”.

they were the most intimidating people in all of small heath, possibly in all of birmingham. truth be told, there was a certain charm to them that you couldn’t shake off. well, to one of them. tommy shelby. you couldn’t tell if it was because he was your age, or because he was powerful and strong, or simply because he was strictly off limits. or because of his piercing blue eyes.

everyone in small heath knew tommy. but you knew tommy. he didn’t know you, though. you could tell if was him by the way he exhaled or by the sound of his footsteps or by the way he held a cigarette in his hand, the peaked cap on his head, a hand in his coat pocket. you despised tommy shelby, but god, was he fucking irresistible.

when men were drafted for the war in france, it was common sense that they’d need someone to tend to their cuts and bruises. you’d decided to volunteer, and after a couple weeks of training, you were right there, in the field. practicing on dolls and bags of rice and flour was nothing compared to what you saw. what you heard.

your first day in france was… eventful, to say the least. some commander had led you to the medical tent, and you were welcomed by the screams of hurt soldiers, blood and panic. you were immediately assigned to a patient, who’d been shot in the chest. you tried your best, did everything you could have, but ultimately, he had just lost too much blood. you didn’t sleep that night, haunted by the bloodshed, by the pleas of the soldier to keep him alive, by the feeling of someone else’s blood on your hands. over time, however, you grew accustomed to having your pristine white uniform soiled with blood and mud.

a month or so after you’d started, you heard shouts outside the tent. “help! someone HELP, for FUCK’s SAKE!” this was a regular occurrence, but the voice the shouts came from didn’t sound wounded. you felt an instinctual need to go see what it was.

what you saw, though, was something you never expected to see. tommy shelby, with a comrade’s head in his lap, putting pressure on a wound in his shoulder. without hesitating, you helped tommy drag the soldier to a vacant bed in the tent. “what happened?” you asked, hurriedly. tommy was visibly panicked. “i- he- um, he got st-stabbed by… one of the germans… his name’s danny- daniel.” you looked in tommy’s eyes, trying to give him some semblance of comfort. “he’ll be okay.” you applied pressure on the wound, and luckily, the blood stopped flowing soon. you cleaned the wound up and looked to tommy. “i’m gonna have to disinfect the wound with alcohol, you might want to hold daniel down for this.” daniel was still delirious from the blood loss, but the pain would be excruciating. tommy braced himself. his hands firmly holding down daniel’s. you nodded before tipping the bottle over on the wound. danny thrashed around on the bed, screaming and cursing, struggling against tommy’s hold. you heard his voice over danny’s. “you’re alright, lad! y’er gonna be fine!”

tommy sat by his friend’s bedside as he came to. you tended to other patients in the meantime but eventually went over to talk to him. “i want to keep him here for the night, mr. shelby. make sure there’s no infection.” he looked at you, surprised you knew him. “you know who i am?” “of course i do, all of small heath knows you. what i didn’t expect was to have a run-in with you, here in france.” he scoffed at his own misery and spoke. “you don’t belong here. you should be home.” you rolled your eyes, even in his state, he managed to be cocky. “if i wasn’t here today, mr. shelby, who would save danny?” that seemed to shut him up. he was about to speak, before you heard your name from the other side of the tent. “y/n, we need you!” after having helped a soldier who looked like he had been mauled, you looked out to see it was nightfall, and tommy had left.

a couple days later, at about noon, john shelby, the youngest of the shelby brothers walked in, clutching his arm tightly. “do you need help, mr. shelby?” you called out. “yes, i-i’ve been shot.” he all but whispered. you rushed over with a tray of distilled alcohol, forceps and bandages. after an afternoon of agony and pain, you had finally managed to pull out the bullet form his arm, john’s face a clear representation of his relief. “oh my god love, if we were home, i’d marry you right now.” you laughed at the proposition. “mr. shelby, i think you’re still a bit delirious from the anaesthesia. besides, i’m your brother’s age.” he looked shocked. “what, you’re arthur’s age? really?? you look nothing like that old prick.” you couldn’t help but laugh yet again. “i’m not that old, jesus. i’m tommy’s age.” he sighed. “marry him then. lord knows he needs a girl.” you giggled as you gathered your things and walked away. “you amuse me far too much, mr. shelby.”

it felt like ages had passed before you saw tommy again. your back was towards the tent entrance but you knew who had walked in. his breath trembled and his footsteps felt a bit unsteady, but it was undoubtedly him. you waited to turn until he called out your name. “y/n, is it?” you turned around, to find his face and shirt covered in blood. “mr. shelby! what happened?” you rushed over to him, taking his hand and sitting his down on a bed. “i- i… killed a man today, y/n.” he looked down, he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. you didn’t respond, simply got up and grabbed a stitching kit and a bowl of warm water. “is all this blood yours?” was your first question. “no. most of it is his.” you sighed and searched his face to find a cut on his cheekbone, the source of his own bleeding. “i’m wiping away the blood now, okay?” tommy gulped and nodded, his eyes still trained on the ground. “mr. shelby, i want you to look at me.” it was as if he didn’t hear you. you spoke again, softer yet more authoritative this time. “tommy. look at me.” he finally brought himself to look into your eyes. in his eyes, you saw guilt, regret and fear. in yours, he saw compassion, love and a warmth that could engulf all his pain. “good.” you whispered. you wrung out a washcloth and began wiping the blood away from his face, using your other hand to hold his chin in place. his arms found themselves wrapped around your waist, in an attempt to ground himself. you didn’t say anything, but your eyes told him that you didn’t mind. in that moment, you saw a different version of tommy shelby. you didn’t see ‘tommy, the criminal’, ‘tommy, the gangster’ or ‘tommy, the womanizer’. you saw tommy, a good man, an honest man. you felt his arms tighten around your waist as you pulled your hands away from his face, as if he was afraid you would dissipate into thin air. “tommy.” you whispered. “i’m gonna have to stich that wound up. it might hurt.” but he didn’t mind pain, not if you were the one inflicting it. “okay.” he spoke, his voice deep. he rubbed circles into your skin with his thumbs, the pain making him hum. “sorry, almost done.” you finished the last stitch. “there. you’re all fixed.” tommy held you like that, his hands around your waist, icy blue eyes staring into yours. your arms rested on his shoulders and you leaned down to whisper to him. “tommy. people are staring.” “so? let them.” eventually, he reluctantly pulled away from you. “it’s time for dinner, and then lights out.” he smiled as he spoke, and slowly exited the tent, catching a glimpse of you as he left.

needless to say, you only grew closer over the next few weeks. you were inseparable. whenever tommy had free time, he’d make his way to the familiar tent, and talk to you. it was wartime. you were left hurt and traumatized and so was he, but you both found solace in each other’s company. you told him how you knew him, and how you’d wish him good morning every day, only to receive complete silence from him each time. he chuckled and apologized. he told you about the peaky blinders, what they did, how they ran their business. you bonded over your shared hunger for knowledge and stories. you told him everything you knew about art, history and literature; and he told you stories of fighting gangs in the streets and stealing contraband. his stories were always more thrilling than yours. you’d try to set each other up with people for fun. you’d introduce him to every nurse, telling them how he was fighting for his country, and of course, they fell prey to his charming eyes and dashing smile. they’d ask what he did back home, and as soon as you said the words ‘gangster’, they’d run in the opposite direction. he’d done the same for you. introduced you to other soldiers, and when you spoke to them, about art and literature, they’d call you ‘unladylike’ or ‘too ambitious for a man’. you both secretly liked it this way, it was like you were his and he was yours.

when he became sergeant major, you both celebrated together. he’d brought you a bottle of whiskey, and you spent the night, talking and giggling drunkenly. but soon, he was assigned to be a sapper and dig tunnels. you both knew that the germans were going to dig their own tunnels, and at some unfortunate point, the tunnels would converge. both of you realized the danger it held, but he had to do it. you tried to talk him out of it, though. “tommy, please!” “y/n, calm down.” “goddamn it tommy, think! you’re gonna get yourself killed! what the fuck are you doing?” “i’ll be alright.” “no, you won’t! what if you get hurt? what if they shoot at you, huh? i won’t be there underground to make sure you’re okay!” “y/n, i have to serve my country. i have to do this.” “tommy. i’m begging you, don’t do this.” he simply sighed and kissed your forehead and held your face in his hands. you held tightly onto his wrists as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. “shhh, i’ll be alright. in fact, i’ll write you.” you seemed to calm down at the idea of him writing you. at least you’d be updated on his condition.

the morning he went down to the tunnels, he came to see you. you were sorting gauze and bandages when you felt his presence near you. you turned around and ran to hug him. he buried his face in your neck and breathed you in. you could feel tears brimming your eyes. neither of you knew why you felt like this. you were just friends, right? “tommy michael shelby, i swear to god if you die, i’ll kill you myself.” you heard him chuckle. he took a step back and caressed your cheek. “you take care, darling.” you wished he wouldn’t leave, but in your heart, you knew he had to. a few hours after, you found a letter tucked under a book on your desk. you curiously pulled it out and opened it.

dearest y/n,

i know how much you hate that i’m going to be a sapper now. i want you to know, no matter what happens down there, i care for you, and i love you, unconditionally. i’ve loved you since the day i first met you. i can’t believe i was looking for love in whores and prostitutes when the love of my fucking life was saying the sweetest good morning to me every morning. i’ll protect myself, and i want you to protect yourself too since i can’t do that for the time being. if we survive this wretched war, i want to take you home, ask your father for your hand and marry you, sweetheart. you take care of yourself, alright?

all my love,

tommy shelby.

you couldn’t help but gasp at what you read. he loved you. tommy shelby loved you. the same tommy shelby that was too arrogant to say a word to you, the same tommy shelby that your parents told you to stay away from, the same tommy shelby was head over heels for you. you immediately looked for a piece of paper, a pen and some ink. you wrote a letter back and sent it with one of the workers heading down to the tunnels. you didn’t know what it was like down there, but you hoped your letters would keep him sane. meanwhile, tommy received your letter and opened it with the same enthusiasm you showed his letter. however, he was also filled with nervous energy. he had confessed his love for you, which was so incredibly out of character for him, but with shaky hands, he proceeded to open the letter.

dearest tommy,

to say that your letter was shocking would be an understatement. i never knew you felt this way for me. like i’ve told you on several occasions, my parents always told me to stay away from ‘your kind’ and as a good catholic girl, i obeyed them. but tommy, in these few months, i’ve seen a side of you i can’t ever forget. i love you too tommy, the real you. the honest, raw, genuine tommy that i get to see on late nights and in random moments on busy days. i’d love to marry you, just make it out alive of that damn tunnel, you prick.

only yours,

y/n.

tommy felt his eyes welling up as he read the words you had penned on the paper. it had been so long since he’d seen you, or heard your voice. he wanted you. he needed you. to keep him stable and sane. as the days passed, your and tommy’s letter exchange became more and more frequent, and you felt like even if you were in this goddamned lawless land of blood and chaos, you had tommy. and he was all you needed.

that was, until the letters slowed down. you kept writing him, but to no avail. he hadn’t sent you a letter in days, or weeks, you weren’t sure anymore. you’d almost lost hope, and spent entire nights grieving him. trying to remember the sound of his voice, the feeling of his hands on your waist, the smell of his cologne. you hadn’t heard his breath or felt his footsteps in a long time. the pain was almost unbearable, and some days felt like decades. but the only thought that kept you going was that you saw tommy in all the wounded soldiers you treated. they were someone’s tommy. and they needed to get home alive.

4 months. 4 whole months since you heard from tommy. you were convinced he was dead now. you spent your days bandaging and stitching wounds, yet you could never fix the wound tommy left in your heart. it was one of the hottest afternoons, the french sun blazing unmercifully. you were insanely busy with patients today, the war was almost ending, and the soldiers needed to be fixed up before they could go home. yet, no sign of tommy. you sighed, cursing yourself for holding out hope now for someone who would not return.

“can i have a nurse here?” you could recognize that damn voice anywhere. the deep voice that filled your ears, smooth like honey, you’d recognize that voice at the end of the world. you turned around. tommy. “hi, love.” he smiled. but his smile quickly changed into a frown when he saw your sobs. you took him to a quieter corner of the tent. you stepped closer to him. he went to put his arms around you. you slapped him across the face. “where. the FUCK were you, thomas michael shelby?!” he was incredibly confused. “l- love, what?” “i thought YOU DIED, YOU BASTARD. where were you?” the time you spent apart had changed you, and from his response, you could tell it clearly changed him. “i was TRYING to fucking STAY ALIVE for YOU.” he raised his voice at you. he never raised his voice. neither of you spoke for a while and tension filled the air between the two of you. “i should leave.” he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. he left, and you let him.

after a few weeks, news broke that britain had won the war, and everyone went home. five years had passed since you last saw the familiar streets of small heath, and you were no longer a girl, but a woman. a woman who needed to get a job to survive in this city. you walked around and saw a flyer on the doors of the garrison. ‘BARMAID NEEDED.’ you walked in to find harry. he looked up pleasantly surprised. “y/n! haven’t seen you in a while, eh? what can i do you for?” “i’m here to get the barmaid job, harry.” he sighed.” y/n, this job isn’t suitable for a girl like you. these men, they’ve just come back from war, they haven’t seen a girl, let alone a pretty one like yourself, in ages. they’ll have you up against a wall within the first hour of your shift.” you looked at him desperately. “harry, please. i need this job, otherwise i’ll be out on the streets, which are surely worse than this pub. i was a nurse in france, i’ve dealt with these men. please?” he sighed again before nodding. “alright then, you start tomorrow.”

your first shift consisted of the usual alcoholics, men with ptsd, everything that was to be expected after a war. you hear the bells at the door ring as the familiar footsteps walk closer to the bar. without turning around, you ask, “what do you want?” he replies, “whiskey, scotc- y/n?” you finally turn around at the sound of your name falling from his lips. “yes, mr. shelby. so, scotch? on the house right?” he leans over so that just the two of you can hear. “don’t mr. shelby me. come on, love, talk to me.” “i have nothing to talk to you about.” as you poured him a glass of whiskey, he held your wrist assertively. “y/n. come.” you rolled your eyes and went to the shelby’s private booth. “what is it that you want, tommy?” “what the fuck do you mean ‘what do i want’? you, i want YOU. i need you. did ya lose your fucking mind in france like danny whiz-bang?” you felt your bottom lip trembling and your throat choking up. “i… i thought y- you were fucking dead. i mourned you. for MONTHS. i grieved over the death of the love of my life. of my future husband. of my future children that i’d have with him. and then, just as i’m making my peace with it, YOU have the fucking audacity to show up? you have some bloody nerve, tommy shelby.” the look in his eyes softened as he took a step closer to you. “no. don’t you dare come any closer to me, tommy, i’ll kill you.” you said, holding up the bottle of whiskey as a weapon. he embraced you, holding you tightly, his fingers stroking your hair. you resisted the hug and tried to push him away, only to find his grip on you getting tighter. “g- get away… from me, p- please… i- just” your voice came out muffled between sobs. tommy felt hot tears rolling down his own cheeks. “shhh, sweetheart. i’m okay, eh? i’m fine. i’m here, with you.” you dropped the bottle you were holding and it shattered into a million pieces on the ground. you stood there in his arms, crying for what felt like an eternity. you finally pulled away from him, and he wiped your tears with his thumbs. you laughed, but then lightly slapped his arm. “you scare me like that again, tommy, i swear i’ll kill ya.” “i’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.” he kissed your forehead, and you rested your forehead against his. he tentatively closed the gap between your lips and his, and you pulled him by the collar and kissed him with enough force to make him trip and fall. he managed to stay steady and kissed you back with equal fervour. he spoke between kisses. “i *kiss* spent *kiss* every *kiss* second *kiss* thinking *kiss* of you.” you giggled. “i missed you too, tommy.”

he told harry that you’d be leaving the bar early that day, and dragged you out the bar while holding your hand, a smile on his face for the first time in a long time. “the great thomas shelby isn’t embarrassed to have a barmaid as his girlfriend?” you giggled. “never. and those who think i should be embarrassed can suck me cock.” he spoke proudly. he opened the car door for you, and you sat inside and waited for him to turn the ignition on. “where are we going, tommy?” “i want you to meet my family, love.” during the countless hours you spent together chatting, he told you about his family’s idiosyncrasies and stories about them. how arthur needed to be protected the most during fights because he was just as likely to hurt himself as he was to hurt someone else, how aunty pol’s instincts about love were never wrong, how john once fell in love with a prostitute and everyone laughed at him, how ada was the most rebellious and married a communist (who happened to be in of his best mates), and how finn always pretended to act like tommy, doing whatever his big brother did. you were excited to meet them of course, but anxious. they would be your family one day too.

he held your hand as he brought you in, everyone sitting around a table waiting for him. “does everyone just sit together like this?” you asked. “uh, no i called a family meeting for 3 pm.” tommy replied simply. “how did you know you’d be able to have me here by 3?” he winked at you. “i have my ways. and i know how much you love me.” he spoke in a singsong voice. you rolled your eyes at his schoolboy behaviour and waited for him to speak. “shelby’s, this is my girlfriend and soon to be fiancé, y/n.” he held his arm around your waist proudly, and you leaned up to kiss his cheek. you recognized arthur and john immediately from your time in the war. you assumed that the older woman was aunt polly, and the younger with the baby in her arms would be ada, leaving the youngest member of the family, finn. john came up to talk to you first, while tommy spoke with polly. “you know i didn’t really mean the ‘marry tommy’ thing?” you laughed as you replied, “i didn’t either, but fate works in weird ways, eh?” he agreed with you before talking to tommy. arthur was the next one to see you. “you and tommy, eh? if it wasn’t for the war, you two would probably never have met. i s’pose war isn’t all bad then.” “perhaps you’re right. i did find your brother to be arrogant before the war.” “that he is, y/n. that he is.” both of you looked over at him, engaged in conversation with everyone else. you fussed over the baby in ada’s arms. “awww, he’s precious! what’s his name?” “karl, after karl marx.” you shot her a look. “it’s unconventional, i know. but freddie really wanted it.” “it’s lovely.” finn rushed over to you and kissed your hand. you gushed exaggeratedly. “what a gentleman you are, finn!” “if tommy wasn’t here, you’d be my girlfriend, miss y/n.” you laughed at his childishness and ruffled his hair. “sure i would, finn.” the only person you hadn’t spoken to yet was aunt polly, arguably the most intimidating person of the family. “i have one question for you, y/n. how you answer it will determine if you’re fit for being a shelby. how do you think i kept this business up and running during the war?” you felt put on the spot but tried your best to answer. “um, well, to be quite frank, i’ve believed that women are better at business anyway. we know how to settle deals with whiskey and not fists or guns. and you seem like twice the man than most men i know anyway.” her lips twitched up into a smile as she looked to tommy. “oh, i like her already.” he held your hand in hers, and addressed tommy. “she seems like a lovely girl, do not fuck this up tommy.” tommy shook his head and laughed. “i’ll try, pol. i’ll try.”

you ate dinner with the shelby’s before you headed up to his house. “you sure you don’t want me to walk you home?” he asked for the hundredth time that night. “no tommy, i’m perfectly content spending the night with you. unless you’d like me to leave?” you questioned. “no no, stay, please!” he said, almost pleadingly. you looked around his bedroom when you reached his home. it was obviously a house, but it didn’t feel like a home. you frowned at your observation. “what’s wrong, y/n?” “this house isn’t a home yet, tommy.” “that’s because i want my first home to be with you. with our children. and as far as i’m concerned, you are my home.”

