#peaky blinders angst

[mydear-corinthian]

Protection || Thomas Shelby x reader

Synopsis: You were protecting your son, Charlie when Billy Kimber's men ambushed your shared home. Pairing: Thomas Shelby x reader Warnings: ANGST w/ comfort, reader gets injured, gun violence, mentions of blood, swearing, Grace's being mentioned once - s2 spoiler Notes: Not proofread, grammatical errors, GIF is mine Click here to find the main masterlist. Click here to find the PEAKY BLINDERS masterlist.

As another regular evening took place, a sense of peace descended over Thomas Shelby and his wife's shared home. While Tommy was busy with his business and papers, you found yourself wandering the enormous area of the estate with your young son, Charlie.

Marriage with Tommy wasn't for the faint of heart. You were highly aware of the ongoing danger that accompanied his lifestyle, the circulating threats and enemies that followed your husband's every step. Despite the obvious risks your love for him remained strong. You treasured him not as an infamous gangster, but as the man who made you feel valued, protected, and appreciated.

There was nothing but silence in the huge home; you could hear the clock ticking and the curtains flapping as the breeze shook the cloth. It was a Saturday night, so the maids weren't working, leaving you and Charlie alone. Charlie's eyelids were going drowsy as you cuddled him, softly caressing his back and humming his favorite lullaby. Looking at the clock, you realized how late it was, and Tommy hadn't returned home yet.

You heard the main entrance door open with a loud bang. Although it seemed strange, you assumed Tommy was just returning from a stressful day at work. Charlie woke up from his sleep and let out a loud cry when you heard gunfires as you were ready to leave your shared room. You were so terrified that you thought your legs were paralyzed. Without wasting any time, you grabbed Charlie and put his little body against your shoulder, giving him a tight hug.

With Charlie in one hand, you dashed to the door, locked it almost instantly, and took out the Enfield No. 2 six-bullet handgun that your husband had given you as a birthday present from the nightstand's drawer. You grab the gun and duck into the shared bedroom's bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

The room was filled with the sound of the little Shelby's piercing cries, which seemed to come from every corner. You tried so hard to soothe him, cooing softly, but all it did was make his cries louder and more echoing through the walls. As you tried to calm him, your hands trembled with fear and your fingers stuttering, a sign of your growing terror running down your face. You felt powerless in the face of Charlie's constant tears, and you started to search for a way out of the mess.

You started nervously to pray while holding a child in your arms. Tears were beginning to fall from your eyes and the prayers were mumbling on your lips.

Charlie and you were found by whoever was in your shared room as you heard the door slam. Breathless, you lowered your son onto the empty, shallow bath tub behind you and spoke to him to stop crying. and that you will return quickly. When the toilet door opened, two armed men in a hideous black suit and a top hat appeared; they were Billy Kimber workers.

One of the armed men circled around you and exclaimed, "Aye look, it's Mrs. Shelby," as you aimed your handgun at him, your hands shaking with terror. You've never been skilled with a gun. Tommy giving you a gun like that surprised you. He would not stop stating, "You'll use that in the future."

and perhaps the future was today.

"Suprised a Shelby doesn't know how to use a gun. How about we gift Thomas Shelby the lifeless body of his dear wife?" the man laughed. You raised the gun without thinking, your hand steady from the rush of adrenaline pumping through you, and took aim at the man's skull. The bullet cracked sharply and shot out of the barrel, piercing the air and hitting its target with terrifying accuracy. With a bleak proof to your determination, fortune smiled on you as the bullet hit accurate, plunging into the man's forehead with fatal force and instantly taking his life.

Attempting to fire another shot to the other man, you missed.

Suddenly, you heard a bang go off but paid no mind. Attempting to shoot again, you finally succeded; three bullets all over the now lifeless man's torso. The sight of the lifeless bodies made you feel sick but you chose to ignore it as you dropped your used gun to go and grab Charlie and ask for help. You grabbed your son right away, immediately hugging him and kissed his little forehead.

Suddenly, you heard a familiar voice calling out your name; Tommy.

His voice reaching out for you made you sigh with relief. Your husband ran toward you as your legs found their way to the stairs to return to him. You embraced him, resting your head on his chest and taking in his manly scent as you exhaled. "Oh god, Tommy.."

She took Charlie out of your arms and gave you a minute to rest in Tommy's calming presence in Polly's comforting presence. Tommy's hand gently cradled the back of your head as you leaned into him, seeking solace from the chaos of the moment in his gentle, comforting touch. His voice, a comforting whisper that passed through the chaos, whispered, "You're safe now, love."

He felt a warm wetness on his dark blue vest, making him break the hug to see what it was.

Tommy's eyes widened in fear at what he saw, and he let out a gasp. Once an image of elegance, your immaculate white evening gown now had a scarlet stain of blood creeping across it, the color standing out against the fabric. The room seemed to spin in a dizzying twister, threatening to paralyze you as the color faded from your face, your face was pale and your vision seemed to spin like a twister.

"Did you get shot?" he worriedly asked. Confused by his question, you looked down at your stomach, seeing the color red slowly colonizing your white evening gown.

"I - I um.. Tommy, I feel dizzy.." your fragile legs gave up, his strong arms catched you almost immediately.

Your eyes were starting to drop, your body was slowly getting cold, your muscles giving up.

"T - Tommy, why is so cold..?"

Fuck, he mentally cursed at the sight that met his eyes. It was as if God had judged him once more. Grace - this seemed so familiar. His fingers were shaking with fear and worry, his eyes were beginning to water, and his heart had stopped.

"We need a medic!" Polly shouted.

He tries to calm himself down by caressing the strands of your hair before tucking it behind your ear. "Please, stay." he begged.

His frustration was boiling over and his impatience was burning in the way he spoke. He gave orders for the medics with a strong edge to his voice, desperation and anger infusing each word as he demanded their immediate presence.

"Tommy.." you softly called his name before darkness took you.

Your stomach hurt and your brain throbbed when you woke up. Beside you, you noticed your husband uncomfortably sleeping on the wooden chair. You noticed that the ash tray on the table stand next to you was filled with used cigarettes, indicating that you had been out for a while. You were trying to sit up and Tommy woke up to the sound of your pained moans. His bright blue eyes met yours. Eyebags developed under his eyes as a result of struggling to sleep due to the chance that you wouldn't wake up anymore.

"Easy, love." he said.

In an attempt to prevent him from harming you, he cradled your back so you could lie down peacefully once more—as though you were a piece of glass that would shatter the moment it was touched.

He deeply blames himself for what happened to you. If only he was there that night. If only he went home early, you and Charlie wouldn't be in this situation.

"Where's Charlie?" you asked right away, your eyes looking everywhere in the room to see if your child was there or not.

"He's with Aunt Pol, (y/n). He's safe with her, don't worry."

With both of his hands clasped around yours, he sobbed out loud in front of you, unable to stop himself from crying. He felt responsible, guilty, and like a terrible partner for failing to give you protection.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry.." he cried as he apologized, kissing your hands.

You smiled softly as you placed your right hand on his face for him to look at you.

"It's not your fault, Tommy. The good thing is that me and Charlie are safe." reassuring, you gave him a weak smile.

"I thought I lost you." he exhaled in exhaustion, standing up as he kissed your head.

"I would never leave you, Tommy."

"Please don't."

[briefinquiries]

Under the Blood Moon | Peaky Blinders | Chapter 1

Tommy Shelby x Reader : Chapter 1

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

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

Chapter summary: Seeking a fresh start in Birmingham, you never expected a late-night knock at your door to pull you into the orbit of fa family like the Shelby's. But as you work to save the life of their wounded leader, a buried memory stirs, because this isn't the first time you've stitched up Thomas Shelby.

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Violence, injury, stitching wounds, mentions of blood, gore, and open wounds, brief PTSD and war flashbacks, alcohol use, and mild language.

A/N: I've decided to give a Tommy Shelby x Reader multi-chapter fic a go. Comments / replies are always so appreciated (and motivating). Thanks for reading!

--

Birmingham greeted you with coal-stained skies. The air was thick with smoke and iron, clinging to your skin and settling into your lungs like something you’d never quite cough out. It wasn’t warm, and definitely wasn't welcoming. But then, you hadn’t come here looking for comfort.

You had come for a fresh start.

You stood outside the house, studying it carefully. It was small but solid, tucked on a quiet street away from the chaos of the factories. The bricks were darkened with soot, the windows a bit dusty, but the roof was sound, and the door was sturdy. Nothing fancy, nothing remarkable. Just a house. 

Your fingers tightened around the key, the cool metal pressing into your palm. You turned it over, studying the familiar scratches, the worn edges.

The house had belonged to your uncle, a man you barely remembered. He had been a quiet, reserved man, a blacksmith who kept to himself. You recalled visiting him once as a child, the memory hazy, clouded by time. You couldn’t even remember his face.

He had left Birmingham years ago, moving out to the countryside, somewhere greener, quieter. Then, he had fallen ill. 

About a month ago, a letter arrived. It was short, written in your father’s careful, uneven scrawl. "Your uncle passed away, left the Birmingham house to the family. No other heirs. If you ever need it, the house is yours."

You didn’t think much of it at first. You were busy. Trying to survive in London while out running memories of blood and war. But as the weeks dragged on, as thoughts of the war continued to haunt you, the letter weighed heavier in your mind.

It was an escape… a place to start over.

So you took the key, boarded a train, and came to Birmingham. To this house.

You took a deep breath, the air heavy with smoke and the faint scent of metal. Then, you pushed the key into the lock and turned. The door creaked open, the hinges stiff with age. You stepped inside, the wooden floorboards groaning underfoot.

The air was stale, dust settling in the corners like forgotten memories. The furniture was sparse. In the corner, a worn armchair, a rickety table, a narrow bed in the back room. 

It was yours. And that was more than you’d had in a long time.

You closed the door behind you, leaning against the wood for a moment, eyes drifting shut. The house was quiet, almost peaceful.

You let out a breath. Your fingers brushed over the windowsill, the paint chipped and peeling. This place needed work. A fresh coat of paint, a good cleaning. But that could wait.

For now, you needed to figure out your next steps. You had made it to Birmingham. You had the house. But what now? Where were you supposed to go from here?

Your gaze drifted to the bag by the door, still packed with the few belongings you had brought with you. Clothes, a journal, medical supplies.

You had been trained as a nurse during the war, a healer amidst blood and chaos. You still had the skills, the knowledge. And if you were being honest, you needed work. You couldn’t live off of memories and dust. You needed a purpose.

But the thought of returning to the sick beds, to the blood and the wounds… it made your stomach twist. You had seen enough pain to last a lifetime. Still, healing was all you knew. And despite the memories, despite the nightmares, you were good at it. 

You thought about finding a clinic, a hospital, maybe even a small apothecary. Birmingham was a big city. Surely there was work to be found. 

You just had to keep your past buried. No one needed to know about France, or about the war. They just needed to know you could patch wounds and heal the sick. You took a breath to steady yourself. Maybe you could find work somewhere quiet, somewhere far from the blood and gunfire.

You looked back at the window, watching as smoke curled through the streets outside, people bustling about their business.

You didn’t know anyone in Birmingham. No friends, no connections. Just a house. But maybe that was a good thing. Maybe a clean slate was exactly what you needed.

…

The next morning, you set out with a clearer purpose. The air was thick with the scent of damp streets, the sky an endless stretch of gray, pressing low over the city. Birmingham was loud and alive, a mess of bustling crowds, shouting vendors, and the clang of metal from the factories.

You moved through the streets, weaving between workers with soot-streaked faces and women carrying baskets of bread and potatoes. The city had a pulse, gritty and restless.

You weren’t sure where you were going. Not exactly. But you needed to get a feel for the city, to know what work might be available, to see if there was a clinic, a hospital– something that wasn’t a battlefield.

The small apothecary caught your eye first.

The wooden sign creaked in the wind, the glass windows slightly fogged from the warmth inside. Shelves lined the walls, filled with glass bottles of tinctures, jars of dried herbs, and vials of tonics. The familiar scents– lavender, mint, camphor, grounded you in a way you hadn’t expected.

You picked up a small bottle of laudanum, checking the label, when a voice broke through your thoughts.

"Excuse me."

You turned, finding a dark-haired woman watching you with sharp, curious eyes. She was young, but there was something about her– a confidence, an ease, like she was someone who was used to asking questions and getting answers.

"Could you pass me that bottle?" She gestured to a jar on the high shelf just above you towards something amber-colored and thick, labeled in neat handwriting.

You nodded, reaching up and handing it to her. 

"Thanks," she said, turning the bottle over in her hands before glancing back at you. Her eyes flickered over you, assessing. "I’ve never seen you in here before."

Your shoulders tensed instinctively, but you kept your expression neutral.

“Probably because I’ve never been here before. I’m new to Birmingham," you said simply. "Just moved from London."

Her eyebrow arched, her lips twitching with something like amusement. "New, huh?" Her eyes scanned your face again, lingering a little too long, like she was trying to figure out what kind of person you were.

"Yeah," you answered, keeping your tone even. "Looking to get settled in." 

She hummed, clearly unconvinced. "You have family in the area then?”

"Used to. Not anymore. But my…" You paused, choosing your words carefully. "My uncle left me his house. Figured I’d put it to use."

The woman’s brow arched, curiosity flickering in her dark eyes.

"Whereabouts?"

You hesitated again. There was something unsettlingly sharp about her gaze, the way she looked at you like she was putting together a puzzle. But you couldn’t think of a reason not to answer. Not yet, at least.

"Small street. On the quieter side of the city, just east of the factories."

Her eyes flickered with recognition, her mouth curving into a half-smile. "That would be on the edge of Small Heath, then." She hummed, her expression thoughtful. "Not many folks live out that way anymore. It’s mostly warehouses and old workshops."

You nodded. "It’s quiet. Suits me just fine."

"Quiet, yeah," she echoed, her voice dipping slightly. Her eyes flicked back to you, sharp and knowing. "Unless you count the factory whistles, that is."

You offered a faint smile. "I’m hoping I’ll learn how to tune them out."

Her lips twitched. Amused. "Must be quite the change. Birmingham’s not like London."

"No, it’s not," you admitted. 

"What brings you to the shop, then?" Her gaze flicked to the bottle of laudanum still in your hand. "Not feeling well, are you?"

"No," you shook your head, placing the bottle back on the shelf. "Just stocking up. I’m a nurse."

Her eyes flickered with something– curiosity, intrigue, maybe. "A nurse?" She repeated, leaning against the counter, crossing her arms loosely. "That’s rare around here."

You shrugged, trying to keep your posture relaxed. "Figured I’d try my luck."

She studied you a moment longer, her dark eyes tracing your face, her expression unreadable. For a heartbeat, you wondered if she could see right through you.

But then she smiled– a quick, fleeting thing that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "I’m Ada, by the way." Her lips twitched with a smirk. 

You introduced yourself, though the way her eyes lingered on you afterward made you feel like she was filing the name away for later.

"See you around."

And then, she was gone, disappearing into the bustle of Birmingham.

The bell above the door jingled softly in her wake. You stood there for a moment, staring after her, trying to shake the unease creeping into your bones.

Something about Ada felt like a warning.

…

By the time you made it home, the sky had darkened, and the city had taken on a different kind of life. The distant hum of music from the pubs, the sharp voices of men laughing and shouting in the streets, the occasional clatter of hooves against cobblestone, all of it filtered through the cracks in the door as you stepped inside.

You locked the door behind you, double-checking the latch before exhaling.

Nights were always the hardest, but routine’s helped keep you steady. 

You lit a candle on the worn table, the dim glow flickering against the bare walls. From your bag, you pulled out a small tin of herbal tea, a habit you had picked up somewhere along the way, one of the few things that had helped keep the worst of the nights at bay.

The kettle on the stove took its time, the soft whistle filling the silence. You let the sound settle into your chest, grounding you, reminding you that you were here, in Birmingham, not back there.

You poured the tea, letting the steam rise, inhaling deeply. Lavender, chamomile. Comforting. Soothing. Familiar.

You let the cup warm your hands as you moved to the small washbasin near the window. With slow, deliberate motions, you wiped the soot and city grime from your face, rinsing away the day. Your fingers traced the edges of old scars, faint but still there, a map of wounds that had long since healed.

You pushed the thought away before it could root too deep.

Back at the table, you took a slow sip of tea and focused on the small, simple details, like the warmth of the cup, the crackle of the candle, the soft creak of the house settling. Something in your chest loosened, just slightly.

You weren’t naive. You knew the night wouldn’t be easy. It never was.

But for now, you had a roof over your head. For now, you were safe. You had to let that be enough. 

…

The days passed in quiet, measured steps.

You had spent most of your time wandering the city, mapping the streets in your mind, feeling out where you might fit. Birmingham was a city of industry, of labor, of men and women working themselves to the bone. It was restless, alive, always moving.

Finding work, however, had proven more difficult than expected.

You had stopped by a few places– a small clinic near the factories, an apothecary that looked like it could use an extra set of hands. But while people were always in need of medical help, no one seemed keen on hiring a stranger.

You filled your time with small tasks, simple things to make the house feel like your own.

The place had been untouched for years, and it showed. Dust lingered in the corners, the air had been stale, the furniture old and impersonal. You scrubbed the floors, aired out the rooms, patched the curtains that were fraying at the edges. Little by little, it started to feel less like a stranger’s house and more like yours.

You found an old wooden trunk buried in the bedroom closet, filled with relics from your uncle’s past. A few books, a rusted pocket watch, a small collection of letters yellowed with age.

You didn’t know what to do with them, so you stacked them neatly in the corner. Some part of you felt strange throwing them away.

The work kept your hands busy, your mind occupied. And at night, when the city quieted and the memories tried to creep in, you stuck to your routine. Tea. Candlelight. Wash the day away.

You set the steaming cup of tea onto the worn wooden table, the candlelight flickering as the night settled around you.

The routine had become a comfort, a way to quiet your thoughts before bed. You dipped the cloth into the basin, dragging it across your skin in slow, measured strokes, rinsing away the day’s grime, the lingering scent of smoke and iron from the city streets.

The house was silent, peaceful, save for the distant hum of Birmingham outside– the occasional shout from a passing drunk, the distant bark of a dog, the clang of metal from the factories that never truly slept.

And then– A knock. 

Not just a knock. A frantic pounding at your door.

Your body tensed instantly, the cloth slipping from your fingers, landing with a soft splash in the basin.

Three sharp knocks. They were urgent– desperate.

You froze, heart hammering, staring toward the door.

For a brief, foolish moment, you considered ignoring it. Letting whoever it was move on, letting them assume you weren’t home. But then you heard another slew of frantic knocks before moving quickly across the room, your bare feet silent against the wooden floor.

You unlatched the lock and pulled the door open. A woman stood on the doorstep, wild-eyed, breathless, her coat slightly askew.

You didn’t recognize her. Her face was sharp, lined with experience, her eyes fierce and intelligent. She looked like a woman who was used to being listened to.

"You’re the nurse?" she demanded.

You blinked, the urgency in her voice rattling you.

"What–"

"No time for questions." She said sternly. “Are you a nurse or not?”

You nodded blankly. 

The woman reached forward, gripping your wrist. "Someone’s dying. You need to come. Now."

Your stomach twisted. You could have said no. You should have said no.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you grabbed your medical bag, stepped out into the cold night air, and followed the woman into the dark.

The woman dragged you down the darkened streets of Birmingham, her grip firm as you struggled to match her pace. The cobblestones were slick with the night’s dampness.

"Who are you?" you asked breathlessly, glancing at her from the corner of your eye.

"Not important," she shot back, barely sparing you a glance. "What matters is that someone is hurt, and you’re the only nurse in the bloody area who can help."

That should have made you stop. It should have made you pull away, demand more answers. But something in the woman’s tone, the raw urgency, made your feet keep moving.

"What happened?" you pressed.

"Beaten within an inch of his life," she answered curtly. "Needs stitching, stabilizing. And we can’t take him to the hospital."

That last part made your stomach turn. "Why not?"

The woman finally looked at you then, a sharp, assessing glance that made your breath hitch. "Because hospitals ask too many questions," she said. 

You didn’t argue, though unease curled in your gut. You weren’t completely stupid. You knew the type of folks who avoided hospitals were typically the ones who had reasons to stay in the shadows. The kind who couldn’t afford questions, who didn’t want records or police involvement.

The woman led you to an imposing brick manor, its dark windows towering above like watchful eyes. It stood apart from the grime and chaos of Birmingham, looming at the end of a quiet street, a stark contrast to the soot-stained buildings you’d grown used to.

The iron gate creaked as she pushed it open, the path leading to the heavy front door lined with manicured hedges and polished stone. Inside, the air was cooler, cleaner, but no less suffocating. 

The woman moved swiftly, her heels clicking against the gleaming floor as she led you through grand hallways, past rooms with plush armchairs and dark, heavy drapes. Without a word, she led you up a winding staircase, her posture rigid, her pace quick. She stopped outside a heavy wooden door, turning to you with sharp, dark eyes.

"In here."

Your eyes adjusted to the dim lantern light, and that was when you saw him. A man lay slumped on top of a bed, his head lulled to the side limply, his body battered and broken. The white of his shirt was soaked through with crimson, his face barely visible beneath the swelling and bruises. He was surrounded by about eight other men– all cross talking and hovering. 

"Jesus Christ," one of the men muttered when he saw you, his voice heavy. “Who the hell is this, Polly? Thought you said you were getting help.”

"Get out." The woman– Polly’s voice cut through the room like a blade. Firm. Absolute. 

Most of them hesitated, but then they obeyed. Filing out into the hall with murmurs and glances, leaving only the one who had questioned you behind. 

She turned to you. "Fix him."

You swallowed, stepping closer, taking in the damage. The man, whoever he was, had been worked over with brutal precision. Deep cuts, swollen bruises, a gash at his temple still bleeding sluggishly. His breathing was uneven, shallow.

"I– I don’t know if I have the right supplies… He’s burning up," you murmured, pressing the back of your fingers against the man’s clammy skin.

"I can assure you that you will be compensated more than fairly if you help him," Polly said firmly.

The weight of her words settled between you like an unspoken challenge. You hesitated only a second longer before nodding, rolling up your sleeves and pressing your fingers to his pulse. Weak. But still there. 

You set your medical bag down. "I need clean water and more light, if you have it. And someone needs to hold him still."

The same man stepped forward immediately. "I got ‘im."

Polly exhaled. “I’ll get the water.”

You nodded once, then got to work.

You dropped to your knees beside the man and started taking inventory of his injuries. The most pressing issue was the bleeding. He had several deep gashes– one above his brow had sent blood streaming down his face, coating his cheek in dark red smears, another along his abdomen was deep and oozing. His ribs were bruised, possibly cracked, his breathing shallow and uneven.

His hands were scraped raw, the skin around his knuckles split open, he had fought back. But judging by the state of him, whoever he fought had won.

"I need whiskey," you said, peering towards the man, now lingering towards the end of the bed. "A lot of it."

He let out a grunt of approval before moving toward a shelf in the corner.

You reached for a clean cloth, dousing it with whatever antiseptic you had on hand, and pressed it firmly to the gash on the unconscious man’s head.

He flinched, his whole body tensing. Still fighting, even now. You murmured something low and instinctive. "Easy. You’re alright. Just hold on."

You focused on stitching the worst of the wounds, steadying your hands, ignoring the shake in your breath. 

The man with the whiskey stepped forward, dropping a bottle onto the table beside you with a dull thud.

"This for you or for him?" he asked dryly.

You didn’t glance up as you poured some onto a clean cloth, pressing it to a particularly deep wound along the unconscious man’s ribs.

He tensed, but didn’t wake.

"Both, probably," you muttered, shaking your head.

The man let out a short chuckle just as Polly returned with a basin full of water and a stack of clean cloths. She kicked the door shut behind her before carefully setting it down beside you. 

"Is he going to be okay?" she asked.

You exhaled slowly, stepping back to assess your work. "If the fever doesn’t take him."

Another silence. Then Polly nodded once, as if that was good enough.

"He’ll make it," the man muttered, rubbing his jaw. 

You weren’t so sure.

You took a step back, rubbing your sore fingers against your skirt, trying to wipe away the lingering dampness of blood. It had taken several hours– careful, grueling hours, to stitch and clean each wound, to stabilize his breathing, to keep him tethered to life.

The man in front of you was alive, but for how long was still uncertain.

"He needs rest," you said once you were finished. "No movement, no stress. Keep him warm, keep his wounds clean."

Polly nodded. But her sharp gaze lingered on you, like she was trying to see past your words, past your face, past whatever you were trying to conceal.

You held her gaze for half a second before shifting your focus back to your bag, checking your supplies, steadying your hands.

"You’ve done this before," she said suddenly.

You hesitated. Not long. But long enough for the moment to stretch. "Yes."

"In a hospital?"

"No."

Another silence.

Then she asked, “Where?”

But before you could respond, the door swung open.

"Told you she could help," a familiar voice announced.

You turned toward the sound to see the woman from the apothecary. Ada. Your stomach twisted slightly as you realized how this family had even found you.

She looked concerned, but unfazed by the scene in front of her, the gore, the man slumped on the bed, the piles of bloody, used gauze. She just strode in, coat draped over her shoulders, sharp eyes flicking from you to the unconscious man.

"Will he be alright?" she asked.

Before you could answer, the man spoke first. "He’s Tommy fucking Shelby. He’s bloody tough is what he is, ‘course he’ll be alright.”

The name made you pause. Your heart stuttered in your chest, and your eyes flickered back to the man on the bed. Thomas Shelby.

You knew that name. But from where?

You looked at him again, really looked at him– past the bruising, past the swollen eye and the split lip.

There was something… familiar. Like a ghost creeping at the edges of your mind.

And then, it hit you.

From France– from the trenches, from the cold earth and suffocating dark. 

From the tunnel collapse.