“care to dance?” he asked, holding out his hand. you looked at the gramophone in the corner. “that doesn’t look like it works, love.” you placed your hand in his. “so what? we can dance without music.” he said, holding your waist close to him, your hand on his shoulder. you leaned your head on his shoulder, both of you dancing in the silence, listening to the sound of each other’s breathing. “kiss me, tommy.” you whispered. he obeyed probably for the first time in his life and kissed your soft lips.

things escalated and you were now on tommy’s bed, tracing the sun tattoo on his chest, with him on top of you. “fuck me, tommy, please.” “your cunt wants this cock?” he growled. you moaned in his ear. “fuck, yes tommy, make me yours.” he stretched you out in the most blissful way. of course, you had used your fingers before, but nothing could replace the feeling of his cock. “god, please!” you moaned out, words slowly turning into incoherent sounds. tommy chuckled. “god can’t hear you now, sweetheart. not here.” he pistoned his hips into you just right and it wasn’t long before he found the spot inside you that made you scream. “t- tommy fuck! right there, please don’t stop!” “i wouldn’t dream of stopping, darling. my girl, so pretty all spread out for me. take it, love. take that cock.” the feeling of your impending orgasm coursed through your entire body, making you writhe in pleasure. “god, i’m so close tommy!” “good fucking girl.” his hand reached down to rub circles on your clit while he fucked you so good. “oh god, tommy, i’m not gonna be able to walk tomorrow…” “that’s the plan, sweetheart.” he spoke as he kissed hickeys on your neck, matching the ones you’d given him earlier. “come on love, make a mess on my cock.” as soon as he said that, you felt yourself falling apart, the tight band in your stomach snapping, uncontrollable moans of his name falling from your lips. “thank you tommy, thank you so much.” you moaned, drunk on the feeling of his cock inside you. “such an angel. who do you belong to, sweets?” he said, still pounding your cunt. “y- you, tommy. i belong to you!” “that’s right, sweetheart.” he whispered in your ear, “i love you, darling.” you moaned as you felt your second orgasm approaching. “tommy, fuck! i- i love you too!” “god i’m gonna cum inside you! you’d like that, eh? me getting you pregnant, all nice and round with my baby?” you felt your orgasm pulsing through you at his words. “yes, tommy! fill my womb up, please! i need it!” you heard tommy’s loud moans as he came inside you. “oh, such a good girl. took my cock so well, love.” tommy stayed on top of you for a while, his cock still inside you. “i’ve wanted to do that for five fucking years.” he spoke, voice muffled since his head was buried between your tits. you laughed, but the laughs quickly turned to moans as your sensitive cunt felt friction from tommy’s cock rubbing up against its walls. he pulled out of you slowly, watching his seed spill out of you. he eventually got up to get a warm washcloth and a glass of water for you. you drank the water as he cleaned you and himself up and pulled you into his chest. you pulled the covers over both of you, feeling your body flush against his. “that was amazing tommy, thank you.” “the pleasure is all mine, sweetheart.” he kissed your forehead.

ever since tommy came back from france, he had these recurring nightmares every night. of his time in the tunnels. the germans. his comrades. how he had to kill people with his bare hands. he could still hear the shovels digging the tunnels when he closed his eyes. when he was with you though, he could finally fall asleep. or so he thought.

you were awoken in the middle of the night by the sounds of a gasping tommy, suddenly sitting up. you felt groggy for a moment, having just woken up, but quickly sprung into action. you sat next to him, rubbing his back. “tommy, what’s wrong?” he didn’t speak. but he didn’t need to. you’d seen enough cases of ptsd from your time in the war to know what was happening to him. “you still see it, eh?” he only nodded. you laid back down and pulled him into your chest. he protested. “what are y-” “shut up.” you could tell, he was still a bit frantic, his breath still heavy. you spoke to him in a soft tone and you played with his fingers, his head on your chest. “listen to me. listen to the sound of my voice. feel my body against yours. you are home. you are safe. the war is over. the nightmares are just parts of your mind trying to scare you. but you’re stronger than that, eh? i’m here with you, and you don’t need to be scared. alright? i’m here with you, always.” he hummed, heavy eyelids slowly closing shut. being able to smell the scent of your perfume helped ground him. “good job, tommy. now sleep. i’ll be here with you when you wake up.” you managed to get him to go to sleep, but somehow convinced your mind to let you sleep light enough that if tommy were to have another nightmare, you’d be up immediately. fortunately, he didn’t wake up during the night.

he woke up to the sight of a sleeping you, the sun rays hitting you just right. he swore he could look at you forever. you felt his gaze on you and slowly opened your eyes. “how’d you sleep?” you asked. “like i hadn’t slept in years.” he replied.

“morning, mr. shelby.” you wished him, as you did, every day before the war. except this time, you were in his arms, in his bed. you kissed his lips softly. except this time, he finally wished you back.

“mornin’, sweetheart.”

[brummiereader]

@mischievouslittlecreature Asher 🥰. He's such a good boy!

That four legged fur baby was such a joy to read about when he took note of his mum as she internally battered herself 😩.

Lucy watched Tommy where he was perched on the arm of a couch and talking to Lizzie, feeling her heart squeeze painfully, quickly looking away. Urghh I hate it, I hate it, I hate it! It was ok in canon because there was no one else. But in this story, which honestly feels more realistic than the canon series 😍, I couldn't stand the image of this. It's just heartbreaking. I get increasingly pissed of at Tommy when he even talks to Lizzie lol. I know it's just a messy situation, and not really his fault, but it hurts me to see Lucy this way. I'm waiting for the day he experiences the same feelings of insecurities, jealousy and heartbreak as she does right now, Lilly! You gotta give us a jealous, moody Tommy to compensate for the the torment you're putting our dear Lucy through 😂.

She sat up a little when the room quieted so that Tommy and Arthur could each make toasts. At Tommy’s comment of being in a happier place, paired with a quick glance towards Lizzie, she swallowed painfully. Oof no, fuck that 😩! Arthur should never make speeches, look what happens when he does 😭.

I'm glad Lizzie is making an effort, and I thought it quite sweet how she approached them with a deck of cards to play a game. But her attitude always has me on edge as much as it has Lucy on edge. I feel like she could completely change her tune at any minute and start making her passive aggressive remarks again. Hmmm, I hope they both stay on their toes with her, and I REALLY hope, Tommy doesn't begin to underestimate her pettiness.

No, treacle, I didn’t know they took ya. If I did, I…” his eyes moved to the bandages that poked out from under the hem of her shirt. “That wouldn’t have happened. Ahhh I love how he talks to her 😩❤️. Which only makes this scene even more upsetting for Lucy. Although I don't know much about their relationship, it's clear that their genuine friends that care deeply about the other. But the famous line from the Godfather "it's not personal, it's just business" feels appropriate in this scene.

“We have to go back for the fucking dog.” Tommy heaved. - “We should take the dog,” Lucy spoke at the same time. They shared a look, then a small nod of agreement, and turned around to gather up Cyril’s lead and wrangle him with them towards the car. I love that you added this part, because this is exactly what I imagined happened. I would bet money on Tommy just coming to a stop with a huffy "fuck", knowing he's gotta go and get the dog 😂. Just one more animal to their growing zoo 🤭!

They’d both been drinking more. And his stash of opium for the pipe that they sometimes shared, usually enough to last nearly half the year, was already almost depleted. Most nights one or both of them woke up screaming. Ahh, loving the shared despair! And how they both were mutually going through the horrors, spiralling down together. It feels very intune to their whole relationship and their codependency. When one falls, the other rapidly falls after them. Even though it was a powerful scene to read, i think it was the fact that little Charlie saw his parents in this way that ultimately had them stop. They love that boy so much, enough to force themselves out of the pits.

The smut scene was so beautifully written. I'm honestly relieved they've been able to get back to that point where she feels comfortable enough to be intimate with him. They're both so passionate, so obsessed with the other that It would almost feel unnatural to not read about them in this way.

“Lucy, do you remember when you asked me if I’d ever thought about entering politics?” ahh shit, here we go 🤦🏼‍♀️😂. This line reminded of the scene with Freddie and Ada when she says about the moment his balls are empty it's back to politics 😅. Freddie and Tommy are more alike than they'll ever admit! But the problem with this line means...a tonne load more of problems are coming there way. One of the biggest, Tommy's marriage to Lizzie 😬.

Amazing chapter, hun! Can't wait to catch up on the latest one you posted as soon as possible 😍.

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: The vendetta may be over, but peace is still but a distant dream for both of them. 

Word Count: 5,769

Notes: Warnings for depictions of trauma, chronic pain, insecurity, smut, and references to torture and pregnancy.

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Chapter 28: Scarlet Fog

She sat huddled in a corner, watching the celebrations occurring around her as distantly as if she was looking in through the window. She supposed, in a way, that she might as well have been. No one had really paid her any attention throughout the entire gathering.

They were all assembled in one of the big sitting rooms in Arrow House, drinking and chatting and laughing. Lucy watched Tommy where he was perched on the arm of a couch and talking to Lizzie, feeling her heart squeeze painfully, quickly looking away. 

She would have to get used to that: seeing them together. Side by side as their own little unit while she was pushed aside.  

At least Tommy finally seemed happy again.

How horrible did it make her, that she found herself half longing for the time when it had just been her, him, and Charlie?

Of course she did not want Tommy to be miserable. Of course she did not want him and his family to be estranged. Things were better this way, of course they were. She could take it; feeling like she was an outsider encroaching where she was not wanted. Like she was not as valued. Not loved. She’d done it before, prior to the schism between him and the rest of the Shelbys. She could do it again. 

At her feet, as if sensing her thoughts, Asher whined, raising his head. She gave him a tiny smile, reaching out to scratch him behind the ear. His tail thumped against the rug, looking up at her as if to say, I still love you, Mommy.

He’d been glued to her side since they came home, protective on account of her still healing injuries. She was grateful for his presence and companionship. Being alone had gotten a lot harder than it had been previously. 

She supposed she would have to get used to it just being her and the animals for stretches of time. Moments spent alone with Tommy would get even rarer after Lizzie’s baby arrived. Lucy couldn’t help but wonder if she would see much of him at all. 

She sat up a little when the room quieted so that Tommy and Arthur could each make toasts. At Tommy’s comment of being in a happier place, paired with a quick glance towards Lizzie, she swallowed painfully, trying hard not to read too much into the look, and failing miserably. 

Surely it had to be coming soon. The inevitable. When Tommy sat her down and gently told her to pack her things. That he could no longer be with her. Because he loved someone else. And that someone else had demanded he chose between them. And of course he was going to choose the one he was already having a baby with. Who was loved by his family. Who wasn’t broken beyond repair. Who he could actually have a chance at a happy future with. 

As if sensing her thoughts, Asher nudged at her knee with his nose, trying to draw her attention away from the ache in her heart. With stilted movements, she reached down to stroke his soft black fur. 

Next was Arthur’s toast. A dreaded look crossed Tommy’s face at his brother’s insistence that he take a holiday. The expression only deepened when Arthur raised his glass to peace. Lucy wondered if Tommy was thinking the exact same thing that she was: there would be no peace for them. Not now; not ever. Not with the things that lived eternally inside their heads. 

Once the toasts were done, everyone began slowly making their way towards the doors leading into the dining room. Lucy made no move to follow them, just shrinking tighter in on herself in her little corner whenever someone wandered past her. 

“Lucy?”

At the sound of Tommy’s voice, closer to her than she’d expected–she had figured he’d just head straight into the dining room with Lizzie–she looked up. Those blue eyes of his were fixed on her questioningly, shuffling a little closer to her while everyone else drew further away towards the other room. Tommy cocked his head. 

“Are you coming?”

Drawing in a shaky breath, she shook her head. Fingers still carding mindlessly through Asher’s fur, trying to focus on the soft pelt to keep herself grounded. “I’m not hungry.”

Tommy sank down into the vacant spot next to her on the couch. “Are you in pain?”

“No. I’m just tired.” Only half the truth. Her cuts and shoulders were starting to ache a little.

He frowned, one hand moving to rest on the cushions behind her back. “You’ve barely eaten since we got back, sweetheart.” When she didn’t say anything, he scooted closer to her. “You need to eat.”

“I’m fine.” Eager to change the topic, she swirled the remainder of whiskey in her glass before downing it, mind fishing for something else to talk about. “What did Lizzie have to say?”

“Nothing all that interesting. Just some things about a few renovations that she wants to make to her house.” She could feel Tommy’s worried eyes still fixed intently on her. 

“This’ll be the first holiday you’ve taken in awhile. What do you think you’ll do?”

“I don’t know.”

Her gaze drew back to Lizzie where she was standing by the doorway, smiling and chatting animatedly with Polly. She’d been nicer to her since the kidnapping, but Lucy couldn’t help but feel a constant level of tension when around her, waiting at any moment for her to have said or done the wrong thing that would cause Lizzie to snap at her. “You should use it to spend time with her. Could even move into her house for a little while.” She looked down at her empty glass, in desperate need of a refill. “Be there for all the big moments in the pregnancy and everything.”

“And leave you here all alone?” Tommy asked. The worry she’d sensed in his gaze had leaked into his voice.

“I’d survive.” A lie, she was pretty sure, but he didn’t need to be burdened with that. 

“You’re still healing.”

“I’m not an invalid.”

“I know, but…I don’t want to leave you by yourself. If I have to take a bloody holiday, I’d rather spend it with you.”

Sighing, she kept her gaze glued to the floor until Tommy’s hand forced her head up, his icy blue eyes boring into hers, trying to read her mind. 

“I am not leaving you alone.”

“But you should–”

“Fuck what I should do!” His throat flexed, eyes darting towards the doorway to make sure no one had heard him. Drawing in a deep breath to steady himself, he looked at her, jaw set in that stubborn way she knew meant she’d have better luck picking up an entire mountain than getting him to change his mind. “I’m not leaving your side. End of discussion.”

Shaky sigh leaving her lips, Lucy nodded defeatedly. The back of Tommy’s hand stroked over her cheek. The rest of the family had wandered out the doorway, leaving them alone. 

“Please come to dinner.”

“No one wants me there anyway–”

“I do.”

For some reason, that made her feel like she was about to cry, leaning closer to his side unconsciously. When his fingers ran delicately through her hair, she closed her eyes. “Promise me you aren’t just saying that because you feel sorry for me.”

His fingers tightened a fraction where they’d come to rest on her shoulder. “I promise.” He turned her face to look at him. “I swear it on my mother’s grave. I want you with me always. Eh? Every second of every day.”

She closed her eyes, leaning into him, letting the words soothe her and abate the raging insecurities inside her. Even if only for a moment. 

“Come on,” his lips moved against the top of her head as he kissed her forehead. “Please don’t make me face them all alone.” His chin shifted against her head, cheek laying against her hair. She huffed out a tired, breathless laugh against his chest. 

“Alright. Since you asked so nicely.” 

He took hold of both her hands with a small smile, helping her to her feet and entwining their fingers as they began to follow the route that the rest of the family had taken out of the sitting room and into the dining area. Asher padded along beside them, his ears twitching every once in a while as he remained watchful and protective in demeanor. 

Tommy helped her into her seat next to him at the table, his ankle hooking around hers, the toe of his shoe every once in a while rubbing up and down along her shin whenever she started to get anxious.

Once the meal was over and everyone retired into the drawing room, she wound up seated on a couch with Tommy’s arm around her, her head resting lazily on his shoulder, trying not to doze off despite how tired she was. Lizzie eventually approached them timidly with a deck of cards, shyly proposing that they all play, and soon enough they had a lively game going amongst themselves and several family members. 

For a little while, she thought that things might actually get better. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy quietly lamented the fact that she’d probably be picking little granules out of her socks on the drive back home as her boots sank into the sand. Overheard a seagull squawked, riding the cool wind that rushed over the beach. Waves roiled and crashed against the shore, lapping across the sand until they almost kissed the toe of her shoes. The sand where they were standing was damp, hardened over with moisture more so than the soft, dry mounds they’d had to traverse to approach the figure already standing on the otherwise abandoned beach when they arrived.

He was just looking out over the expanse of the waves, a huge bullmastiff seated next to him, his lead clutched in Alfie’s hand.

Lucy stared at her friend, confliction weighing heavily inside her. Despite everything, she still considered Alfie an important figure in her life. He’d helped to save her, a long, long time ago. And his position as an ally to the gang had brought with it significant advantages. But perhaps most importantly, she liked him. He was fun, and deep down she really did believe that he cared for her and Tommy. 

Just not enough to stop him from betraying them when the price was right. 

“Alfie, did you know that they took me?” she asked, voice hoarse. The salty wind whipped at strands of her hair, leaving them to dance around her face. Alfie, who until that moment had hardly turned his head to look at them, finally glanced over at her. 

“No, treacle, I didn’t know they took ya. If I did, I…” his eyes moved to the bandages that poked out from under the hem of her shirt. “That wouldn’t have happened.” He said, looking at her regretfully before turning back to stare at the rolling waves. Lucy swallowed painfully at the truth in his voice, a little of the weight lifting from her shoulders at knowing that her friend had, at the very least, not been involved in the horrors that had been enacted upon her. 

He and Tommy talked for a while more. Well, Alfie talked, Tommy mostly just listened, and then Tommy pulled out his gun from inside his coat. Lucy turned away, face contracting, unable to watch. 

The pieces fell into place at Alfie's revelation of his cancer diagnosis. So he’d wanted them to kill him, then. Or maybe he was just saying it so they wouldn’t feel so bad after it was done.   

She was still angled away from Alfie when he turned sharply on Tommy with his own gun, so she had no warning when a bullet suddenly skimmed across Tommy’s side. Tommy pulled the trigger of his own weapon on instinct, and a sizable chunk of Alfie’s face was blown off. Both men collapsed backwards onto the sand. 

“Tommy!” Lucy lurched towards him, ignoring the way that the sudden movement pulled on her stitches. Her knees hit the sand, trousers growing damp from the moisture as she knelt at Tommy’s side, hands hovering over his torso. He groaned softly, legs kicking in the sand, damp granules sticking to the side he’d fallen on. 

“I’m alright,” he mumbled, hand going to his side. Blood stained his palm when he drew it away. “I’m alright, it just grazed me.”

Lucy glanced over her shoulder at where Alfie laid on his back, unmoving. Cyril was whining softly in distress, nosing at Alfie’s face. 

“I think he’s dead,” she said softly, not wanting to go over and actually check. Tommy swiped a hand down his face, gripping her hand to let her help pull him from the ground. She eyed his side worriedly. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

He drew his coat in tighter around himself, suddenly looking very small and fragile. “I’m fine,” but his voice was anything but, rough and rasping in his throat. He took one look at Alfie’s body and cringed away, arms squeezing tighter around himself. Lucy watched as his head bowed, sorrow etching onto his features. For a second she thought that he was going to cry. “Come on.” With a jerk of his head, he gestured for them to head back towards where they’d parked the car. 

Shuffling to follow him, she curled close to his side, the pair of them beginning to slow trek off of the beach. The lump in her throat kept building every time she looked back at the figure splayed out in the sand. A few sniffles left her, and she hastily wiped her nose on her sleeve.  

“He fired to force you to shoot him,” she noted quietly as they walked. With how close they’d been, there was no way that Alfie would have missed his shot like that if he’d actually wanted to cause Tommy legitimate harm. 

“Yes.”

She tightened her arms around his bicep, cheek squishing against the soft material of his coat as she sought refuge from the chilly air against him.  

They got about halfway down the beach before they both stopped at the same time. 

“We have to go back for the fucking dog.” Tommy heaved. 

“We should take the dog,” Lucy spoke at the same time. They shared a look, then a small nod of agreement, and turned around to gather up Cyril’s lead and wrangle him with them towards the car.  

∗ ∗ ∗

Three months passed. 

Lucy healed slowly, the scabs of her injuries scarring over into rough, pale bumps on her otherwise smooth skin.

Tommy knew that she was horribly self conscious of them. Really, he was pretty sure that she thought them far worse than they actually were. She was still beautiful to him, even if the sight of the criss-crossed marks all over her back triggered sorrow and guilt to wash over him at the reminder of the pain she’d gone through.  

Slowly, she was able to do more. The stitches were removed and the bandages came off. Her shoulders were still giving her trouble, but according to the doctor, that would always be the case. He tried his best to help her, giving her massages and bringing her ice packs on the days that the pain was particularly bad. Applying salves that Polly sent over to help relax and soothe the muscles. By all accounts, she was considered healed. At least physically. 

And yet she was worrying him. Hell, he was worrying him. 

Golf. Fishing. Both were things he’d heard that other men liked to do on holiday, but he only got to the sixth hole at the golf course before throwing his club across the green field, not out of frustration, but from sheer boredom. The entire game was so…useless. Lucy had raised her eyebrows at him from where she was leaning against the little green plaque that displayed the hole number. 

“You know you’re supposed to hit the ball with the club, right?” she’d asked. Tommy shook his head, yanking out a few notes to pass to the caddy carrying his clubs. 

“We’re going home,” he mumbled, draping his arm around her as they started the walk to the car. “This is ridiculous.”

Fishing hadn’t fared much better. They’d been sitting by the bank, Lucy leaning into his side, eyes staring numbly out at the pond. For a second, the world was quiet and peaceful. 

But the silence only made things worse. There was no sound to drown out the noises in his head. The horses and gunshots; the screams of men dying around him. 

An explosion suddenly boomed around them, and he dove to the ground, taking Lucy with him as he sent them both crashing half into the pond in an attempt to use the bank as a source of cover against enemy fire. One of his hands curled over his head while his body pressed hers to the ground, attempting to shield her from the perceived danger. It wasn’t until more sounds–gunshots, not explosions like he’d originally thought–and the barking of hounds, erupted nearby that he realized it was simply a hunting party passing by, and not the war returned with the intention of swallowing him whole. 

“Tommy?” Lucy asked, voice quiet. She had grabbed onto the front of his shirt in surprise, her eyes wide. 

“Shit.” He leaned off of her, water sloshing around his legs, damp grass and dirt clinging to his arms where he’d rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. “Sorry.” He couldn’t quite meet her gaze, embarrassment burning its way across his cheeks.

“It’s okay.” She made no move to pull away, despite now standing nearly up to her waist in water thanks to him. Her head cocked a little when he flinched at another echoing crack of gunfire from the hunters. But she didn’t say anything, just reached out to flatten her palm on his chest. “Sweetheart?”

He finally snapped his head around to look at her. Fear suddenly seized at him as he processed how he’d practically grabbed and thrown her into the pond with him. “Fuck, did I hurt you?”

“What? No,” she shook her head. “I mean…my socks are wet now, but other than that, I’m fine.”

He’d helped her up out of the water, and quickly gathered together the fishing gear so they could head home. The fish weren’t biting anyway, and he didn’t want her sitting around in wet socks and trousers and catching a cold.  

They arrived home to find dinner ready for them at the table after they’d changed into dry clothes. Not that either of them touched most of it.  

Lucy had gotten almost as bad as him about eating. Where she once almost always cleaned her plate, she now often left it three fourths of the way full before pushing it away. And that was on the days that he was able to convince her to eat at all. Her body weight had dive bombed. She was even smaller than usual; so skinny it scared him a little. 

He could feel Frances watching them worriedly from the doorway, hands clasped together, lips set in a firm frown that only deepened when they both rose from the table and went into the drawing room to finish off their evening with two large bottles of whiskey and gin shared between them. 

They’d both been drinking more. And his stash of opium for the pipe that they sometimes shared, usually enough to last nearly half the year, was already almost depleted. Most nights one or both of them woke up screaming. He’d lost count of how many times he’d cradled her in his arms, rocking her gently against his chest, stroking her hair until she finally calmed enough to fall back into a fitful slumber. 

She’d draw him into bed to make love, only to push him away a few moments later, sobbing and burying her face in her hands. The phone would ring, but they never answered it. Even during the middle of the day, they kept the curtains drawn, the lights dimmed. Everything was easier in the dark.

They drank, and cried, and held each other, and drank some more. The cycle repeating over and over. He knew that they were both spiraling downwards into a deep dark well. But he did not know how to pull them out of it. 

Ultimately, it was not really him who gave the push for something to be done about things. It was Charlie. 

He was sprawled out on the floor, so drunk he was almost going cross eyed. Glass, from the objects he’d knocked to the floor during his tumble, had sliced into his palms, blood running in thin rivers down his hands. Lucy was kneeling beside him, reaching out to try to get a look at where he’d cut himself. Despite her movements being as uncoordinated as his thanks to her equally drunken state. Her makeup was a smudged mess around her eyes, black smears trailing down her cheeks from when she’d been crying earlier. 

The door creaked open, and Charlie peeked his little head in, and their eyes met. A look, not of sorrow or confusion, but complete, all encompassing disappointment crossed his little boy’s features as he took in the image sprawled out before him. Tommy swore that there was a hint of contempt in there as well.

“Charlie,” he choked out, trying–and failing–to scramble to his feet. Lucy’s head snapped around to fix on the boy, who was quickly ushered out by one of the maids. The door closed between them with a sharp, final click. 

Tommy managed to finally heave himself to his feat, injured arms crossed around his middle. Shame, hot and violent, bowled into him, and he folded at the waist, face collapsing in on itself as tears rushed into his eyes and began to stream down his cheeks. 

Never, never had he wanted Charlie to see them like this. But now he had, and that was something that would never be able to be undone. 

“Tommy,” Lucy pulled him into her arms, letting him bury himself in her chest while he mentally collapsed almost entirely on himself. Her fingers petted at the nape of his neck and down his back, trying to soothe him as he sobbed and sobbed and sobbed against her. 

The next day, he called Polly.  

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy retreated to bed when Polly came over in the evening, mumbling something about being tired. Tommy didn’t try to stop her. She still felt so fragile, he was worried that if Polly took any of her usual swipes at her, it would cause her to only crumble further in on herself. So he’d just sent her off with a gentle kiss and a promise that he’d join her as soon as he could, watching to make sure that Asher followed her as she climbed the stairs.  

“Lizzie wants to see you,” Polly informed him not long after they sat down. Tommy’s stomach roiled with nausea, quickly looking away. 

“No.”

“Tom, she’s showing,” Polly tried again, but that just made the sick feeling in his stomach surge. The mental image of Lizzie’s belly protruding as his baby grew inside her elicited nothing in him but dread. The idea of having another child was completely overwhelming, and he was often struck with constant worry at how it would affect Lucy once the baby finally came and he would have no choice but to spend more time with Lizzie.  

He’d spent an awful lot of energy these past few months actively not thinking about Lizzie and the baby that would arrive in but a few short months' time. But Lucy…he had a feeling that Lucy spent far too much time thinking about them. She’d said some things, whispered mumbles while she was drunk, that made little sense to him. Things about how he should leave her. That she was bringing him nothing but unhappiness. How he could be happy with Lizzie if he just gave her a chance. He didn’t know if she was aware of the things she was saying, or if she even remembered uttering them after she’d sobered up. No matter how much he tried to soothe or contradict her statements, she always circled back to them. It was like an infection that was not actually getting cured, the symptoms only battered back for a little while by his reassurances before flaring up once again. He did not know how to entirely eradicate the insecurities brewing inside her.

“I don’t want to see Lizzie, Pol.” He looked down, ashamed at the words despite their truthfulness. He felt her looking him over, examining his reaction carefully. Ultimately realizing that now was not a good time to push the subject any further. 

“How’s Lucy?”

That got him to look up, brow lifting. “Since when do you care?”

Polly shifted awkwardly in her seat, it being her turn to look away. Tommy frowned, the almost apologetic look on Polly’s face uncharacteristic, especially when it came to anything involving Lucy. 

“Pol?”

 “Aberama says that I’ve been too hard on her,” Polly sighed. Tommy blinked, too stunned to speak for a moment. 

“You been talking with Aberama a lot lately?” he finally asked. Polly shrugged, squirming in place, clearly uncomfortable, looking for a way to dodge the question.

“How is she?” 

He wetted his lips, fingers twitching around his cigarette. “Not good.”

“Francis said that she isn’t eating.”

“I can count her ribs with my hands when I hold her.” He mumbled, glancing at the drawn curtains that hide the outside world from view. 

“After what Luca did to her, I can’t say that I’m surprised that she’s broken down. Took you right down along with her.”

He bristled. “It’s not her fault–”

“That’s not what I mean,” Polly shook her head. “What I mean is that, if she hadn’t fallen into the dark abyss, she would have been able to keep you from spiraling as well. Like she has before. You’re right. It’s not her fault. It was just shit timing, is all.”

“I don’t know how to pull her out of it, Pol.”

Polly fiddled with her fingers. “I think it’s time you both came back to work. Rattling around idly in here is clearly helping no one. Having something to focus your minds on will help.”

He nodded slowly, heaving out a breath. Polly stayed to talk for a little while longer, offering a few more sage words of advice before gathering up her things and leaving. After she was gone, Tommy spent a long stretch of time sitting and staring at nothing, the cogs in his head starting to slowly spin. 

Jamming his cigarette into the ashtray, he stood, making his way to the stairs and towards the bedroom that he shared with Lucy. 

She was already curled up under the covers, on her side with her hands pressed flat onto the pillow and her cheek resting atop them. Asher was laying in his dog bed in the corner, his big head on his paws, eyes watching them worriedly. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Tommy reached out a hand to rub across Lucy’s forearm. Her eyes opened slowly, head cocking against the pillows.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he moved his hand to stroke her face.

“How did it go?”

“Fine. She thinks we ought to go back to work.”

“Mm,” Lucy sat up slightly. “Probably not the worst idea.” 

“Mhm,” he moved his hand to play with her fingers, tracing the places where she’d picked a layer of skin away while nervously fidgeting. The nervous habit had thankfully mostly ceased since they’d gotten her a replacement set of rings for the ones Luca had taken from her. It was not until Tommy had first noticed the little scabs on her fingers that he realized the importance of her having something physical to busy her hands with. Otherwise she started picking at herself.

“You’re scaring me, love,” he said, doing his best to keep his tone gentle and non-accusatory. And yet still Lucy’s lower lip started to tremble, tears filling her eyes. 

“I know,” she whispered. “I know; I’m sorry. I…” her chest rose and fell deeply with her breaths. “I don’t know how to make it stop.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault,” his fingers curled loosely around her wrist. “We’ve both fallen apart these past few months.” He looked at her regretfully. “I’ve done a shit job at taking care of you.”

Lucy frowned, sitting up fully, reaching out to cup the side of his face. “That’s not true. You’ve kept me alive.”

“I think that’s the very definition of the bare minimum, love.”

She shook her head. “With where my mind has been at sometimes, Tommy, it’s no small thing that you’ve managed.”

He let her words sink in, both hands raising to take her face between his palms. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She gave him a weak, not wholly convinced smile, and he kissed her insistently. 

“I mean it. I love you.” Forehead laying on hers, he breathed in the scent of rose perfume that lingered on her skin. “We’ll get through this.”

“I love you too,” she whispered, angling her head up to kiss him again. Tommy trailed his hands carefully down her body, skimming them along the curves of her breasts, lowering to loosely hold her waist.

They’d had sex since the doctor deemed her fully healed. But he still felt the need to handle her as gently as possible; too worried about accidentally hurting her. The first time, he’d spent over an hour worshiping her body, placing kisses to each and every one of her scars, taking his time to make it clear that he still found her as heart-stopping beautiful as he did the first day that he saw her.  

He took the same care now, delicately undoing the ties on her nightgown and sliding it off of her shoulders, lips pressing into her soft skin, following the raised lines of her scars. A groan left his throat when her fingertips sank into his hair, massaging his scalp when he dropped his head to take one of her nipples into his mouth.

That grip on his hair only tightened deliciously as he advanced lower, laying her down on the bed and spreading her legs so that he could lay between them, nosing at her cunt, breathing in her delectable scent before leaning forward to swipe his tongue across her clit. 

Her sounds were so pretty as he ate her out, the hand in his hair helping to steer him to where she needed him most. Watching her through his lashes, Tommy had to stifle a smirk at the way her head fell back against the pillows when he sank a finger into her, crooking it so he was rubbing right up against the spot that made her moans go up a pitch. 

When she came on his mouth, he grabbed greedily at her thighs, lips parting in an attempt to drink her all in, begging for everything she had to offer him. 

“Fuck, come here,” she half pleaded when he raised up on his arms above her, reaching out to drag him closer, slotting their mouths together with her release still clinging to his lips. Her hands pulled at his clothes, his own moving eagerly to help her to remove them, covering her body with his once he was bare. 

“Ready?” he asked, hand wrapping loosely around his engorged cock, giving himself a few pumps before lining up. 

“Yes. Yes,” she chanted, arms winding around his neck. He entered her slowly, watching her face carefully for any sign of discomfort while he pushed forward. The warm embrace of her cunt remained to be like nothing else he’d ever experienced before, her walls hugging around him, so tight and perfect there was to be no doubt that they’d been made for each other. 

The combined sounds of their pleasure echoed throughout the room as they started to move. Lucy’s head tipped forward, burying in his neck, her soft lips brushing against the sensitive skin. His eyes rolled in his head everytime she squeezed around him, and he slipped an arm under her to rest between her shoulder blades while he rocked into her steadily. He kept his thrusts at an even, gentle pace, taking care to go slow with her. She knew that she could stop him at any time if she needed, and no matter how lost he may have been in his own pleasure, he always took care to be mindful of her reactions to his movements, on alert for any indications of pain, discomfort, or fear. 

“Tommy–” her nails scratched at his shoulder, not enough to break the skin, but just enough to sting. His hissed at the contact, the idea of being marked by her sending a thrill through him that had his cock twitching inside her. 

“Just like that,” she whispered when his tip brushed against her g-spot. “Just like that; don’t stop.”

He grunted deeply, doing as instructed, feeling a surge in his balls as his own release drew nearer. Slotting a hand between them, he started to work on her clit again, rubbing it in small circles carefully timed with his deep thrusts. Her walls squeezed around him, even tighter than before, and he had to grit his teeth and focus hard to keep from coming prematurely.

With a cry and a tightening of her legs around his waist, Lucy came, a hand at the back of his head guiding him in for another kiss while she squeezed and gushed around his sensitive cock. Tommy moaned into her mouth, following her right over the cliff, stilling as he came deeply into her. His mouth continued to work, kissing her slowly and sensually as they rode out their climaxes and steadily started to come down.        

After, when they were laying together in the dark, Lucy in his arms with her head on his chest and her fingers tracing the lines of the tattoo of her name that he had emblazoned on his forearm, he began to tell her of the new plan that had started to take shape within his mind. 

“Lucy, do you remember when you asked me if I’d ever thought about entering politics?”

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[idksmtms]

The Comeback (Tommy Shelby x reader, Tommy Shelby x Grace Burgess)

Request 

A/N: I changed the request a little because the only person who comes back from the dead on Peaky Blinders is Alfie Solomons. He reserves the right. But I also felt like this could fit in so well with the end of S1/start of S2 story where Grace has gone and Tommy is on his own in Small Heath and she comes back out of the blue. 

Summary: After Grace left and he couldn’t follow, Tommy decides to get on with his life and agrees to marry the daughter of a local businessman who could help further the Peaky Blinders’ operation. When the line of his feelings begins to blur, Grace reappears. 

Word count: 6,862

Trigger Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, some show spoilers, angst, era typical attitudes on men, women, and marriage, marriage of convenience, (seeming) one-sided love, (seemingly) unrequited love, smoking/reader + characters smoking cigs, cheating, divorce, (please let me know if I missed any) 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Peaky Blinders characters. I do not claim to own any of the Peaky Blinders characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so. 

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

When Thomas Shelby agreed to the proposal your father had set forth, you were initially quite surprised. You had heard talk of an Irish barmaid at the Garrison, or maybe it was that one black-haired prostitute in Small Heath, you couldn’t quite remember, but you had heard that his heart had been intrigued if not settled upon a woman. 

Your father had mentioned a marriage between the two of you would be beneficial, which you took to mean that he would most certainly be proposing it, and had decided to do a little bit of snooping. Nothing major, you simply wanted to know a little more about the man you might be forced into marrying, and little whispers of his reputation reached you through the household staff. 

He was intimidating, never smiled, was always focused on business, and he wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. With each word you felt a nail hammer into your coffin. But then it was also said he was loyal to his family, to his people, that he would do anything for them, and it made you feel a little better. It made him at least partially human, anyway. 

You didn’t know much, the name Peaky Blinders was thrown, speculation about him was always in the air, but you knew very little else. You had no idea what he looked like, what his voice sounded like, what he thought of Small Heath. What did he think of your father? Was a marriage to you a worthy consequence of business? Did he know what you looked like? Did he think you were pretty? 

So when your father had initially told you that he would be offering your hand to the notorious man, you had expected him to return with a furrowed brow and a gruff question as to why the hell the man wouldn’t want to secure a partnership in such a way. Instead, you found your father grinning in the living room, clapping his hands upon seeing you and telling you that the wedding date had been set for February 1st, 1921. 

You had taken everything in stride. You weren’t really in a position to complain about a marriage that would give you security and allow you to keep the lifestyle you had been accustomed to. Though you had once had girlish fantasies of marrying a man who loved you to the fullest, who got down on one knee and proposed in front of everyone because he couldn’t bare the thought of never calling you his wife, you had quickly abandoned them when the realities of the world were slowly revealed to you. 

You had seen friends get pregnant as young girls and thrown to the streets by disgraced families and left by men who couldn’t be bothered to care for them. You had seen women marry men they loved only to be beaten black and blue for the rest of their lives until they jumped into the river with their children to end their suffering. You had seen girls from well off families, who had fathers made rich off the war and mothers who spent their lives cajoling them, suddenly turned into prostitutes because the man they thought would marry them sullied their honour and left with nothing else to say. 

You were alright with this marriage, you only hoped that Tommy would treat you with respect, that he would never lay a hand on you in anger, and that if love did not blossom then you could at least be happy with each other regardless. It was simple, it was realistic. 