Your mind reeled, the memory creeping in like a ghost, unbidden, unwelcome. You could still see it– the flickering oil lamps barely cutting through the darkness, the stench of blood and damp soil thick in the air. The cries of the wounded had blurred together into one endless, agonizing sound, but somehow, over all of it, you had heard his voice.

Thomas Shelby had been one of the lucky ones, dragged out of the tunnel collapse, barely breathing, covered in dust and blood, muttering things under his breath that no one could understand.

You had been the one to sit with him for hours while you waited for help. You pressed a cloth to his forehead, wiped the dirt from his wounds, checked for broken bones. You had been the one to sit beside him as he drifted in and out of consciousness. And you had been there when he woke up later on in the infirmary.

His blue eyes had been dazed, unfocused. He had blinked up at you, confused, disoriented, barely clinging to the present.

"You’re alright," you had murmured, your voice calm, steady, the same tone you had used on countless soldiers before him.

He had just stared at you, breathing raggedly, his chest rising and falling in shallow movements.

Then, a whisper. The words were barely audible, slipping through cracked lips like a prayer, or a curse. "Still here, then."

“Yeah,” you responded. “You’re still here.” 

Then, his gaze flickered, just for a moment. "And so are you."

It had startled you then, that he had remembered you. In the chaos, in the dark, you had been just another nameless pair of hands keeping him from slipping away. But he had remembered.

Your fingers clenched around the bloodied cloth still in your hand. You forced yourself to move, to step back from him, to push away the ghosts that clawed at the edges of your mind.

"You’re not leaving, are you?" Ada’s voice cut through the thick silence, sharp and knowing.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to focus on the present. "I’ve done all I can," you murmured, more to yourself than to them. "If he makes it through the night, he’ll live."

The man huffed. "And if he doesn’t?"

You didn’t answer. Because you had seen enough men slip away in the dead of night, their bodies giving out long after their minds had fought to stay.

You didn’t want to see another.

Polly, who had been watching you closely, exhaled through her nose, as if making a decision. “Stay the night. Watch over him. I’ll double your payment."

Your eyes flickered to hers. Calculating. Appraising.

A pause stretched between you.

Then, finally she sighed, “Triple."

“Jesus, Pol,” the man said. 

“Quiet, Arthur–” she snapped. 

They were desperate– his family, you had to assume. And how could you say no? They were begging in the language they knew, money. 

“Triple is robbery. Double is fair,” you replied with a sigh. 

Polly’s sharp gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before she gave a small nod, seemingly satisfied.

"Okay then," she said.

Ada exhaled beside her, arms crossed over her chest, watching you with something unreadable in her dark eyes. 

The man– Arthur, then took another swig from the bottle of whiskey and muttered, "Fucking hell, he’d better wake up after all this."

You turned back to the man lying unconscious on the makeshift bed, his face still swollen, barely recognizable under the deep bruising. His breathing was still shallow, his body eerily still except for the slight rise and fall of his chest.

You reached for the cloth and basin of water that Polly had brought earlier, wetting the rag and dabbing gently at the dried blood along his jawline.

"We’ll be downstairs if you need anything," Polly said after a moment. "Ada, come on."

Ada hesitated briefly, her gaze flickering between you and Tommy, before she gave you a slight nod and followed her out of the room.

Arthur lingered. He stood by the bed, arms crossed, watching as you continued to clean the remnants of violence from Thomas’ face. "You know, when Pol said she was getting help, I didn’t know what the hell she was talking about," he admitted, voice gruff. 

You didn’t look up, just kept your focus on pressing the damp cloth to the dried blood along his jawline.

Arthur exhaled through his nose, rubbing his face briefly before nodding toward you.

"But… thanks. For saving my brother."

You finally glanced up, finding something genuine in his gaze. You just nodded. A quiet acknowledgement.

Arthur lingered for a beat longer before muttering, "Right then."

Then he turned and strode toward the door, disappearing into the hallway, leaving you alone.

[asmutwriter]

The Gangsta's Wife (Part 16)

DESCRIPTION: You and your husband both struggle to go back to sleep after your son wakes you up

A/N: I wrote this part ages ago and I am aware that it is slightly out of character for both Tommy and Flo but also it was just too cute not to keep!

WORD COUNT: 4099

From Beginning / Previous / Next / Master List  

WARNINGS: Smoking, children, jokes about murder, use of 'sir' in both sexual and non sexual way, mildy ooc Tommy, slight declaration of feelings but not really, smut, swearing, fingering, p in v, choking, brief praise, overstimulation (f receiving), creampie, aftercare, soft dom Tommy, sub reader

DISCLAIMERS

This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

This story does not follow the timeline of the show

It was the very early hours of Christmas Eve Eve. The 23rd of December 1922. You hear the distant cry of Charlie. Letting out a soft mumble as you get up. Unsure of the time. Hoping his cries might falter but two minutes pass and he's still wailing at the top of his lungs. You swing your legs out the bed. Sleepily walking along the corridor. Going and creaking the door quietly open before walking into his room. You smile at him. “Hey there little man”. You pick up the crying boy. Popping him onto your hip. Hushing him as you start to sing softly. Not anything in particular. More just your thoughts in a musical manner.

Thankfully it works as he drifts back off to sleep. You place him back down into his crib. Silently going back along to bed. Climbing in next to your sleeping husband. Turning your back as you try and let sleep back into your mind.

“Is he ok?” You hear Thomas speak softly next to you. You hum in agreement. Turning so you face him. His head turned towards you as his body lay flat on the bed. You bring your hands up. Tucking them both under your cheek as you look at him.

“I think he had a bad dream and just needed comforting. He’s gone back to sleep now”. He nods. Quiet fills the room. “Tom?” You whisper his name.

“Mhmm?”

“Sorry. I just wanted to see if you were asleep yet or not”. Silence filling the room once again. You shut your eyes. Trying to will yourself to sleep. 5 minutes. 10 minutes. 20. 40. You let out an annoyed huff as you hear the grandfather clock downstairs chime. You'd been trying to sleep for an hour and have had no luck.

“Can't sleep either love?” You look at Thomas. His eyes remain closed as you nod.

“I've been trying but my stupid brain wont shut off”. He opens his eyes. Sitting up. The blanket falling from his bare torso and going around his waist. He leans over. Lighting the oil lamp by the edge of his bed. Going into the top drawer by his bed. He pulls out a pack of cards. You sit up. Crossing your legs as you bring the blanket over the top of them. Your nightdress covering your torso. Watching as he shuffles. He starts dealing out the cards.

“We used to play this during France”. Once he'd laid out the cards he goes back into the top drawer. Taking out a pack of cigarettes. Taking one out he places it at the top of the cards. Putting the pack back on top of the bedside table. “Everyone would put in one cigarette. Whoever won would keep the bunch”.

“What game is it?”

“Solitaire. Do you know how to play?” You nod. He motions his hand towards you. A gesture indicating for you to start. You proceed in picking up the relevant cards. Talking as you play.

“I used to play with my dad when I was younger”. You flip over various cards. Chatting as you take it in turns. “I was so shit”

“He never let you win?”

“Oh no. He believed that a child should always earn their win. That you should never just give them it. So I lost every single time”. You smile. Glancing at him briefly before refocusing on the cards. “I was 9 when I managed to beat him. The look he gave me was priceless. I'd pay good money to re-see that look on his face”. Your smile softens. “He'd be proud of me”

“What for?”

“The fact I've just won”. You place the cards in the correct places. Finishing off the sets as you gleefully smile at him. Causing him to laugh.

“You sly woman”. You look at him and cheekily smile. Picking up the cigarette and placing it into your mouth unlit.

“Best out of three?” you speak with it hanging on your lip. Picking up the cards and starting to shuffle. Dealing them out. He grabs out another cigarette. Reaching into the drawer once again. Taking out some matches. Striking one of them. You lean forward. Letting him light the end for you before he lights his own. Wafting the lit match in a quick motion to put out the flame. He places the rest of the pack at the top of the bed.

“Winner gets the rest of the pack”

“You do spoil me Mr Shelby”. He smiles. Taking out the smoke from his lips. The two of you playing quieter as you both concentrate. The sound of cards moving and the air being filled with smoke as the night goes on. He smiles as he wins the second round. Holding what's left of the stick in one hand as he picks the cards up. Placing it back into his mouth as he deals them out. Snubbing his smoke next to the one you'd discarded a while ago.

Only a few cards remain unturned. You bite at your bottom lip. Shaking your head as you turn the next card over. Scanning over the remaining few quickly. “You're turn”. He moves a couple of cards. Turning over the next one. Smiling as he proceeds to turn over the rest and complete the four sets. Winning. You let out an annoyed groan. “Well done”. His eyes come up to look at you. Smiling as your gaze meets his.

“You are a good player. You're dad taught you well”. You scratch the back of your head. Smiling at the notion.

“We should be sleeping”. You pick up the card.

“Are you tired?”

“No. But we should at least try. Your brothers and Ada are coming round tomorrow evening and I haven't even started on the house yet. I'm so behind with everything and I don't even know how” You start shuffling the deck. Looking towards him as you shuffle. "What time are they coming?"

“Midday. With Polly”

“I thought Polly was coming Christmas eve?” He nods. Picking up the pack of cigerettes and placing them back onto his night table. You watch him. “Thomas?”

“She felt left out of the family gathering. She doesn't understand why her niece and nephews get to be here and she can't be”

“The main reason for that being because your brothers and sister don't hate me"

"Polly doesn't hate you"

"You're right. She doesn't hate me. She despises me and my very existence" he lets out a soft chuckle. "I'm surprised she hasn’t killed me yet”.

“She won't kill you”

“I saw her digging a hole a couple of weeks ago. I'm sure she's planning of disposing my body into it”. He tries not to laugh. Running his thumb over his bottom lip as he smiles at you. “Its not funny” you say. A smile creeping onto your lips. “Is she bringing her son?” He nods. Leaning backwards as he watches you. Head resting against the headboard of the bed.

“Even though she really doesn’t want him around us”

“Why? I thought she'd be happy to have her two families mixing”

“She wants Michael to stay a child. A good boy that she can mother. If he hangs around us for to long then he’ll become corrupted. Or that's what she's worried about”. His eyes flick down. Watching the cards in your hands. “I think they're shuffled enough”. You smile. Scooting forward slightly as you lean towards him. Kneeling upwards. Fanning the deck out.

“Pick a card”. You looks at you. Amusement in his eyes as he tries not to smile. “Come on. You know you want to”. You smile at him. Eyes going to the cards before back to his. He sighs. Leaning forward again. He picks a card. You look away slightly as you push the cards back to form a deck. “Look at it. Once you’ve memorised it put it back into the deck”. You hold the cards towards him. Feeling him push the item back into the pack. You look back. Looking at him. “Hmm”. You go closer to him. Straddling the ends of his legs as you lean towards him slightly. Amusement on his lips as his eyes remain unmoving. You squint at him. Over emphasizing the trick. You shake your head.

“You're good at keeping a poker face”. You lean backwards again. Taking out the two jokers left inside the packet. Holding them both up in one hand. “Luckily I have some help”. You place one on top. The other on the bottom. Both facing upwards. “These two are going to help me find your card”. His eyes go down. Holding the pack top and bottom with your thumb and middle finger. Holding it semi tightly as you chuck 51 cards into the other hand. Three cards remaining in your right. The two jokers facing upwards as one remains face down.

You place them onto the bed. The deck of cards next to it. Joker either side of the still unseen card. “Do you remember your card?” He nods. “What was your card good sir?”

“Eight of hearts”. You take the bottom of the card. Turning it. His amused look turning into a full smile as his card sits between the two jokers. Eyes going back up to yours as you neatly place the card back on top of the deck. “How did you learn to do magic?”

“My mum-" you correct yourself "step mum taught me. She was very magical in herself. She would show me and my sisters magic tricks all the time. Not just card ones either. She could make coins disappear”

“Coins disappear?” You nod. Smiling at him. Taking off your wedding ring.

“I have the ring in my hand – she would use a coin though”. You swiftly move. Keeping your hands up as it vanishes from your grip. He furrows his brow. Genuinely bewildered. His eyes looking over every surface he can see near you. Your smile grows as you bring your hand up. ‘Finding’ the item in his ear. Pulling your hand back as you hold it between your fingers. His face grows with a mixture of emotions. “I told you. I'm magic”. You wiggle your eyebrows at him. He laughs softly. Watching as you put the ring back onto your finger. “She would call it ‘Moneda Fantasma’. Translates to Phantom Coin. But it sounds cooler in Spanish”. He smiles. Nodding in agreement.

“Do you have any other tricks?”

“Of course”

“Show me”. You pick up the pack of cards. Putting the jokers to the side. Shuffling once again. Fanning them out. He takes a card. Looking at it. You move the deck closer to him. He puts the card back in.

“Would you be so kind to shuffle for me?” You hold the deck towards him. He takes them. Sitting up more as he shuffles. Passing them back to you once they’ve been shuffled. You take them. Placing them onto his lap. “Because it did so well last time” Flipping over the top card of the deck. The eight of hearts again. “He's going to help us find your card this time”. You turn the card back over. “We give him some time to search for you card before we ask him back to the top of the deck”. You tap the deck three times before turning the top card. Queen of spades. “Is this your card?” He nods again. Smiling as you pick the cards up. Placing them onto his side table. “Can you do any parlous tricks?”

“I can read peoples minds”. You raise your brow. You shuffle closer. Now sitting just below his knees. Causing him to smile.

“Show me. Please”. He rubs the gap between his eyebrows. Picking up the cards. His turn to fan them out. You pick up a card. Nine of diamonds. You put both your hands over it as you hold it close to your chest. You watch as he places the deck of cards back onto his side table. He leans closer to you. His hands resting gently onto your thighs as he keeps heavy eye contact with you. You try and remain deadpan as you look into his eyes. The soft blue digging into your core.

“It’s a high number… Not quite a royal but not far off of one”. He pauses. “No. Not quite a ten. I'd say a eight or nine though. Now is it a red or a black?” Pauses again. A soft sigh of air escaping him. “Is it the nine of diamonds?” Your jaw drops. Turning the card to face him. His eyes looking down as a smile comes over his lips. Looking back up at you. “Told you I could read minds”. You shake your head.

“How the hell do you do that?”

“Magic” he smiles. His eyes widen as he says the word. Causing you to smile as you cock your head. He smiles too. You lean over him. Placing your card onto the top of the deck. Holding onto his shoulder as you lean to keep balance. Sitting back up straight you lean back onto your heals. Still straddling his legs as his hands remain on you. You yawn. Covering your mouth with both hands as your eyes screw shut. Lifting your arms up as you stretch. He watches you. Eyes fixed on your features as you bring your hands down.

Feeling his hand move. Going to the back of your neck. Pulling you into him as his lips meet yours. You let out a satisfied hum into the kiss. Your hands going up as you cradle his face between your palms. His other hand moves from your thigh. Going to your lower back as he pulls you fully onto his lap. You chest pressed firmly against his.

His hand from the back of your neck move downwards. Trailing down the length of your spine. Slotting itself between your shoulder blades as he holds you flush against him. Moving your hands to wrap around his shoulders. Pulling away slightly. Faces no more then an inch away from each other. He moves his hand from your spine. Bringing it down. Lifting up the end of your silk nightdress. Letting it pool around your waist. Your eyes fixated onto his as he looks up at you. Moving one of your hands from around him to move down. Holding the clothing up as his fingers move delicately across the skin.

A small whine leaves your lips as he traces his finger over your clit. A faint smile coming over his face as he starts making small circles onto the nub. Your hand gripping the fabric as the other digs into the flesh of his shoulder. Imprinting your nails into the skin. You lull your head to the side. Your mouth parting as soft moans leave your lips. Fluttering your eyes shut. Feeling the ecstasy building inside of you. His hand moving on your core. Feeling him push a digit into your cunt.

“Fuck”. You breath out the cuss. Your hands go to the back of his neck. Tilting your head back. He kisses your throat. Curling his fingers inside of you as his thumb works on your clit. Your pussy fluttering around him. You let out a broken moan. Putting your head forward as you capture his lips with yours. Kissing him as your high begins to build. He brings his hand from your hip to the back of your neck. Holding it as your lips mould together. His fingers bringing you closer and closer to the edge. "Please. Please sir". You murmur against his lips. Feeling him smiling against your skin. Feeling his eyes watching you as you come undone onto his fingers. A slow yet intense orgasm filling your body. He continues moving inside of you. Helping you ride out the high before he removes the digits. Kissing your neck again. Moving the strap of your dress off of your shoulder.

“Tommy?” Your voice quiet against the still room. He moves. Eyes able to watch yours. You feel your cheeks reddening at the unasked question.

“I-I-” You stutter out the words. Your voice going into an even quieter whisper before you speak. Eyes falling to his shoulder. "Can you... make love to me... please...". Your voice so small as those words hit his ears. Eyes glancing back up. His features remain soft as he looks at you. Not saying a word. You'd have thought that after two years of marriage you could read him better. Your cheeks go a darker shade of crimson. Shit. Why did you have to say that? Why couldn’t you have been a normal person and just said ‘put your cock in me’ or ‘I want to fuck’. Worried you'd ruined the moment with your question you look down fully. Shaking your head slightly.

“Shit" you mutter. "I'm sorry” you whisper an apology. Shaking your head. Silently cursing at yourself. Going to move off of his lap. His hands move to your hips. Gripping them. Holding you in place as he senses you movements. He stays silent. Not making a sound as he pulls you upwards. You reposition your hands onto his shoulders. Moving your legs so you're straddling him more. An arm moves around your hips. Holding you close as the other releases himself from his confines. Feeling him line the tip to your entrance. Letting you slowly sink down onto him.

A loud moan leaving your lips as he fills you. His hands go to the bottom of your night dress. Pulling the item up and over your body. Tossing it to the side. His hands run over your body. Fingers rough compared to the sweet touch of the pads dancing over your skin. Crossing your stomach. Over your chest. Down your arms. Worshiping your every curve. His eyes staying on yours. One hand going to your lower back. The other to your hip. Gently starting to move you. A slow yet intimate pace as you feel him fitting so perfectly inside of you.

He leans forward. Lips capturing yours. Your hand goes to his cheek. The other remaining on his shoulder. Your delicate noises being lost into the kiss. His hand moves from your hip. Finding where the two of your meet. Using his middle finger to rub small circles onto your clit.

“Shit”. You mutter. Moving your head into his shoulder. His hand moves from your back. Hips and fingers still working as he tenderly takes your jaw. Moving your head from his shoulder. Moving down to rest around your throat. No pressure against it. Just resting. Holding you there.

“Keep your eyes on me”. You nod. Meeting his ocean eyes. A blush creeping across your face as you keep eye contact with him. His face smiles as he watches you. The hand that was on his cheek goes to his wrist. Holding it close to you as he keeps you watching him. Feeling your high building up once again. His work inside of you plus his fingers making your orgasm build up quickly. You fight to keep your eyes on him. The adorable determined expression on your face causing him to smile. Leaning forward as he kisses you.

“Cum for me sweetheart. Let me feel you”. You let out a stifled moan. Eyes rolling back as you grind against him a couple more times. Letting the action push your orgasm over the edge. Your hands gripping onto him. Legs pushing together. “Good girl”. He coos. The praise going straight to your core. Causing you to let out a mild whine. He kisses you again. Hand still wrapped around your throat as he keeps your entire body from collapsing. Body trembling as he continues his work on your stimulated cunt.

“Please. Please Thomas”

“Just a little longer” he grunts. His gaze going down to where you two meet. “Fuck”. He mutters. His hand tightens around your throat. Feeling the bluntness of his nails digging into the skin. His hand moves from your cunt. Gripping at the flesh of your thigh. A grunt escapes his lips. Stilling your body as he cums. His seed spilling into you. You smile at the feeling. Eyes rolling into your head as you give out a satisfied moan. You gently grind against him. Helping him ride out his high. He leans back onto the headboard. Breathing deeply as he watches you. His hand falling from your throat to your leg. Resting onto it. His fingers gently dancing onto the bare skin.

 “Ok… I'm tired again now”. You open your eyes. Sleepily smiling at him. He lets out a soft chuckle as you muster up the energy to move off of his lap. You let out a soft groan. Lifting yourself off of him. Sitting next to him. He continues watching you. You push your legs together as you start to feel his seed come out of your hole. He notices your mild discomfort. Adjusting his underwear. Putting himself away before he stands up. Grabbing a small hand towel. Coming and sitting back next to you. You go to take it from him but he just shakes his head.

“Lie down”. He speaks. Voice demanding yet soft. You take a few seconds to process his words but you do as he asks. His hands gently parting your legs as he wipes the juices from between your legs. You watch the feared and dangerous gangsta care for your body. A small smile coming over your feature. Quickly shaking the warm and fuzzy feeling.

Once he's cleaned you up he gets under the covers. Covering your naked frame with them. He grabs out a cigarette. Lighting the end of it. He remains sat up as you watch his face. Leaning his head back as he looks towards the ceiling. Removing the stick as he exhales. You bring a hand out. Motioning at the item. He chuckles and shakes his head.

“I won this”. He looks at you and smiles. You playfully glare at him as he draws a drag from it. Bringing it down. Letting you take it from his grip. Taking a puff of it. Retracting it from your lips as you place it back into his hand. Breathing the smoke out as you talk.

“God I'm going to miss the silence tomorrow with everyone here”. He nods. Cigarette resting between his index and middle finger.

“What time are your sisters coming?”

“Elizabeth has told me she's seeing someone in the morning so she’ll come round in the afternoon”. You turn to face him. Rolling your body. Moving the bed covers to make yourself decent as you rest your cheek onto your hands. “I think she's seeing a male acquaintance”

“Yeah?” You nod.

“She's been sneaking off a lot recently. Plus she doesn’t come round as often”

“Maybe she's just getting older?”

“Maybe…” you run your thumb over your lips as you think. “I think she's seeing one of your Peaky men”

“What makes you think that?” He looks at you. Amusement on his features at your theorising.

“I don’t know. I just think she is”

“Which one?”

“Edward. The younger one who delivered our groceries whilst we were at the safe house”. He nods. Pushing his lips together as he draws another drag. “He comes round here a lot more often then any of the others. Especially when my sister is here”. You rub your face with your hand. Shrugging. “I might be wrong though”

“Have you ever been wrong about your theories?”

“Once I thought someone was having an affair. Tried blackmailing her. Turns out she just had a new dog but her husband was allergic so she kept it a secret”. He laughs. “It made for a very awkward family meal”. You yawn. Covering your mouth with the back of your hand.

“You should get some rest”. You nod. Noticing his unmoving nature as he takes another draw from his cigarette. Hesitating a moment before reaching your hand out. Gently placing your hand on his wrist. Rubbing your thumb over the veins.

“You should sleep too”. His eyes glance to the affection. Moving he snuffs out the cigarette. You retract your hand. Placing it back to rest under your cheek. Watching as he puts the lamp out beside him. Going further under the covers. The bed covers come halfway up his torso. His arm going up and resting behind his head. Shutting your eyes as his breathing starts to deepen. Letting sleep take over you both.

Previous / Next

TAGS

@whorecrux-of-slytherin @kkrenae @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @frozenhuntress67 @sagemastah @meadows58

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

What about John Shelby and “your wedding is beautiful I’m happy for you” but the reader is in love with him??

Fictober Challenge

As you walked down the aisle, your eyes searched the crowd, looking for someone- looking for John- but he was nowhere to be seen. 

The man standing at the altar was everything you needed. You loved him, and he made all your dreams come true. Still, the ache in your chest reminded you that you loved John too- wanted him.

You pushed the thought away, focusing on the man waiting for you, you soon-to-be husband.

The reception was lively, the air filled with music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. Surrounded by friends and family, a smile was plastered on your face, yet there was a knot in your stomach. You should be happy- this was your wedding day, but something felt incomplete.

John stood off to the side, leaning against the bar with a drink in hand. His sharp eyes followed you, though his expression remained neutral, masking the weight behind his gaze.

He hadn’t been able to attend the ceremony- it would’ve been too much, but he needed to see you one last time, so here he was at the reception, watching from afar, unable to find the courage to approach.

You finally caught sight of him, and your heart skipped a beat. Quietly, you excused yourself from the conversation, and walked toward him, your wedding dress rustling softly with each step.

As you approached, your nerves tingled, and as your eyes met, he straightened up. Gulping the last of his drink, he forced a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

For a moment, you stood in silence, the sounds of the celebration swirling around while something deeper, something unspoken, simmered between you.

“You came,” you said softly, trying to break the tension.

“You didn’t think I’d miss your big day, did you?” he replied, forcing a chuckle. His eyes didn’t quite meet yours.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t” you admitted, your voice quieter.

His jaw clenched subtly as he looked at you with a kind of sadness masked by his usual charm. He glanced around at the festivities, then back at you, his eyes betraying a flicker of emotion. “Your wedding’s beautiful. I’m happy for you” he said, his voice steady, though you could hear the strain beneath it.

Your breath caught as his words hung in the air, heavy with everything left unsaid. You could see the truth in his eyes- the regret for what could have been, for how things ended between you, for everything he couldn’t give you. But today, it was too late to acknowledge it- to talk about how he still loved you, how he still wanted you, how he regretted everything and wished he could take it all back. The weight of it twisted in your heart.

“Thank you” you whispered, your faint smile not quite hiding the ache in your chest. Your eyes searched his face for a hint of what might have been, but all he gave you was a nod, his lips curling into a smile that’s almost convincing.

There were things you both wanted to say, but you knew it would only cause more harm than good. That even if he said something, it was too late. The words lingered on the tip of your tongue, but before you could speak, your husband appeared at your side.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you” he said warmly, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. His eyes landed on John, and he smiled, oblivious to the tension between you. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

John cleared his throat, straightening his posture. “John Shelby… a long-time friend of the family.”