You met Thomas Shelby for the first time on the day of your wedding. He had sent you one letter before that time, brought to you in your father’s coat pocket after he announced that Mr. Shelby had accepted the proposal. His writing was clean if a little hurried, no random inkblots or crossed out words, and he addressed you as ‘Ms’. He expressed that you could do as you pleased for the wedding, he would show up on the day and say ‘I do’ and need not be involved any more than that. He told you about the new estate he had purchased, Arrow House, and how it would become your new place of residence after the wedding. He wished you well at the end, but signed only with his name. You had folded the letter again, pressed it back into the envelope, and then deposited it into your nightstand. 

On the day of the wedding, you were suddenly alight with the nerves that had not presented themselves at the time of his accepting your father’s proposal. Minutes before you were due to walk down the aisle you began to question the entire event, began to question if this was really the life you would choose for yourself and how difficult it would be for his men to track you down if you ran away right at that moment and hid yourself somewhere in Cornwall. Instead your father gripped your arm and threaded it through his and walked you through the doors of the church. 

When you saw him for the first time you were a little shocked that someone who was commonly described as a gangster looked so elegant. He wore a wool suit in navy blue with a matching bowtie and a little sprig of snowdrops in his breast pocket. They matched the flowers in your bouquet. He had the same haircut as his brothers, shaved on the sides and long on the top, and the blackness of his hair reminded you of coal. He was going a little grey on the sides, but you couldn’t tell how old he was and whether it made sense for grey hairs to already be appearing. He had very faint freckles all over his face and down his neck and a natural pout to his lips. On anyone else it would make them look endearing, on him it made him seem sullen and dangerous. 

Somehow you were unsurprised that his eyes were so blue. In the dim light of the church they were greyish, but piercing like the distant beam of a lighthouse on the blackest night. They fit him, you thought as you walked closer and closer. They were so open, yet they revealed nothing. They were the eyes of a dangerous person, of someone who didn’t smile often. They were rather terrifying. You wanted to know what he thought of you. 

Your father shook Tommy’s hand as he gave you over to him, smiling a proud smile as if he were marrying Tommy himself, and kissed you on the cheek quickly before finding his seat at the first pew. You glanced at his eyes once as he took your right hand, but then turned to look at the priest and kept your eyes there. 

You felt distant from yourself at the ceremony, like you were at the shop counter waiting for the grocer to hand you your items so you could pay and leave. You said ‘I do’ mechanically, pushed the ring over his finger like it had been rehearsed a hundred times, and let him press a soft, unfeeling, kiss to your lips. 

He kept your hand in his as you walked out of the church, and he helped you step up into his car. He waited until you had gathered your dress around you before closing the door and walking around, then waited for you to finish waving to your family before driving in the direction of Arrow House. You would see them all in a few hours for the celebration dinner at the estate, but it felt like such a final goodbye that a few tears slipped down your cheeks. 

He didn’t say anything as he drove, just casually rested an elbow on the door and kept his eyes trained on the road ahead. But you were impatient, and surprised to find that you had actually enjoyed the sound of his voice the few times he had used it in the church and wanted to hear it again. 

“Your brothers seem nice,” and you winced because how could those be the first words out of your mouth when you were alone with your husband for the first time. His lips twitched in amusement and you flushed with embarrassment. 

“Not one of my siblings could ever be described as ‘nice’.” You frowned but the way he said it wasn’t insulting, it was almost as if he was proud that they weren’t nice people and it made you turn to look at him for a long moment. 

“Hm, I’m not sure what that says about you, Mr. Shelby,” you hummed, pressing your lips together then releasing them then pressing them together again. 

“Must it say something about me?” He asked, one eyebrow raising as he glanced toward you. You smiled then, letting out a little laugh as you shook your head. 

“I suppose not,” you sighed, “I suppose not.” You turned to look at the road ahead and shrugged your shoulders. “I guess I’m just attempting to learn more about you Mr. Shelby, however roundabout my methods may seem.” His face looked a little calmer then, less severe, and you felt triumphant that you had somehow caused it. 

“Ask your questions, miss, and I will find a way to answer them,” he replied with a nod, but you smirked. 

“It’s Missus now, Mrs. Shelby,” and the way you said it made him huff out something you believed was a chuckle. Another success. 

“Ask your questions then, Mrs. Shelby.” 

“Why did you agree to this marriage?” He raised an eyebrow again, changing the hand he used on the steering wheel and turning a little in his seat to look at you. The road ahead was empty, but he still glanced back every few moments to ensure he was driving straight on it. 

“Your father’s business can process the money from mine and turn it into legitimate investments. It would have been stupid not to agree,” he said it simply, with slightly wide eyes and his head shaking a little, like it was an obvious answer. You hummed and nodded, but were left a little unsatisfied. The juvenile part of your brain hoped that he would say something about how he had seen a picture of you and felt in his heart of hearts that you were the one for him. Though now having met him you supposed he wouldn’t say something like that even to the true love of his life. 

“What do you think of me?” You asked. You had tried to sound confident but it came out small and apprehensive, as if you weren’t sure you actually wanted the answer to the question. “Be honest,” you added hastily, and he looked at you again. His eyes were so focused on your face that you turned away bashfully. 

“I believe,” he began slowly, thoughtfully, and paused to pull his cigarette case from his pocket. He pulled one out of it and rubbed it along his bottom lip once, then twice before settling it at the corner of his mouth. He began to reach down for the lighter in his outer pocket but you quickly slipped your hand into it and pulled it out. He looked at you with that raised eyebrow frown he seemed to enjoy using, but let you flick the flame into life and bring it to the tip of his cigarette. “You are someone intelligent enough to know that you have limited choices in the world,” he sucked another breath from the cigarette, “but strategic enough to accept only those that benefit you.” You smiled at that, a small conspiratorial smile that you aimed at your own lap. “That is why you allowed this engagement in the first place.” 

“You seem to think highly of me. How do you know I didn’t simply bend to my father’s will?” You asked, raising an eyebrow in return and looking at him as if you were daring him to answer. 

“You could be right,” he hummed, nodding in thought, “I may have completely misjudged you, but I don’t think so,” he shrugged and you just watched him as the car brought you both closer and closer to your new home. 

“Would you like to know what I think of you?” You asked, but regardless of his answer you would tell him anyway. 

“Go on then,” and he sounded a little exasperated but you ignored it. 

“I think you’ll be the death of me.” 

As the days, weeks, and months passed on your marriage, you and Tommy found an easy companionship with each other. You wouldn’t say the two of you ever found a routine, per se, you believed he would never not be all over the place running and expanding The Shelby Company Ltd. but the moments that the two of you did have together were enjoyable, pleasurable. 

The days he was on time for dinner, whether that be coming home on time or leaving his study, you would eat across from each other at the dining table and you would fill the silence with chatter. He didn’t often speak, but neither of you minded really, he was still a part of the conversation. He would huff out a laugh at anything humorous, offer a sarcastic comment or thoughtful observation when he felt it prudent, but otherwise sat there and took in all the details. 

Tommy found that he enjoyed listening to you, learning about your day or any little details about yourself you offered in your little speeches. Though he had never thought himself domestic, never imagined himself in a scenario such as this where he was sat eating a calm dinner with a wife, he found he secretly enjoyed it. 

He began looking forward to the evening time where he would breeze through the doors of the dining room to find you about to have a seat in your usual place at the far end of the table. His place was always set, and he wondered if you looked at it and imagined him on the days he wasn’t there. You would smile when you noticed him, grazing your eyes over him as if looking for something, then sit down carefully in your seat as Frances began bringing the dishes out from the kitchen. 

“How was your day?” You always asked it first, always looked at him with big open eyes as if you were genuinely interested and anything big or small he had to tell you would be appreciated. He would nod, pulling out his own chair and settling himself down quickly, offering you a distracted little smile. 

“Alright,” that was always the answer, whether it had actually been ‘alright’ you would never know, especially because you refused to question him further than that unless it had been a particularly boring day for you and poking and prodding at his stony facade would be your only fun activity. 

You always hummed and stayed quiet for a little while, smiling brightly at Frances and thanking her as she put down the last dish and began serving you both a first course of soup. You were all manners, waiting politely until both bowls had been filled and Frances had stepped away before taking a sip and humming in delight. Then you would dab the corners of your mouth and begin speaking without looking up from your bowl. 

“I went out for a ride today”, “I went to a little afternoon tea at Mavis Weatherby’s”, “My mother came for lunch”, “I’ve started reading a lovely little novel”, “I’m planning a little trip to London to see a milner’s and a tailor”. 

You always had something to tell him, no matter how mundane, and he always listened despite his stoic and almost disinterested face. He found your voice enjoyable, if nothing else. The hum of it in his ear was pleasant, and sometimes if he lost himself in his thoughts, it would be like a soft little kiss against the shell of his ear as he traversed the paths of his mind that needed tending to. 

You would tell him in extreme detail about whatever it is you did that was taking your fancy for the day, describing and explaining wherever you felt it prudent. You always looked him in the eyes when you spoke to him, and if you noticed him start to drift away, a mischievous little smirk would cross your mouth and you would suddenly go silent, waiting for him to refocus before continuing. Neither of you would say anything about the minor interruption, but he would often feel his own lips twitch in response to your little smile. 

Once dinner was finished, the two of you would walk out together and pause in the hallway. You would stand as close to him as you could get without actually touching him, the cloth of your dress brushing against him as you looked into his eyes with a warm little smile. At this point you would tell him that you were going to read until it was time for bed, either in the library or in the sitting room, and every single evening you offered him an invitation. “Would you like to join me?”, “You could join me if you wished”. And every single evening, he refused you politely, “it’s alright, sweetheart, you go ahead.”, “I’ve got some work to finish, you enjoy yourself, darling”. He knew you knew he would refuse the invitation, but the fact that you offered every single evening, without fail, made something warm bloom in his chest. Something that now seemed to slip over his eyes whenever he looked at you and made him see the world in a way he hadn’t seen before. 

You would nod simply, a smile on your face that said “I knew this was going to happen but I enjoy our little routine” before reaching up and pressing your lips to his cheek in a soft kiss that always made him stiffen up a little then unwind a little more than he had before. 

You both shared a bedroom, something he hadn’t expected but you had insisted upon. You took the left side of the bed, saying you preferred to sleep away from the door, and he obliged because he had never cared what side he was on anyway. You seemed to enjoy the view you got from the windows on that side of the bed and far be it from him to deny you something that gave you joy. 

Your respective nightstands were so clearly depictions of yourselves. Yours was covered in books and jewellery and little trinkets of yours and creams you forgot to put on before going to bed but kept there anyway. His often only had a single book on it, his cigarette case, his lighter, and an ashtray. Sometimes in the evenings, when he was lying in bed next to you, trying to read with tired eyes, you would lean over him, crushing the book to his chest and pressing the side of your torso to his face, as you reached for his cigarette case and lighter. 

This little moment, this little instance, endeared you to him the most, somehow. The little huff you would let out just before, placing your book on your cluttered nightstand before offering a quick ‘sorry’ and then just draping yourself over him with a disregard for his focus to haphazardly grab at his nightstand until the cigarette case and lighter were in your hand before falling back into your place. The reach over always managed to press your breasts to his face, and he supposed he would never complain about that regardless of who the woman was doing it. 

You always took out a cigarette for him first with a sheepish smile, as if knowing you had disturbed the fragile thread of attention he had been trying to stitch to the book, and brought it to his mouth, rubbing it across his lip before settling it into the corner of his mouth like he always did. You would light his cigarette as he smirked a little, turning away to blow the smoke so you couldn’t see the expression as you shook one out for yourself and lit it before handing both the case and the lighter back to Tommy so he could toss it onto his nightstand himself this time. 

You had an awful habit of forgetting your own cigarettes everywhere, and then stealing Tommy’s. The first time you had taken one of his, you had complained about the brand he smoked, said it was much too strong for you, but you kept stealing and smoking them regardless. He found himself refilling his case a lot more since you came into his life. Not only that, but he found himself filling half the case with the brand of cigarettes you liked so that you would have them whenever you misplaced your case or simply couldn’t be bothered to look for it. You had never mentioned it the first time he had done it, but he had seen your little smile when you opened his cigarette case for the first few weeks after and it had motivated him to continue his new little routine. 

Then, after you had placed the cigarette in your mouth and taken a gentle drag, you would look at him out of the corner of your eye with a little smile quirking at your lips despite your best efforts to try and hide it. He would smirk, the clearest smile he would ever give you, and with a little giggle you would take the cigarette from your mouth and stretch your arm out to hold it away from the two of you as you draped your body over his and pressed your lip to his. His mouth would already be parted slightly, his tongue leaping out to caress yours, and your giggles would muffle against his lips. He took the cigarette from your fingers and pressed it to his own before mashing the ends haphazardly into the ashtray on his sidetable and wrapping his arms around your torso. 

All you could say was that these evenings were long and… pleasurable. Subsequently, it came as no surprise that within three months of the wedding you were pregnant with your first child. 

You had mentioned to Tommy that you weren’t feeling your best for a few days when Polly decided to make a ‘surprise’ trip to Arrow House. Within one look at you she had smiled broadly and mischievously and congratulated you on your pregnancy. It had come as a shock, an undulating mix of fear and joy and elation churning in your chest and gut. 

When you had told Tommy, he had stood still for a few moments, gazing at your face as you smiled hesitantly. You had hoped he would be happy, and despite his status as your husband, you could never quite be sure of his reaction to anything. His face hadn’t changed at the news, but quick as a flash he was standing so close to you that you felt almost attacked. His hands gripped your face, almost squishing your mouth into a pucker, and he was kissing you like you were keeping air from him in the moments your mouths weren’t pressed together. Salty tears made the kiss briny and you almost sobbed against his lips but he didn’t let you go. 

Nine months later, and you were welcoming a beautiful little boy with Tommy’s eyes and your hair into the world. Eighteen months later, a little girl with your eyes and Tommy’s hair took her place in the nursery. Your little James and Margaret. 

In that time, slowly and carefully, you had somehow built the dream family you had once imagined for yourself. One evening in the sitting room, after the children had been put to sleep and you were curled up on one of the sofas with a book, you looked up to Tommy at his desk to the side of the room. He had taken to doing his work there in the evenings during your first pregnancy, and as if feeling your eyes on him, he had glanced up, a little smile at the corner of his lips. You simply smiled in return and brought your gaze back down to your book, but your heart was racing without your control and you had to clench your jaw to stop yourself from yelling ‘I love you!’ over and over again without a care. 

In the time Tommy had been married to you, everyone had noticed the change taking place in him, except him. Though no one other than Polly dared to say it to his face, they noticed the new threads of gentleness that appeared when you were near. They noticed how much easier his smiles came (despite the continuing rarity) and how he watched you without wavering when you took care of the children. 

Polly often teased him to shut his mouth lest he catch flies around you, and would whisper about him to you in front of him in a way that made his mouth set into an almost petulant frown (that only made the two of you giggle further). He wasn’t sure why Polly liked you so much when she had felt no fondness for Grace. If all her teasing was right, was he not just as distracted with you as he had been with ‘the Irish barmaid’? But she seemed to dote on you like she had done on Ada, and took time to come see you and the children every week. 

One evening, Tommy watched you from his place at the desk in the living room, and even the simple activity of laying his eyes on you made his chest feel a little calmer. He wasn’t quite sure when the tide had turned in his feelings, when he had so unforgivably lost control of his own heart, but here he was now, absentmindedly rubbing his cigarette against his lip, wondering if love might be real… 

Times of peace weren’t meant to last. The first thought that crossed your mind when you learnt the news. You stood frozen in front of Tommy’s desk, staring at the little card you had pulled out of the drawer while searching for his spare lighter. Your cigarette was already dangling from your lips, unknowing the turmoil it’s user was going through. 

You had only gone in search of the spare lighter. You knew Tommy kept one in there for you when he was out of the house and you couldn’t find your own. There were dozens of spares all around the house for you. He knew how absolutely lazy you could be when you wanted to and he left a lighter in every room to make sure he didn’t have to hear you moan and groan about getting up when you were already comfortable in your space. 

The children were busy with lessons in their playroom upstairs, and you had been doing some correspondence in the sitting room so you could be near the big radio. You had hummed along as you got up and moved to the desk, pulling open the first drawer, the one you had seen him pull the lighter out of countless times, and there, right at the centre, as if carefully placed lest the paper be ruined, was a card with the name ‘Grace Burgess’ written in pretty looping handwriting. The lighter sat right next to it. 

Everything seemed to tilt and for a moment you thought you would fall over. You picked up the card gently by the corner, depositing it onto the top of the desk before pulling out the lighter and hurriedly lighting your cigarette. If you didn’t have a drag of it within the next second you might collapse. 

You took at least three drags from the cigarette before you were ready to turn the card over and read whatever was written there. It was in the same loopy, feminine, handwriting in a bright blue ink that reminded you of Tommy’s eyes. You almost picked up the lighter again to burn the paper. 

It was short and simple, an invitation to meet at a hotel, dated about a week prior. You dropped it back onto the desk, watching the thick cardstock fall with a light thump, and closed your eyes. You took deep, heavy, breaths of the cigarette until your hands stopped shaking and your mind felt like it had settled again. You grabbed the lighter but left the card on top of Tommy’s desk, turned the volume of the radio as high as possible, and returned to your position on the sofa. Every time one cigarette finished, you lit another, but you didn’t move from your position on the sofa. 

At one point the children came tottering in and you haphazardly wiped at your eyes before smashing the cigarette into the ashtray and patting the spot on the sofa beside you so they could come in for a snuggle before dinner. You hadn’t even realised the sun had set long ago. You kissed them on the tops of their heads and tried not to cry into their hair. 

Frances came in to tell you that dinner could be served when the main door opened and Tommy came whirling in. The children scrambled off the sofa and ran down the hall to greet their father who was already reaching down, ready to pick them up, one in each arm. You weren’t sure you could face him yet, so you slinked through the side door and went straight for the dining room. 

Tommy went first in the direction of the sitting room, but as Frances came out of the door for the dining room to gather the children, she cleared her throat and informed him that Mrs. Shelby was already there. He nodded, turning around to get to you, realising how odd it felt that he had been in the house this long and you hadn’t come to greet him, hadn’t pecked him on the lips and beamed up at him as you usually did when you heard the door open. 

You were sitting in your usual seat but he could tell something was wrong. You were staring at the plate as if you had never seen one before, and your hands were tightly clasped in your lap. He could see how tense your forearms were, and after depositing the children in their seats, he went over to you and reached down to gently pry your hands apart. He watched your face for any sign, anything that would tell him why you were acting this way, but you just closed your eyes until he let you go and went to his seat. 

Could you perhaps be pregnant again? But that would be happy news, something to celebrate, not despair over. Was there something wrong with your father? A death in the family you had been phoned about during the day? He couldn’t tell. And he hated it. 

Dinner was an awkward affair. You spoke very little, and when you did speak it was only towards the children, asking them about their lessons and how they were enjoying their days thus far. You refused to look at him during the entirety of the meal, and anger and frustration were slowly beginning to rise inside of him. As soon as it was over, you were ushering the kids out and up the stairs so they could start readying for bed. You went with them, a clear attempt at avoiding Tommy’s company, and he stormed into his study, slamming the door behind him. 

You took as long as you could, kissing their little heads and pulling the sheets up to their chins before steeling yourself and heading downstairs. The door to his study opened just as you hopped off the last step but you continued into the sitting room. Tommy followed, and stood just inside the door with wary eyes. He watched you walk all the way over to his desk and pick up a piece of card sitting on the top. You held it up so he could see the sender but your face betrayed nothing. He had never seen you look so stoic. 

“Did you go?” Your voice was quiet, small, the kind of voice Margaret used when she had a nightmare and came knocking at your door. 

You had thought that despite the circumstances that began your marriage, the two of you had found love. You loved him, you were sure of that. But looking at the note, knowing who it had come from, you felt like the naive girl who had once wished for true love and hadn’t yet realised that wasn’t possible. 

Of course it was unrealistic for you to think he had grown to love you just because he was kind to you. Of course it was unrealistic to think he felt he needed to be faithful to you, he was a man after all. Of course it was unrealistic of you to think your beautiful family would last… 

You could feel tears press behind your eyes but you simply gulped again and again to push them away. Tommy’s face hadn’t changed, his usual stoic expression that you once found intriguing, then endearing, now only annoyed and enraged you. 

“Yes,” he answered, and he didn’t say anything else. You just stared at him, at the way he reached into his coat pocket for his cigarettes and lighter. At the way he opened his cigarette case and offered it in your direction before taking one. It meant walking over to him to take it. You stayed where you were and he slowly picked a cigarette out of it and rubbed it against his lip before lighting it and putting everything back where it usually resided in his coat pockets. You gulped again. The tears were getting more aggressive in their mission to escape your eyes.  

“Did you fuck her?” You whispered, hands shaking as they clenched on the edge of the desk. It was quiet for a moment, and you wondered if he had even heard you. “Did you fuck her?” You asked it louder and then cringed. The word felt so crass coming out of your mouth, so wrong. 

“Yes.” And that was all that needed to be said, wasn’t it? What else really mattered? Because in that one word lay everything you had wanted to know in the first place. Did he feel the need to be faithful to you? No. Did he care about you and your little family? No. Did he love you? No… 

You stood there for a few minutes, fingertips pressed as hard as possible into the top of the desk. Your eyes were closed, hoping to trap the tears inside. You didn’t move, and Tommy watched you the entire time. 

Then, like a radio being switched on, you took a deep breath in and opened your eyes. You straightened up a little and slowly took your hands off of the desktop. You looked at Tommy and nodded. 

“Ok,” and then you walked past him and out of the room without a second glance. 

By the time Tommy came up to bed close to midnight, only the lamp on your vanity was lighting the room and you were under the covers, turned onto your side to face the windows and breathing slowly as if you were asleep. 

The next few months were different in a way that Tommy despised. You had pulled away from him but in such a subtle way that no one else would recognise that everything had changed between the two of you. 

You still accompanied the children to the front door when he came home, but you no longer kissed him there. You still asked him about his day and engaged the children in conversation over dinner, but you barely spoke of yourself anymore, no longer telling him the stories of your mundane activities or unnecessary details about little things of no consequence. You still read next to him in the evenings, but you no longer leaned over him to grab for his cigarettes. In fact, you no longer took cigarettes from him ever. You were careful about taking your case and lighter with you everywhere, and if you didn’t have it around you, then you went out of your way to leave the room and get it rather than ask him for one. The cigarettes he kept for you in his own case were now left unused. 

Everything became so much worse when Grace revealed that she was pregnant. She had been so happy to tell him despite her own marriage, and he could never be sad knowing that a child of his was coming into existence. He loved James and Margaret with all the soul he possessed, he could never be sad about a child. But the news caused a turmoil inside of him that he didn’t know how to handle, because now came the time to decide, to look into himself and question if everything he felt for you was love, and not only love, but a stronger one than the one he had with Grace? 

You didn’t give him the time to decide. When he told you about Grace’s pregnancy, you had walked out and refused to speak to him. You had taken your things into Margaret’s room and slept curled up on the edge of her bed. 

When Tommy arrived home the next evening, there were no children to be greeted by, no smiling wife, just Frances holding an envelope with his name on it in your careful writing. 

Dear Thomas Shelby,

Please do not be alarmed at the absence of the children or myself, it was of my own volition that we have gone. Though I know it is cowardly of me to express all this in a letter, I could not bring myself to face you. 

The children and I have gone to my sister’s home for the time being while everything is finalised. Enclosed in a file on your desk, you will find the papers required for us to be divorced. You need only sign them, everything else can be handled by a lawyer. 

From my father, I understand that your business has become fully legitimised, but for extra safety I will ensure that it is understood by all that this divorce is my own fault and you were merely subject to it. 

In due time, I will begin looking for a place to live near Arrow House or Small Heath so you may visit the children as often as you please. I would not dream of keeping them from their father or vice versa. It is my assumption that you and Grace will take Arrow House as your residence when the child has arrived. 

Please be happy with her. If the love I hold for you is even half the strength of the love you two share, then I would rather deal with my own pain than keep you from it. 

Love, 

Y/n Shelby

Frances watched Mr. Shelby carefully place the letter back into its envelope and turn and walk into his study and close the door behind him. There was a crash and the smashing of glass and then some more crashes and smashes. A guttural scream that made her heart clench in fear and her eyes close. 

Frances had helped you pack your things earlier in the day. She had helped the children ready to leave, had listened as you phoned a lawyer in London and had the papers drafted and sent over to the house, had watched as you wrote the letter to Mr. Shelby. You had kissed her on the cheek and told her to come visit you as a friend, and she had promised she would with tears in her eyes. It felt as if the world was ending. 

But she knew that eventually you would find a nice house for you and the children, supported by your father’s money. You would send them to visit Tommy at Arrow House where Grace would pretend to care for them and they would slowly grow unhappy with their father and his wife. 

Or maybe Tommy would go over to you and you would tell the valet to only open the door for your former husband as you walked the grounds to avoid having to speak with him. And he would try all he could to speak with you, try and surprise you so you would be forced into speaking to him, but you were an intelligent woman, and Frances knew you were highly capable of avoiding someone you didn’t want to see. 

And eventually, despite your heartbreak, you would meet someone truly worthy of you, and he would be willing to become the father of your children and you would want to love him, and everything would feel right for you again. 

But what did Frances know?

Taglist: @4ria790 (I wasn't sure if you wanted to be tagged in only Cillian Murphy RPFs or his characters too so I added you here! Pls let me know if I should only tag you for the RPFs)

[princessofmarvel]

Business and dates

summary | when grace leaves, it leaves the shelbys with a heartbroken thomas. polly takes this as an opportunity to get him with the girl she's always wanted him with

pairing | thomas shelby x fem!reader

word count | 2.30k

genre | fluff! with just a tad of angst! 

requested? | yes! thank you so much for your request! i had so much writing it, and i am kind of proud of this one, lol.

warnings! | mentions of bullying, and the reader not eating from being worried! and, i have not proof read this yet!

author’s note! | Hi! Thank you all for being so patient as I worked on this! Requests are open for drabbles, and headcanons only at the moment for these characters! And as always, I do I have really bad OCD that causes me to write in some random capitalization, and punctuation, But I think that we don't have to worry about that in this fic lol. And let me know if there are any mistakes, but please be kind!

No one knew what had happened that day. All anyone knew was that Grace was suddenly gone, and that she had left the Shelby family with a heartbroken Thomas. And the person left to pick up the pieces was his lifelong best friend, who has been in love with Thomas since the day they met back when they were just small kids. 

Thomas was having a decent day, school had just let out and he was walking back home (alone because his older brother Aurther thought that it would be funny to run off before Thomas got out of class) when he saw a young girl getting picked on. 

“Stop it! This is my favorite skirt!” Thomas heard her yell to the kids that had her on the ground, kicking dirt onto her clothes while laughing and taunting her. Thomas knew that these kids were practically afraid of him, so he knew he could get them to leave the girl alone.  He also knew that his mother would scold him if she found out that he didn’t do anything to help her. 

“Oi! Leave her alone, or I'll put a curse on you!” Thomas called out as he made his way up to the group, and pulled a razor blade out of his pocket. The kids practically scattered the moment they heard Thomas’ voice. Leaving just him, and the girl with dirt on her clothes. 

“Thank you” He heard the girl say in a quiet voice as he put his hand out to help her back up. 

“What caused that?” He asked, curious as to what the girl could have done to anger the other kids so much. 

“I-I told them that I wouldn’t do their homework.” She said back to him, as she tried to get the dirt off of her skirt.  Thomas told himself that he should have known it was something like that. There wasn’t anything serious that this girl could have done to upset them so much. 

“Come on, I’ll walk you home, you live on Watery lane, right?” He said as he started walking, with the girl running a bit to catch up with him. He knew her name, he recognized her from school. She lived right across from him, but they never said anything to each other. She had been over to play with Ada sometimes, but they never spoke. 

Neither one of them said anything as they walked, it wasn’t until they got to her home that Thomas spoke up. 

“They shouldn’t bother you again, no one should.” He said as he stood outside her doorstep, seeming almost sorry since he knew his reputation, and how kids would stay away from him in fear of getting cursed. 

“It’s alright, I don’t really have any friends anyways.” The small girl said, while rocking back and forth on her heels. 

“Why don’t you come play at my house? I know my family won’t mind.” He said to her with a small smile. Truth be told, Thomas didn’t really have many friends either, and he saw an opportunity to make one. 

Ever since then, the two were inseparable. They did everything together, they were even each other's first kiss. Her family was weary at first, but soon saw how protective the Shelby boys (and the rest of the Shelby family) were over her, and grew to like them. The two were like this up until Thomas was called to war

“Tommy, this has to be a mistake.” The girl cried into Thomas’ shoulder as he held her. “All three of you at the same time? What kind of cruel joke is this” 

“The universe has a funny way of doing things.” He mumbled into her hair, his hand resting on the back of her head. “I’ll come back, sweetheart.” 

“You don’t know that, Tommy” The girl said as she pulled her head out of his shoulder, and looked up at him, eyes red and puffy. 

“You really think I'm leaving you yet? You think I'm going to leave you before you get married? Please, your future husband doesn’t get off that easily.” He said with a small laugh while trying to lighten the mood as he held her face with his hand. “Nothings taking me from you, not yet.” 

“You better come back, Shelby.” She said as she looked up at him with glossy eyes. “Or, I’ll bring you back just to kill you myself.” 

Thomas laughed and kissed her head, as the air in the room changed. He didn’t know why, but he leaned down and kissed her lips softly, all he knew was that he couldn’t leave without giving her a kiss, even just a light one. “You’ve got nothing to worry about” He said as he pulled away. 

She believed him, she tried not to worry. She didn’t worry until his letters stopped coming. After a month of not hearing from him she worried so much she got sick. She wrote him everyday, sent him a letter at least once a week, if not twice. No word of his death ever came. 

The day Thomas arrived home, she was sitting at the kitchen table with Polly. His heart broke when he saw her, she was paler, and her face was skinny, all signs to her not eating properly. Neither one of them said a word to each other for a week. It wasn’t until (Y/n) decided that she had enough, and stormed into his room. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” she shouted, growing red in the face. 

“What are you talking about?” He asked, not meeting her eyes, already knowing what she was talking about,

“You! You come back, and are completely different! You’re cold, and mean to everyone, which maybe you were that way to some people before, but never to me! Never to your family!” As she yelled at him, she started to sway as if she was about to faint. Before she could hit the floor, Thomas grabbed her and set her down on the bed beside him. 

“You need to eat something.” He mumbled, not looking at her which infuriated her more. 

“I thought you were dead.” This caught his attention as he heard her start to cry. He finally turned to her. “You stopped writing.” 

“I didn’t know how to write to you, you would ask me how I was, and I couldn’t find it in myself to tell you about how I had just watched a man die. I thought it better to not write.” He said, pulling her into his chest. “Why are you not eating?” 

“You worried me, anything I ate just came back up.” She mumbled into his chest. 

“I told you not to worry.” He said with a small laugh coming from his chest, the first in a long time. 

“Tough shit, Shelby.” She mumbled back, while pulling her head out of his chest. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, just staring at the other, until Thomas finally spoke up. “I’m trying to get back to normal.” He mumbled, barely loud enough for her to hear, she wouldn’t have if they hadn’t been so close. 

“I know, it will just take some time.” She said while she caressed his cheek. “And, I’ll be here to help you heal.” 

After that day, nothing ever really went back to how it was before the war. But it was like that for everyone. Thomas had gone back to normal as much as he could. He had his moments, but everyone did. And, (Y/n) didn’t lie, she was there every step of the way, even in the bad times she never left. 

The two never fought again until the day Grace left. She had tried telling Thomas before that something was up with her, but he just wouldn’t listen. The only other person that seemed to notice it was Polly. 

“He’ll never go for it.” John pipped into the conversation. Polly was currently trying to figure out a way to cheer Thomas up, and the idea she had was to put Thomas with (Y/n). She already considered the girl a daughter, and she always wanted her with Thomas. To her, it was the perfect plan. 

“That's why we don’t tell him! All we tell him is that he has a business meeting at the new restaurant, he’ll show up, expecting some business man to be there, but instead (Y/n) will come in wearing the most beautiful thing I can find, that he’ll just have to stay.” Polly explained to the boys and Ada. 

“Alright, but how are you going to get (Y/n) there, dressed up, without suspecting anything?” Ada chimed in. 

“We’ll tell her a boy stopped by and asked to take her out.” Polly said, as if it was obvious. 

“Please, she’s not going to just agree to go out with someone, especially if she doesn’t even know who it is.” Arthur muttered. 

"Actually she might.” John announced to everyone. “Just to make Thomas jealous, she mentioned it back when Grace was around.” 

The Shelby’s set everything into motion that night. Polly told Thomas he had a meeting, then she told (Y/n) about the secret man that wanted to take her out. 

So Thomas sat in his suit, waiting for this man to show, when he saw (Y/n) walk through the door, dressed like a vision in her red, drop waist, beaded dress, with an old pearl necklace to match. She looked around the room, until her eyes landed on Thomas. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked him, as she walked up to his table.

“Business meeting, what are you doing here?” He asked, suddenly growing jealous at the thought of her being here for another man. 

“A date, and what business meeting? I know your schedule, there wasn’t one planned, did you make one?” She asked, wondering who on earth Thomas could be meeting for business at this hour. 

“No, Polly told me I had one, who’s the date?” He asked, his jealousy rising. 

“Not sure, Polly told me-” A look of realization crossed both their faces “Polly” The two said in unison. 

She decided to sit down, now laughing to herself. “You’re the date.”

“You’re the business.” Thomas responded, a small smile growing to his face. 

The two sat there for a minute, before Thomas spoke up. “You do look stunning.” 

“Polly picked it.” She said, with a small laugh.

“I bet she did.” Thomas said with a laugh, and a sigh. “She’s wanted us together for ages.” He mumbled. 

“And what do you want?” The girl asked. Thomas had always had a feeling that (Y/n) liked him, he was just never sure how much, until he looked up and met her eyes that were filled with nothing but love and want.

“You in my life.” He said, keeping his eyes on her. “I thought a relationship between us would mess everything up. I couldn’t risk losing you.” 

“Thomas.” The girl said, grabbing his hand across the table. “You could never lose me, even if we did have a relationship and it failed, I would still love you. But, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.” 

“I have distracted myself from you for as long as I can remember. I wouldn’t let myself fall for you.” Thomas said, standing up from the table, (Y/n) following. 

“It’s okay to fall, Thomas, who knows, maybe it won’t hurt.” She said, as she placed a hand to his face. Without thinking, Thomas leaned in and kissed her with everything in him, causing her to hit the table, his hands on the side of her face being the only thing to keep them from falling. The pair kissed until they needed air. When they pulled away, he rested his forehead on hers. 

“Let’s give this a try.” He whispered, looking into her eyes. 

The girl smiled and gave Thomas a quick peck, before they left the restaurant, her holding his arm. The walk back to the Shelby home was mostly quiet, until she spoke up. “Thank god for Polly.” 

[awritesthings1]

Good Taste

Pairing: Tommy Shelby / Wife reader

Summary: You get made fun of for wearing your sapphire necklace to the foundation dinner. Tommy always finds a way to make things better.

Warnings: swearing, implied smut.

ao3 link

“She was making fun of me!”

“Yeah? And when has that ever bothered you before, my darling?”

“Since all the bloody country wives started debating whether my jewelry was in fashion or not, Tommy,” you huffed at your husband, who was having no luck pinching away the creases between his eyebrows.

Tommy sighed deeply, not really bothered to continue the conversation but irked because the wives down the lane had gotten under your skin, and if you were unhappy, then he was unhappy. He fueled his throbbing head with a cigarette, chain-smoking them back-to-back while he hunched over on the settee.

You were sitting at the vanity, fingers tangled hopelessly at the stubborn latch of your necklace that just wouldn’t let, when you saw how Tommy was beginning to fold in on himself. Guilt consumed you immediately. It wasn’t that you actually cared all that much about what people said, but when you were around Tommy, your guard slipped, and all the things that made you tick during the day would come cluttering out of your mouth like an unwanted clash of symbols and noise. Tommy would sit there and listen, hum, nod, and completely detach himself from the world.

You ran each other around like clockwork. He leaned back, you forward. Lust swelled in his eyes, concern in yours, a tug at your hip, and a gasp from your throat. You smiled sympathetically, apologetically. He kept quiet, forgivingly holding your gaze, until a defeated sigh broke the tension, and you both understood how silly the whole ordeal was. Here was Thomas Shelby, a man of great power, slumped against the settee, utterly exhausted.

“Darling, this is fucking Birmingham. Good taste is for people that can’t afford sapphires.”

That brought a smirk to your lips.

“Oh?” You muse, watching him through your vanity mirror.

Tommy huffs, but it’s more out of amusement than agitation. The cigarette between his lips twitches as a smile graces his face. He hums in affirmation.

You give up on trying to unlatch the sapphire necklace around your neck. You’re far too distracted by the way Tommy leans back on the settee like he knows it’s his damn right, spreading his legs, chain-smoking cigarettes, and blowing the smoke towards the ceiling. He’s completely in the wrong if he thinks you are going to keep your hands tangled up in a necklace when they would be much more useful somewhere else…

When your chair screeches against the wood as you push it back to stand, his head snaps to attention. He has a faraway look to his eye, haunted even, but he swallows when you sink to your knees between his legs, and something else begins to swell other than his pupils.

You run your hands up his knees to his thighs and back again.

“I know it’s stupid. They just get under my skin sometimes,” you resign.

He clears his throat and reaches past your head to set his cigarette on the ash tray. He stays there, bent forward, a breath apart, and begins caressing your face with the back of his fingers. A faint smile softens his features and warms his skin.

You laugh because it really is ridiculous. For marrying someone who spends most of their life buried in their head, you sure have picked up on his tendencies.

“Do you think I’m becoming obsessed?”

He doesn’t even try to hide his amusement. “No.”

You were; he was just treading carefully. Because while he wandered off to speak to god knows who at the foundation dinner, your feathers were being ruffled by stuck-up old women who were too busy being stuck up to notice their husbands’ lingering eyes. However, being able to defend your vanity was another thing compared to dealing with Shelby Company Limited business. And if it came to surviving passive aggressive remarks from old women or being led into another room to talk with Mr. Thomas Shelby, head of the Peaky Blinders, you would sneer rudely at Margaret any day.