[peakywitch]

Ollo, Tommy x Reader; angsty one prompt 39 and 44. :))

Thank youuu ^^

IT'S JUST THE WAY IT IS - Tommy Shelby

masterlist

feminine body reader !! obviously the fire talk has a double meaning duh and there in no grace in this universe lol enjoy

the gif is the type of embrace i describe <3

Tommy kept coming back to her, wounded and dripping blood once or twice a month. He just kept coming back. It was like he couldn’t contain himself. Everytime she cleaned his open scars, he would grab her by the waist, inhaling her opium perfume, only to fall into a deep state of meditation.

“When will you start to behave?” she asked, in a soft murmur. The smell of alcohol burned his nose, so he rubbed himself in her clothes to get that warm feeling of her gourmand perfume. She smells like a sweet little treat.

His arm was around her, his face resting on her chest while she cleaned the wound on his head. He just grumbled in response, or was it a visceral laugh? It was hard to tell, she was barely awake. The fire kept on dying from the night before, the house kept growing cold.

“Your fire is dying,” he said, ignoring her question.

“My pyjamas are warm ‘nough,” she replied. That was a lie, the mere thin fabric of her dress was showing off her clavicles, almost exposing her breasts and was barely any cover from the chill winter that whipped Birmingham.

“You want me to revive it? You know I was always good–” Tommy asked, playing with the embroidery on the hem of her dress.

“Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“You’re not my boyfriend anymore, remember?”

Suddenly the wind blew in and opened a window, and whatever fire was left on the fireplace, died in that instant. She broke the embrace Tommy had on her and with a loud thud she closed the window, knowing tomorrow her neighbour upstairs would be a pain in the arse for the noise at four a.m.

Tommy stayed in silence, what was he supposed to say? “Yeah I know”? “Yippee hurray”?

“I just wanted to help,”

“Well don’t! You should have helped when I asked! Help is given when asked, not whenever you want, I am not your fuckin’ Shelby foundation, Thomas! ‘m not a child in need!” she stated.

He blinked, staring at her. The silence in the room was deafening. No coal crackling, No air coming in, no birds chirping. Just the curious moon catching a glimpse of whatever they once were, and the bright stars slowly fading away, allowing the sky to turn brighter and brighter by the second.

“Was I so hard to love, Tommy? That’s why you left me?” She poured her heart in her eyes, and he blinked again, turning his gaze away from her. Hell froze over, there it was.

Of course she realised he left. That gloomy morning he left her side and never came back, only for John to show up two weeks later to pick up some of his belongings when she was waiting for him, only him.

“Did he say anything? Is he okay?” she asked, not knowing he was breaking up with her.

“Sorry darlin’, it’s just the way it is, y’know?” he said, while leaving out the door with one of Tommy’s coats and a pair of gloves.

He was leaving something that belonged to him behind.

He was leaving his girl behind.

“You are my love,” he whispered in the quiet of the winter night “mine, all mine.” he kissed the tip of her nose. “No one will take you away from me, my girl.” He kissed her eyelids softly, while his musky and leathered perfume invaded her.

ty for reading :)

[soleilceirinen]

The older I get | Shelby family x sister!Reader Modern AU

Summary: after being away for years, you must return to Small Heath to face the loss of a beloved one. But, will you be able to forgive the past and leave it behind? A/N: English is not my first language, sorry in advance if something makes no sense. Warning: death of a family member, angst. Words: 3.1k

Peaky Blinders Masterlist

"Y/N? Honey, are you still there?" Lizzie's soft voice echoed through the phone. 

"Yes, thanks for calling," you said, fighting back the urge to cry. "Hey, why hasn't he called me?" 

Lizzie sighed tiredly. "He's busy with work. Besides, he wanted someone else to tell you in case you didn't take it well." 

"How the hell am I supposed to take this?" You asked with anger filling your veins. It wasn't Lizzie's fault and it wasn't fair to take out your frustration on her but you couldn't help it.

"I know," she conceded, "but you know your brother, he's having a hard time. Everyone's having a hard time."

Despite the lump in your throat, you nodded. Of course you understood but that didn't make you feel any better. Your Aunt Polly had just died and you had to find out through your brother's ex-wife. 

"Thank you for taking the time to call me, see you tomorrow, well in a few hours," you hung up the phone and threw it hard against the mattress, it bounced several times before falling to the floor. The noise that the device made when it hit the ground resonated like an explosion in the silence of the night. 

The tears you had been holding back rolled freely down your cheeks. You fell down on the bed, burying your face in the pillow and letting out a choked sob. 

It was too late to go to Birmingham, or too early, depending on how you looked at it. In a few hours you would take the first train so you could attend the funeral. You weren't sure what scared you more, facing the reality that Polly was gone or being in the same room with all your siblings again after seven years apart.

-

Since you couldn't fall asleep in the remaining hours until dawn, you packed some clothes and personal items, not many because you didn't plan to stay in Birmingham for too long, and tidied up your room. Cleaning would keep your mind busy. 

The train ride was a fucking nightmare. Despite it being so early, your car was full of people, people with children who couldn't stop screaming and running between the seats. Wasn't anyone capable of teaching their children some manners? The boy right behind you had been kicking the back of your seat for more than twenty minutes, the damn thing. 

Taking a deep breath, you rested your head on the window as you watched the landscape and tried not to think. The soft rattle of the train rocked you as if trying to comfort you. However, it was not that simple. Memories of your childhood in Small Heath flooded your mind, some of them good, some others the kind you would have liked to banish from your memory. The kind of ones that made you take the decision to put some distance between you and your family in the first place.

Finn and you, as twins, were the youngest with a considerable age difference compared to the rest of your siblings. Due to family problems, your parents had always been absent from your life, so your Aunt Poll practically raised you as her own. Polly was the closest thing you had ever had to a mother figure. 

Your childhood and adolescence weren’t easy. Deep down you felt bad for thinking like that, you knew that your older brothers had had it worse while your father still lived with them, but still. As a teenager nothing seemed fair.

It was all screams and arguments, a house immersed in violence. Aunt Polly began to drink more and more, Arthur only thinking of his drugs or who knows what, which caused more fights. When the shouting started you used to run to your room and close the door, getting  into bed, covering your head with a blanket and listening to music at full volume until your ears hurt.

And then you prayed just as Polly had taught you. You prayed that you would fall asleep and wake up with another family, a normal family where no one screamed or came back in the middle of the night beaten up and  covered in blood.

You wiped away the tears falling down your cheeks with the back of your hand as you noticed a little girl staring at you. 

"Why are you crying?" she asked in a squeaky childish voice.

Before you had time to make up any excuse a man who must have been her father spoke out loud, clearly making fun of you.

"She broke up with her boyfriend, right, pretty face?"

The look you gave him could rival Tommy's. No one would hesitate to say that you were a Shelby. Slowly, his smile faded from his  face and he looked away embarrassed, grabbing the girl by the arm to make her return to her seat. 

-

When you finally got off the train, your eyes were swollen and your nose was red from crying. You took a couple steps through the station and then stopped. Who were you looking for? You didn't even know if anyone was going to pick you up. 

“Y/N!”

Turning around, you looked everywhere trying to find who was calling you. They could be calling someone else but the voice was too familiar to be a mistake. And then you saw him, a few metres from the entrance, greeting you with his arm and a huge smile. 

"Hello, Isaiah," you said with a small voice. He wrapped his strong arms around you in a tight hug and you buried your face in his chest, a position similar to the one you two shared the last time you said goodbye. 

"How are you?" He asked when you stepped away but he immediately rolled his eyes. "Sorry, that was a stupid question." 

"It's okay, I'm fine. What about you?"

He shrugged. "Great, given the circumstances. I have the privilege of picking up and bringing home the princess of Small Heath," he joked, winking playfully. 

You hit him on the arm, of course not hurting him. You followed him only to stop next to the car, he took your bag and put it in the trunk. Once inside, Isaiah pulled out and placed his cell phone on your thigh. "You can choose the music."

The ride was quiet, both of you listening to your favourite songs and humming or making up the lyrics from time to time, like when you were teenagers and ran away from home along with Finn. 

"Why did you come to pick me up at the train station?" 

Isaiah glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, not really taking his eyes off the road and remained silent for a few seconds. "Why, am I not enough for you?" he joked, in an attempt to light up the mood. 

"I won’t hit you because you're driving" you murmured, he laughed softly. "My brothers, why have none of them come? I know Ada was busy with the kids, she texted but they haven’t even talked to me.”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I don't know. You should talk to them about that. You've been away for many years, they've changed." 

You nodded silently. It had started to rain. "Sure. Thanks for coming to pick me up, Isaiah." 

He squeezed your leg. "You know I'll always be there for you."

-

The rain was now pouring fiercely as a reflection of your current mood. 

Everything in the house screamed Polly, every corner reminded you of your childhood. It would always keep fascinating you how a simple scent could bring you back in time so easily. Blinking rapidly, you tried to clear your cloudy sight. Ada stepped in front of you, hugging you and murmuring comforting words in your ear and you leaned into her. You had missed her so much in the past few years. 

As a little girl you felt devotion towards your only sister. You wanted to spend time with her, sometimes you stole her make up and she ended up mad at you because of it. The rest of the time she just pushed you away, not wanting to babysit you. Back then you thought it was unfair but now you understand, Ada was a teenager and she wanted to go out with her friends and her boyfriend, not staying at home with two little kids. 

However, as you got older, it was more and more common for your sister to call to include you in her life. 

"Will you stay with me and the children? Hey, Y/N. Are you listening to me?"

You looked at her worried face and nodded. “Yeah, thanks Ada. I don’t want to spend more time here than necessary.”

Ada rubbed your arm as she gave you a sympathetic look. “I know, dear. Have you seen the others? Or Polly?”

Your heart jumped against your ribs with fury. “No, not yet.”

“Y/N!” Arthur called out, striding towards your direction. He stopped a step away from you, undecided whether to give you a hug or not. He looked thinner than you remembered. Actually, he looked older. You were the one who stepped forward and hugged his slender body. He reciprocated right away, burying his face in your hair and sobbing. 

“It’s okay, Arthur” you whispered against his chest. 

Taking a step back, you stared at him once again, mentally thanking that he wasn’t the one picking you up from the train station. He was a total mess. 

Somehow, seeing your older brother like that sent a pang of guilt directed to your guts. Arthur used to be energetic, fierce and chaotic, but this man in front of you was nothing like that. He seemed like he needed a warm blanket and a cup of tea, and maybe sleeping for a couple days without worries. 

“Arthur, why don’t we go and talk to Lizzie?” suggested Ada, linking her arm with his and pulling him away. He smiled at you with his blue eyes filled with tears and reached to grab your hand but Ada didn’t let him do it. “Let's give Y/N some space, alright?”

You had been holding your breath without realising it. As soon as they left you alone you let out the air, feeling your lungs deflate. Throughout the house you could hear children screaming while playing, unaware of the sadness that filled the air. They were your nephews and nieces. Mostly John’s kids. You wondered if he was a good father now. When you were ten years old he used to make you watch horror movies such as The Exorcist or It, and then he laughed when you cried terrified at night. 

The lump in your throat became more noticeable, you needed to get out of there.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Finn and Isaiah talking quietly to Michael and a blonde girl you didn't know. Avoiding crossing glances with them, you headed to the kitchen looking for the door that led to the backyard. If you did, you would have to stop and talk to them, exactly what you didn't want to do at that moment.

You weren’t expecting to see Polly’s coffin in one of the rooms so you turned your face away when you walked by its door, almost running until you reached the knob of the door that led to the backyard and turned it, opening the door and stepping outside. The chill wind helped to cool down your feverish cheeks. 

After closing the door behind you, you leaned against the cold wall, eyes closed, trying to calm yourself down. 

I'm sorry I didn't come sooner, you thought, placing a hand over your heart. I'm sorry for not saying goodbye to you, Aunt Polly, for not taking time to tell you how much I loved you. I was angry with all of you. I'm sorry, I promise to think of you and to not forget your name. Polly. Elizabeth Gray. 

Letting out a choked sob, you opened your eyes. You didn't know if Polly was able to hear you, wherever she was now, but you sincerely hoped that your message would reach her somehow. 

Someone clearing their throat made you jump. To your right, leaning against the wall just like you was Tommy, taking long drags on a cigarette, as if his intention was to suck the life out of it. "Damn Tommy, you scared the hell out of me! What are you doing here?" you yelled at him, brushing your hair out of your face and furiously wiping away your tears.

He shrugged and let out a puff of smoke. “Same as you.”

His voice was deep and hoarse, like if he had been crying. He used to be really close to Polly and now that you thought about it, it made sense. Just like Arthur, his appearance surprised you. 

In your memories Tommy was a young man with his freckles and blue eyes, the dark hair slightly curled at the ends when he let it grow and an encouraging smile that he only reserved for you and your siblings. That was the brother who taught you how to ride a bike and how to swim in the canal, how to take care of horses during the summer breaks and the one who used to tell you stories with funny voices whenever you couldn’t sleep at night. 

There was almost nothing of that brother in the man in front of you. Tommy was old. It had been around seven years since you moved away to go to university but time had hit him hard. He was in his forties now and his hair was turning grey in some parts, the wrinkles much more noticeable as well as the deep dark circles under his eyes. 

He threw the remainder of the cigarette on the floor and looked at you thoroughly, as if he were analysing you from head to toe. A mix of emotions crossed his face but you weren’t sure to be interpreting them correctly, such as a slight panic, a bit of sadness and finally something similar to approval. 

“You look good,” he stated, “how is school? Everything alright?”

Your eyes filled with tears once more but this time you didn't hold them back. All the rage that had been growing inside of you since Lizzie called you a few hours earlier came out freely. “I’m not in school anymore Tommy, I’m a PhD student and I’m writing my fucking thesis so don’t talk to me as if I were a stupid child.”

He seemed taken aback by your sudden anger. “It wasn’t my intention to make you feel like that” he apologised before clearing his throat, raising an eyebrow, “but if you haven’t noticed, you’ll always be a kid to me.”

Tommy didn’t let you say anything back, continuing with his speech. He wasn’t looking at you, instead, he stared at some point far away in the distance.

“When you were born I was the first to hold you in my arms. You were so tiny, I could carry your little body with both my hands. Finn started gaining weight so damn fast but you didn’t and we thought you’d never make it” he pursed his lips as you listened in silence, although you had heard him telling you this story many times when you were younger. “Every hour we had to feed you a bottle of formula and it was no bigger than my finger” he pointed his index finger in front of you as a measurement. “It seemed like a toy. But it worked, just look at you now.”

He turned to you and wiped your tears with his callous hands. 

"Tommy, why didn't you tell me Polly was so sick?" you asked quietly, grabbing his wrists.

"You knew she was sick."

"Yes, but not enough to..." To die, you wanted to say, but the words got caught at your throat. 

Your brother sighed and when he looked at you again, he seemed more tired than ever. 

"I didn't want to worry you unnecessarily. You have your life far from here, you yourself wanted it that way. Your priority is your studies, let me finish," he said, pointing a finger at you authoritatively. "What happened to Poll was so sudden, none of us expected this to happen and it has been a hard blow for everyone." 

“I didn’t say goodbye to her,” you muttered. 

Tommy held you against his body, hugging you tightly. “Me neither.”

You looked up at him, scrutinising his face. The rim of his eyes was red and his bottom lip trembled a little despite his attempt to hide it. He seemed somehow fragile. 

“Oh, Tommy,” you whispered, throwing your arms around his neck and letting him bury his face on your shoulder. You felt the wetness of his tears as you caressed the back of his head. “Next time something like this happens, let me know. Call me and I’ll come. I’m not a kid anymore, I’m part of this family too and I can help. You don’t have to go through stuff on your own. Alright?”

As he nodded slightly with his face still pressed against your shoulder you felt the sudden realisation that you had been mistaken most of your life. All you wanted to do was run away from your family in order to be happier, thinking that they wouldn’t need you after living through your whole childhood feeling like a burden, like someone whom they had to take care of.

For years you had hated them because it seemed that they enjoyed being miserable day and night, continuously fighting with each other… you never stopped to think about the reasons behind all those arguments or their actions. But you were older now and life had taught you that we are all humans and we all make mistakes. 

Now everything was different. For once you were the strong one, able to stand by their side to support them. This bunch of sad and broken people were your family and they needed you just as much as you needed them. 

Sometimes it was better to put some distance in order to see things from a different perspective, to heal, you realised as you held the shadow of the man who used to be like a hero to you during your childhood. At the end of the day you would always come back to the place where you belonged. The only thing you regretted was not figuring it out sooner.

[reiwanwan]

Her red shoes, my dandelion

You’ve always loved Ada for as long as you can remember, she was your childhood best friend and the both of you were inseparable. But of course, time has its way of changing everything as it always does.

Ada Shelby x female!reader

Word count: 3k

Content warning: mentions of pregnancy, internalised homophobia

“Hurry up, you slowpoke!” Ada called out, her voice ringing with laughter as she darted toward the garden where the two of you always played.

“I’m not slow, Ada! You’re just unnaturally fast!” you huffed, trying to keep up.

Ada skidded to a halt, spinning around to face you. The sunlight caught her auburn hair, making it gleam like polished copper. She stretched her lips into a wide, playful grin that reached her bright blue eyes, her rosy cheeks lifting with the expression. Ada had been your best friend since you were nine and she was ten.

Your friendship had started simply enough. Your mother and hers were close friends, and when your mother had to leave for work in London, she asked Ada’s mother to look after you. Ada was sent to your house every day to keep you company.

You remembered the first time you met her with perfect clarity. You had opened the door, and there she was, standing with her hands on her hips, her confident stance almost too big for her small frame. “You’re Y/n?” she asked, tilting her head with curiosity. You nodded shyly, unable to find your voice.

She stepped inside without hesitation, glancing around the house with a critical eye. “Your house isn’t too bad,” she declared, “but it’s kind of empty. That’s alright, though! I’m here to make your house—and maybe your life—a lot less empty!” Her boldness left you speechless, but from that moment on, Ada became a constant in your world.

Now, as she grabbed your arm and tugged, you stumbled, losing your balance and tumbling onto the soft grass. Ada followed suit, flopping down beside you with dramatic flair. The garden filled with the sound of your shared laughter, carrying on the breeze as nearby workers paused to shake their heads at your antics.

Ada plucked a dandelion from the ground and held it up between her fingers. “Did you know,” she began with a mischievous glint in her eye, “if you blow on it, the seeds will fly toward whatever it is you need most?” She held the fluffy white orb closer to your face, her expression daring you to believe her.

“That’s ridiculous, Ada. It’s just the wind,” you said with a playful roll of your eyes.

She giggled. “It’s not ridiculous. Go on, try it!”

Reluctantly, you leaned forward and blew on the dandelion. The seeds scattered into the air, drifting lazily before several landed right on Ada’s freckled face. She scrunched her nose, sputtering as one stray seed found its way onto her tongue.

You burst into uncontrollable laughter, clutching your sides as Ada spit the seed out and glared at you in mock indignation. “See?” she said, breaking into a grin despite herself. “What did I tell you? The answer to what you need… is me!”

Before you could protest, she launched herself at you, her fingers finding all your most ticklish spots. The garden echoed with your squeals and laughter as Ada’s confident, joyful energy filled every corner of your world, just as it always had.

1907

It was two months before your 13th birthday.

You and Ada were strolling through the bustling streets of Small Heath, weaving past the many factories and the chatter of shopkeepers. As you passed a clothing store, something caught your eye—a pair of red, shiny shoes displayed in the window. They seemed to glimmer just for you, and you stopped in your tracks, captivated.

Ada noticed your gaze, the way your lips parted slightly in awe. “D’you like it?” she asked, her voice cutting through the noise.

You nodded, your eyes never leaving the shoes. “They’re beautiful… but there’s no way I could afford them. It’s not worth thinking about.”

Ada pressed her lips into a thin line, her hand slipping into yours as she gently tugged you along. “Come on, slowpoke,” she said, but her mind was already working on something.

On the day of your birthday, the house was quiet—too quiet. You lay sprawled on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, boredom settling over you like a heavy blanket. Then came the knock. It was loud, insistent, and unmistakably Ada.

You opened the door to find her grinning, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Hello, miss. Don’t tell me you thought I’d forget your birthday?” she teased, her hands on her hips.

Before you could answer, she grabbed your wrist and dragged you outside. “Ada! Where are we going?” you asked, struggling to keep up with her determined pace.

“You’ll see!”

The path was familiar, and it wasn’t long before you realized she was taking you to her house. When she pushed open the door, chaos greeted you. Polly and Ada’s mother were bustling in the kitchen, Arthur and John were locked in a heated argument, and little Finn was darting around the table, giggling as Tommy halfheartedly tried to catch him.

Polly turned, holding a cake in her hands, and walked toward you with a warm smile. The room suddenly quieted as everyone gathered to sing “Happy Birthday.” The lively energy of the house wrapped around you like a hug. Ada’s mother lit the candles and leaned down, her voice soft. “Blow them out and make a wish, dear.”

You closed your eyes tightly, making a wish you didn’t dare say aloud—that Ada would need you just as much as you needed her. It felt selfish, but it was your wish. When you blew out the candles and opened your eyes, the room erupted in cheers.

As everyone returned to their chatter and antics, Ada leaned close and whispered, “Come with me.”

She led you upstairs to her room, her excitement barely contained. From her closet, she pulled out a small box and handed it to you. “Open it,” she said, bouncing on her toes.

You hesitated, looking at her with suspicion, but your fingers worked to lift the lid. Inside, nestled carefully, were the red shoes you had admired months ago.

Your breath caught. “How did you—”

“I did some cleaning for Mr. Macdonald, ran errands for Mrs. Beth,” Ada interrupted, brushing off your question with a wave of her hand. “Don’t worry about it. I just wanted to see you happy.”

Overwhelmed, you set the box aside and threw your arms around her, burying your face in her shoulder. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

She hugged you back just as tightly. “I love you too.”

1909

Ada met Freddie Thorne when she was 16, and it was as though the sun itself had taken up residence in her smile. She was radiant in a way you’d never seen before, her entire world seemingly orbiting him. You noticed the way her face would light up whenever she mentioned his name, how she’d try—and fail—to stifle her grin when he winked at her from across the street.

You wanted to be happy for her, you really did. But the gnawing jealousy inside you made that nearly impossible. It was a jealousy that left a bitter taste in your mouth, a feeling that disgusted you to your core. How could you feel this way toward her? Ada was your best friend. She deserved happiness, and Freddie made her happy.

But Ada liked men. That was the simple, inescapable truth. And no matter how much you wished otherwise, she would never love you the way you loved her.

You hated yourself for falling for her, for falling for women at all. You told yourself it was wrong, unnatural even, though deep down you knew it wasn’t. You liked men too—there had been plenty of them vying for your attention over the years. But none of them made your heart race or your stomach flip the way Ada did.

Just standing near her was enough to set your pulse pounding. Her laugh, her voice, the way her auburn hair caught the light—it all left you breathless, your emotions a confusing, tangled mess. But no matter how deeply you felt, you knew it was a love you could never confess. So you swallowed it down, burying it beneath a smile, and stayed by her side, silently longing for something that could never be.

1919

It was becoming increasingly difficult to lie to Polly every time Ada snuck off to meet Freddie. Tommy’s estranged best friend was a forbidden subject in the Shelby household, and Ada didn’t want anyone to know she was seeing him. Unfortunately, you were the one caught in the middle, holding her secret.

Polly cornered you one evening, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable. Her calm, steady gaze was unnerving, as though she could already see through the lie you were about to tell.

“Where’s Ada?” she asked, her tone casual but pointed.

You swallowed hard, willing your voice to stay steady. “She was with me earlier, but she stepped out for a smoke. I’m not sure where she is now.” The words slipped out smoothly, but Polly’s sharp eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than you liked.

“Alright then,” she said finally. “If you see her, tell her to come home soon, alright, dear?”

“Of course, Pol,” you replied, forcing a smile.

When she walked away, you exhaled deeply, your shoulders sagging with relief. You started toward home, the weight of the lie still heavy on your chest, when two hands suddenly grabbed your shoulders, and a playful “Boo!” whispered in your ear. You spun around, startled, your hands reflexively coming up to defend yourself.

It was Ada, grinning from ear to ear. “Did I scare you? You should’ve seen the look on your face!” she teased.

You pursed your lips, trying to mask your annoyance, but Ada knew you too well. Her smile faded as she noticed your tension.

“What’s wrong? Are you mad at me?” she asked, her brow furrowing in concern.

“This has to stop, Ada,” you said sharply, your frustration bubbling to the surface.

She blinked, taken aback. “What are you talking about?”

“You sneaking around like a bloody schoolgirl to kiss and shag Freddie under the tunnels,” you snapped. “I’m tired of covering for you. Polly cornered me again today. I can’t keep lying for you, Ada.”

Her expression hardened, and she crossed her arms defensively. “Why do you care so much? It’s my life. Why can’t you just be happy for me? You’ve never liked Freddie—don’t lie to me. And if you’re so tired, then stop covering for me. Let them find out. I’ll deal with it.”

You shook your head, your frustration giving way to something deeper, something you’d been trying to suppress for years. “I wish I could, Ada. It’s not that easy.”

“What’s so hard about it?” she demanded, her voice rising.

“Loving you!” The words burst out of you before you could stop them. “Loving you is hard. And I could’ve told Pol but I love you too much to get you in trouble. I’ve loved you ever since we were kids, Ada. I’ve wanted you for as long as I can remember. And it kills me that I can’t be happy for you, that I can’t make you as happy as he does.” Your voice cracked, and you felt the tears stinging your eyes. “I wish you were a man.”

The moment those very words left your mouth, you regretted them. It wasn’t true. You didn’t wish Ada were a man. You loved her for who she was, exactly as she was. But the pain and frustration had twisted your feelings into something ugly, something you didn’t recognize.

Your tears spilled over, but you refused to let yourself break down in front of her. You turned on your heel and walked away, leaving Ada standing there, speechless and wide-eyed, for once at a loss for words.