You voice the thought at Tommy, “I take it your night wasn’t as successful as mine?”

He exhales and raises his eyebrows playfully, more or less confirming your suspicions.

“And should I ask you about it like a good wife?”

He hums, “no.”

He’s so entranced in running his fingers up and down your jaw, around your chin, and thumbing your lips that you’ll just have to forgive him later.

You pull a face. You’re not mad at him. Far from it. Those fingers of his dancing across your face are your weakness.

“You’re not listening to me.” You lean in closer.

“Yes, I am,” he smiles.

You try to pull back in faux skepticism, but with his hand holding your face so close to his,

“Where are you going, eh?” Tommy leans forward to steal a kiss, and he feels your laughter against his lips, a pleasant sensation.

“Oh, Mr. Shelby,” you jest.

Together, you fall back onto the settee with you astride his lap. Your hair falls over his face like a curtain, keeping him safe from the outside world. He doesn’t want to move; no, he will stay here for the next couple of months, transfixed inside this moment. The gun tucked away in the holster beneath his arm feels less heavy, and the clock ticking above his head slows. He can breathe. He can gingerly stroke your jaw with his thumb in the way you adore. So he does, and the shuttering thoughts that occupy so much of his head stutter in fear because they know they come second to you.

Then there’s that pretty sapphire necklace hanging from your neck. The one that got you both in this position in the first place. Those fucking people, eh? Those fucking people with their fancy palaces and prim and proper manners judging you, his wife, refusing you, his wife? That got him going.

You can tell he is in his head by the way his eyes linger on your sapphire necklace. He looks irked.

“What’s wrong, Tommy?”

He shakes his head lazily.

“Speak to me, love,” you insist.

Fuck em. Fuck the bastards that made his wife feel unworthy. They wouldn’t know taste if it hit them like a fucking train. He won’t let them bring her down.

Tommy clears his throat. “I’m sorry for being in my head, Mrs. Shelby.”

His apology is soothed into your skin with a gentle brush of his thumb at the end of your chin. He tilts it down to lay a kiss on the corner of your mouth. He always knows how to make you smile.

You press more of your weight into him and deepen the kiss, to which he grunts. It stirs a honey warmth in your stomach.

As for Tommy, the need to be closer to you is suffocating; he’d rather just lock you both in this room and throw away the key. He’d rather the stifling walls close in on you both until he can’t even open his lungs, and even then, it wouldn’t be enough. He needs to be in your skin, in your thoughts, but most importantly, right now, in your underwear.

It’s your goddamn nails clawing at his scalp that do it for him. It winds him up like a fucking pocket watch, boils his blood like good whiskey, and fuels the fires.

He urges your name in warning because he’s so strung up he might just rip the seams of your pretty dress, and you make the mistake of swallowing his plea with a huff and a tangle of tongues.

“The necklace, Thomas,” you gasp.

It would really be a pity if he accidentally broke it in the rush to remove your dress. It slows him down momentarily removing it, and his fingers can’t quite function being away from your skin but he knows ever since he gifted it to you, there’s been nothing you loved more. When the latch finally unclasps, he parts from your lips to gently lower it to the coffee table where it remains unscathed for the rest of the night. The same couldn’t be said about your dress.

-

Taglist: (i was drunk when I posted this so I forgot to add it lol).

@maliceofwonderland @fairytale07 @goblinjnr @ilovepeoplesdads @multidimensionalslut @blogforficslol @elenavampire21

[runnning-outof-time]

The Brother That Always Wins | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by @kpopgirlbtssvt

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader, with hints of John Shelby and Arthur Shelby trying their hand at flirting with the reader

Summary: (Y/N) is oblivious to the fact that three of the most powerful men in Birmingham are interested in her. When it's all said and done though, the brother that always wins, wins.

Warnings: language, drinking, terribly written flirting

Word Count: 4350

A/N: this story turned into an absolute ride, one that I enjoyed much more than I thought I would. It’s a bit of controlled chaos…I hope you’re ready for it. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message Me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

"The fuck are you grinnin' for?" John Shelby asked as soon as his brother, Arthur entered the snug. He couldn't help himself, his older sibling's grin was able to be seen from a mile away.

"I just helped the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen in me life," Arthur proudly answered, his chest jutting out slightly as he spoke.

"Helped in what way, eh?" Tommy questioned, his one eyebrow raised. He'd been reading the newspaper and keeping to himself, only half-listening as John talked away about whatever, but he couldn't deny that he was interested in what Arthur had to say.

"I bet you he just stood there and gawked at her!" John chimed in before Arthur could respond, a smug grin on his face.

"I did not!" Arthur snapped back at his younger sibling, sending a glare his way, "I had a bloody conversation with her and all!"

"What happened?" Tommy asked another question, slowly losing his patience as he waited.

"So she was walkin' with a box, right? A big ass box...one that's too big for a lady like her to be carryin’. But she was walkin' with it. And so I was watchin' her from across the road, because she was goin' the same way I was. We must've walked for some time, how long I don't remember. Anyways, she gets to this one stretch and she trips...loses her fuckin' balance or something. All of the things in the box go flyin'. So I did what any man does and ran 'cross the street to help her. We put all the shit back into the box and then when she looked up at me, I thought I was gonna die on the spot. She was so fuckin' beautiful, lads. Shy, and sweet, and just fuckin'...gorgeous. I swear to you that if she would've..."

"Get on with the story, Arthur," Tommy interjected into Arthur's tangent, making him snap out of the attraction-riddled daze that he was quickly slipping into.

"Yeah, right," Arthur nodded, shaking his head slightly as he tried to recall where he was. "She was actin' so shy and thankin' me for helpin' her clean the stuff up that I couldn't but just be, fuckin'..."

"Arthur," Tommy said in a warning tone.

"I'm gettin' on with it," he brushed his brother off before continuing, "I couldn't help but not want to leave her. So I asked her where she was goin' and she said to the school. That was out of my way, but I didn't fuckin' care. I carried her things to the school she went on with thankin' me again. She was so fuckin' gorgeous and...shit, boys, I think I might be in love," he finished up his story, continuing on with it despite the scoffs or stiffled laughter coming from his brothers.

"You said she was going to the school?" John asked a question once it was clear that Arthur was finished with his story.

"Yeah...she's a fuckin' teacher, mate. Even better," Arthur grinned.

"Did you get her name?" John asked another question.

"Course I did!" Arthur responded like it was obvious.

Silence fell in the snug then, the three men looking between each other. John waited on bated breath for a few moments before it became obvious that Arthur wasn't going to say it without being prompted. "What was it?"

"(Y/N), I think it was," Arthur recalled, his answer making John choke out a weird sound, one that seemed to be a mixture of a scoff and a laugh. "What?"

"She's Katie's fuckin' teacher, mate!" John exclaimed, his declaration making Arthur's eyes widen. "She is fuckin' gorgeous, I'll tell you that," he then agreed with Arthur, a wide grin now plastered across his face.

John and Arthur then went about talking about her after Arthur prompted his younger sibling to tell him all that he knew about her. Tommy sat in his chair, half reading the paper and half listening to their conversation. He couldn't deny that he was intrigued by his brothers' stories, and everything they said about her made him want to go and meet her for himself even more.

"Can I help you?" (Y/N) (Y/L/N) asked the man that she swore appeared in her doorway out of nowhere. He was dressed in an expensive looking three-piece suit with an equally as expensive looking overcoat over top of it, as well as a peaked cap atop his head.

"I'm looking for (Y/N)," the man answered.

"You found her," (Y/N) smiled, setting her book down on the desk to give the man her full attention. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"I was directed to you by the front office. They said you're in charge of the donations?"

"That depends...if you're looking to donate to the building, you'll need to speak with our headmaster, but if you're looking to donate directly to the children, you can speak to me," she explained with a smile. She was proud to have been named the head of the board that made sure the children in the school had the tools they needed in order to thrive in the learning environment.

"I'm looking to donate to the children."

"Then you're in the right place," she chirped, "you can come over here and we'll get into the details of it," she said then, waving him over to her desk.

He finally entered the room, and as he walked over, (Y/N) felt the commanding aura that swirled around him. It wasn't one that made her scared, but rather one that filled her with intrigue.

"Can I have the name for the donation?" she asked once she had a piece of paper and a pencil ready.

"It's Thomas Shelby," he answered her, watching as realization sparked in her eyes. He couldn't help but think that Arthur was absolutely right - for once in his life...she was absolutely gorgeous.

"Shelby? I have a student whose last name is Shelby."

"Katie?" Tommy questioned, even though he already knew who she was talking about.

"Yes!" (Y/N) happily answered, "Katie's such a lovely girl. Who is she to you?" she couldn't help but ask.

"She's my niece," he shared, his words making her nod in understanding.

"What sort of donation would you like to make, Mr. Shelby?" she asked then, the pencil ready in her hand.

"I'd like to make it so that all of the children in the year you teach have whatever they need to excel in their classes," he answered, speaking in a nonchalant tone.

"Oh...my goodness," she gasped, stopping what she was writing as the weight of his statement finally clicked in her mind.

"Is there a problem?"

"No, it's just that..." she trailed off, unable to put her thoughts properly into words, "no one has made such a generous donation before."

"I like to make sure that others benefit from the wealth I've gained," he told her in an assured tone. Well that was one of the reasons why he'd made such a donation.

"I...uh, goodness, I don't even know where to start," she confessed, still genuinely baffled by his generosity. "Usually I'd go through with the person donating and we'd make a list of where the funds can be allocated, but with your overwhelming donation, I'm not sure I know what to do first," she added, a sheepish smile present on her face when she looked up at him again.

"It's nothing you'd need to have done in a hurry," he told her, showing that he wasn't upset by her unsuredness.

"I'd hate to waste your time now and make you wait..." she trailed off, biting on the end of the pencil as she tried to think of some ways his funds could be used.

Spending time with you would not be time wasted, Tommy thought to himself just as an idea came to mind: "what if we go for dinner at the end of the week? You can have time to think of ideas and you'll share them with me then," he proposed, his eyebrows raising slightly as he awaited her response.

(Y/N) took a moment to think about his proposition. It'd certainly be a good idea for her to have more time to think about it, and she couldn't say that she'd be opposed to having dinner with this man. "Dinner sounds nice," she gave her answer after a few moments had passed, "I'll come prepared with good ideas," she assured him with a smile.

"I'm sure whatever ideas you'll bring will interest me," Tommy told her, nodding once before he took a step back towards the door.

"Thank you, Mr. Shelby. It's a great pleasure to have you working with us," (Y/N) smiled, still truly overwhelmed by his generosity.

"The pleasure's mine, (Y/N)," he couldn't help but let a smile break onto his lips as he looked over her one last time. They said their goodbyes then, and Tommy exited the school. He was genuinely pleased with the fact that she'd agreed to have dinner with him. It was certainly a step in the right direction with her.

John Shelby entered the school that his children attended two days after his brother did. He was unsuccessful in finding someone who could help direct him to the room he wanted to visit, but thankfully found the woman he was looking for as she walked towards the main doors from down a hallway.

"Miss (Y/L/N)!" he called to her, hoping to get her attention.

To his luck, she heard him. "Can I help you?" she asked with a smile, one that made John feel like he was going to go weak at the knees.

"Yes. You're my daughter's teacher. Her name's Katie Shelby. I wanted to ask how she's been doing in class," he told her the reason behind him being there. Truthfully he couldn't care less about Katie's performance. School wasn't something he was ever interested in, but if it meant he'd be able to talk to an utterly gorgeous woman, he'd give the performance of the century.

"Oh Katie!" (Y/N) answered, her smile growing wider as she recalled one of her students, "she's amazing...such a pleasure to have in class. She's always working hard and staying on top of her assignments," she then gave him a run down on his daughter's performance.

John nodded as she spoke. He had no shame in the fact that he was only half listening to her answer; being too preoccupied with drinking in her appearance. Silence fell between them then as that topic of conversation passed quickly. John didn't want her to leave just yet, so he scrambled for another talking point. "I heard that you met my brother, Arthur, the other day," he said then. It wasn't his best choice of topic, but he hoped it would keep her around. His hopes fell when a look of confusion formed on her pretty face. Shit, John...save yourself here! "He, uh...he told me that he helped you with one of your boxes...?" he ended his statement like it was a question, hoping that she'd show some sort of recollection.

Realization did appear on her face, but the sentence that accompanied it was one that left John confused: "oh...it seems I've met two of your brothers," she informed him, effectively making him wear the same expression she had moments ago. She took the time to explain then: "Thomas came in a few days ago to arrange a generous donation to aid the children who come here."

Fucks sake. John couldn't help but sigh internally. Tommy had already sunk his paws into the territory John thought he'd have a leg up in. "Oh he did?" he decided to play it cool, hoping that his aggravation didn't bubble up to the surface.

"He did. The other teachers and I are all so thankful for the contribution," (Y/N) answered, her smile telling John that he was doing well at masking how he was really feeling.

"Well I'm happy to hear that," John stated, running a hand over his face as he tried to think of a way to divert the conversation away from Tommy. "I can't say enough how happy I am that my daughter has a wonderful, smart, caring teacher like yourself," he said then, deciding to go the compliment route. There were many other things he wanted to include while referring to her, but he didn't want to overdo it.

"Awe thank you, Mr. Shelby. As I've said before, Katie is such a pleasure to have in class," (Y/N) accepted the compliment with grace, a bashful smile forming on her face.

Silence fell around them for a few beats before John spoke again: "you're probably wantin' to get home, so I should probably go," he stated, nodding his head back towards the main doors of the school.

"Oh yes, it's certainly been a long day," she answered with a nod.

"I'll see you around sometime then," John began to say his goodbyes.

"You certainly will," (Y/N) sent him one last smile before John turned and exited the school.

John was thankful to see the majority of his family sitting around the main table of the betting shop when he entered it that evening.

"Where've you been, John Boy?" Arthur asked, everyone's eyes following John as he made his way to an open chair.

"I just left the school," John answered, his face straight as he spoke.

"The school?" Arthur questioned.

"Something happen with one of the children?" Polly asked, her brows furrowed.

"No, everything's fine with them," John quelled her concern.

"Why were you at the school then?" Polly asked another question.

"Ah I know...you were tryin' to see the hot teacher, huh?" Arthur chimed in before John could answer, a grin now present on his face.

John shot a glare in his brother's direction, slightly annoyed by the fact that he was a little too anxious to know. But with all of the eyes in the room on him, he figured he may as well give up. "Yeah, I went to see her."

"Did ya talk to her?" Arthur eagerly asked.

John didn't miss Polly's eyeroll before he answered his brother: "yeah, I did...and I was told that Tommy already went and talked to her." He couldn't help but glance at Tommy from the corner of his eye, seeing if his statement roused any type of reaction from him.

"Why would you have gone to talk to the childrens' teacher, Thomas?" Polly was the one to ask, her eyes now zeroed in on him.

"She told me that he wanted to make a donation to the school," John offered more information, a sour tone still present in his voice.

"Tommy," Polly sighed, bringing her hand up to her forehead.

"We've arranged to have dinner one of these upcoming evenings to discuss it further," Tommy nonchalantly shared more details of his meeting with (Y/N).

"Bloody hell, Tommy," Arthur grumbled, a frown on his face as he shook his head. He'd have no chance in hell with her now.

"Why was this not brought up in a family meeting?" Polly asked a sensible question, seemingly unaware of the brothers' reason behind their responses.

"Because I have decided that we need to start putting back into the city," Tommy answered, an authoritative tone laced into his voice.

"And you thought that the school would be the most logical place to start?" she quirked an eyebrow.

"Why not?"

"You're putting yourself into places you shouldn't be...if this blows up in your face, I won't be here for it," Polly spoke in a firm tone, showing her distaste for his decision.

Tommy held his gaze on her, an uninterested look present in his eyes. He didn't quite care what his aunt had to say about this, he was going to continue on how he saw fit.

Polly held his gaze, waiting for him to say something. When he didn't, she rolled her eyes and let out a scoff before turning and stalking over to the door. She stopped before she could grab the handle, abruptly turning to look at the three men sitting at the table. "If any of you make her cry or so much as hurt a single strand of hair on her head..." she paused, pursing her lips as she shook her head slightly, "you will have hell to pay." Her voice was flat, but her tone was serious, and she let no one respond before she opened the door and exited the betting shop.

"Ms. Gray, it's so nice to see you again," (Y/N) said with a smile as she found the older woman standing in the doorway of her classroom. "Is everything ok with Katie? We missed her in class today."

"Katie's fine," Polly quelled the teacher's worry, "she was feeling ill so she stayed home."

"Oh, ok. I hope she gets better soon," (Y/N) offered her regards with a smile, one that Polly reciprocated. "Is there something that you need?"

"Yes," Polly didn't beat around the bush, "my nephew, Tommy, came to speak with you the other day..." she began, trailing off in hopes that (Y/N) would continue.

"Yes, he did!" she took the bait without question, "he made a very generous donation, and then suggested we have dinner to work the smaller points of it out."

"And how did that go?" Polly asked with raised eyebrows.

"Very well," (Y/N) smiled in response, "the children are already benefiting from the money he's given. It was very kind of him to do this."

Nothing Tommy Shelby has done was done just for the sake of 'being kind', Polly thought to herself as she mentally scoffed at the younger woman's statement. "I'm happy to hear that the children are benefitting from it," Polly said in response, keeping her thoughts on her nephew's intentions to herself.

(Y/N) smiled in response, completely overjoyed by the kindness of the Shelby family that she was oblivious to even the mere thought of Tommy having other intentions behind his decision to donate. Nothing else was said then as the women exchanged parting words.

(Y/N) smoothed out her dress as she reached the doors of the establishment. She hoped that the outfit she chose didn't make her over, or under, dressed for the occasion. With a deep breath, she grabbed the handle and opened the door, the sounds of chatter and music smacking her in the face. She entered the pub with a smile, hoping to quickly find a familiar face.

Of course one of the Shelbys quickly found her at the door. It was their re-opening party after all, and a beautiful woman like (Y/N) was most certainly not going to go unnoticed.

"Oi, you came!" Arthur was the first of the brothers to spot her, and a big grin was plastered across his face as he moved over to greet her.

"Yes! This place looks lovely!" she answered, smiling as she looked around the room.

"We made sure to get the best of the best," he boasted, his grin still present. "And speakin' of the best...can I offer one of the best women I've seen a drink?" he smoothly transitioned, his one eyebrow raised as he looked at her.

"I'd love one, thank you," she answered, smiling at his kindness.

"Come on then," he stated, offering her his arm so that he could lead her to the bar.

She accepted it, walking over to an open seat so that he could go around the bar and get her a drink. She thanked him again when he set it down in front of her, and just as he leaned up against the bar, ready to chat with her, Isiah came to him with a matter of business. He left her with a slight frown and an 'excuse me, love,' before going off with the younger man. (Y/N) sat by herself, sipping her drink and enjoying the revelry around her. She wasn't alone for long though.

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)...I didn't think I'd see you here," shock was present in John Shelby's voice as he came up beside her.

"I decided to stop in and see what all of the talk was about," she smiled at him.

"Well we're certainly happy to have you here," he grinned at her, trying so hard not to give her a once over. "Say why don't you come and share a dance with me?" he suggested.

"Oh, I couldn't," she turned down his offer, her shyness creeping in.

"Come on...a quick dance wouldn't hurt," he didn't quite give up hope.

"I'm rather terrible at dancing."

"You've not seen me dance then."

(Y/N) bit her lip to conceal her giggles, surprised with how forward he was.

"Come on..." John coaxed her, hand outstretched in her direction. She was hesitant, but accepted it, allowing him to lead her to the floor. "Just follow my lead and you'll be fine," he said, assuming the position before he began to lead her in a similar dance to what the other partygoers were doing.

(Y/N) couldn't help but smile as she danced around the floor with John. She certainly was having fun, not really thinking about what she looked like or what others thought. John couldn't believe that he was dancing with one of the most beautiful women in the room.

They danced for about two songs before (Y/N) excused herself, wanting to go have a seat. John allowed her to go, deciding that he'd go into the snug and check on Finn - who he knew was sneaking stronger drinks than what his brothers originally told him he could have.

(Y/N) found a newly opened seat at the bar as soon as she came to it. She was bummed that her drink had been lost, but she didn't need to worry about that for too long.

"You made it," Tommy Shelby's voice came from her left, making her turn slightly to see him approaching her from behind the bar.

"I did, thanks for inviting me," (Y/N) smiled at him, "this party's amazing!" she commented, glancing around the room.

"It is," Tommy agreed once she focused on him again, "can I get you something to drink?"

"Please," she smiled kindly at the offer, watching as he went about grabbing a bottle from the shelf. "I wanted to also thank you, again, for the dinner and the donation. The children have already gotten some of the supplies that we've received, and they're loving them," she shared some information once he came back with a glass for her.

"That's good news," he nodded, taking a drink from his glass then. "You know I was thinking maybe...maybe you and I could have dinner again, without the need to talk about the donations this time," he proposed, watching her intently as he waited for a response.

(Y/N) couldn't stop her eyes from lighting up at his suggestion. She had a lovely time with him at their first dinner. "I'd like that," she answered with a smile.

"Figured we could get to know each other better."

"That would be lovely," she agreed, giggling slightly at the fact that he was practically reading her mind.

The two then went about planning the dinner, agreeing on a time and place. (Y/N) couldn't help but feel giddy when he suggested a restaurant that was far more classy than the first place they'd met. If she wasn't excited before...she certainly was now.

As they spoke more, Polly Gray kept a close eye on them from across the room. She'd been watching the brothers all evening as they tried their hand at her. It became clear to her, though, that Tommy had ended out on top as she watched them converse at the bar. She could easily tell from how (Y/N) was invested in their conversation, giggling and leaning closer to him when he'd speak, that what he was doing was being received well. John and Arthur wouldn't have much of a chance now.

-One Year Later-

Slowly, Tommy lifted the veil up to reveal (Y/N)'s smiling face. He draped it over her head and let his eyes dance across her features, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he felt the joy radiating from her.

"We are gathered here today to witness the marriage of (Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N) and Thomas Michael Shelby," the officiant began, commanding the attention of everyone in the church.

Ever since the evening of the party at the Garrison, (Y/N) and Tommy found themselves wrapped up in a whirlwind of a romance. Tommy proposed after five months of them being together, knowing that he wasn't going to find another woman like her. They spent five months being engaged and doing a great amount of traveling - it was the summer holiday for (Y/N), so she was able to follow Tommy wherever he went. Now they were standing at the altar in front of a great number of guests who were anxiously waiting to see them pronounce their love for each other.

Well...two of the guests weren’t exactly anxious. John and Arthur sat on Tommy's side of the church, watching as the ceremony commenced. Both were happy for their brother, but they'd be lying if they said that they weren't bummed that it wasn't them up with (Y/N).

Everyone stood up and celebrated as the officiant pronounced Tommy and (Y/N) 'man and wife', and they shared their first kiss as a married couple.

"As always..." John started, elbowing Arthur in the ribcage as they both clapped for their brother, "Tommy gets the girl, and we've gotta sit back and watch."

Arthur couldn't help but snort as he heard what John had to say. "You're right, John boy," he agreed, shaking his head but nonetheless continuing clapping.

No matter what happened, or how hard John and Arthur tried to get ahead, Tommy would forever be the brother that always wins.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

[lunarflux]

x: Thomas Shelby found his match in an information bookie who has eluded the grasp of the Peaky Blinders long enough to crumble their power over Birmingham. But at last, he found you. The ghost he'd been chasing was finally in front of him, but you were trickier than he expected. Dangerous, cunning - and a bit too much like himself. To buy your loyalty, he would have to sell his in equal measure. Loyalty for loyalty - blood for blood - how much were either of you willing to spill before the game changed entirely?

a/n: while trying to edit this, Tumblr thought it'd be cool to post it already instead of saving so good morning lol

part 7: the burning edge

word count: 1,263

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

The meeting room was dimly lit, the remnants of smoke from cigars hanging thick in the air. The Blinders were scattered, slowly filing out, leaving Tommy standing at the far end of the room, his posture unyielding. The room felt quieter now that the chaos of business was over, and there was an underlying tension between you and Tommy that neither of you had addressed—until now.

You stayed seated at the long table, watching as the last of the family exited, the sound of footsteps echoing as they disappeared down the hall. The door shut with a soft click, leaving you and Tommy alone in the room.

Tommy didn’t immediately move, his hands resting on the back of his chair as he stared out the window, his silhouette framed by the fading light of dusk. You felt the weight of the question on your tongue, the curiosity gnawing at you, but it was more than that. There was an unease in the air, a shift in the way he'd been looking at you lately. He looked, he stared. He'd speak but it was to the air until his eyes found you again.

“You’ve got something to say, then?” Tommy’s voice cut through the stillness, low and measured, though you knew he’d been waiting for you to ask.

You rose from your seat, making your way toward the window. He didn't stir when you were mere inches away, his eyes fixated on your reflection in the glass as he anticipated the approaching scent of your perfume that would eventually reach him.

“I’m curious,” you began, your voice cool but direct. “What made you follow Finn to the shop the other day?”

Tommy didn’t turn, but his posture stiffened slightly. You watched his reflection—just as he did to you, his sharp profile unreadable.

“Blame it on curiosity,” he replied, his words clipped, “Nothing more.”

You chuckled softly. “Curiosity,” you repeated, though the word didn’t sound convincing coming from him. “Is that all?”

When he finally turned, his eyes met yours with an intensity that spoke volumes. There was something raw behind them, a complexity that went beyond the cold calculations he was known for.

“I’m not used to not knowing,” he said quietly. “Not about people who are close to me.” His gaze flickered, just for a second, but it was enough for you to notice.

You stepped forward, your eyes locking with his. “So, were you worried about Finn? Or worried that I would do something to him.”

Tommy let out a soft, bitter laugh, the sound not quite like his usual humor. “Worried about Finn? No.” He straightened his posture, his voice tightening, “But I am worried... About what you're saying to him. For all I know, you're filling his head with the kind of nonsense that requires years to erase.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued, but you didn’t back down. “And what nonsense is that?”

He paused, his jaw flexing as he glanced away, as if struggling to find the right words. “He’s young, unpredictable. These stories you tell him—however mundane they may be—it pulls him away from the business. Too easy to get distracted.” He stepped closer, his presence suddenly more imposing. “You’re not exactly what he’s used to, and, naturally, that makes me suspicious of you.”

You felt the weight of his scrutiny, but instead of faltering, you met it head-on. “Suspicious, I see. You know, if I wanted to manipulate your brother and carve him from the Shelby family business, I would have by now.”

“I think you’re too good at making people forget things." Tommy’s expression darkened, though he didn’t take his eyes off you. "You might not be filling his head with the concept of a better life, but any time the weight of responsibility is lifted from our shoulders, we are vulnerable. Don't make yourself a liability. I can't afford to lose your services, but—should you give me no choice—I will happily sever our ties. And you can be on your way.”

You approached him slowly, your heels clicking methodically with heavy steps. “And you? What about you, Tommy Shelby? You're smarter than that. You should know better."

"And what should I know?"

You pressed in closer until you could feel the burn of whiskey from his breath on your cheeks. "You should know—should, but perhaps you don't—that even if I did choose to 'fill his head with the concept of a better life,' it is because he already sought it out. That seems to be a particularly difficult thing for you to imagine. I did not invite Finn. Much like his older brother, he came to me."

Tommy stood still for a moment, his gaze hardening. “Clever little ghost,” he sighed with a chuckle. “I feel like you enjoy this. The attention.”

For a moment, silence filled the space between you. Not uncomfortable, but it was thick with unspoken thoughts.

"What's not to enjoy?" The glint in your eyes teased him. "I am here for your benefit, and every second that passes with you trying to figure me out, you could be more productive. This was your choice."

“My choice,” he repeated. "But you're the one who accepted my offer. That would make it your choice as well."

Your lips curved into a knowing smile, though it was tinged with something else—something that felt like the acknowledgment that you've been backed into a corner with your own words. The faint pull of suffocating entrapment briefly flashed across your face, and you prayed he couldn't see it.

Tommy met your gaze with disarming softness, his expression unreadable but not as guarded as it usually was. “Like it or not,” he replied, his voice a quiet admission. “You met me halfway. I may have been the one who knocked, but you opened the door. You walked up to the Garrison that night, and you walked right in.”

You cautiously stepped back as he pushed forward until your back hit the edge of his desk. You felt disarmed, though you wouldn't dare show it.

He placed his hands down firmly on either side your waist, leaning closer until your back arched, neck craned up to meet his eyes. Tommy's lips twitched at the edges, his stare dark but flickering with something akin to recognition. "So, yes, y/n. I invited you. But—as you so poetically put it—you wouldn't be here if you didn't want it."

You held your posture still as the firm hold on your smile faded. He'd finally found a way to place himself on the board because he was right. His proposal could have been so easily rejected, but you were the one who was curious as to why a man like him would be so silently desperate for you to be on his side. He wanted you in some capacity. To own you, maybe. To stay in his domain, in his muddled world of loose morals. But you said yes.

The hardened shell of your mask returned. With a gentle press to Tommy's chest, you eased him back. You closed your eyes and rolled your neck with a heavy sigh as if expelling the scent of him from your lungs. He stepped back, and you returned the gesture with a short chuckle. This wouldn't have been interesting if he didn't fight back, and it looked like he was finally ready to play.

[queenshelby]

Playing Doctor

Pairing: Tommy Shelby (Stepfather) x Reader (Stepdaughter)

Warning: DDLG, No-Plot

Requested: YES! P.s. sorry anon it took me so long!

It was your 20th birthday a few weeks ago and your stepfather, Thomas Shelby, whom you have been calling 'daddy' for some time now, insisted on having a little chat with you after everyone else had retired for the night.

Just like every other night, when you walked into his study, you noticed that it was dimly lit, the faintest glow seeping through the heavy oak furniture inside.

"Close the door, and lock it sweetheart," he ordered you as you stepped into the room and you replied with a simple "yes daddy" as you had learnt. 

He sat facing you, the chair groaning softly under his weight, hands folded on his lap. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked the seconds away with a solemnity that filled the room.

"Good girl," he murmured, a hint of a smile flickering on his lips before gesturing for you to have a seat. "Always so well behaved ."

You nodded meekly, suppressing a shiver as his eyes swept over you, taking in every detail of your appearance. 

Thomas Shelby was not an easy man to read. He held the world in a tight grip, his ruthless intelligence driving his criminal empire ever forward.

Beneath that rough exterior, though, a darkness festered, a secret that he took great care to keep hidden. His home was a castle, sealed from the outside world, and inside that castle you were his most prized possession.

"Now sweetheart, do you remember when daddy said that, after you turned twenty, there would come a day where you would have to take care of daddy's needs sometimes?" he asked , eyes searching your face.

You lowered your gaze, nodding nervously, unable to keep your voice from betraying your anxiety when you said, "Yes daddy," not knowing what this would entail.

"Good girl , I knew you'd remember," he replied with a ghost of a smile.  "Now tonight, I think, daddy just wants to play a little game with you. You like games, don't you?"

Thomas said, rising from his chair and approaching you slowly. The tension in the air was palpable as he stood over you.

"Yes daddy," you said, smiling. "What kind of game do you want to play? Do you want to play cards ?" Your question was barely audible, but he heard you nonetheless.

"No sweetheart," he said, running his fingers over your hair, playing with it. His hands then wandered down to your neck, leaving you slightly short of breath. "No cards tonight."

The way his fingers trailed up and down the nape of your neck sent shivers down your spine, making you tremble in your seat. Despite the fear creeping in, you held Thomas' gaze.

"Tonight, daddy wants to play doctor and patient," he explained, his tone softer than ever, lips curling in a smile that sent another chill down your spine.

"Doctor and patient?" You whispered, not entirely certain where he was going with this, but feeling the weight of it settle heavily on your shoulders.

"Yes, darling, you see, there are some things daddy needs to check. Just like a real doctor would," he assured you, eyes gleaming mysteriously in the dim light. "So you will pretend to be the patient, and I will be the doctor. Alright?"

Your heart began to race, your breathing shallow.

"I'm not sure if I know how to do that, daddy," you admitted, swallowing hard.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll show you," he cooed, stepping closer to you until he stood right in front of you. "But first, daddy needs his good little girl to take off her pretty panties." 

You blinked, taken aback. "Right now?" you asked in a small voice, eyes wide with fear and confusion.

He nodded faintly.

Slowly, you pulled yourself up to your feet and reached under your gown to remove the only barrier between him and his exploration. You felt a shiver of embarrassment, even shame, as you dropped them on the floor before stepping out of them.

"That's a good girl," Thomas murmured approvingly, his hand reaching out to gently touch your cheek. "Now remember, darling, we are just playing a game here. Nothing more, nothing less," Thomas reassured, though the words did little to comfort you.

Despite his attempt at being gentle, there was a hint of steel in his eyes that reminded you of who exactly was in charge here. The tension in the air had grown unbearable, the oppressive silence of the room weighing heavily on your shoulders.

"Now I am going to put a towel here, so that we can be clean and comfortable," Thomas told you, pointing to the sofa in the corner of the room. He picked up a towel folded neatly on a cabinet, placing it on the bed. Then he looked at you, giving a reassuring nod before walking towards you.

You stood still, waiting for his instructions. He approached you slowly and met your eyes, his gaze piercing. With a steady hand, he guided you towards the sofa.

"Up on the towel, baby girl," he whispered impatiently. You complied, sitting on the fluffy towel, legs shut tight.

"Lean back and lift your feet up onto the couch. Then let your knees fall apart for daddy," he said. His instructions came out as if he was talking about the most normal thing in the world. 

"But daddy, you will see my private parts," you said, your voice shaky with worry.

"That's the idea sweetheart," he murmured, his voice gentle but firm. "We need to make sure you are ready down there for daddy to make you a woman."

You shuddered, but slowly lifted your feet onto the couch like he instructed. Then, you let your knees fall apart. You could feel a profound chill in the room, like it was waiting with bated breath for what would come next.

"Good girl," Thomas said soothingly, stroking your hair as he kneeled down in front of you. 

You watched as he placed a bottle of lubricant on the table next to him, along with some tissues.

"Keep your legs open for me, sweetheart," he murmured, gently shifting your legs apart.

"But daddy," you whispered, gripping the edges of the couch, as his hands made their way up your thighs.

"Shh, good girl. Daddy will just have a look inside your little hole now, okay?" He asked gently, his thumb now tracing the outline of your opening cautiously before using two fingers to open your labia.

You couldn't find words. You stared at the books lining his shelves, watching the dust particles glint in the dim light as he opened you up.

"Daddy's girl is so nice and pink inside," he commented, seemingly pleased at the sight of your insides.  "And I can see that you have been a good girl and have not been fooling around with any boys yet, haven't you sweetheart?"

"No, daddy," you replied weakly, glancing away from the intimate scene unfolding before you.

"That's good. Just like you promised me. Good girl," he said in a low voice, before leaning down even closer to you.

"And now daddy's going to put one of his fingers inside your precious little hole, okay?" Thomas murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before you could respond, he pressed his index finger gently against your opening and pushed it in slowly, making you gasp.

"Shh ," he urged you, his voice soft and low as if he was trying to soothe a frightened kitten. "Daddy's is going to be gentle. Promise."

You bit your lip and nodded, unable to find your voice in the turmoil of your thoughts. The feeling of his rough finger inside your slick warmth was alien, unwelcome, yet not entirely unpleasant.

Thomas's gaze remained fixed on his hand between your legs, and you could see the corners of his lips pull up in a slight smirk. "You're doing great, honey. I'm going to try and move it around a little," he said soothingly, as if trying to encourage a frightened animal.

He gently moved his finger in and out, his thumb pressing against your clitoris.

As uncomfortable as the intrusion was, something changed in you as he explored and touched you. A strange, hot sensation bloomed in your belly and spread downward with each of his movements. You felt yourself growing wetter and tried to squirm away, but Thomas held you steady.

"Shh, sweetheart, don't be scared," he whispered. "This is okay.

This is just a game," you told yourself, trying to convince yourself that the feeling in your body was not real. But the truth was, your bodies had a language of their own and the way Thomas touched you, the way he moved inside you, seemed to speak louder than any words.

"You're a natural, sweetheart," Thomas said, his voice still soothing. You swallowed the painful lump in your throat and nodded, not responding as you listened to the sounds of his finger slipping in and out of your hole.

"I am going to add another finger now, okay sweetheart?" he said, inserting his middle finger beside his index one carefully, stretching our your small opening.

Your body tensed at the sensation, but Thomas kept you calm with soothing words. "Relax, sweetheart. I know it's strange, but you need to relax so I can check everything," Thomas assured you, and you tried your best to oblige.

"It feels funny down there , daddy," you admitted, wincing slightly as his fingers probed deeper.

"That's normal, my sweet girl. You're just not used to it yet," Tommy whispered as he began to move his fingers in and out of you with more conviction. "Your body needs to get accustomed to these new sensations, to daddy's touch."

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do or say. But then, you nodded silently, closing your eyes and submitting to his touch. From the way he moved his fingers inside you, you could tell that Tommy was definitely an experienced man, which shouldn't have surprised you.

"Daddy 's fingers are quite big, aren't they?" Tommy said nonchalantly, grinning at the look on your face.

You could only blink at him, feeling an odd sort of excitement mingling with the discomfort. 

Tommy then pulled his fingers out, allowing a trail of wetness to run down your inner thigh and, suddenly, the room was heavy with tension, and he looked at you as if he were about to reveal some great secret.

"Oh look how wet you are

, baby girl. Does that feel good?" He asked in a hushed voice, like it was just between the two of you. 

"I think so daddy. It hurts a little but it feels nice and tingly too," you said as you squirmed under his gaze and the soft tugging of your thighs as he gently separated your legs a little further.

Thomas let out a low chuckle as he unbuckled his belt and began to undo his trousers.  "That's good. That is how it is supposed to feel, sweetheart," he teased, his eyes never leaving your face as he traced the outline of his penis through his briefs.