Many months later

You stopped talking to Ada entirely after the confrontation, and it proved to be the hardest decision of your life. Every day felt like a battle not to run back to her, to cry and hold her close, but you resisted. You couldn’t shake the fear that she’d look at you with disgust, her face scrunched in rejection, knowing the truth about how you felt. You replayed the moment in your head endlessly, questioning if you’d made a terrible mistake. Surely now, she wouldn’t want to face you.

Meanwhile, Ada had started to experience morning sickness more frequently. She went to the doctor in secret, though she already knew what they’d confirm—she was pregnant. Freddie had fled to America, hiding from the coppers, though the exact reason was unclear to you. You’d heard whispers here and there, but the details were vague, and you preferred it that way.

One evening, Ada sat at the kitchen table, her hands trembling as she cradled a cup of tea. Polly sat across from her, observing her closely.

“What’s wrong, love?” Polly asked gently, her voice soft but firm.

Ada hesitated, her throat tightening as she fought to hold back tears. But the weight of her emotions became too much, and she spilled everything, her voice breaking as she spoke.

“I miss Y/n, Pol. I miss her so much. She told me she’s loved me since we were kids, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it. I want to see her… I want to talk to her.”

Polly leaned back, her sharp gaze softening. “Go talk to her then,” she said simply.

Ada sniffled, her hands gripping the cup tightly. “What if she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore? What if she hates me now?”

Polly scoffed, shaking her head. “Don’t be daft, Ada. That girl loves you with every inch of her life. She’d walk through fire just to see you. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. The eyes never lie. Call her.”

With that, Polly stood and left Ada to her thoughts. Ada stared at the phone, her heart pounding in her chest. She hesitated, her fingers hovering over the dial, but finally, she pushed through and dialed your number. Each ring made her chest tighten until, to her surprise, you answered.

“Hello?” your voice came through the line, hesitant but familiar.

“Ada?” Her breath caught at the sound of your voice, a wave of comfort washing over her. “I didn’t think you’d pick up. I missed you.”

There was silence on your end, and she worried she’d already lost you. But then, your voice returned, softer this time.

“I missed you too, Ada.”

She exhaled shakily, her grip on the phone tightening. “I’m pregnant, Y/n,” she confessed, her voice trembling. “And… I really want to see you.”

You were silent again, the news rendering you momentarily speechless. You hadn’t known about her pregnancy. If you had, you would’ve been at her doorstep without hesitation.

“Of course,” you finally said, your voice steady but warm. “I’ll come over tomorrow. How’s that sound?”

Ada gasped softly, relief flooding her as she gripped the phone even tighter. She had hoped you’d agree, but part of her had feared you wouldn’t want to see her anymore.

“That sounds perfect,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll see you then.

You went to Ada’s as you promised. You knocked on the door, and it opened almost immediately.

There she was.

The sight of Ada standing before you, wearing a loose blouse that hinted at her growing belly, her skin glowing with that unmistakable radiance of pregnancy, made your heart skip a beat. She looked as beautiful as ever.

Ada smiled nervously, stepping aside to let you in. “You actually came,” she said softly, leading you to her room.

You let out a gentle laugh. “You called.”

“How far along are you?” you asked, your gaze drifting to her belly.

“Three months,” she replied, her voice tinged with a mix of pride and apprehension. “And… I’ll marry Freddie once he’s back from America.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small, exasperated laugh. “Three months? Your belly’s already quite big for three months.”

Ada’s smile widened, and she laughed along with you, but the sound faded quickly. Her expression shifted, her brows knitting together, and before you could ask, she blurted out, “I’m sorry.”

Her voice broke, and tears welled up in her eyes. “I’m so sorry for everything, Y/n. I was so bloody stupid. I didn’t even think about how much I must’ve hurt you. God, I’m so fucking sorry.”

Her tears spilled over, rolling down her freckled cheeks as she sobbed. The sight of her like this—so vulnerable, so broken—shattered your heart into a million pieces. Without thinking, you reached for her hands, taking them in yours and holding them tightly, warming them with your touch.

“Hey, hey,” you cooed softly, your voice steady and soothing. “It’s alright. There’s no need for that now. I’ve forgiven you.”

You reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

She looked up at you, her eyes shimmering with tears, her lips trembling. Then, without warning, she climbed into your lap, straddling you, and wrapped her arms around your neck. Before you could even process what was happening, her lips were on yours, soft and warm, kissing you with an urgency that left you breathless.

Your mind screamed at you to push her away, to remind her that she had a man waiting for her, that she was going to get married. You wanted to ask her why—why now, why this moment, why you? But her lips were intoxicating, and her presence overwhelmed every logical thought.

Your hands moved instinctively, one resting on the small of her back, the other gently cradling her swelling belly. You held her as if she might disappear at any moment, as if this fleeting, impossible moment would be your last.

You knew it shouldn’t happen. You knew it couldn’t last. But for now, you let yourself fall into her, savoring the kiss, the closeness, the warmth of her. You let yourself have this one moment, this one stolen piece of a dream that would never come true again.

1921

Everyone stood in somber silence at Freddie Thorne’s grave. The weight of his death, brought on by the Spanish Influenza, hung heavily in the air. Not long after marrying Ada and welcoming their son, Karl, Freddie was gone. You glanced at Ada, her face pale and drawn, clutching Karl tightly. The sight of her—now a widow, her child fatherless—twisted something deep in your chest.

As the mourners trickled away, leaving Ada alone with her husband one final time, she passed Karl to Polly. You lingered, unsure if you were staying for her or for yourself. Ada knelt by the grave, her fingers tracing the carved stone, her shoulders trembling as she fought to hold herself together.

“I’m glad you stayed,” she said softly, her eyes fixed on Freddie’s name.

You crossed your arms, trying to mask your own emotions. “I know you probably wanted me to.”

She let out a faint laugh, the sound brittle but familiar. Standing, she dusted off her skirt and turned to face you. Her gaze met yours, and for a moment, you saw the Ada you’d known all your life—the one who had always been so unshakable, so full of fire.

You placed your hands gently on her shoulders. “How about we go back to the field?” you suggested, your voice soft. “The one with the dandelions.”

Ada hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I need a break from graves.”

The two of you walked hand in hand, just like you used to when you were children. The path to the field was so familiar that even taking a different route didn’t matter. When you reached it, the sight was exactly as you remembered: a sea of wild dandelions swaying in the breeze, untouched by time.

“This place never changes, does it?” Ada murmured.

“Not at all.”

You both sank onto the soft grass, the silence between you comfortable, the way it always had been. It wasn’t until Ada spoke that the quiet broke.

“I miss him,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

You lowered your head, your own heart aching for her. “I know.”

There was something you’d been holding back, something you wanted to tell her. But now, sitting here with her, you weren’t sure if it was the right time. She’d just lost Freddie, and it felt selfish to bring it up.

Of course, Ada noticed. She always did.

“Y/n,” she said, her sharp eyes locking onto yours. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

You hesitated, then shook your head. “Yeah, but it’s alright. I’ll tell you later. You need a moment.”

Ada frowned, her curiosity piqued. “No, tell me now. I’d rather think about something else for a while.”

You swallowed hard, gathering your courage. “I got engaged last week.”

Ada’s eyes widened slightly, but she quickly forced a smile, reaching out to hug you tightly. Her arms wrapped around you like she was afraid to let go.

“That’s wonderful, Y/n!” she exclaimed, her voice bright but trembling. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Nicholas Brown,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Ada pulled back, her eyebrows raised in surprise. “Nicholas Brown? The boy who works at the docks?”

You nodded, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Yep, that Nicholas. The one you used to make fun of for his buck tooth.”

Ada’s laughter bubbled up, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the two of you laughed together. It felt like old times, like nothing had changed.

But as the laughter faded, something stirred in Ada’s chest. A strange, heavy feeling she couldn’t quite name. She wanted to tell you not to marry him, to beg you to stay, but what right did she have? You were moving on, and she was still stuck here, holding onto something she couldn’t have.

You stood up, brushing the dirt off your dress, and offered her your hand. “Come on.”

Ada shook her head. “Nah, I want to sit here a bit longer.”

You didn’t argue. Instead, you gave her a small nod and turned to leave.

“Oh, and Ada,” you called over your shoulder. “The red shoes you bought me? They don’t fit anymore, so I’m giving them to Nicholas’s little sister.”

Ada hummed in acknowledgment, her gaze distant.

As your footsteps faded into the distance, Ada’s eyes fell on a lone dandelion in front of her. She plucked it, turning it between her fingers, and a memory from years ago came rushing back. She smiled faintly at the irony and brought the dandelion to her lips, blowing gently.

The seeds scattered, floating on the breeze in the direction you’d gone. Ada let out a shaky breath, her lips curving into a bittersweet smile.

“Of course, I need you after all huh, Y/n?”

[prettypeppermint]

swan song.

for t. shelby. a continuation of 'the gift of silence. (how sweet the sound)'

Sacrifice was your greatest gift. It clung to your name like a drawn bowstring, pregnant with prospective yet surmounting to nothing. You gave to your family until their deaths pried your outstretched palms away; you gave to your future self through tired feet and hard-earned sweat. Now, you've given to Thomas Shelby. Your very own love language.

You would give just about anything to take it all back.

He was kissing you--tasting you. He was asking for more and more of you every day through his longing gaze and patient fingers. You hated making him wait for something unattainable.

He wanted you a certain way--pliant, moldable. Soft.

He wanted you only to take from you. He wanted to collect you piece by piece.

A giver and a God.

"Tell me," he muttered into your mouth, tasting the way your thoughts grew sour on your lips. He read you in a way not kindled through love but through years of hardened business.

You pulled away half-heartedly. Your mind wrapped around him and you needed air.

"Say you love me," you ordered, staring into the core of his glacier-capped irises. There was no hope--no apprehension. You've digested every unspoken word already. You knew.

He peered down at you through his heavy line of lashes. "What--are my acts of service not enough?" he said lowly, an air of an insatiated euphemism in his voice.

A swell.

A silence.

An atonement.

"I love you." His finger traced a lock of hair into the canyon of your ear.

"I don't believe you."

A scoff seared through his teeth--a breath through the cornice of his lips.

"I've been thinking recently. During the day; during the night"--you began walking aimlessly around his office, fingering book spines and swiping the dust off of ledges--"during that ungodly hour before work. And thank God I have, because now I know you've been lying to me."

Thomas analyzed you--dissected every syllable. He listened.

"When you look into my eyes, I see nothing but her in yours."

It always goes back to Grace.

The lack of pain in your voice irked him on a deep, almost irrational level.

"At first I was hurt--confused. But now"--you circled back to him--"now, I feel nothing. I am nothing." You waited for him to interject despite knowing he never would. Sometimes, you were too painfully clear of his character; of just how much control he had over you; of how many ways he could hurt you while protecting you--love you while losing you.

"Then I realized: I'd rather be yours than nothing. Isn't it sad--a lass like me? Maybe I should first learn how it feels to be my own--to know every crease of my skin and grow comfortable in my flesh how you've grown so comfortable in mine."

The man you loved, whom you had sacrificed for one final time.

Your muscles yearned to reunite with him, but you held your arms to your sides in protest. "Thomas Shelby, you love me how a man should, but not how a woman should feel loved."

And now you'll spend the rest of your life chasing a notion--a concept--made only somewhat tangible by a man who could give you no more than all of him. Now you'll lose yourself searching for someone to search for you. Now you'll see him in all the men who fail in forgivable ways and love kindly.

A piece of him you will keep; a piece of you he will throw away. Until the next.

"You love me," he states, seemingly unphased. "And I love you."

"You don't know what love is, Thomas. How could you, when you've never loved anyone more than they've loved you?

"That's the ultimate testament of the caliber of a man's heart. It was never me, Thomas. It's her name you whisper in your sleep. Hear it. Accept it. Remember my voice saying it. Cling to it for the rest of your goddamn life so you never tell another woman you love her again."

For the first time, he noticed, you sounded defeated.

For the first time, he saw the vices of Birmingham shade your rural clarity.

Your voice sounded different without the usual fight in it; it revealed the exhaustion you forced down with cigarettes every morning and night. Suddenly the violet shadows under your eyes introduced themselves. Suddenly you looked 5 kilograms emaciated.

It was then that you became another woman in Thomas Shelby's life. You were no longer of the Kilkee coast or the sweetened countryside. You were ruined, and now you were just like the rest.

No girl who ever got tangled up in Shelby business ever makes it to London.

A swell.

A silence.

An empty impenitence.

"Goodbye, Thomas."

While he waited for you to fight for him, you once more decided to give.

Twice more, he took from you.

You wanted to feel his warmth against your lips once more. You had suddenly wished you'd savored your last kiss. "I hate what you've made me," you whispered.

He hated how the words sounded--how they tainted your tongue.

"You hate what you've become for me," he corrected.

You gave him a lonely, far-off stare, as if you were looking straight through him. He knew he had lost you.

You ignored his previous remark: "I hate how you made me think it was safe to fall in love with you."

You hadn't realized your eyes had welled up with an undeniable glaze until you felt a drop of glass wetness fall from your cheek. "I hate how you've turned me into another one of your women."

When Thomas didn't move, or walk closer to you, or even soften at your unraveling, you felt sour all over. Suddenly, you wanted it to hurt.

"No one has ever loved me in my entire life," you said to yourself, almost inaudibly. It sounded so ridiculously girlish and naive, unlike anything he had ever heard you say before.

A swell.

A painful one in the grit of your heart.

You felt heavy as you slowly turned and left his office.

†

He found you passed out in the chapel, your chest sprawled across the altar, your palms still clasped together in weak prayer. A mistiness clung to your eyelashes. He was once again reminded how much he loved how you looked in your sleep: like a soft lull of the shore had washed over you and cured a light peace into your soul.

He stood over you, counting your breaths and watching your lungs expand with life just to expel it. You smelled of ash and rosaries and beeswax. A tear rolled over the apples of your cheek and onto the peak of your nose.

"Silly girl," he rasped lowly before sitting on the floor and pulling your limp form into the cradle of his chest. His palm met the crown of your head to pull you further into his weight, his other hand hooking around the lonely bend of your waist. He felt his shirt seep with moisture, and he knew you were awake.

"She was a piece of my past I can't go back to take away," he said, his chin resting atop your head, voice bitter yet smooth like coffee on a good day, "But if any part of her had led me to you, I wouldn't go back to change a moment of it even if I could."

Your shoulders shuddered silently, and your sobs permeated directly through his chest and into his heart. He always knew just what to say, to the point it scared you.

"Give it time," said Thomas, petting your head in rhythm with your heart, "Give it time."

While you gave, he invested. He invested in all the times you've chipped away at yourself for him, and he kept them in his heart until the next time he would use them--like a business transaction.

But could you blame him for loving you how he knows best?

To understand his love was more than enough. Yet, your consistent upturned and empty palms rendered you greedy.

He collects your wet cheeks between his hands and brings you to look up at him. In his eyes, you saw the end of a road.

Was this all there was? Maybe so.

"Let's get married. Right here, right now"--he swiped his thumb across the slick of your undereye--"That way you'll be mine to keep. No more goodbyes."

You felt the Lord's eyes on your kneeling form. An odd feeling of shame and acceptance washed over you and clogged your chest.

It was then that you knew: loving Thomas Shelby was never going to be beautiful. It wasn't simple or painless or any of the things love should be. And it would never be the same kind of love that it was yesterday.

But what could you do? What could you do if you loved him nonetheless?

If you would always be loved how broken women are loved?

x.

[lavender-romancer]

Crosses on my body

Part Two  Tommy Shelby x Reader 

You were a nun in Dublin but when you decided to take action against those in powerful positions in the church you had to escape. When you turn up in Birmingham and begin a relationship with Tommy Shelby will he be able to protect you from your past? 

”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

previous part

"Jesus, our Lord. If you're there…why do you hide from me?" You knelt beside your bed with your hands clasped together. "Grant that I never lose sight of the ugliness of sin, the glory of Christ, the beauty of holiness, or the wonder of grace. Help me to seek you every morning with heart, soul, mind, and strength. In Jesus' name. Amen." 

As you climbed into bed you thought over your evenings with Tommy. You had been to the church every evening together for 7 days now. Each time you either taught him how to pray or you would kiss him to see if you would be smited. The more Tommy told you about himself the more you became convinced he was consumed by evil. But evil you could save him from. Tommy said that you had been sent to save him, but you had to find salvation for yourself first. 

You were walking down to the crypt of a church, you assumed this was a dream but they often felt so real it was hard to know. The air was crisp against your skin, making your hair stick up. When you reached the bottom of the stairs you saw some of your sisters. 

"Sister Marianne! It's so good to see you," you exclaimed and she turned around with a horrified look. 

"What did you do!" She screamed. 

"I didn't do anything!" You took a step back and she moved towards you, eyes turning black as she threw you against the wall. Her face twisting into a horrifying amalgamation of darkness and blood. 

"What have you done!" Her voice boomed.

You were suddenly surrounded by a circle of your sisters from Dublin, they were chanting something with their heads bowed moving around you. As you stepped back trying to get away from them you tripped over and saw Father Thomas' bleeding body, his neck slashed. Lying in a pool of his own blood you started screaming and crawled backwards but the faceless nuns pushed you towards him. 

"You thought you could escape didn't you!" He screamed before getting on top of you and choking you. "You have sinned! Repent or you shall suffer in the bowels of hell!"

You could feel the life draining out of you, your eyes fluttering shut, his eyes were crying blood and he had this smile. This bone chilling coolness about this smile that made you terrified to keep your eyes open. No matter how much you struggled you were held down, he was too overpowering- you couldn't fight it. 

Waking up with a scream you began sobbing uncontrollably, holding and rocking yourself back and forth. 

"Lord God, I pray for your protection as I begin this day. You are my hiding place, and under Your wings I can always find refuge. Protect me from trouble wherever I go, and keep evil far from me. Amen." You recited the prayer that you had had to use so many times back in Dublin. So many times having asked the Lord for protection and so many times your prayers had not been fulfilled. How were you to trust in the Lord when he couldn't even protect you in your dreams? But it was all you had. Catholicism had been in your world since you could remember so even if it was all placebo or you were seeing things that weren't there, you needed faith. You had no one else who would care for you the same way, not anymore anyways. Anyone back in Dublin willing to help you was long gone by this time. 

"Do you feel it coming back yet?" Tommy asked as you knelt in front of Mother Mary praying your rosary. "The faith I mean. Or is your crisis over,? 

"I had a nightmare. Last night…about my old life. It looks like God won't even protect me from that regardless of all my confession work. I don't know what to think anymore, but I can't let go." You looked up at Thomas siting on the pew and sighed, still clutching your rosary you stood up and sat next to him. 

"What was the nightmare about?" 

"Things you won't understand, but mostly demon, devil based horror. I feel like something is following me around at all times. Some kind of being with a nefarious purpose." You started biting the skin around your thumbnail. 

"I'm sure I would understand." Tommy said quietly.

"There's things I can't quite trust you with yet. In time I'm sure I will. But revealing my deepest secrets to you would not be wise." You made the sign of the cross with your crucifix and ended your prayer with a few minutes of meditation. 

"You can trust me," Tommy said later when he was walking you back to your lodgings.

"How do I know that?" You asked with your arms crossed. 

"Because I can also reveal a secret to you, I've probably got the longest list in Birmingham. Mutually assured destruction is the best start to companionship." Tommy blew out a cloud of smoke that you watched rise up into the air, dissolved into the night sky. "My mother used to tell me smoke made the stars, possibly to explain why my father smoked the amount he did." 

"Is that your secret?" You asked. 

"Nah, just a story. My secrets are more sinister than that, I know you're hiding something but I can't imagine it's sinister in nature." Tommy seemed to underestimate you entirely which made it all the more entertaining that you held the cards in the conversation.

"I think you think too little of me and my past." You smiled at him.

"Perhaps. But I've known women like you, shrouded in secrecy that I can't quite seem to figure out until it's too late for me." He stopped and leant against a brick wall, looking you up and down with a gaze that penetrated into your mind. 

"Is that what your wife was like?" You weren't sure if the question was too personal for him to answer. 

"She was deception based from the start, but one way or another we fell for each other." Tommy looked glassy eyed, you couldn't picture this being the type of man who would cry but honesty would catch anyone off guard. 

"I'm sure I'll reveal my secrets to you, someday. But not now." You carried on walking past Tommy and he ran his tongue across his bottom lip before walking after you. 

"But truth will set you free, as you've probably said before to some lost soul" Tommy joked and you smiled. 

"That's true. But some secrets can put you in harm's way and…I don't trust anyone truly. Life's safer that way." Your expression was subtly sad but Tommy noticed. 

"I only trust my family and even then there's some exceptions. Having no allies isn't the way to go." Tommy stopped and he stood closer to you. 

"Are you proposing an allyship?" You whispered looking up into his eyes. 

"Perhaps. You light my cigarette, I'll light yours and so on."  Tommy held out a cigarette and placed it between your lips, a confusing look on his face before he used his hand to shield the air and lit it.  

"That's sounding horrendously suggestive, Mr Shelby." You breathed smoke up into the air, still uncertain on what the lack of distance between the two of you meant. 

"Does the suggestiveness scare you?' Tommy asked in a low raspy voice. 

"You don't know anything about my inclination for suggestiveness." You smiled and turned on your heel. "I'll see you tomorrow, Thomas." 

Tommy watched as you faded into the darkness, just as secretively as you had arrived. 

The following morning you woke to an insistent knocking at your front door, it woke you up with a start (memories flooding back of the early mornings at the convent). You approached the door cautiously, holding a knife out in front of you.

"Who's there?" you called out.

"It's your landlady," the slightly familiar voice called. "I'm sorry miss, there's a woman here insistent on seeing you." It felt like the blood had drained from your face at the possibility of it being someone from Dublin.

"W-what does she want? What does it entail?" your voice was panicked and stuttering.

"Have I done wrong, miss? She said you would know her, a Theresa O'Sullivan." The landlady's words echoed in your mind and your eyes began to water, you put down the knife and unlocked the door.

"I'm sorry," You told her. "I was anxious about who the visitor was but you can send her up." You smiled at her and she nodded.

The following knock at your door was timid, so as to not disturb but alert you of their presence. You almost jumped up as your eyes began to water before flinging open the door and enveloping her in a hug.

"Theresa!" you laughed as she held you close.

"It's been so long my dear friend," She said close to your ear.

"How have you been? How's life out of the community, whereabouts are you these days?" You asked as you sat down with her and a pot of tea.

"I'm in the south at the moment, I'm married now and we run a church community now," she paused. "I heard noises. The community is small but we have connections in Ireland so... there are little bubbles of noise every now and then." she paused in a seemingly uncomfortable way.

"I mean, I can assume what they said but what did you hear?" You asked timidly.

"That there was a murder," she paused and looked down at her hands which began to shake. "And... and that there were things that were stolen I'm not sure what. But then I heard whispers about you and I knew I had to find you."

"And you think it's me?" you asked.

"I know you had ideas, I haven't told anyone if you're worried about that I just needed to know you were safe." She reached out and touched your hands. "Y/n, are you safe."

"As safe as you can be after you've done what I have. Tell me about everything, please. Take my mind off it." you squeezed her hands with a smile.

"I have a husband, I met him about three years after leaving Ireland and we've been blessed with three children so far. It's a quiet village with a town hall and a church, not much else, I can see you've taken well to a busy city though." She smiled and you nodded.

"I needed a change, anyway I could so I found a job first and this was the easiest one with the least questions involved. I'm so glad you're safe, I never heard from you and I was so worried." You reached forward and touched her face "But you're here and you're alive."

"We both made it out, remember that. We're both safer now. Don't look back, don't look away just move forward and escape as far as you can." Her eyes began to water. "Because if they come for you, you're dead and no one can protect you or save you from them."

"What do you mean?" your heartbeat began picking up.

"They came for me when I was in Liverpool, I had no one and nothing. No one helped me because I didn't know who to trust but then I revealed too much at confession and they came for me." she paused, her breath faltering and hitching.

"Theresa, what happened?" You said sternly gripping her hand.

"They did this," She pulled up her dress and showed a deep scar on her right leg then pulled up her shirt and showed a long scar from the top of her ribcage diagonally down towards her navel. It was dark and twisted near the bottom.

"Who?" Your hands began to shake as Theresa pulled down her shirt.

"Father Thomas' messengers, they assumed I'd escaped revealing their secrets but I just wanted to escape so they tortured me before I escaped once more," She smiled. "I'm glad you killed the bastard when you had the chance."

"What they did to you... should I be running further?" you asked, feeling your throat tighten.

"There's nowhere you can run that's far enough to outrun them. We are some of the only survivors of their horrific system and I hope you tear it all down." She reached over and hugged you tighter than before.

"We are united, you and I. In sickness and in health like a fucking marriage alright. I will make sure everyone knows what we witnessed and they won't escape it. None of them." You held her by the shoulders and smiled through your tears.

"Say a prayer with me, for strength." Theresa smiled at you and you both began in silent prayer to save each other from your past and your enemies.

next part Peaky blinders taglist: @queenofkings1212 @severewobblerlightdragon @cl5369 @fairypitou @stressedandbandobessed7771 @shadow-of-wonder @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns @curled-hair-red-lips @lucystivinsky1315

[gxdsfavgal]

Brotherly

Pairings: Shelby Brothers x reader

Warnings: based on season 5, no canon events, there's no violence in this only bc idk how to write that properly

Request: I would love something with Finn and his brothers like Finn gets hurt and they all get protective ( John still alive ) thank you xx

A/N: ahhh first time writing Peaky Blinders!! this is around 1.4k words

-

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We weren’t doing anything, just leaned up against a brick wall talking it up. Just Finn, Isaiah, and I. Normal things that we do when we’re not doing shit for Tommy.

That’s when it hit. Brick flying everywhere, dust sticking to our hair and skin. Ours ears ringing. The bright cloudy sky immediately turning dark as my body collapsed.

I look up from the ground where I laid, the building we were leaning against was blown up. My lungs burned as I got up to my hands and knees, my body tingling. I blinked my eyes up at the bright sky.

“Get up! Get up!” I heard muffled.

“Get up!” Isaiah yelled as he pulled me up by my arms, dragging me to the other side of the road.

He sat me down on the floor, holding my shoulders trying to see if I was injured.

"Does anything hurt?" he asked, but my ears were still ringing.

Isaiah did a quick scan of my body, checking my back, my arms, my legs, and more. My mind was running 1000 miles per second, until it wasn't. I had quickly snapped out of it as I was replaying the scene in my mind.

“Where’s Finn?” I was able to say with a coarse throat.

“I-I don’t know.” he looked back at the scene trying to scan the area.

“Did you look for him, Isaiah?” I look up at his face, seeing that he was also covered in stone. He has a gash on his forehead and chin, bleeding down his neck.

“Shit, you’re hurt.” I stood up from the ground, starting to assess his injuries.

“It’s just cuts.” He lowered my hands away from his face. “I don’t know where Finn is.”

Concern was flowing out of him through his tense shoulders and watery eyes.

“Fuck. Okay, go to Tommy. Come back.” I moved past him to look through the rubble as he ran to get Tommy.

“Finn!” I yelled out, standing at the edge of the broken bricks.

I scan the area to see if I can see him. Nothing. Nothing but bricks and wood.

I began to think that he’s dead, wondering what the fuck i’m going to tell the Shelby’s. Started to think about the hell that will be raised if Finn is not found alive.

“There’s a body here!” a elder lady yelled frantically, her weak hands trembled as she began to pull away bricks.

I quickly ran towards her and began pulling the bricks off, revealing a unconscious Finn. His body limp as I couldn’t tell if his chest rose and fell.

“Water! I need water and a towel!”

The lady immediately ran into her home to grab the things I need: water, towels, and vodka. I didn’t even have to ask.

The other civilians watching from afar, gossiping and pointing.

"What the fuck are you all looking at? None of you fucking helped!" I screamed out as I was revealing more and more of his body with each brick taken away.

She handed me the water and towel. I poured the water over him to clean his face, not wanting him to inhale more dust.

I noticed a deep cut on the side of his head, which can even mean brain damage. At this point, I won’t know until he wakes up.

“Where the fuck is he?” I heard a familiar voice yell out into the streets.

“Tommy!” I yelled over my shoulder as I continued to clean up his younger brother.

Tommy, Arthur, and John jogged up towards me with Isaiah following behind.

“Everyone back to your homes!” Arthur advised, everyone obeying quickly.

The streets were quiet with the civilians watching through their windows.

“Fuck, Finn.” Tommy crouched down near me as he rubbed his own face.

"What happened?" Tommy's nose flared.

“I- I don’t know what happened. We didn't do anything." My hands were shaking as I was tending to his younger brother.

Tommy's face was emotionless, it sent more chills around my body. I didn't know what he was thinking about, what he was going to do.

"W- We were just talking a-and then I woke up on the street. Right Isaiah?” I looked up at him as he shared the same hectic look as me.

“You two are fine. Make sure Finn is too.” John spoke up as the two older brothers began to assess the scene.

“Okay, I have to pour Vodka to prevent the wounds from contracting infection.” my face winced at the thought of the feeling.

Isaiah held Finn’s shoulders as I began to pour the alcohol onto the large gash on his head.

A loud and excruciating scream ripped out of Finn’s throat. His body jumping off the ground, legs flying up in the air but thankfully Isaiah held him down.

The brothers quickly ran over from the sound of the scream. Tommy’s face showed how he wanted to calculate and execute this as safely as possible.

“Take him to your house.” Tommy ordered.

“My house?” I yelled out in confusion.

“Your house. Let’s go!” The two other brothers carried Finn to the back of their car with me tending to him while Tommy ordered Isaiah and the others.

The drive was fast, soon enough we were rushing into my family’s kitchen and swiping cups off of our dining table.

“What in God’s name?” my mother yelled as she ran down the stairs from all the ruckus.

“Finn is hurt.” I reassured her.

She immediately grabbed her medical bag from the counter, opening it up to reveal all her tools.

Finn was groaning on the table as she examined his cuts, the adrenaline getting to him.

His eyes blown wide and shaky, his hands trembling.

“You’re in good hands.” I cooed as I cleaned his wounds better for my mother.

“Who did this?” Tommy asked as he leaned against the counter, smoking.

“I don’t know, but I think you guys do.” I looked at him as I crossed my arms.

He silently nodded his head, knowing who he’s pissed off recently.

"The fucking Billy Boys." Arthur mumbled.

"We'll get them for you Finn!" John yelled with a cheer and a smile. "We'll fucking get them!"

Arthur and John is already following behind Tommy as he stormed back into their car, handgun and steering wheel both gripped in his hand.

I didn't know where they were going, but I knew that at least one man was going to die. God knows that it wasn't any of the Shelby boys. Polly made sure God was on her side.

Finn seemed like he was going into shock with the way his jaw clenched and his eyes shaky. I'm holding him down as my mother picks away debris from the open flesh on his head.

"Are you hurt?" My mother whispered as she kept a steady hand.

"I don't think so." I said but got a stern look from her. "No. No, I'm not hurt."

She quickly nodded and went back to tending to Finn.

"You shouldn't h- you shouldn't have been there." Finn was able to speak out through his clenched teeth.

"I'm a Peaky Blinder." I shook my head side to side as I threaded the needle for my mother.

She scoffed from the side. We all knew that's how my father died, being a Blinder. She didn't want me to follow behind him.

"This is going to hurt." she told Finn as she waved the needle in front of his eyes.

I grabbed a kitchen rag and stuffed it between his jaws, hooping that it will muffle his screams.

My mom and I nodded to each other as I held Finns arms down.

The sharp metal pierced his skin over and over, his groans and screams barely muffled by the piece of cloth I lended.

It was quickly over. We splashed some vodka on it and even gave the bottle to Finn so he can nurse it. We bandaged him up and check for any other injuries on him.

Finn rested on the couch, his body tired from the amount of adrenaline that rushed through him.

While my mother and I was cleaning up, the Shelby brothers strutted through our front door.

There the three were, covered in blood but none of them hurt. It truly was a miracle every time.

"He's all patched up." My mother spoke up, eyeing the floor and her furniture to see if they've made any stains.

"Thank you." Tommy reached into his pocket, taking out a large wad of cash and handing it to me.

"Oh no, I cannot accept." I pushed his hand away.

"You put Finn first even when you were in the accident too." he held out the money again.

"For God's sake." My mother walked her way over in front of me. "I accept."

She took the money with a smile and went back to cleaning.

"What'd you all do?" Finn groaned out as he slowly walked from the living room to the kitchen where we all stood.

"Left a little message for Jimmy McCavern." Arthur chuckled out as he held out a bullet to Finn.

Finn was too weak to grab it, so he nodded for me to get it for him. I spun the bullet in my palm, examining each and every crevice.

"McCavern." I whispered out as my thumb slid over the engraving.

"Do I get the shot?" Finns eyes shot up to Tommy.

Tommy silently nodded with the side of his mouth slightly curled up.

"You get to shoot him in between his fucking eyes." John said nonchalantly.

[mydear-corinthian]

Bait || Shelby family x reader

Synopsis: Reader went out partying and the Shelby family's enemy attacked her. Pairing: Shelby family x sister! reader Warnings: ANGST w/ comfort, reader gets injured badly, mentions of blood, stabbing, and violence, swearing Notes: rushed :C, gif is mine Click here to find the MAIN Masterlist Click here to find the PEAKY BLINDERS Masterlist

It was just a usual night in Small Heath. Due to the boredom, you decided to go outside and maybe have a little fun.

You dressed up. A long gold dress decorated your body. A feathered hat decorated your head. And a few pearl jewelry shined your neck, arms, and ears. Grabbing your gold colour purse, you exited your room, spiraling down the wooden stairs of your family's house.

As you went down, Polly saw you. "Where you going, love?" she asked, smiling.

Grabbing a cigarette stick, you placed it on your lips, leaning to Polly as your aunt was also about to light her long black stick of the cancerous stick. "Party, Aunt Pol. I'm getting bored staying in this house," you replied, your cigarette finally lit.

The matriarch of the family took a puff of her cigarette, her serious eyes locked on yours. 

"Where? Who's going with you?" Polly asked.

"Oh, Aunt Pol.., I'll be fine. It's just 2 streets away from here. I'll be home at 2 am."

"Take care and enjoy love," she smiled, opening the door of the house's entrance, allowing you to exit the house.

<>

The only real issue was that you were wearing heels on the short walk from the house to the party location. Warm lights and vehicles adorned the spacious mansion. The estate was packed with elegantly dressed people in suits. You headed straight to the mansion's bar as soon as you got there and ordered a drink for yourself. Your heels reverberated against the bar's porcelain tiles. Men made up the majority of the crowd, and they were all too busy chatting, drinking, and trying to find women to satisfy their lusts.

"Whiskey, please," you ordered. You sat down just in front of the barman, glancing at everyone while waiting for your drink.

There were a few faces, you knew them because of your brother, Tommy and some were rich clients from the betting shop.

Finally, the barman gently placed a glass of whiskey in front of you. "Your drink, Madam."

You thanked him, picked up the glass, and sipped, letting the alcohol wash over your mouth. After placing a couple more drink orders, you made your way to the dance floor and started to dance energetically to the loud music being played. You moved your hips in time with the song's tune. You're waving your arms in the air. As you danced with the women, the dance floor was filled with a chorus of woos and laughs. Drinks were chugged into your system in tremendous amounts.

<>

You excused yourself and your new friends to go the restroom after a few hours of nonstop drinking and dancing. You were relieved that after eating at your place for a few hours, despite having numerous drinks, you were sober. You reapplied your clothing and your cherry lipstick as you straightened your hair in front of the big mirror. It's almost two, you realize as you glance at your pocket watch. Because you're the kind of person who takes responsibility seriously, is mature, and always arrives on time, Polly wasn't concerned about you going out late to party. After gathering your belongings, you put them back into your golden handbag and head out of the bathroom.

Finally saying goodbye to your new girlfriends, your heels found their way to the mansion's exit. Since you were sober already, you decided to take a walk back home.

As you walk through the dark streets of Birmingham, you cannot help but feel uneasy. You felt like you weren't alone at all. You felt that someone or somebody was following you.

And you were right.

Reaching for your pocket gun, you tried to protect yourself from the person who was following you by looking over your shoulder. You were too late, though. You were forcefully grabbed by two men, one of whom disarmed your gun. You were trapped against the wall by two rough pairs of arms, your head hitting the rocky concrete. Particularly on your stomach, you felt something cold and sharp graze your flesh, and the pain eventually got intolerable.

"What the fuck do you want!" you panted weakly, feeling a warm liquid drip on the side of your stomach.

"Just.. sending a message to your git brother," the low Irish accent sent shivers down your spine.

Campbell.

On the other hand, Polly was at the dining table, a cigarette in her hand as she watched the clock tick.

It was already past 2 and she started to get worried. You always come home on time - not even a minute late.

Polly hurriedly went to the telephone and dialed Tommy's number, her fingers shivering.

"Hello?"

"Tommy,"

"Pol? Why are you calling at this hour?"

"I-it's (y/n). She's not home yet and I'm starting to get worried. Oh God, Tommy. What if something happened to her?" Polly stammered, holding the telephone pole tightly.

"Not at home? I'll call John and Arthur." Tommy replied before ending the call.

<>

You tried to move and get out from their touch but due to the injury that you had, you were getting weaker.

"Tell your fucking boss to fuck off!" you hollered, heaving due to the pain down your stomach.

Punches rained down on you so hard you were gasping for air and screaming in pain as two strong fists crashed into your stomach and chest. Every blow sent waves of pain through your body, causing your legs to buckle and your breath to come in short, frantic gasps. Every strike was brutal, breaking your will and power in the process.

During the cruel assault, a fresh, burning pain suddenly appeared in your abdomen. Compared to previous experiences, this feeling was sharper and stronger. Frightened, you looked down to see the sparkle of a blade pressing against your body again. The man with the knife was cautious, taking his time as he carved the initials "C.C" into your flesh. The letters were an endless source of pain and abuse burned into your mind.

Dizziness was starting to get worse and worse but you paid no mind as you built up all of your strength to get up and grab your gun that was thrown on the cold hard bricks of the dark alley. Your cold fingertips pulled the trigger, emptying the bullet chamber by shooting them non-stop.

Two bodies were now on the cold floor, both lifeless, and their blood pooling out of their bodies, mixing with the hard concrete.

"You don't fuck with the Peaky Blinders."

Taking a deep breath at what happened, you stood up but moaned in pain after you felt the cuts and bruises all over your body. Looking down at your stomach, your dress was slit and filled with your blood.

"Jesus Christ," you muttered. Leaving your bag alone and limply walked back to the house.

Every step was a painful fight and the walk seemed to go on forever. Your back was laden with weight, and the pressure turned your spine into a throbbing rod of agony. Your single shoe scraped the uneven sidewalk, causing sharp pains to shoot through your leg with each step. As you struggled to remain straight the world around you became hazy and wobbly, and your vision became less sharp at the edges. You could feel consciousness sliding away, hovering on the edge of darkness, and every breath was a strained gasp. If you returned home without passing out, you were quite lucky.

Thankfully, you did.

Your bloodied palm opened the silver-colored knob, twisting it, and opened the door with all of your might.

There Polly was, looking at you with widened eyes. She ran towards you immediately, checking up on you.

"Dear God (y/n)! What happened to you?!"

Your body became weak due to a lack of strength in your muscles. You had a really pale face. Your dress was stained and damaged by your blood, and your hair is disheveled. Your aunt's voice fades more and further, the walls in your head beginning to swirl. After that, all you could see was darkness.

Polly caught you before your head contact with the wooden floor. Your arm limped on her touch.

The whole Shelby family including Michael, arrived at the doorstep, looking at the scene in front of them with their eyes locked and widened.

"Help me out here!"

As Polly commanded, everyone went inside. Tommy, John, and Arthur carried you gently before placing you on the dinner table that was filled with glasses and plates. Tommy removed the items on the table before Arthur placed you there. Michael and Ada quickly grabbed the first aid kit that was inside the kitchen room's wooden cabinet.

When Polly teared up your dress, she gasped.

"C.C.. Fucking Campbell," Polly's voice hissed, seeing the carved initials on your stomach, bleeding harshly.

Your breaths started to get faint and weaker, your body started to get cold.

"Stay with me, (y/n)," Ada whispered between sobs as she watched Polly do something with your wounds and help her aunt hand out the supplies that she needed.

"Fuck.. Fuck!" Tommy shouted, walking in circles as he rubbed his temples harshly.

"Arthur, John, Finn, Michael, find Campbell immediately!" he ordered.

"Bring me back his fucking head."

Michael and the brothers moved quickly, their actions a blur of rage and anger. They took immediate action after realizing this. With a mixture of terror and determination, their hands trembled as they took out their firearms from their pockets. The icy steel of the weapons was comforting, a guarantee of justice for the wrongs done.

They left the home without saying anything, the wooden door slamming shut behind them with a loud crash. They were barely aware of the sharp, biting night air. Their only thought was to locate the person who was responsible for this. 

"She isn't even part of this fucking shit and yet she was targeted,"

Polly's eyes shot daggers with Tommy's blue orbs while her hands focused on healing up the wounds all over your stomach.

"You better fucking catch him, Tommy."

As soon as Polly's done patching you up, she stormed out in front of her nephew, disappointed at him.

"I'll look out for (y/n). You heard Aunt Pol, catch that bastard," Ada said, fixing up the used cotton and alcohol before throwing it out.

Tommy sighed as he exited the house. Looking for the man who did this to you.

<>

You woke up with the sunlight beaming on you. Looking at your surroundings, you noticed where you were right away.

Slowly, you tried getting up but your body fell again, moaning in pain.

"Easy, (y/n). Don't move, your wounds are still fresh," Ada said, slowly guiding your back to allow you to lie down comfortably.

"A-Ada, I was so scared... I didn't know what was going on.."

Your eyes were starting to get wet until tears were dropping down your cheeks as you recalled what happened last night.

You were so traumatized. You didn't want to remember again. 

And that time, you knew that remembering is a curse.

"You're safe now, love. We're here now," Polly said, her arms locked with yours, giving you a comforting smile.

The door opened, and your brothers were there.

They immediately greeted you and asked how you were.

"God, love. I'm sorry that happened to you," your oldest brother, Arthur, said, gently combing your hair with his rough fingertips.

"It's okay, Arthur. I'm fine now,"

"We got him already," Finn remarked.

The gang leader showed up, his coat hanging on the chair. His footsteps echoed in the room as he approached you, placing his palms on your head.

"How are you now?" he asked, sighing.

"Fucking scared, Tom. I nearly died! This is fucked up."

"I know, (y/n). I know."

Polly stood up in the middle of the small argument, shutting the both of you. Her fists curl up like a ball, her brows knit together.

"Let her rest first, Tom. She had enough already," she said.

"I'm sorry," he apologized softly before exiting the house.

Tommy felt simply anger and guilt. Even though his sister isn't involved in the business, she was the one targeted. She's currently in there getting better from the physical and emotional trauma she recently went through.

"You're safe now, love." Polly gave you a comforting smile before asking the other Shelby siblings for breakfast. 

"Thank you, Aunt Pol."

[briefinquiries]

Under the Blood Moon | Peaky Blinders | Chapter 3

Tommy Shelby x Reader : Chapter 3

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7

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

Chapter summary: You told yourself this was temporary, just another job, another place to leave behind. But as quiet tensions lingered and unspoken truths surfaced, it became clear—some ties are harder to sever than others, and leaving may not be as simple as you once thought.

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: Violence, injury, mentions of blood, gore, and open wounds, brief PTSD and war flashbacks, alcohol use, and mild language.

--

You should have been relieved that Tommy hadn’t pressed further. Should have been glad that, despite the way he had hired men to look into your past, he had ultimately let it drop. But relief never came.

Instead, you found yourself waiting. Bracing.

It had been days since Tommy called out your lie, and he hadn’t said a word about it. No mentions of London, no casual references to the hospital you never actually worked at, no pointed questions meant to trap you in another lie.

But that didn’t mean he’d forgotten.

It meant he was waiting.

Eventually, a full week passed since the night you first stitched Thomas Shelby back together.

His deep bruises were fading into sickly yellows, the swelling around his eye had gone down, and the stitches were holding. He was regaining his strength. Which meant your job was nearly finished.

After all the digging around he’d done into your past, you should have been relieved. 

Instead, you felt something closer to disappointment.

You weren’t naïve. You knew the Shelbys were involved in something that wasn’t entirely legal. Men who refused to set foot in a hospital typically had reasons for it. And Tommy, despite being confined to bed rest, still had a quiet, calculating control over the business that ran through his house. Conversations stopped when you entered the room. Numbers were whispered in low tones. It didn’t take a genius to know these men weren’t just bookmakers.

But the pay was solid, more than you had expected. And beyond that, the family itself had become something of an unexpected attachment.

Arthur, with his boisterous, rough-edged humor, always had something to say, usually at Tommy’s expense. John was all easy charm, quick-witted and relentless in his teasing. Polly had taken to watching you with quiet amusement, like she knew something you didn’t. Ada, when she was around, smirked knowingly whenever she caught you in conversation with her brothers. And Finn, bright-eyed and full of questions, had a way of reminding you that not all Shelbys had been hardened by the world just yet.

And then there was Tommy.

He was the one you couldn’t quite figure out.

You weren’t sure if you liked him. But he intrigued you, and that was almost worse.

But the job was almost done. He was healing. And soon, you would leave this family behind. For a reason you couldn’t quite put your finger on, that thought unsettled you. 

To shake the feeling, you kept yourself busy. The next morning, you took stock of your supplies, making a mental list of what you needed. Bandages, laudanum, antiseptic, and, begrudgingly, whiskey. Tommy wouldn’t listen to reason when it came to vices, and if you didn’t bring him a bottle, he’d just send someone else to get one.

You walked into town, weaving through the narrow streets, the scent of coal and damp stone heavy in the air. At the apothecary, you selected your supplies quickly, moving with practiced efficiency. But as you waited to pay, voices from a few feet away caught your attention.

“…I’m telling you, the Shelbys are gearing up for something big.”

You stiffened slightly, pretending to study a shelf of tonics as the men continued talking.

“I heard someone tried to take Tommy out last week, left him half-dead. No one’s seen him since it happened.”

“If I were the one who did it, I’d start running now. He’ll want blood for that.”

“When are the Shelby’s not out for blood?” 

“I heard it was Sabini’s men,” the first voice lowered, like he knew better than to speak the name too loud.

You kept your gaze fixed on the rows of medicine bottles in front of you, hands tightening around your bag.

“Sabini?” another scoffed. “Well, that’d explain it. Thought he ran all the gambling in London, not here.”

“Maybe he’s looking to expand,” the first voice suggested. “Or maybe it’s just another pissing contest between gangs. Either way, there’ll be hell to pay. You know how the Shelbys are. Someone takes a swing, they hit back twice as hard.”

There was a pause before another voice muttered, “Someone’s been sniffing around. A middleman. Trying to feel out the waters, see if the job’s finished.”

A beat of silence passed between them, before one of them exhaled sharply. “If Tommy Shelby’s still breathing, it’s not.”

Your stomach twisted.

One of the men let out a low hum. "They’ll be watching the Garrison, then."

"’Course they will," another scoffed.

You forced your breath to stay steady, keeping your face neutral as you finally turned, dropping your items onto the counter for the shopkeeper.

The men were still murmuring behind you as you paid and stepped out into the street.

Sabini. The Garrison. You weren’t familiar with the names, but you had enough to put some of the pieces together. Sabini was making moves, and the Garrison, wherever that was, was at the center of it.

As you walked back toward the Shelby house, their words echoed in your mind. 

Your steps slowed.

You were here to do a job– nothing more. And yet, the thought of keeping this to yourself didn’t sit right.

You exhaled sharply, adjusting the strap of your bag.

Tell him, or stay out of his mess and leave it alone?

You had no loyalty to the Shelbys. Not really. You were just a nurse– an outsider passing through. You owed them nothing. And yet…

You thought of Finn, eager and bright-eyed. Of Arthur’s rough humor, Polly’s knowing glances. Of Ada’s sharp smirks, John’s easy charm.

Of Tommy.

You sighed, dragging a hand over your face. You weren’t sure if this was a mistake. But by the time the Shelby house came into view, you had already made your decision. 

Arthur and John were in Tommy’s room when you stepped inside, both standing near the window, mid-conversation. Tommy sat up in bed, cigarette balanced between his fingers, his usual air of calm calculation masking whatever pain he was still in.

Arthur was the first to acknowledge your arrival. "Evening, Doc." He smirked. "Come to make sure our brother’s still in one piece?"

"Something like that," you said, setting your bag down. “But again, I’m not a doctor.” 

Arthur shrugged, unbothered. "Close enough."

Your hands moved with practiced ease, checking the bandages, pressing gently against Tommy’s ribs to assess the healing. But beneath the routine, your mind was elsewhere.

The words from the apothecary still lingered in your head. You needed to tell Tommy.

But not yet. Not with Arthur and John here, cracking jokes between sips of whiskey. You’d wait. 

John, who was leaning against the windowsill, smirked. "Don’t let him fool you, he’s been sitting up too much, already talking about getting back to work."

You glanced at Tommy, unimpressed. "That so?"

Tommy exhaled slowly, flicking ash from his cigarette. "Can’t sit around forever. Got a pub to run."

“He all good to go yet, Doc?” Arthur asked. 

You glanced at Tommy, arching a brow. "That depends. What exactly does running a pub entail? Pouring drinks or breaking up bar fights?"

Tommy exhaled slowly, flicking his cigarette into the ashtray. "It’s a business, same as any other."

"Is it?" You tilted your head, studying him. "Seems like there’s a bit more to it than pouring whiskey."

John smirked. "She catches on quick, doesn’t she?"

Tommy said nothing, just watching you, unreadable as ever. 

You held his gaze for a moment. "Where’s your pub?”

Tommy leaned back slightly, tapping his fingers against the table. "The Garrison Tavern. Just off Watery Lane."

Your fingers tightened slightly around the strap of your bag. The Garrison. The name settled heavily in your mind, fitting into place like a missing puzzle piece. 

You turned back towards Arthur. “To answer your question, no. He’s not good to go.”

Arthur let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. "Shame. Guess that means we’re in charge for a bit longer, eh John?"

John snorted. "Arthur and I got a handle on things, don’t we?"

Arthur scoffed, crossing his arms. "Yeah, ‘course we do. Everything’s running just fine without you, brother."

John smirked. "Might even run better, come to think of it."

Tommy gave them both a dry look, unimpressed. "That right?"

John grinned. "Aye. Might be time to retire, eh? Leave all the hard work to us."

Arthur laughed, but Tommy said nothing, watching as you peeled away the last of the gauze. His skin was still bruised, deep reds and purples fading into dull yellows, but the stitches were almost ready to be removed, and the worst of the swelling had gone down.

"You’re healing well," you murmured. You adjusted the final bandage and sat back slightly. “You can be up and about as soon as these stitches are ready to come out.”

Tommy hummed, taking another slow drag from his cigarette. “Which is when?”

You shrugged. “Soon.” You hesitated for a moment, then cleared your throat. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

Tommy’s gaze flicked to you, sharp and unreadable. He exhaled smoke slowly, watching as it curled through the dim light. “You’re talking now.”

"Alone," you clarified.

Tommy studied you for a long moment, cigarette balanced between his fingers. His blue eyes flickered with something unreadable before he finally gave a short nod.