You swallowed nervously, glancing away from his growing bulge and focusing instead on the faint patterns of the tapestry that graced the wall opposite his massive wooden bed.

" Now, I want you to keep those legs open nice and wide," Thomas told you, his voice a low rumble in the dimly lit room as he pushed his trousers and underwear down to his kneed before kneeling in between your legs.

"Daddy,  I don't know about this," you said in a trembling voice, staring at the slightly curved, swollen head of his penis as he moved closer.

"It's okay sweetheart," Tommy said, smirking as he grasped his manhood and continued to approach you. "It's just another part of the game."

"Daddy is just using his special tool now to open up your little hole as it is supposed to be. That's all," he said, trying to reassure you with a gentle tone.

His manhood glistened in the soft lighting of the room, and you couldn't help but feel a knot of fear twist in your stomach as you watched him slowly guide himself towards your entrance.

"Good girl," he said once more as, finally, you felt the tip of his hardness nestled between your labia . He paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the unfamiliar feeling before slowly exhaling and pushing himself inside you just a little.

"Just a little pressure now, sweetheart. I know it hurts your cherry, but daddy will take it nice and slow," Thomas murmured as he inched further inside, drawing hushed gasps from you.

"Daddy 's little princess is doing so well," he reassured softly, with tenderness flickering across his face. With measured thrusts and slow withdraws, Thomas slowly pushed deeper into you.

You bit into your lower lip hard to wrestle back a whimper, gripping the towel beneath you as waves of discomfort danced down your spine. It felt as if your flesh were stretching tight around his shaft, an intimate intrusion that was both terrifying and mesmerizing. 

"I feel really full , daddy," you gasped, your breath hitching as he continued to slowly thrust himself in deeper, your slickness helping to ease his passage.

"I know." Thomas nodded solemnly, placing his hands gently on either side of your hips. "Daddy's special tool is almost all  the way inside you now, darling. It gets comfortable soon, I promise."

You nodded hesitantly, feeling a strange mix of apprehension and intrigue as your body started to adjust. It wasn't exactly painful anymore, more like a heavy kind of fullness that you found difficult to comprehend.

He leaned forward a little and asked, "How are you feeling now princess?"

You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to deal with the unfamiliar sensation, before finally managing to stammer, "It's... different, daddy. I feel so full."

Thomas smiled, caressing your cheeks. "That's good , sweetheart. When daddy's inside you, it's just the two of us in our own little world."

He began to move slowly, inching farther inside you while his arms wound around your waist, pulling you even closer to him.

"Now daddy will move his special tool around slowly, okay sweetheart?" he asked gently as he readjusted his position and began to rock back and forth.

"Relax and let daddy take control, just like always," he whispered soothingly in your ear, the warmth from his voice making you more at ease than before.

"O-okay daddy," you said softly, trying to keep still and relax the muscles that clenched around him.

Soon, his pace picked up and your breath came in sync with his as he penetrated you with more force, his chest heaving with exertion as he took you.

The familiar scents of leather, tobacco, and aftershave enveloped your senses as he moved deeper into you.

"Daddy isn't hurting you, baby, is he?" he growled out, his rhythm picking up as he lost himself in you.

"No, daddy. It feels . . . weird, but good too," you breathed out, letting go of the last of your reservations.

"Good," he growled out, his rhythm picking up even more rapidly.

"That's my good girl," he said before running his thumb over your clit while thrusting in and out of you.

Your breath hitched, your heartbeat spiked, and the warm sensation in your tummy blossomed once more.

"Daddy," you gasped, the feeling coursing its way through your veins as you tried to stifle your moans.

"Shh, don't worry, sweetheart. Just let it happen," Thomas assured you between breaths.

You closed your eyes and let your head fall back, giving yourself over to the tide of pleasure that washed over you.

The room was hazy around the edges, and all you could focus on was the feeling of Thomas's body moving inside you, the slide of his pole in and out of your warm depths.

"Daddy,"  you murmured, unable to form a complete that could possibly convey the maelstrom of emotion and feeling tearing through you when you finally reached your climax.

The waves of pleasure were so immense and so absolutely consuming that even the word "daddy" seemed to fall short.

But for Thomas, "daddy" was the most important word of all. It was his favorite name to hear pour from your lips, and as he felt you tighten, pulse, and shudder around him in the midst of pure unbridled ecstasy, it was as if the walls of his castle had come crumbling down.

"That's my good, good girl," Tommy murmured earnestly, as he continued to thrust into your tight, wet heat, his hands sliding down your slick flesh to caress your curves, trace your shapes, and drink you in.

"Daddy is going to put some special medicine in your little hole now," he groaned, chasing his own climax now. "It will feel nice and warm when it goes in."

The room was seconds away from exploding, and you closed your eyes tightly as Tommy thrust one last time into you, the walls of your sex contracting around him as he stilled completely.

"Here you go. Fuck," he cursed as he released a torrent of  hot fluid into you.

You could feel him throbbing and pulsing inside you for a moment. It was an odd sensation, something you couldn't quite put into words. It spread through your body, muddling with the remaining echoes of your own climax.

The look on his face was indescribable. His eyes were half-lidded, lips parted in a silent cry, and the lines of stress on his face seemed to melt away for that brief moment.

He stayed there, motionless, for what felt like an eternity. The heaviness of his limbs atop you was oddly soothing.

Some part of you wanted to hold on to that moment, while another part screamed to be let go.

Thomas leaned in close, his lips brushing your cheek. "I'm going to pull out now, baby," he whispered.

You whimpered softly as he carefully slid himself out of you and felt his warm essence dribble down the insides of your thighs. 

"You're daddy's good girl, aren't you?" he murmured proudly in your ear. "Now lets check if everything went well."

He looked into your eyes as his fingers gently explored your entrance. You shivered slightly at his cold touch, both physically and emotionally as a feeling of shame washed over you. You couldn't help but feel embarrassed that moments earlier, you had welcomed this very same intrusion with pleasure.

Thomas started sliding his fingers in and out softly, observing your reaction. It wasn't long before a slight flush crept up your cheeks. "It looks perfect," he told you. "Just a tiny bit swollen." Thomas approved, smiling warmly as he tucked his fingers away before planting a tender kiss on the tip of your nose.

[dilf-issues]

Vanilla | C.M

Requested by Anon: hey dunno you take requests but since your writing is so hot , I'm willing to ask if you consider writing about roleplaying with Cillian and his wife or gf to break the dull routine they were stuck into , the way he suggested that to her being embarrassed and the sweet moments they ditch the characters in bed. He could bring his characters *cough cough * Tommy shelby. Thank you x

Synopsis: In which your boyfriend, Cillian, finds out you’ve been reading erotic fiction about his character in the Peaky Blinders, Tommy Shelby. Cillian shows you how much of a great actor he is.

Warnings: Age gap, the reader is in her 20s and Cillian is in his 40s. Roleplaying, extremely rough sex, dumbification, degradation, face slapping, spitting, pussy spanking, oral sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, and a little cnc. THIS IS KIND OF DARK SO BE WARNED. Everything is consented it’s just that... Cillian’s gonna be rough, like ROUGH

.

Cillian had been busy. He had an upcoming new season this year and his schedule was packed. You haven’t spent time with him in quite some time now. He constantly apologized for not giving you enough attention and promised to make it up to you.

He decided to fulfill this promise.

Since he was the main character in his series ‘Peaky Blinders’, he did have massive privilege in the production. He had never done it before since he had been such a dedicated person to work with, however, he felt like he should sacrifice his work just for you. He wanted to spend the time with you, maybe have some dinner together at a nice restaurant. Just the usual things the both of you would do. Every time he had some free time he would do some nice things for you, treat you like a princess.

He came home from work that day, he got permission to take the week off and he even got back early from set. He wanted to surprise you, he had a flower in his hands a box of your favorite soft cookies. It was all so perfect.

When he came home, he saw that the first floor was empty and there were no signs of you anywhere. He went upstairs since he reckoned you were in the bedroom, probably taking a nap or reading a book.

Cillian was so happy. He was a man who barely showed any emotions in public but with you, it was different. He had a wide smile on his face, ready to surprise you but when he opened the door, he didn’t see you on the bed.

Instead, he heard the shower running and so he hummed to himself, setting the gifts down as he sat on the bed to wait for you.

As he patiently waited, he noticed your phone was still on. You were the type of person to let the screen go on forever instead of turning it off every 3 minutes like him. He glanced absentmindedly as he saw you were reading some sort of story on your phone. His actions were harmless, he just wanted to see what you were reading.

His eyes skimmed through the words as his blood runs cold.

‘Tommy had me bent over his desk, ass red and swollen from all the beatings. My pussy was leaking down onto the expensive wood, desperate for his cock to ram inside me.

“Please, Mr. Shelby, I need your cock!” I plead like a good whore as he growled.

“You are nothing but a filthy cocksleeve”

Tommy? Shelby? His Tommy Shelby? The character that he played?

It seemed like all of the blood started circulating to his face as he flushed at the filthy thing he had just read. Y/N? His sweet Y/N was reading something like that?

Cillian couldn’t believe it because someone as young and pure as he would never be this dirty. Because of their age gap, he saw her as someone that he needed to protect, shield from the rest of the goddamned world. His fragile little princess that he wouldn’t dare to inflict even a slight force in fear that she might break and shatter into pieces.

The sound of the shower became silent and it interrupted his thoughts, he quickly placed her phone where it belonged as he stood up and smoothened the spot on the bed where he sat to make it seem like he just came in.

When you had walked out, it took you a moment to notice Cillian standing there with your gifts but when you did, you gave him a small scream as you ran towards him, your figure wearing nothing but a small towel.

“Cillian?! You’re back? You brought me gifts!” You exclaimed as her wet body embraced him in a hug. Cillian was somewhat still blank from what he was reading earlier.

‘If she had liked that kinda stuff so much he could push her on the bed and beat her ass right now’

His eyes widened at his own thoughts as he tried to push them away, “Yes princess, I thought maybe I haven’t been paying attention to you now have I? I’m all yours for the week, baby”

You pouted as you nodded at him, and then he realized how submissive-looking you were. You had always had a demeanor of what he would expect someone much younger than him to have, however, Cillian was starting to look at it in a new light.

It doesn't help the fact that he still has his Thomas Shelby haircut for the filming.

It also doesn’t help she was almost naked in front of him, he hadn’t fucked her in weeks. It’s almost fitting.

Maybe doing something about it wouldn’t hurt now would it?

Oh... But it’s definitely gonna hurt you...

Cillian watched closely as the girl before him admired his gifts for her in awe. His eyes became more and more lusted as he figured out a way to approach you.

“Love, can I ask you a question?”

You hummed at him innocently as she raised her brows at him, “Anything, Cill...”

“What have you been reading on your phone, hmm?” Her eyes widened slightly as her heart started to pound in her chest. Cillian was looking at her so intensely that it was slightly scary. She didn’t know if she should lie, or if she should tell him the truth. However, since he had asked... It was obvious he knew the truth.

“Cillian I can explain” You sputtered, panicking on the inside as Cillian started closing whatever gap that both of you had, he was looking down on you in a way he had never done before. You felt the chill run down your spine as you felt the back of your knees hitting the bed.

“Explain” He commanded.

“It’s just... You know I love you and you know I should be honest to you no matter what. But... I just... We haven’t been together in a long time lately and even when we do... It’s always the same...” You felt guilty saying this to him, it’s not like he was bad at sex. He was great. However, you were getting bored with the same soft and loving sex you two always had. “I just... I hope you can be a little rougher, that’s all. You’ve always been... So soft”

“Soft... Hm?” He tilted his head to the side as he stared at you almost mockingly, “Be careful of what you wish for, love”

You had felt your heart stop when Cillian’s smooth Irish accent suddenly turned into the dark Brummie accent you had always heard about on the TV. The one you had always touched yourself to when he wasn’t around.

Then out of nowhere, Cillian had roughly pushed you on the bed as you fell down and whimpered softly. He pulled off the towel on your body as you were left naked, “C-Cillian!”

“Who the fuck is Cillian, eh? Have you been fucking whoring yourself out to another man?” Cillian cursed at you as he quickly took his clothes off, “You’re my whore. You’re mine to fuck, you got it?”

Then you can physically feel your gears shifting in your brain, “T-Tommy?”

Your body shivered as you felt yourself getting wet, you were all naked and you were ready for him. You felt your legs spread instinctively as you heard him laugh, “You really are such a desperate fucking cunt, eh?”

‘Tommy’ had bent down as he gripped your face by the cheeks and roughly shook your head, “Who do you belong to? Who do you fucking belong to?”

“Y-You Cill-Tommy! I belong to you!” Tommy smirked, as his hands traveled down to your navel, teasing you as he drew figures on the skin, making you whine, “Open your fucking mouth you dirty whore”

You wasted no time opening your mouth for him, wide with your tongue out. Suddenly, he did the unexpected when he spat in your mouth, “Fucking swallow it, princess”

You swallowed his spit like a good girl as you held out your tongue to show to him, suddenly seeking his praise and validation however it never came. Tommy just hummed as he let go of your face harshly, almost slamming your head onto the plush bedding.

Characters aside, Cillian was never like this. Throughout the year of your relationship, he had always been gentle and kind, treating you like a soft feather and taking care of you. Maybe because it was because he was much older he had felt like he needed to treat you gently. You never realized Cillian had this side to him. He had always had this side, you just never awaken it.

“Spread your legs wider” He commanded, his voice dark as his character, you listened to him, eager to show him you were his good girl as he hummed looking down at the glistening flesh in between your legs. You were so wet it had dripped down and leaked onto the bedsheet. Without a warning, Tommy gives a hard slap to your cunt and you screamed out. You thought he was doing it once but it seems like it came over and over again, beating your swollen pussy and clit until it was throbbing and red. You cried out of pleasure and pain, as you begged him. You didn’t know what you were begging for but it was sure not for him to stop.

“You fucking like this don’t you? Fucking hell, look at you. You’re fucking wet, you like getting fucking beaten and bruised huh? What a fucking whore. You are nothing. You are only good for fucking, you are only here to fuck. Remember that, you fucking cunt”

Tears were flowing down and you were desperate you were so desperate for his cock. After each word, Tommy spat on your body, leaving you all wet and filthy combined with your own sweat and arousal.

“P-Please! P-Please, fuck me, Tommy! Please I need your cock. Please I want your cum. I need it inside me!” You pleaded like a whore as he slapped your face. You moaned out as his hand traveled down your neck and choked it just enough to make you feel the air around you restricting. “Tommy, I can’t, I need your cock”

He scoffed, pulling down his pants as whipped out his cock. It was so hard to the point where it became purplish-red, the veins covering the base as the head leaked with pre-cum.

“You want my cock?” He lined up his tip on your vagina, “You fucking get it you cocksleeve”

Without giving you a warning and time to adjust, Tommy slammed his cock inside your cunt and he wasted no time ramming into you roughly. Not like you needed time to adjust since you were sopping wet. All you can do is choke out his name and moans as he grunts with each slam.

His pace was rough and deep and for someone like hin with his age, he had the stamina to go on and on fucking you so rough till you can feel him ramming in your stomach.

No words could even cum out of your mouth as your eyes rolled back as he fucks you braindead.

Spit drooling at the side of your mouth as you babble like a cock hungry whore underneath him.

“I’m gonna fucking cum and you’re gonna take it. You’re gonna fucking carry my babies, and even then it is not gonna stop me from fucking you stupid”

You could feel him twitching as his thrusts were getting sloppier and sloppier, you could also feel your orgasm coiling in your tummy as you cried out once you let it all go, the liquid splashing all over the both of you as you squirt on his dick.

You were heavily overstimulated and you screamed as Tommy fucked the cum out of him.

The warm seed spilled inside your walls as he grunted in pleasure, leaning down as he bit your neck and drew blood to the surface.

Tommy looked at you all fucked out, eyes still rolling at the back of your head as you continue to babble nonsense to nothing.

He breathes heavily as he lays down beside you, carefully moving your body to cuddle up to him.

“Like I said, my love... Be careful of what you wished for”

[your-nanas-house]

Can we have Thomas Shelby having lactation/breastfeeding kink? The reader is a new mother and her tits are full of milk 🥵

Damn yess, I'm such a sucker for this kind of fics. 🫣😳

Mother

◇ Pairing: Dad!Thomas Shelby X Mom fem!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, lactation kink, breastfeeding, mention of twins, Tommy is pathetic and desperate, past pregnancy, breast milk, cumming.

◇ Summary: Tommy tastes his wife's milk for the first time.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. And for making you wait so long! 🙏

A mother.. that's what she was, with her round, full, heavy breasts that made their little bundles of joy wiggle in excitement every time, Thomas thought.

The mother... of their twins.. theirs. His and hers.

A mother... with her mature curves, her swellings and her glowing self, her soft hips... and her, damn, swollen tits that were now leaking drops of her milk. A milk that should be for their babies... who already were sleeping, milk drunk from their dinner. A milk that was screaming at Tommy to be tasted by him... even if it looked like such a taboo thing to do.

"Tommy" Y/n said firmly, snapping him out of the trance he was in since nearly 5 minutes now.

Her hands were on her hips and a soft pout was adorning her face... the same one that appeared every time he didn't listen to what she said and so he had her repeat things more than once.

"You can taste it if you want" her soft voice informed him as her tensed and scolding language disappeared, giving space to an amused and mocking one. The woman saw how he looked at her since the pregnancy started to change her body... expecially how he looked at her full, painful breasts.

It really was entertaining the way he tried to play it off, pretending he didn't stared at her while she breastfed. Or when the milk started to wet the fabric of her clothes.... expecially her nightgown, in which it was even more noticeable.

"Our little angels already had it and my boobs are aching, still full and... lonely" she murmured softly while crawling closer to her husband, who was sitting on the bed, holding his breath unconsciously.

Tommy looked hesitant, millions of battles kept going on in his head as his heart beat hard against his bare chest. His blood rushed down to his cock as the gorgeous body of his woman positioned itself on his lap and her hands slowly lowered her nightgown to expose more skin at the cold night breeze.

As soon as his baby blue eyes stopped on her breasts now fully on display, his mind stopped struggling and his head moved on its own, attracted by the shiny nipple like a hungry baby. In a split second his lips were wrapped around it and his free hands grabbed her hip and the back of her neck to prevent her from moving as he started to suckle on it.

Her own milk landing on his greedy tongue, causing a low growl to escape his throat. His hips bucked against hers, in search of a relief, almost humping her clothed cunt shamelessly.

Tommy was in his own world, his mouth focused on stealing the warm liquid from his wife as his body got even more aroused by the intimacy of the moment.

He slowed down just when Y/n grabbed his hair, pulling them to warn him silently as his teeth started to brush and tease her abused nipple.

"That's a good body, fuckk... Tommy. Suck it all for mommy" his wife meowed out after taking a deep sigh, her hand still holding his hand close to her chest as her husband feed himself, moving to the other breast as soon as he felt enough satisfied.

She could tell the effect this mere action was doing to her husband, the way his body twitched and he groaned against her skin before starting to suck again... indicated her that he actually just allowed himself to cum in his pajamas pants, too focused on her tits to actually care.

So desperate and pathetic, she thought, but very arousing to watch.

That sure wouldn't be the last time she would let him.