"Arthur, John. Give us a minute."

Arthur scoffed but didn’t argue. He took one last swig from the bottle before pushing up from his chair, clapping Tommy’s shoulder as he passed. 

You waited until John and Arthur had left the room and the door clicked shut before you turned back to Tommy.

He leaned back against the headboard, watching you carefully, cigarette still resting between his fingers. "Go on then," he said, tone unreadable. "What is it?"

You shifted on your feet, suddenly aware of how closely Tommy was watching you. His gaze was steady, unblinking, waiting.

“I overheard something in town,” you started carefully.

That caught his interest. His cigarette lingered between his fingers, the faint curl of smoke rising between you. "Alright," he said, his voice still unreadable.

You hesitated, feeling the weight of your next words. "Some men were talking. They said that the men who attacked you worked for someone named Sabini."

Tommy didn’t react right away, didn’t move a muscle, but something in the air shifted. His silence was calculating, measured.

"They said no one’s seen you since," you continued, "and that someone– some worker or middle man, is in Birmingham. They said something about seeing if the job’s been finished, and that they’d be watching the Garrison.”

Tommy’s fingers flexed slightly around his cigarette, but he didn’t say a word. His expression remained calm but there was something coiled beneath the surface, something sharp and dangerous.

Another beat of silence. Then, Tommy exhaled slowly, tapping ash from his cigarette into the tray beside him. "Who was talking?"

You shook your head. "I don’t know, I didn’t see their faces. Just some men at the apothecary."

Tommy hummed, eyes flickering with something unreadable. He studied you like he was turning something over in his mind, weighing possibilities, measuring the value of what you’d just told him.

"They say anything else?" he asked.

"Just that if Sabini is involved, it means trouble. Something about him looking to expand."

Tommy let out a slow breath through his nose, nodding slightly. "Why’d you tell me?"

You blinked at him, caught slightly off guard by the question. "Seemed like something you’d want to know," you said simply.

Tommy studied you, tapping his cigarette against the tray, the ember dimming. "Could’ve kept it to yourself," he pointed out. "Could’ve walked away, let me sort it out myself."

You hesitated, shifting your weight. "Could have. Wouldn’t have sat right with me, though."

His expression flickered as something unreadable passed behind his sharp blue eyes. “Good.”

You crossed your arms, watching him as realization washed over you. "You already knew.” 

Tommy’s lips twitched, just slightly. "I had my suspicions. But appreciate your honesty.” 

A beat of silence passed between you, the room settling into a quiet lull. The distant sounds of the city hummed beyond the walls, a reminder that life outside this room continued on, unchanged. 

You offered a quick nod, focusing on securing the last of the bandages.

Tommy shifted slightly, rolling his injured shoulder just enough to test his limits. Then, with a tone almost too casual, he asked, "So, once I make my miraculous recovery, will you be sticking around Birmingham?"

You blinked, your fingers hesitating for the briefest second before resuming their work.

"That depends," you said evenly.

"On what?"

You pressed your lips together.

On work. On money. On not knowing where the hell else to go.

Finally, you settled on: "I have to figure some things out."

Tommy hummed. "Doesn’t sound like much of a plan."

You arched a brow. "And what about you, Mr. Shelby? Do you have it all figured out?"

He smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Not yet."

"Well," you said finally, "let me know when you do."

Tommy exhaled slowly, watching you in that way he always did, like he was working something out, piecing something together that you didn’t even know you were giving away.

Before he could say anything else, you reached into your bag and pulled out the bottle of whiskey you’d bought for him, rolling it briefly between your fingers. Then, you held it out to him.

"Here," you said. "You earned it. For the pain," you muttered.

Tommy’s mouth curved slightly at the corner, something like amusement flickering in his gaze. "Thought you didn’t believe in whiskey as medicine."

"I don’t," you said, fastening the strap of your bag. “But I figured if I didn’t bring you some, you’d just send some poor bloke out later.”

Tommy hummed, reaching for the bottle. He turned it in his hands, running his thumb along the label before glancing back at you. "Stay for a drink."

You arched a brow. "I don’t drink on the job."

That earned you a small smirk. "Consider yourself off duty, then."

"Not until those stitches come out," you countered.

Tommy studied you for a moment before twisting the cap off the bottle, pouring himself a measure into the glass at his bedside. He took a slow sip, exhaling as the burn settled in his chest.

"Are you always this difficult?" he mused.

You tilted your head slightly. "Are you always this persistent?"

He smirked again, taking another sip. "When I need to be. I’m used to getting what I want."

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you finished fastening your bag. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

Tommy’s smirk lingered, but he didn’t press further. You took that as your cue to leave, turning toward the door. 

But just as your fingers brushed the handle, his voice stopped you.

"I remember now."

You froze.

Slowly, you turned back to face him, finding his gaze sharper now, more focused, like he had been fitting together a puzzle, and the last piece had finally fallen into place.

Your stomach twisted. "Remember what?"

His fingers tapped idly against the side of his glass, but his eyes never left yours. "Where I know you from."

Tommy exhaled, rolling the bottle in his hand. "Didn’t place it at first. But after you dodged my question about where you trained, I put it together." His gaze flickered to you. "You were in France. The tunnels."

You swallowed, your fingers pressing against the seam of your coat, something inside you twisting at the memory.

His mouth twitched, like he was amused with your discomfort. “Don’t worry, love,” he said. “I won’t tell.”

A silence stretched between you, the weight of the past hovering in the air, unspoken but understood. Tommy tapped his cigarette against the ashtray. 

When he realized you weren’t going to break the silence, he sighed. "Guess that means you’ve saved my life twice, then."

"I was just doing my job," you corrected quietly.

His eyes narrowed slightly, unreadable. "And now?"

You hesitated. "Now, I patch up injured pub owners for money."

Tommy smirked. "That so?"

You exhaled, tilting your head slightly. "Were you expecting something more noble?"

He studied you for a moment before leaning back slightly against the headboard, eyes unreadable as he lifted his glass in a mock toast. "Next time, bring two glasses."

Without another word, you turned and left, stepping into the cool night air, your mind racing.

…

The next few days, you stuck to your word and continued to check in on Thomas Shelby. But things weren’t the same.

You kept your distance.

You showed up when you said you would, did your job, but never lingered. And you were always sure that someone– Polly, Arthur, Ada, or John was in the room when you worked. If Tommy noticed, he didn’t say anything. Maybe he was letting you have your space. Or maybe he was just waiting.

You weren’t sure what unsettled you more– the fact that he knew, or the fact that he hadn’t pushed the subject.

France wasn’t something you spoke about. Not to anyone. The memories clung to you like damp wool, heavy and suffocating, but you had learned how to carry them. How to keep them locked away, buried deep enough that they didn’t seep into your everyday life.

But now, he knew.

You weren’t sure how much he had pieced together, whether he had been awake enough back then to remember your face, or if he had confirmed it the way he did everything else, methodically, precisely. Either way, the fact remained: Thomas Shelby had looked into you. He had pulled at the carefully stitched seams of your past, and now there was a tear.

It made you uneasy.

Not because you thought he’d do anything with the knowledge. It was that Tommy Shelby was a man who liked to understand the people around him, who picked apart every little detail until he had the full picture. And you had spent years trying to keep that picture hidden.

You didn’t want him asking questions.

So you made sure there was never a moment where he could.

One afternoon, you checked his stitches while he and John spoke in low tones about something regarding a shipment. You kept your head down, focusing on your work, pretending not to hear when Tommy’s voice dipped into something colder, sharper.

Another day, you arrived to find Polly sitting at his bedside, her arms crossed as she pressed him about something he clearly didn’t want to discuss. He barely looked at you when you entered, but you noticed the way his eyes flickered toward you as you settled in, using her presence as a buffer to avoid any direct conversation.

On another occasion, Arthur was there, laughing too loudly at something Finn had said, filling the room with his usual boisterous energy. He grinned at you when you walked in, tipping his flask toward you in greeting, but you barely acknowledged him, moving straight to Tommy’s bedside to do your work. You kept your hands steady, your tone neutral, keeping things as impersonal as possible.

You told yourself it was fine. That you were doing the right thing. That this was temporary.

And Tommy didn’t call you on it.

Not once.

If he noticed the way you never lingered, the way you avoided being alone with him, the way you rarely met his gaze, he didn’t say a word. He just watched, quiet and unreadable, letting you keep your distance, for now.

The next time you arrived, the house was already alive with conversation. John, Arthur, and Finn were inside Tommy’s room, their voices carrying through the hallway as you stepped through the door. You hesitated briefly before slipping in quietly, keeping your movements measured.

Arthur was the first to spot you. "Ah, there she is," he greeted with a grin, tipping his glass in your direction.

John glanced over his shoulder and nodded. "Hello, love."

You barely looked up. "Hi," you murmured, moving toward Tommy without breaking stride. You set your bag down and began working, carefully unwrapping the bandages with practiced hands, checking for signs of infection.

Tommy said nothing as you worked, only watching you with that same quiet scrutiny you had come to expect.

"Stitches can come out today," you said quietly after a moment, keeping your voice even. "They’ve done their job, and keeping them in too long will do more harm than good."

Tommy gave a short nod, tapping ash from his cigarette. "Fine." 

He didn’t say anything else. Instead, he turned back toward John and Arthur, continuing their conversation as if your presence no longer required his attention.

"Like I was saying," Arthur huffed, rubbing his jaw. "If the shipment doesn’t come through by Friday, we’ve got a problem. Already been delayed once, can’t let it happen again."

John leaned back against the table, arms crossed. "We need eyes on it. Someone’s not pulling their weight, and I’ve got a few guesses on who."

Tommy exhaled slowly, his cigarette hanging between his fingers. "Then find out for sure. I don’t make guesses."

You barely paid attention to the conversation, too focused on your task as Finn moved closer, watching intently.

You paused, glancing at him. His eyes were eager, wide with curiosity.

“Think you could help me out?” you asked him gently. 

Finn perked up instantly, standing a little straighter. “Really?”

You nodded, reaching into your bag for a small pair of scissors. “Yeah, I could use an extra pair of hands. Here, hold this.”

He stepped forward eagerly as you handed him the small scissors and tweezers, his fingers gripping them carefully.

Finn watched intently as you leaned in, carefully taking hold of the first stitch. “So, the trick is to snip the thread close to the knot,” you explained, steady and methodical, “then pull it through smoothly to keep from tugging at the skin too much.”

Finn nodded, his eyes flickering between your hands and Tommy’s expression. “Does it hurt?”

Tommy, who had been quiet until now, exhaled a slow stream of smoke, flicking ash from his cigarette. “Not unless she fucks it up.”

Finn shot him a glare, but you ignored his jab. On the next stitch, your hand shifted just slightly, and you tugged a little harder than necessary.

Tommy winced, his jaw tightening as he tensed under your touch. 

You glanced up, feigning innocence. “Oops.”

Tommy didn’t respond immediately, though his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. 

Finn snorted, biting back his own grin. "Did you do that on purpose?"

You raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. "Why would I do that?"

Tommy gave you a sharp look, but you just continued working, expression smooth, unbothered. "Careful," he muttered.

You hummed, clearly unbothered. 

Arthur leaned back in his chair, grinning. "Don’t think she’s scared of you, Tommy."

Finn, still holding onto the supplies, watched closely as you reached for the next stitch while Tommy, Arthur and John resumed their previous conversation. 

"So, how do you know when to take them out?" Finn asked, eyes flickering between your hands and Tommy’s skin.

You kept your focus on your work, carefully snipping another thread. "The wound has to be fully closed, no gaps or signs of infection. If you take them out too soon, it could reopen." You tilted your head slightly. "See here?" You gestured for Finn to lean closer, pointing at the clean, healed line of skin where the stitch had been. "It’s sealed up properly. No redness, no warmth, no tenderness. That’s how you know it’s ready."

Finn nodded, his brows furrowing in concentration. "And if it wasn’t?"

You smirked. "Then he’d still be stuck with me for longer."

Finn’s face fell, clear disappointment washing over him. "That mean you’re leaving, then?"

You hesitated for a fraction of a second before giving him a small, reassuring smile. "I’m sure I’ll see you around, Finn."

He didn’t look convinced, shifting on his feet, clearly disappointed. Before he could press further, you nudged the supply tray toward him. "Here, help me with this one."

His eyes flickered between you and Tommy before stepping forward, looking eager again despite himself. You guided his hand gently over the scissors. "Just like I showed you, snip at the base, then let me do the rest."

Finn furrowed his brows, concentrating hard as he did exactly as you instructed, carefully cutting the stitch. You took over from there, using the tweezers to pull the thread free.

"See?" you murmured. "You’re a natural."

Finn beamed, his previous disappointment temporarily forgotten. 

You gave his shoulder a small squeeze before gathering your supplies. "Take care of yourself, alright?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "You too."

Arthur and John were still deep in conversation with Tommy, their voices low and sharp, discussing something about a shipment and a name you didn’t recognize. They were too engrossed to notice as you silently slipped toward the door.

You stepped out into the hallway, adjusting the strap of your bag, and made your way toward the kitchen. The scent of freshly brewed tea and cigarette smoke lingered in the air as you entered, finding Polly seated at the table, flipping idly through the newspaper. She barely looked up as she took a slow drag from her cigarette.

"Done already?" she asked, tapping ash into a ceramic dish.

You nodded. "He’s healing well. I took all the stitches out. He’s got no sign of infection."

Polly hummed, setting the paper down as she studied you. "So, that’s it then?"

You exhaled slowly, rolling your shoulders. "That’s it. He should keep the sling on for another week, but it won’t kill him if he takes it off sooner."

Polly nodded, taking another slow drag before exhaling a thin stream of smoke. "So, what’s next for you?" she asked, her voice even, but curious.

You shrugged, adjusting the strap of your bag. "Hoping to find work somewhere in the area. Haven't figured it out yet."

Polly hummed, tilting her head slightly as she watched you. "Well, I imagine we’ll miss having you around. Finn especially."

That caught you off guard. You blinked, shifting slightly.

Polly smirked. "He’s taken a liking to you. Thinks you’re the only one who talks any sense around here."

Something about the way she said it made you hesitate. You cleared your throat, shifting your weight. "Well, he’s a good kid."

Polly gave a slow nod, taking another drag from her cigarette. "I’d say goodbye, but I’m sure we’ll be seeing you around.”

You exhaled softly, gripping the strap of your bag a little tighter. There was something knowing in Polly’s gaze, something that made you feel like she could see straight through you.

Rather than acknowledge it, you offered a small nod. “Take care, Polly.”

She only smirked. “Oh, I always do.”

You didn’t linger. You stepped out of the kitchen, weaving through the familiar halls of the Shelby home, keeping your head down as you made your way toward the door.

You could still hear Arthur and John talking in the other room, their voices carrying through the house, but Tommy hadn’t said a word since you left his room. You didn’t look back.

As you stepped out into the cold evening air, the realization settled heavily in your chest.

This was it.

For the first time in over a week, you wouldn’t be walking through those doors tomorrow.

The thought sat strangely with you.

You had told yourself this was temporary, that you had no business getting comfortable here. But somehow, in between checking bandages and stitching wounds, you had settled into the rhythm of the Shelby house more than you intended.

And now that rhythm was gone.

Shaking off the thought, you turned onto the street, heading home, convincing yourself that this was how it was supposed to end.

[asmutwriter]

The Gangsta's Wife (Part 8)

DESCRIPTION: Whilst you're husband is away for business reasons you have an unexpected (and unwelcome) guest.

WORD COUNT: 2865

From Beginning / Previous / Next / Master List  

WARNINGS: pregnancy, knife, knife violence, injury, injury detail, fight, blood, Thomas calls reader 'love', drinking, drinking whilst pregnant (brief), swearing

DISCLAIMERS

This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

This story does not follow the timeline of the show

It had been a couple of weeks since that night. Your husband was near London on business matters. He'd recently purchased a race horse so he was minding that over the past few days. You were taking this time of bliss to have a small nap. Your fatigue having increased over the past few days. Knowing you had caught up on the housework you decided to allow yourself a restful afternoon. You were going to read however sleep soon had other ideas.

You jump awake as you hear a gentle knock on the front door. You let out a soft grumble as you wipe your eyes. Pushing yourself up. Your hand instinctively going to your belly as you walk over to the door. Unlocking it. Assuming it was one of your in-laws, or one of your sisters who'd forgotten their key. Possibly even your husband. Your wide smile to greet your guest being stunned as you see a man waiting outside.

"Mrs Shelby?". Your scan over their frame. The smile fading completely when you see the knife hidden in his coat. You go and shut the door on him. His hand coming out and stopping it. You turn quickly. Making your way upstairs. Just as the door swings open.

Someone grabbing the lower half of you leg. Tripping you. The air from your lungs being forced out. You turn your body. You bring your free leg up. Kicking him. He grabs at the flesh of your lower leg. Yanking you down a few stairs. Able to straddle you. You struggle as he grabs the knife out. Holding the knife up to go in for a swipe. Bringing your hands up as a means to protect yourself. One over your face, the other near your stomach.

It goes through your palm. You scream out as he removes the item. Going in for another swing. Bringing your knee up and kicking them in the crotch. He grunts out. Hand going to his injury. You clench your good hand. Bringing it back and hitting it into his face. Hearing his nose crunch under your fist. He fumbles on the stairs. Nearly falling down them. Him moving off from over you. You bring your foot up, placing it onto his chest as you shove him. Him falling down the length of the stairs. Giving you enough time to turn back around. Scrambling up the stairs as you regain your footing.

Pain going through your body as you get upstairs. Running to your bedroom and shutting the door. Holding your wounded hand by your torso. Heavy breathing as you run over to the window. Lifting the glass panel up. You weigh up the option of climbing out. But the fall being too high. Plus you weren't overly agile or slim in the best of times. Especially not with a 6 month pregnancy belly. You bite at your bottom lip as you go to plan B.

You look for a place to hide. Noticing small blood spots on the floor from your injury. You take your hand. Then rubbing it over the edge of the window frame. Biting your lip to dull any sounds of pain as silent tears stain your face. Hearing the bedroom door start to open. You drop to the floor. Hiding behind the full length mirror you have standing in the room.

The door opens. Seeing two feet walk into your room. You bite at your lips. Shutting your eyes, every ounce of you willing yourself to not make any noise. You hold your wounded hand near your chest. Your other hand coming up and covering your mouth as you become aware of how heavily you are breathing.

The attacker goes over to the window. Presumably looking out of it. You watch as he carefully and quietly wonders around the room. Obviously having the same thoughts of you of your practicality of getting out the small space in such a rush. You see him look under the bed. In the wardrobe. Then he comes over to the mirror. You stay as silent as you can. Practically holding your breath.

Watching as his feet walk out of the room. Hearing them make their way downstairs. You look at your hand. Trying not to gag as you see the wound. You go to the bottom of your skirt. Hand shaking as you tear the end of it. Using it as you wrap it around your injury. Gritting your teeth as you finish. Holding it close to you.

Resting against the wall as your eyes remain fixed on the door. You will yourself to not pass out. Trying to focus on something. Anything. You sit for what must've been a few hours. Waiting behind the mirror. Scared that if you move you'll pass out. Or get found. So you stay still. As much as you can given that your entire body is shaking. Tears still falling down your cheeks as you watch the doorway. You become alert again as you hear noise downstairs.

Looking around you for anything that could be used as a weapon. Biting your lip as you're met with nothing of use to you. Then an idea. You bring your good hand down. Taking off your high healed shoe. Unbuckling the straps of them both. Quietly resting one down onto the floor as you bring the other one up. Holding the top of it. Heal outwards. Gripping around the sole. You move out from behind the mirror. Over to the doorway. Just around the corner so you can remain hidden. Giving you the advantage. Your hand slowly bleeding onto your shirt as you keep it close to your chest. Holding the shoe up. Getting ready to attack.

Your whole body shaking as they cautiously step into the room. You bring the shoe up. Aiming for their head. They turn quickly. Grabbing your wrist to prevent you from harming them. Going to reach for his gun but stopping as he meets your eyes.

"Tommy" you say his name. A small sob coming out. Dropping the shoe you held as you wrap your arm around him. Your wounded hand still clutched to yourself. Fresh tears falling as you hide your head into his shoulder. His arms coming up and holding you. Your entire body shaking.

He unwraps his arms. Moving away slightly as he holds your face. "Florence are you hurt?". So much adrenaline coursing through your body that you forget to answer him. His eyes going to your injured hand. He goes to take it. But you keep it clutched to yourself. "Let me look". He takes your reluctant hand in his. Gently holding the wrist of it as he unwraps the cloth you used. You grip at your skirt. Looking away as you clench your teeth. Body still intensely shaking.

"You're ok love. I've got you" he gently moves you to sit on the bed. Shutting your eyes as you feel queasy. You're hand going to your stomach as you take in a few deep breaths. John and Esme coming up the stairs.

"Thomas?"

"She's been stabbed. She has a sewing kit somewhere in here" you hear them fumbling about. Unable to work out which one announces they've found it. Your husband sits next to you on the bed. Gripping your good hand with his. His arm going around to hold you close to him. You feel someone grabbing your arm. Holding it out. Opening your eyes you see John is sat beside you. Gripping your lower arm and wrist.

Esme using a match, putting the needle into it before placing it into a drink of you presume alcohol or water. You go to move away. Shaking your head as she kneels in front of you. Tommy and Johns grip tightening around you. "The wound needs stitches. Its going to hurt but I'll be quick, ok?".

She takes your hand. Starting to sew your hand up. You cry out. Tommy holding your good hand as you go to push her away. John holding your arm out so you can't retract it. Your husband shushing you comfortingly as you cry. His arms keeping your body pressed against his as both the Shelby men keep you still.

She kept her word. Although it seemed like hours, the procedure was done in less then a minute. Taking the glass she had used for the needle and pouring it over the wound. Causing you to cry out again. Scrunching your eyes shut as you grip the hand of your husband. Fresh tears falling down your cheeks as you feel John lets go of you. Thomas kisses your temple, stroking your hair.

"Well done love. It's over". Moving the hand from your hair. Feeling him move from behind you. Your body weight resting against him. Feeling something cold hit your lips. Jumping as you open your eyes. A whiskey bottle. "Drink. It'll help dull the pain". You shake your head.

"Liz. Mary..." you whsiper. Going to stand up, Thomas's arm still wrapped around you. Keeping you sat on the bed. Esme speaks next to you.

"Both safe and next door" you nod. Letting Thomas lift the bottle. Letting your drink a large quantity of it before removing it. Placing it back on the side. You breath heavily. Shutting your eyes again as you try and focus on your husband. His warmth. Scent.

"They got Arthur and Michael too" John says. Tommy nodding in response. "I thought you said that we were safe"

"I thought we were too..." he says. Voice quiet as he holds you close to him. Your eyes remaining shut as your breathing becomes steady. You hear commotion from downstairs. You flinch. Eyes widening as you go closer to your husband. Body must still be on high alert from the chaos as you back away slightly. Thomas grips your hand slightly tighter as you watch the doorway. John cautiously going and seeing what the noise was.

"They took my son" you hear Polly say as she storms into the room. The Shelby boys and Esme relaxing slightly. "Thomas they took my fucking son" she says again. "You promised that he'd be safe. You said-"

"Polly" he tries to calm her.

"No. They took Michael. They took my boy" she shakes her head. Obviously trying not to break down fully. "You need to get my son back. Thomas get my so-"

"Enough." He cuts her off. The tone sharp and precise. Sending chills down your spine. "Family meeting next door. Now. John get Finn" he nods. Going out, shortly followed by his wife. You see Polly's eyes frantic as they look at her nephew.

"Thomas" she says. Sternness in her voice that you can only put down as a Shelby tone.

"I said go next door. I will talk to you there" she clenches her jaw. Borderline stropping out the room as she leaves. Hearing her footsteps loud on the stairs. He moves from behind you. Kneeling in front of you as he rests a hand on your cheek. His other hand still holding onto yours.

"I'm sorry Mr Shelby... I tried keeping the baby safe..." you shut your eyes. Tears swelling in them again. He nods. Lips slightly parted as he watches you.

"I'm going to change your out of these clothes, ok?" he speaks softly to you. You nod your head. Feeling him start to undo the buttons of your shirt. You wince as he pulls the sleeve over your arm and hand. More ease on the other one, less injured one. Throwing your blood soaked garment onto the floor. You hear him stand up. Opening your eyes you watch as he gets a damp cloth. Coming over he cleans up some of the dried blood on your arm and torso.

Where you'd been holding it so tightly against yourself you'd managed to bleed through your shirt. Tossing the cloth aside he gently places a new shirt over your frame. He kneels in front of you. Holding your good hand. Watching his eyes scanning your features. As you look down at him.

"I'm going to call the midwife and get her to come and check you and the baby over. I can't see any wounds near the child but I think its best if we check, ey?" you nod. "I need to go next door and have this meeting. Find out exactly what happened and why" You shake your head.

"Please don't leave me..." a feeble whisper comes past your lips. He looks at you. Nodding slightly before standing. You keep your eyes on his as he pulls you up by your good hand. One arm holding your hand still as the other goes to the lower part of your back. Letting you gain your balance. Your body still shaking.

"I'm going to find the man that did this to you" he speaks in a low, hushed voice. "I'm going to make him pay. For harming you. For harming our child". You meet his eyes again. Cold. The stare making your breath hitch. You look downwards. Keeping a hold of his hand as he leads you next door. Sitting you down onto a chair before the family meeting ensues.

The midwife came round less then 24 hours later. Checking over you and the baby and confirming that you were both fine. Although your body had gone into shock it doesn't seem to have affected the pregnancy. Once Thomas had heard this news you didn't see him for a long time. Not that he'd left you unprotected. You made note of the various Blinders patrolling outside your house.

It was midday during the weekend. You were playing a game with your sisters when you hear the front door open. You turn quickly. Standing up - mind you a little wobbly - but quickly to see your husband walk into the living room.

Your eyes scanning over his features as you look at him. Lifting his head up to look at you. "I need you and your sisters to come with me"

"Why?"

"Go pack a bag each. I'll wait here" he says. Eyes drifting to your sisters who look at him then at you. "Go" he says. Sterner this time. Your sisters having better judgement then you stand up. Scurrying past you and Thomas. Hearing their footsteps on the wooden flooring upstairs. Your eyes dart between his two blue orbs. His stay steady and fixated on yours. "Go" he repeats. You shake your head

"I want you to answer my question"

"I'll answer your questions when we get in the car and start driving"

"No. No you can't do that. You can't just expect to leave us alone for days. With no contact. No say as to where you've gone. Then turn up expecting me to get into a car with you without asking any questions. No". Reaching up he takes his cap off. Your eyes glancing at the small piece of metal that glints in the light of the room. Watching as he puts it onto the cabinet near the door.

You try to read him. His posture. Placing his hands in front of him as his eyes become steady on yours once again. You keep your ground under his menacing stare. Making a point by folding your arms over your torso. Feeling your hands shaking as you clench them against you.

"I want answers". Your voice a whisper. He takes in a breath through his nose. Exhaling as he speaks.

"Did Detective Campbell try and fuck you?". The sudden question shocking you. Taking you a while to come up with a response.

"Excuse me?"

"Did he try and fuck you?". You flit your eyes between his.

"He may have... suggested such notions... But I refused him"

"You should've told me"

"I didn't see it being necessary"

"I'd like to know when my enemy tries to fuck my wife. I believe that is the reason he hired that man to attack you"

"Because I refused to have sex with him?".

"And to enforce his argument of how dangerous this life is. That this world is filled with blood and violence". You bring your hand to your stomach. Holding it, rubbing a thumb over the swell of your belly.

"Why do you want me to pack a bag?"

"I'm going to move you and your sisters to a safe house. One that only I and a handful of my most trusted men know about"

"How long will we be there for?"

"Until I have dealt with the current threat and it is safe for you to come back home"

"Who will be with us at the safe house?"

"It'll be you and your sisters. I'll have a man guarding the perimeter who will change periodically. Plus someone else to deliver you food. The midwife will see you when she is needed but she is to come alone and be searched every time she comes". Your hands rest under your stomach. Breaking eye contact with him as you look down. He stays quiet as you process his answers. Nodding slightly before looking back up at him. "Good. Go pack a bag"

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TAGS

@whorecrux-of-slytherin @kkrenae @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo

[warnersister]

How the Peaky boys would react to “you wearing a sundress” -> headcannon

(NSFW) but more implied then truly written, but still read at your own risk

Tommy🪖

🪖it was a hot day, and you were rummaging through your clothing chest to try find something suitable to wear to bear the heat outside.

🪖Tommy had headed out early, business to attend to with Alfie Solomons.

🪖he hadn’t meant to wake you, trying to sneak around the bedroom to get dressed and get out of the house: especially after a… long night

🪖but still, you stirred and whined “Tom?” You breathe with a rasped voice “s’alright, back to sleep darling” he instructed but you endured, sitting up and stretching your arms high above your head and Thomas watched as the covers fell to reveal your bare torso and it took all his self control to stop salivating.

🪖you climbed out of bed and threw the slip dress over your head, heading towards your husband who was buttoning his shirt in the mirror

🪖you turned him towards you and swatted his hands away, and he allowed you to finish buttoning his shirt for him, finishing the top button and pulling the collar down to kiss him.

🪖”Solomons is coming by today” Thomas huffed and you looked up at him with narrowed eyes “long meeting?” You ask and he shakes his head “shouldn’t be” you nod “d’you want me to come by later? Bring you some lunch?” You ask and he connects his eyes with yours “y’know y’worry me when you stay in there all day” you continue and he offers a small smile. “I’ll take that as a yes” you say, kissing the corner of his mouth and tapping his chest, ushering him out of the door. “Go on, shoo.”

🪖he smirked and grabbed his cap on the way out, whistling as he went

🪖so there you were, already sweeting with mere silk on your body

🪖you saw a dress with the tags still on, yellow and billowing at the bottom: sundress

🪖you looked it over one before deciding it was the perfect choice for today’s endeavours.

🪖you’d nipped out to the market first, collecting some supplies to make him some soup or whatever you could conjure up.

🪖you even grabbed some sunflowers too; having bought him a vase for his office, thinking it needed some life brought into it, given the volume of lives that were lost in that room.

🪖later in the day you headed to Tommy’s office, assuming that his meeting must be done by now and to feed him.

🪖you’d headed to the Garrison, greeting Harry and having a few wandering eyes following you as you approached the Blinder’s designated room, thinking nothing of it as you turned the door knob.

🪖Tommy couldn’t be mad at your intrusion for the sheer sight of you. His pupils blew out of his head as he looked you over, he’d never seen this dress before. Yet his jaw gritted at the way Alfred fucking Solomons had the same reaction.

🪖”oh I’m so sorry gentleman” you said, pivoting to leave “no no, sweetheart. Alfie was just leaving. Weren’t you?” Tommy asked and Alfie creased his brows but with the eyes his business partner was giving him told him everything he needed to know. “Yeah yeah, just leaving Tom”

🪖Alfie stood, to leave and smiled at you “lovely to see you, poppet” Alfie said, you’d always gotten along with him; you hugged him as he welcomed it, and he grinned at you “you look gorgeous you, yeah? Lovely new dress. Fabulous it is” “fuck off Alfie” “yeah yeah I’m going, bye love”

🪖Tommy looked you over as the door clicked shut with tight lips. “I’m sorry Tom I didn’t think he’d still be here-” “have you had that on all day?” He cuts you off and you raise your brows “the dress?” “Mhm” “oh yeah, found it earlier. Never worn it.” You say, spinning to give him a giddy look at it.

🪖Tommy couldn’t help but smile “c’m ere.” He beckons you over and you approach him “I brought you some lunch-” you begin “nah, got all I need to eat right here” he says and grabs your hips, prompting you to discard your basket on his desk.

🪖he sits back in his seat; opening his legs to pull you to stand between them. He gently takes the fabric between his fingers, then drags his hands so slowly up to your torso, not looking at your face. You fidget anxiously, his hands dragging back down to the hem of the dress.

🪖”dangerous wearing this, love” he says, dipping his hands under the dress to rest on your upper thighs, finally looking at you. You smile. He realises how easily the fabric is lifted, pushing you back to sit on his desk “can’t do this to y’old Tom and expect to get away with it” he says, with a tut, unzipping his trousers and removing his suspenders as he pushes your underwear to the side.

🪖”I’m buying you more o’ these.”

Alfie🧸

🧸Alfie was sat reading the newspaper in his armchair, Cyril asleep beside him when you came into the room.

🧸”so, what do you think?” You asked and Alfie looked up but had to do a double take. A white sundress with frilled straps and tight torso. “Blimey poppet, what’s this then?” He asked, dropping his glasses to the end of his nose to get a better look at you.

🧸”a sundress Alf!” You say, “y’bought it last year, remember?” “Thought I’d remember buying something like this.” He says, standing to his feet, moving to take your hand in his own “give us a spin then darling” he says, turning you as the fabric billowed as you went only for your gorgeous beaming face to return to him.

🧸”now this is fucking fabulous ain’t it darlin’, fucking fabulous. Bloody love it. Suits you nicely” he mumbles as you smile “but y’can’t wear it” he says and your face drops “y’what?” You asks, brows furrowing. “Y’aint givin y’old man heart palpitations and expecting me to let y’out of the house, flower. Not like this” he says sternly, wagging an accusatory finger at you.

🧸”but we’re got to go to the market-” you protest “nah, we ain’t” he says, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder as you yelp. He flips the rim of your skirt up so he gets a great view of your ass, smacking it lightly “Alfie!”

🧸”don’t think I won’t shag y’on these stairs, treacle, now let me get up the fucking stairs, yeah?”

🧸then later in the day when you’d finally manage to coax him off of you and out of the house to the market, there was a hand permanently on your waist. And then at some point you bent over to smell some flowers and Alfie couldn’t help but lean his hips into yours. You yelped “Alfie!” You hissed. “C‘mon love I can’t cope.” He grunts, impatiently prompting the rest of the shopping to go by faster, flipping the skirt of the dress up again when he finally got back to the car.

Arthur🍺

🍺so. Fucking. Antsy.

🍺can’t keep his fucking hands off of you.

🍺left early, didn’t he? Ended up waking you up; banging all the doors shut and all that as he clambered out of the house.

🍺you decided that was your wake up call regardless, knowing full well that if he’d have left in a state such as the one he was in last night then it wasn’t good business. Meaning it’d perk him up for you to visit him and calm down his anger during the day, even if it was only a chat to rectify his emotions.

🍺you’d gotten yourself dressed without a second thought, inly to do a double take and head right back into the house when you felt the sweltering temperatures outside the from door.

🍺you’d rummage through your clothing chest, struggling to find anything suitable for such an occasion, used to the drizzly cool downpour of the indefinite English winter.

🍺then you spotted it; the sundress

🍺Arthur had gone mad for it last year, and it was forgotten about at around Christmas time when it was way too cold for attire like that, but now was the perfect opportunity to wind him up again.

🍺and you were in a teasing mood after the way he’d slammed the front door shut and made a crack in the mahogany.

🍺so you’d slipped it on, it was a lovely shade of pink; baby pink to be exact. Arthur loved that colour on you, made him forget all his troubles and appreciate his woman for a while - especially when he couldn’t get his hands off you. So, giving yourself a once over you spritzed a bit of the expensive perfume Thomas had kindly gifted you the Christmas prior, the one you knew Arthur liked the smell of, and headed out the door.

🍺you decided to stop by the bakery on the way to his office, the bakery with the young cashier who had a large crush on you who Arthur absolutely despised, and you knew it’d get him even more rilled up knowing full well that you’d been in that dress, had leant over the counter while the young lad stumbled over his words and explained what was in every one of them, let you sample the one that the lad knew full well was your favourite, and gave you it on the house with a tip on the hat and a kiss on the hand.

🍺yeah this was turning out to be a pretty good day.

🍺so you waltzed through the building, little spring in your step as you greeted all the turning heads who watched you as you walked.

🍺you knocked on his door “fuck off” and you opened it “sorry Arth, thought you’d want some company” you say in the shyest voice you could manage to muster. His demeanour immediately changed when he heard your voice, his posture settled but when he looked at you his mouth ran dry.

🍺”brought you a bun” you say, taking it out of the bag you’d brought and knew full well he looked at the branding on the paper packaging. His jaw went slack. “Fuck me love, y’tryna kill me?” He asked, taking his cap off his head and shooting his head beneath it. “What do you mean, darling?” You asked, feigning innocence, heading to his desk as you placed the treat in front of him. “You know fucking damn well what. That bastard dress is back again” he says, grabbing your waist with calloused hands to bring you closer to him and he looked you over.

🍺”wearing the nice perfume too, ain’t ya love?” He asked meekly and you nodded “warm day and I couldn’t find anything else. Saw how quickly you’d left his morning so I thought I’d bring you something to eat” you say with a small, innocent smile as you stroked his cheek. He swallowed hard, eyes unwillingly shifting from you to the pastry on his desk.

🍺”y’ve been to that fucking bakery, ain’t ya?” He asked, gritting his teeth “well it’s your favourite-” “and that little bastard was serving wasn’t he?” He asked again, eyes narrowing “who? Daniel-” “yes fucking Daniel that little cock rocket who thinks he can get in your knickers that’s who” he seethed.

🍺then it dawned on him. “And he saw you in this fucking thing” he growled, bunching the pink material in his hands as he huffed “m’sorry Arth. Didn’t think” you reply. Liar. “Nah I think you knew. Knew to tease y’old Arthur didn’t you?” He asked, thumb drawing small circles into your waist. You replied with a small smile “I knew it! Y’little minx!” He chuckled, shaking his head.

🍺”well!“You exclaim, taking his hands and prying them from your waist as his face dropped “I’ll leave you be. Enjoy your pasty. Love you.” You say, turning to make your leave and he almost growled.

🍺”where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He asked, standing up after you as you walked back through his door, failing to suppress your smirk. He pretty much sprinted after you, grabbing you roughly and throwing you over his shoulder to turn right back around and into his office. “Got all I want to eat right fucking ‘ere. You ain’t leaving this office in this bastard dress” he promises, slamming the office door behind the two of you.

John🥃

🥃bold of you to think you’re even leaving the house with it on.

🥃he’s not like his brothers, he wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye unless Tommy was literally at the door screaming for him, and even then he was quick to reassure you before he sprinted out the house.

🥃no he liked to wake up with you, especially now there were too many kids to count running around the house.

🥃he liked to wake you up with little kisses, grab you at the waist and pull you back into bed if you tried to leave, brush his teeth beside you in the bathroom, help get the kids ready, pick your outfit, and let you tie his tie which usually took a good half hour between all the songs he’d sneak in.

🥃gave him a sense of homeliness.

🥃a bit of normality.

🥃today was no different, he’d woke you up with little kisses, rolling you to sit on top of him, legs either side of his hips as he repetitively kissed you as you giggled and tried to rise for a breath.

🥃”mammy I’m hungry!” A voice came from the doorway and you saw your agitated son pawing at his pyjamas as he looked at you desperately. “Fucking kid interrupting. About to fu-” John mumbled quietly before you were placing a hand over his mouth with wide, warning eyes. He smirked at you. “Alright mate, I’ll come, leave your poor mammy alone” John answered, finally managing to pry your hand away. “Thanks daddy” he says, giddily, as John reluctantly placed you back in bed and rolled out, chucking a shirt on and turning back to you. “Don’t move” he says, wagging a jokingly warning finger at you and you laugh “yes sir” you salute and he smirk.

🥃”right c’mon mate.” John says, grabbing your son and slinging him onto a piggy back to go grab him something to munch on.

🥃you practically jumped out of bed to go grab the new sundress that you bought last week, you hadn’t shown John yet and decided that today was the day you were going to wear it, especially now you had the quick couple of minutes of peace alone.

🥃”right, little’uns eating his breakf- fuck me” you spun around to look at your husband and smiled “what d’y think?” You ask, “g’i us a twirl” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. You did as he said and pivoted around, showing how the dress spun with you.

🥃”it’s a sundress” you say “I can see that flower” he replies, walking up to you to have a good feel of the fabric, gliding his hands from your upper back to your waist as he pulls you into him “y’can’t wear tha’.” He says simply and you giggle “why’s tha Johnny?” You ask and he raises his brows “that little name tells me you know goddamn why gorgeous.” He says “y’cannea wear it cause I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off of ya.” He says, quickly turning to slam the door shut before picking you up and dropping you on the bed, climbing on top of you and leaning in to kiss you hungrily.

🥃you move to take the dress of and he shakes his head “now, now whole point of this dress is that it’s easy access now, ain’t it?” He hums “leave it on I’ll work around don’t you worry ‘bout me.” He says quickly with his tongue protruding to lick his dry lips as he looks you over.

🥃he dips his head under the hem of the dress and eats you like a man starved. “Mammy! Daddy we’re ‘ungry!” You hear from beyond the door and John stops his movement to come back up for air and clamp a hand over your mouth to stop the sounds coming out of it. John huffs, frustrated but clears his throat. “Harriet darlin’ can you reach the milk?” He asks after a minute “I can da’.” Her little voice replies “Toby can you reach the cereal?” “Uh-huh” the other retorts. “Great and Charlie? Bowls and spoons?” “Yeah I know where they are daddy!” The little one says “perfect. Harriet want you to get the milk, the big ‘un I’m not having you using up the fancy shit your mam bought from Camden. Y’here me?” He asks “yeah dad” “Toby, grab the cereal and Charlie get the bowls and lot.” He instructs “okay!” The collective voices come out. “Hannah need you to make sure it’s all gone to plan, alright hon?” He asks “sure thing” then you hear the patter of feel heading down the stairs

🥃”and I swear to god if any of you little shits make a mess y’ll all be up for the fuckin’ high jump!” He announces loudly, before quieting down and turning back to you “where were we?”

🥃and then when you’d finally managed to pry him off of you, he begrudgingly let you wear it “don’t forget we’re going to Alice’s garden party.” You say “what?” He asks, noticing how you’ve dressed all the kids appropriately “y’ain’t going looking like that flower” he says “I sure am. Come in you lot! In the car!” You say, ushering him out the door

🥃he managed to sneak you away one or two times at the party.

Bonnie🥊

🥊Bonnie’s just as bad as John

🥊cannot keep his hands off of you

🥊”’m takin’ y’ to Bonnie Gold’s fight.” Your brother said walking into the room “wear summot nice, that dress I bought you” “why?” “Just get dressed” you nodded at Tommy, not opposed to visiting Bonnie Gold any day.

🥊”is his sister coming?” Bonnie asked his dad hopefully and the man smirked “why?” “J’st wonderin’.” “Yeah well keep y’eyes on the prize” Aberama told him “she is the fuckin’ prize” “try keep y’hands off of ‘er until the fights over, yeah?” He asked and him and Bonnie just shared a knowing smirk.

🥊you put on the sundress Tommy had bought you the other week, deciding it was a nice enough day to have a breeze against your skin, plus you had a pair of lovely shoes to match.

🥊so you rocked up downstairs, dress on and ready to go and Tommy just gave you a once over “poor lads gonna have a fuckin’ heart attack” John said, laughing “shut up John” you reply, as he opened the door to the car for you, offering his hand to help you up. “You look nice” Arthur commented with a raised brow “damn fucker better win this fight”

🥊”Bonnie” Thomas nodded as he entered the building, followed by his brothers, you at the back with John who’d strung an arm over your shoulder. “Mr Shelby” he nodded at him, but was clearly distracted. “Don’t you worry, Bonnie. She’s right ‘ere.” Tommy says, moving out the way for John and you to come into his view. “Hiya, Bon.” You smile “hiya flower” he manages to muster.

🥊yet, his breath had caught in his throat at the sheer sight of you. Your gorgeous face, hair done up nicely, and a fucking milkmaid dress. Some lovely sundress that other men didn’t deserve to see. Bonnie’s jaw clenched.

🥊”right, we’ll leave the two of you for a minute. Aberama, let’s chat” Thomas said, leading the others away “if he tries anything come and fuckin’ find me.” John said, looking Bonnie over once with narrowed eyes before strutting off after the others.

🥊Bonnie smirked looking at you “y’look lovely” he said quietly, approaching you “not too bad y’self Bon” you giggle as his hands wrap around you, leaning down to kiss you gently. “This fuckin’ dress. Y’do it on purpose?” He asks and you crease your brows “do what?” You hum and he sighs “I guess you’re not beautiful on purpose are you darlin’?” He grins, grabbing your hand to drag you into his changing room and lock the door behind you.

🥊he picks you up and you squeal with a laugh, wrapping your legs around his waist as he holds you against the door. He slips his hands under the hem of the skirt and holds your thighs gently.

🥊”this fucking dress” he says, chuffed that he managed to slip his hands all the way up to settle on your waist and you just smiled at him. You could feel him toying with the waistband of your panties and you laugh “Bon we’ve only got ten minutes!” You giggle and he sighs “guess we’ve got to be quick then, ay sugar?” He asks, undoing his trousers and just merely pushing your panties aside.

🥊you lean your head into the curve of his neck, muffling the sounds erupting from your mouth and muffling them with his bear skin and he slid in and out of you. “God ‘m so fuckin’ obsessed with you.” He groaned “y’know what this makes me think of?” He asks and you shake your head in question against him. “Makes me think of a mammy. What a mammy should wear when she’s pregnant ‘nd can’t get into nothin’ else.” He mumbles. “This wha’ya were tryna do t’me?” He asks “tryna get me to make y’a mammy? Cause it’s working darlin’. So well.” You whine at his remark.

🥊and when you both finish you try to pull up from his shoulder but he holds you firmly in place “Nuh uh. You dress like a mammy y’become one” he says and you can’t help but smile at his statement. Eventually, he unwraps you from his waist and lets you down onto shaky legs. A knock comes at the door “five minutes, son. Get your hands wrapped” you hear Aberama say to him followed by leaving footsteps. You smile up at him “c’mon I’ll wrap your hands”

🥊you pull him to where the wrap is, sitting him down on the bench and standing between his legs as you work on protecting his hands.

🥊He was being extremely difficult

🥊trying to wrap a man’s hands when all he wants to do is have them under your dress is an extremely difficult task as he kept groping at your skin rather than letting you work. “D’ya want your hands wrapping or not?” You ask with a huff and he smirks “would rather be doing somethin’ else.” He shrugs, but lets you finish. And when you do he pulls you into a tight hug, leaning against the fabric where your breasts were constricted.

🥊”Bonnie, c’mon lad it’s time” you heard your brother say from beyond the door, knocking on it thrice (sausage roll video lol)

🥊Bonnie groaned from under your dress (you didn’t know when he’d managed to snake his way back under there) but you grabbed his hand and yanked him from his seated position to standing; pulling him towards the door and unlocking it to take him to the ring.

🥊Bonnie pulled the hand that was dragging him, sending you flying into his chest with a force that nearly winded you as he gave you one last kiss. “Bonnie! Go!” You giggled, pushing him away and towards the ring, taking a stand beside your brothers as the match began.

🥊The rounds went by painfully slow for Bonnie; regardless of the fact that he was winning - but in reality it was only a good few minutes of pure fighting.

🥊then when the match was finished, he waltzed over to the Shelby family like he owned the place and offered a blood-filled grin as it dripped down his chin.

🥊”well done Bonnie lad.” Tommy said, lighting a cigarette. “Cheers Tommy.” He replied, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. “Didn’t y’get some money f’this match?” John asked, lighting his own. “Nah he’s got his own trophy right over there” Tommy replied, nodding at you as they all turned to see you chatting with Bonnie’s father.

🥊”just do us a favour” Thomas told him and Bonnie immediately nodded “marry her.” “Don’t have to tell me twice, mr Shelby.” Bonnie told him with a chuckle, heading to grab you to resume your activities.

Isaiah♟️

♟️haha.

♟️again, bold of you to assume that you’re getting fucking anywhere with that thing on.

♟️feel like it’d be a black sundress, one with frills on the sleeves.

♟️you’d gone for a walk with Finn, Tommy having told you both to fuck off for a while while they dealt with some deeper business; so a stroll around seemed to be the choice at hand.

♟️eventually though, Finn had gotten distracted by a sign you’d read that said ‘pretty women here shilling for a good time’ and left you to fend for yourself, opting not to follow your twin into the whore house, yet you weren’t in your own company for long, feeling a cap placed on your head and an arm around your shoulders.

♟️“Hey pretty, what’re you doing all alone?” Isaiah asked, as he feel into step with you, but came to a sudden halt almost lurching you back. “And who let you wear that?” His eyebrows raised as he looked you over. “Why what’s wrong with it?” You asked “nothin’ nothin’. J’st don’t understand why it’s not on my bedroom floor” you smacked his chest and giggled “Isaiah!”

♟️”y’shouldnt have been let out wearing this, love” he said, backing you against the wall of one of the nearby buildings. “Well I was with Finn” you reason “hmm? And where is Finn now?” He asks, taking your chin between his forefinger and thumb, forcing you to look at him.

♟️”in some whore house” you mumble in reply. He scoffs “some brother”. Then he starts again “why don’t we turn my house into a whore house and get that dress off you and into my room?” He suggests and you roll your eyes “such a way with words”

♟️”y’look fuckin’ insatiable” he says, leaning down to kiss that sensitive spot on the crevasse of your neck. “Dunno how I manage to keep my hand off you most of the time, doll” he shrugs “and in this? Fuck y’not gonna be walking anytime soon”

♟️you laugh at him “you wish peaky junior, now I was enjoying a lovely walk before you came along.” You hum, pushing him back by the chest and he scoffs “I’m a Shelby I can fend for myself” you shrug “not while I make you a Jesus.” He retorts, smirking like he knew he’d won. “Whatever, Isaiah” you say, calmly walking away

♟️he laughs loudly, running after you “c’mon Mrs Jesus we’ve business to attend to!” He announces, swiftly placing a hand onto your chest and pressing you back against the wall, lifting you up and placing hungry hands under the hem of your dress “Isaiah!” You scold, “not here!” He rolls his eyes “fine”

♟️and he places and arm under your knees and one to support your head as he carries you bridal-style back to his house. You clutch at his suit jacket and squeal at his action, holding on for dear life until you got to his home.

♟️did not wait until you got to the bedroom

♟️defo had his way with you against the door once it’d been firmly slammed shut and locked

♟️and on the sofa

♟️and the kitchen table

♟️and then bedroom

♟️(you never took the dress off)

♟️and eventually when you’d decided Tommy was probably done with his important business you managed to coax a begrudging Isaiah to the Garrison with you, who’d initially planned to keep you up all night with him but instead you were heading to a pub instead of his bed; which you’d end up in later anyways

♟️”oh she’s alive!” Arthur said sarcastically as you join them, noticing your presence and subsequently you noticed Finn’s. “How long did you last? Two minutes?” You asked and he scoffed “fuck off” “and of course I’m alive, I’m fine. It was Finn who left me alone!” You say, blame bombing your twin who looked at you with evil eyes.

♟️then Isaiah popped his head round “plus I wasn’t alone I was with Isaiah” you say matter-of-factly and Finn grits his jaw “what’ve I said about staying away from my fucking sister you fucking scrubber” Finn growls, landing a pent-up punch to Isaiah’s jaw who stumbled back slightly. “Didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout fucking her did ya?” He retorted and then he was running for the hills with three brothers sprinting after him.

♟️”men.” Polly said with a roll of her eyes

Michael🎱

🎱he wouldn’t be here nor there

🎱loved how it looks on you

🎱but hates the fact that other men see you wearing it.

🎱he makes heart eyes when he sees you in it, believing it to be the typical dress of a wife and mother; so it pretty much feeds into his delusions.

🎱the only time it saw the light of day in public would’ve definitely been when he’d been courting you. When he’d been invited to some garden party of a rich aristocracy down southwards.

🎱what Tommy failed to mention was that the Capitalist had a daughter a few months younger than Michael, of whom was extremely well spoken, and ridiculously pretty.

🎱he’d obviously weaselled his way over to you and the rest was history.

🎱and of course, history tends to repeat itself.

🎱again, you were heading to a garden party: Shelby arranged this time around, to show your initial family that the marriage between yourself and Michael was going well and therefore Tommy’s expansion to a more wealthier estate was worth the investment.

🎱”I’ll meet you there darling, business to take care of.” Michael had told you that morning while adjusting his collar, allowing you to help him straighten the tie you had wrapped around his neck. “Okay” you hummed, he always loved how you’d never pried.

🎱in reality he was off to see a man about a dog, in other terms; kill a man. Kill a man who’d been eyeing you up like a fucking slice of meat the evening prior. Eyeing you like he wanted to eat you like a man starved, as if your husband didn’t have a firm arm wrapped around your waist and oversized number of carats around your finger.

🎱even had the nerve to try talk to you, had groped at your ass and Michael covered your eyes with one hand while he clocked the bloke around the jaw with the other.

🎱never wanted a woman to see him fight, especially his woman.

🎱so he went about killing the man the next day; well he’s probably dead by now. He took his cap calmly to the man, beneath that bridge by the canal, castrated then blinded the man and left him struggling on the ground, having a couple of lesser known Peaky men surveying the area for the rest of the day to make sure no aid was to come to him, and when his struggling stopped they were to sort his body out.

🎱you made your way to the garden party independently, having worn a darling sundress; white and pristine and freshly pressed, accompanied by a sun hat and some subtle shoes; conservative enough for Michael not to complain that you looked like a whore, but skin-showing enough not to overheat in this sweltering weather.

🎱you were there before Michael, embraced by John and given a kiss on the temple by an already tipsy Arthur who was in that sort of mood where a gent gets rather happy when squidgy, it was a fine line with Arthur.. happy to angered

🎱but you entertained him, saying your hellos and greeting the rest of the family you’d married into, patiently waiting for Michael’s attendance.

🎱he was there soon thereafter.

🎱and he was fucking seething.

🎱he took one look at you as his mouth ran dry, grabbed your wrist and dragged you away from the garden getting countless opposing arguments from the likes of Ada and John questioning what he was doing

🎱but nothing could soften the red he saw.

🎱how dare you wear that dress?

🎱practically threw you into the car, you’d never seen him this upset, let alone have it take it out on you; his loving, doting housewife of whom he trophied for every mistake he made, initially he thought you were his punishment from god.. sent an angel for a devil to take care of. But he’d gotten the hang of switching into a loving husband the minute he returned home

🎱but tonight was different

🎱”Michael, darlin-” “how dare you?” He seethed and you silenced yourself “pardon?” “How many fucking times have I told you you’re not wearing this fucking dress in public, hmm? And you wear it around my fucking horny cousin?” He growls and you don’t know how to reply “he looks at you like you’re a fucking piece of meet, sweets.” He tells you, finally looking at you

🎱”undressing you with his eyes. Watched him myself.” “John has a wife-” “John hires prostitutes. Y’think he’d be a better husband?” He asks, knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel harder “no-” “no. Cause I’ve never hired a fuckin’ prostitute since we’ve been together, and I work hard for you, y’know. Got no where to take my anger out cause I love you so much.” He says and despite the harshness of his words your heart swells.

🎱”killed a man for you and I show up to you actin’ like a fuckin’ whore?” Your mouth opened agape and he chuckled darkly “think I didn’t kill that bloke? Think I’d leave him safe? Nah, not with my missus I wouldn’t” he confirms, placing a hand on your leg as he speeds back home.

🎱he stops the car and doesn’t move for a minute.

🎱”listen to me very carefully, flower. I’m going to change my bloody shirt, and you’re gonna go upstairs, lay on the bed and wait for me. Yeah?” He asks “yeah o’course Michael.” You say as you get out the car

🎱”and leave that fuckin’ dress on!” You hear called behind you.

Finn🎞️

🎞️Finn is just horny 25/8 icl.

🎞️doesn’t know what does it for him about that dress, but it does something.

🎞️it was a hot day, and the family was in some beer garden, Arthur already off his head drunk and the brothers just enjoying one another’s company after successfully ridding the threat of a rival family, the head now dead and the rest cowering to surrender.

🎞️Tommy told Finn to bring his lady friend, the one who worked at the bookshop along, decided it was time to meet the family, and so he did.

🎞️waltzed into your little hole in the wall, grinning as you peered your head around to see the customer who’d caused the door’s bell to chime, and you broke out into a mighty smile just as he did, him opening his arms for you to rush over and into a bone crushing hug.

🎞️even shared a sweet kiss as he said a gentle “hello pretty”

🎞️he noticed the dress you were wearing was new, initially not noticing it as he was too caught up in admiring you. “What’s this? Is it new?” He asked, taking your hand to spin you around. “It is” you grin, allowing the white flowing material to spin as he made you “it’s lovely” he says, noticing something about it but he didn’t know quite what.

🎞️”why are you here?” You hum with narrowed, suspicious eyes as you leant your chin against his dress “aren’t I allowed to say hello to my favourite girl?” He asks with a smirk “yes but I can tell there’s something. A look in your eyes.” You say and he sighs, defeated “party at the Garrison” he says “when?” You ask “right now” he says and you laugh “Finn I can’t just shut shop at 12 oclock on Thursday!” You say, as he reaches into his pocket, throwing ten whole pounds onto the counter “Finn! Where did you get that much money?” You gasp “don’t worry bout it. Enough for you to close?” He asks and you scoff “I can’t accept ten whole pounds, Finn” you tell him “sure you can cause I’m not having it back” he shrugs, pulling your hand to coax you out the door “okay fine!” You surrender as you relent, allowing Finn to pull you out the door and in turn, you lock your door behind you.

🎞️then when you showed to the party, you were greeted by tipsy cheers and hellos as Finn introduced you to his family, Polly and Ada immediately dragging you away to have a separate conversation as they question you about everything to which you giddily go along with.

🎞️John came to stand with Finn, where he was stood still; drink in hand as he watched you interact with his family. “What’s up, Finn?” He asked, nudging him with his elbow and Finn finally broke out of his trace to smile at his brother. “Nothin’.” He shrugged. “Can’t be about your missus, y’head over heels for her.” John said, and Finn immediately raised his brows in panic “no! no! Nothin’ like tha.” Finn said, shaking his head. “Then what is it?” John asked, looking at you, trying to figure his younger sibling out.

🎞️”dunno. It’s summot about that dress” Finn said, eyes raking over you as he tried to figure out what it was and his brother chuckles “easy access, mate.” John said and Finn creased his brows “y’what?” “Sundresses mate, fuckin’ kill me. Easy access innit? Don’t have to even take the dress off” John told him matter-of-factly, necking the rest of his beer in one. Finn’s eyes darkened and John couldn’t hold in his laugh at the realisation that Finn had settled that that was what it was.

🎞️John claps him on the back “if y’wanna sneak off I’ll cover” he said, but by the end of the sentence Finn had already started after you “cheers, mate!” He said to John “sorry, stealing her” he said to Polly and Ada against their judgement, dragging you away from the conversation and into the Peaky office inside the Garrison.

🎞️you giggle at his actions as he locked the dork “what y’doin sill?” You ask “party’s outside!” You say, as he picks you up and holds you against the door, dropping his hands for them to head under the hem of your skirt “right, ‘nd I’ve just figured out that this dress is driving me fuckin’ crazy” he says “you’re fuckin’ insatiable” he says “d’you even know what that means?” You ask and he shrugs “find me a dictionary later or summot.” He says

🎞️”what’s up with the dress” you ask, as he undoes his trousers “easy access innit?”

Aberama🌞

🌞Aberama is a cultured bloke

🌞by that I mean he’s had many a trips around the sun, and in that time good women are few and far between in his opinion

🌞so regardless of you being substantially his younger, he was positive that you were the woman for him and therefore he had to have you.

🌞recently you’d moved into his vardo with him, having left the urban life behind.

🌞he’d woken up one morning to the sun blaring at him through the unclad opening of the vardo, stretching his arms above his head in a mighty yawn, almost certain it was almost midday by this point; especially after the long trek they’d had to get to this sight the night prior.

🌞he reached his arm over, but the spot in the bed was cold and empty, a lone spot where you should’ve been laid. He creased his brows, shooting up in bed to a sitting potion, realising that you were no longer in the vardo at all.

🌞he groaned. Damn you and your early rising tendencies.

🌞he rubbed his eyes and pulled on a pair of undershorts, smirking at the remembrance of the night prior once you’d arrived. He popped his head out of the doorway, looking left and right but curiously not being able to find any trace of you.

🌞he climbed down the steps and placed his hands on his hips, walking around the side of the wooden structure towards the lake that trickled slowly downstream. And that’s where he found you:

🌞his gorgeous bride.

🌞he’d always told you that he never expected you to conform to the traditional gypsy wife role, never needed you to bear him any more children or do the cooking or cleaning. Hell, you could lay around all day doing nothing and he’d look at you with the same adoration he always does. He didn’t even expect you to want to live in a vardo, yet you’d shown up with a bag and a smile when offered.

🌞 yet you refused, you demanded to help. Demanded to conform. You would cook the rabbit he’d kill (given you’d been a bit sick at the initial sight of it). And you’d kill his clothes, paying no mind to any blood shed on it.

🌞you were knelt against the river bank, ringing some clothes out you just washed then placing them into a small wicker basket, in a dress he didn’t quite recognise.

🌞”what y’doin up, sweetheart? Thought I told y’to relax today” he started, beginning towards you. Your head spun and those wide, innocent doe eyes gleamed back at him “had a big journey last night. No good f’little girls to be working the day after” he said, matter of factly with a stern look.

🌞”just wanted to get these clothes washed” you mumble, placing the final garment in the basket. “And what’s this you’ve got on, hmm?” He asked, as you look at your clothes “oh it’s a dress” “Mm I can see that, darlin. Just never seen it before” he tells you and you stand to give him a little spin. “My sister bought it for my birthday” you said and he grunts, gently grabbing your hips to pull you into him and sway you back and forth along with the breeze, dancing to nature’s music.

🌞”well y’know what these dresses are?” He hums and you shake your head, placing both hands on his chest. “These dresses are the kind that mammys wear. The kind you’d wear when they’re all pregnant and swelled up with little babes.” He says, accusingly. “Kind that little wives wear that are asking for a hiding” he warns

🌞”didn’t mean nothing by it, abe. Just thought it was nice” you admit and he smiles “I know you did, princess. Just an innocent little flower y’are.” He shakes his head.

🌞”but y’ve seen the other mammys around the camp haven’t you? Seen how they’ve dressed. Think you know what you were doin’ to your old man” he teases and you shake your head “m too old to be a da’ y’know. Way too bleeding old. Punishing me ain’t ya? Just asking for a little’un” he tuts and you giggle as he picks you up bridal style and carries you back to the bed where he’d began

🌞”Aberama! The clothes!-” “Can fuckin’ wait” he grunts “got a little’un to put in ya first” he says, dropping you onto the bed and lazily flipping up your skirt to do what he did best.

🌞make your skin fucking crawl.

[drcranessweetestdoe]

heyyyyy

could you do a Tommy shelby fic?

in which he fucks Ada's bestfriend when she is 18!

hii, love this idea xx I have been writing this all day, time to celebrate with a jam sandwich:) xx

Finally mine

warning: agegap!, Thomas lusts after her while she is underage, grooming, virginity loss, virginity kink, innocence kink, unprotected sex, Tommy being a softie, possessiveness

pairing: Thomas Shelby x Innocent!Reader

summary: ever since he came back from the war, Tommy found himself wanting his sister’s lovely and sweet best friend, too bad he has to wait until she is 18

(Y/N) was the sweetest girl in the whole of Birmingham, always polite and kind. Thomas was smitten with her from day one. She and Ada met in school, she felt sorry that Ada was always alone, because everyone told their kids to stay away from the filthy Shelby’s. So, one day she gathered the courage and sat beside the sad girl, who was very excited to finally have a friend.

It was the age of war, so everyone was always on the edge of a meltdown. And money wasn’t exactly falling from the sky. While (Y/N)’s family weren’t considered aristocrats by any chance, she never had to worry about not getting fed, or not having a warm bed to sleep in. That was something that the Shelby’s couldn’t exactly relate to, there was little money and quite a few mouths to feed. Aunt Polly tried her best to feed the hungry children at the table, but she was failing more and succeeding less. Her sister-in-law’s three big boys were away at war, but they were always talked about.

One day, the thirteen year old (Y/N) plopped down beside her best friend Ada with a full lunch box in hand. She always had lunch packed with her, but Ada never did. For a long time, she just assumed that the malnourished girl was not hungry in school. While she was munching on her apple, she heard the growl of a hungry belly and Ada turned her head down in shame. While a girl is naive at 13, (Y/N) immediately knew that her friend was hungry, and that she probably didn’t get as much food at home as she did. When Ada looked back at her, she reacted with a wide smile to the outstretched hand towards her, holding a big red apple.

For the rest of the break, they just sat under their tree, silently chewing on their apples, with a smile on both faces.

That is how Ada knew that (Y/N) was going to be her lifelong best friend. She opened up to her when they were sharing a cigarette on the edge of the forest.

“We had more money before the war, if Tommy was here he would make sure that we have food.” Ada explained.

(Y/N) just blinked at her friend. “Who’s Tommy?”

———-

Three years later, the girls were now sixteen and the war was finally over. Because (Y/N) herself didn’t have any brothers, or sisters, she didn’t know how many families waited for this day to come.

It was a pretty summer day, and she made her way to the Shelby household, where she was always welcomed by Aunt Polly. Except, when she walked into the house, there was only one man sitting at the table. Her breath got stuck in her throat and she blushed heavily, he was very handsome. For a moment she believed that she walked into the wrong house, but the photographs on the walls proved otherwise. He was smoking a cigarette and staring at the wall blankly, he was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even hear her come in.

Thomas just wanted a moment to himself in his childhood house before going back to the Garrison, he was not the same man anymore. Suddenly, he saw a figure in the corner of his eye. A second later, the two pairs of eyes met. His previously sad eyes lit up at the sight of her, but he tried to conceal it. She was so beautiful… Slender and weakish frame, something that made him eager to protect her. Her long and soft looking hair. And that face, oh god, that pretty face.

“H-Hi… I’m (Y/N).” She walked closer to him and stuck her hand out for him, she recognized him from the pictures, he was one of Ada’s brothers.

He heard about her, Aunt Pol always told him what was happening on Watery Lane in the letters she sent to Tommy. She had mentioned Ada’s lovely friend, multiple times. She told him that the girl was pretty, very kind, and that she went with her to church on Sundays when no one else wanted to, just so Polly didn’t have to go alone.

Tommy smiled at her, and she felt herself get lost in those bright blue gems of eyes. Instead of shaking her hand, he brought it to his lips and planted a little kiss on it. Her hand was soft and warm, it was a while since he felt the touch of a gentle female. He smiled when she blushed more at his kiss. “Thomas Shelby.”

—----

From that day on, Miss (Y/L/N) was under the protection of the Peaky Blinders. Thomas always had one of his men following her and Ada to school, and then back home. It killed him knowing that he couldn’t touch her, make her his, not yet anyway. That would have been immoral and awful, and he knew that aunt Pol would have broken his hand in two and cut off his cock. That didn’t mean he hadn’t spent too many night fucking his fist to the thought of her. Everyone in the Shelby clan could see how soft he was towards her, always making sure that she stays out of the bad things, and whenever she came over and he was working, his eyes basically formed into hearts and followed her everywhere. The family loved her, she enjoyed baking and she always made sure that at least once a week she turned up to the office with home-baked treats. Those kinds of sweet treats calmed everyone down, business was blooming after all.

Ever since Tommy came back from the war, he only let himself be pleasured by whores, the one girl he wanted was the one he had to wait for. He always hired prostitutes that resembled her even the slightest bit. He imagined that he was burying himself inside her wet and warm walls, he overheard her and Ada and he was very well aware that she was untouched, a sweet little virgin. In Small Heath, the girls started sleeping around in their teens, but she, at 17, didn’t care about the boys her age. She wanted a certain gangster, who was nearing his thirties.

He didn’t even claim her yet, but wherever she walked, everyone knew she was Tommy Shelby’s girl. He sent her gifts, and always a handwritten note. Her heart never failed to warm up when she saw the little T.S on the bottom of the cards. Flowers, chocolates, exotic spices that she could put in her sweet treats, jewellery, dresses, everything a 17 year old girl loves. She was spoiled by him. When she wore one of the dresses that he got for her, she always sent him a shy smile and a little nod.

—-----

Tomorrow was going to be the day when she would finally become 18 years old, a young lady. She felt so antsy getting to bed, knowing that she would wake up as an adult. She also deeply hoped that Tommy would do something, after 2 years of gifts, protection and lustful gazes from distance. It was safe to say that her standards were very much heightened.

When she woke up, she noticed a big box on the chair of her vanity, tied up in one of those big ribbons. Her mother must have brought it up for her, as she always did when her daughter’s name was on the box, written by the familiar handwriting.

She was smiling widely when she opened the box up, it had a beautiful silky dress and a gold locket necklace. She marvelled at the divine fabric, but quickly blushed when she looked into the box again. There was a set of white lingerie and a note.

Tonight, I’ll send a car to pick you up at 7pm, be ready.

~T.S

She melted at that, and she felt her lower tummy warm up. This evening, she will finally be claimed.

——-

By the time 7pm rolled around, she did everything she could to make herself look pretty for him. She took a long hot bath, made sure she smelled good everywhere. She washed her hair and tied up half of it with a bow. She put lotion all over herself, sprayed herself with perfume and put the lovely dress on. Sitting in her vanity, she put on some makeup. She felt beautiful.

She got her light coat on, along with kitten heels and she was waiting for his car to come. When it did, she sat in the backseat and greeted the driver.

She got driven to Arrow house, which she only heard about before. It was so huge, and overwhelming, but very nice.

A maid took her coat and escorted her to the dining roomom. Just like the rest of the house, it was quite big, both the room itself and the table. It was decorated elegantly, the candlelight flooded the room. Just as she stepped in, Thomas walked in the room on the other door. He looked so handsome as always, with his muscular frame and his tailored suit.

His heart nearly jumped out of his chest, she looked like an angel, and she was standing in his house, wearing his gift. The maid left, now there were only two of them in the room, he walked up to her. With a gentle hand on her waist, he pulled her closer so he could plant a kiss on her cheek and whisper in her ear. “You look absolutely gorgeous.” He got even closer, her head was spinning with him so close, his masculine scent sent her hormones into overdrive. “I hope the dress isn’t the only gift of mine on you.”

He felt his dick twitch when she looked up at him like that, a gentle glint in her eyes. She shaked her head, too lost in his eyes to answer with words. To shake her out of her trance, he guided her to her seat, with his hand still on her slender waist.

He sat next to her, the maids kept on serving the finest of foods. Thomas also brought out a bottle of red wine. Both of them were surprised how easy it was for them to talk. They talked and ate, and Tommy even found himself laughing. He also found out how innocent she was, she wasn’t stupid, just inexperienced, and he was more than happy to give her experience. She also had a big heart, and a gentle soul, she was everything he needed.

While everyone in Small Heath tried to warn her about Thomas Shelby, she never understood why. He was just trying to protect his family and give them a chance at a better life, he was also an absolute softie for her. She could see that he had a lot of love to give, he enjoyed being the leader and defeating other gang leaders, but he must have been craving someone who could take care of him for once, she knew that she wanted to be that person.

When they finished dessert, he pulled her chair closer to his and cradled one of her blushing cheek into his palm.

“Are you aware of my intentions towards you?” He asked in a serious tone, she knew that he wasn’t fooling around. Now or never. She nodded as much as she could with the gentle hold on her face, but he wasn’t having it. “Answer me with words, I want to see if you really want this.” She felt dizzy by hearing his dominating tone.

“Yes, I know your intentions with me.” She replied shyly.

“What are they?” His fingers started to move her hair out of her face, caressing her in the process.

“Y-You want to make me yours.” She spoke lowly, it was hard to speak when he was looking at her as if he was seconds away from ravaging her.

“Yes, and do you want that, (Y/N)? Do you want me to make you mine?” He was even closer now, he whispered seductively in her ear, his full lips were nearly touching the shell of her ear. “Just say the word, sweetheart, and I will give you everything you crave. Please, let me give you the world.” Thomas Shelby barely used the word ‘please’, but he was nearly begging for her. She almost giggled, as if she really needed much convincing.

“I want it, I want it so bad, Tommy…” She was getting impatient, and he saw it on her.

“Shh, sweetheart… Don’t let your pretty head worry, I’m going to take care of you so nicely.” He stood up and stuck his hand out for her to take. “Come.”

He walked with her to his bedroom, she was walking behind him so she couldn’t see the wicked grin on his lips. When they stepped in the door, he just kept on walking, which caused her to walk backwards, until her knees hit the bed and she had fallen down on it.

He didn’t waste a second and crawled on top of her, his lips slowly finding hers. Their kiss started out slow, he guided her lips with his own. After a few minutes, noticing that she was starting to become more and more confident, he slipped his tongue into her open mouth. His hand wandered to her back, where the zipper was, his head pulled away so he could ask for silent permission. Once he got it, he helped her sit up and he removed the dress. Sitting back on his heels, he admired the sight in front of him, her young body was just begging to be ruined. She was wearing the lace, she looked exactly like an angel. His lips glued themselves to her neck and they sucked and bit, her noises were proof that she was enjoying his touch. He made sure to really mark her up, she wasn’t going to leave his mansion for a while, he needed his time with his new prize. She bit down on her lips to hide her moans, something he growled at.

“Don’t you dare. I want to hear you, don’t hold back, sweetheart.”

He went down to her breasts, he also reached under her arched back and unclasped her bra. She tried to cover herself, but he was having none of it. He slowly unpeeled her arms from her chest and kissed all around her breasts. “How beautiful! Such a nice pair of tits you have, the best I’ve seen.” He sucked a nipple into his mouth and she mewled loudly, she didn’t expect to feel so aroused while getting her nipples sucked at. He made sure that he gave both of her tits the same treatment before going lower.

Before he could do more, he stood up to remove his shirt and pants, her presence was making him hotter by the minute. He hooked his fingers into her panties and his cock nearly tore his underwear when he saw how the crotch was stuck to her entrance. She was already so ready for him. He yanked harder and they finally parted, he brought her panties up to his nose and inhaled deeply. “Mhm, so sweet… But, I think I need to feel this from the source.” Tommy dropped to his knees in front of her spread legs, her mind was making her doubt herself. What if she looked ugly down there? What if it smelled or tasted b—

“OH— Tommy!” She moaned loudly when his tongue licked a long stripe up her slit. He just chuckled into her pussy darkly, then he moved on to her pleasure. His mouth was sucking her throbbing clit, his fingers slowly circled her entrance, teasing her.

“Fuck… Your cunt tastes divine, and it’s only for my mouth to taste.” It wasn’t even a question. She was unable to form a coherent sentence, she could only moan and thrash on his tongue. He took one finger and he slowly eased it into her, she was so wet that it slipped right into her, he didn’t hesitate to add another one. “You’re going so good, I cannot wait to feel this tight virgin pussy on my cock.” He curled his fingers and rubbed them right into her spongy spot, her fingers grabbed his hair and tried to push his face more into her heat. He felt her clenching more and more, so he sped up his movements and grinned proudly when she came undone with a whiny moan and a desperate call of his name.

He kissed his way back up to her heaving chest and looked up at her flushed face. He talked her through it, until her breathing evened out again. He slowly slipped his underwear off, his back straightened out for her to see his big cock. It was veiny and thick and it made her nervous. He kept her legs spread, while he kneeled between them, one of his hand smoothing her face and the other one gripped himself at his base. “Want to give a little touch? Don’t be scared, I’m going to make this very pleasurable for you, my sweet girl.” He hissed when her fingertips made contact with his dripping tip, he was so pent up and her soft touch nearly made him blow his load all over her juicy tits, but he had to stay patient. “Are you ready? Ready to become mine?”

“Yes, Tommy, please, I want to feel you. I-I waited for you.” This caused him to grin and give her a deep kiss.

“I know you did, little one.” He positioned himself at her entrance and he slowly began pushing in, he felt a bit of resistance, but with a sharp thrust, he managed to break through it. He wrapped her up in his arms and whispered sweet nothings into her ear soothingly. “I know, I know. It will feel better in a minute, your pussy just has to adjust to my cock. Relax.” It didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would, but it still did, the girls in her class made it sound worse, or maybe their boyfriends didn’t take the time to prep them properly. That made her so proud, her Tommy made sure she was ready. She tried her best to relax her muscles and she felt the pain lessen. She planted a shy kiss on Tommy’s neck at which he chuckled at. “Good girl. You’re mine now, only mine.” He slowly began moving in and out of her.

Her walls gripped on him like a vice, he didn’t need any whores anymore, he had her now. His hands lifted her hips up a bit, so his cock was hitting her spot at every thrust. He went more and more faster, his fingers also began rubbing on her swollen clitoris.

“AH— Tommy, I’m going to—do that thing again.” His innocent little girl, so good for him.

“Good… I can feel you squeeze me, come on, sweet girl, come for me. Come on my cock. Let me fill you up. Let me make you mine.” With a shout of his name and a cry, she came around him. When he felt her walls pulsing around him, he let go too. His warm cum painted her walls, and it was such a delicious sensation. He stayed inside her for a few minutes, both of them trying to catch their breaths.

When he pulled out, he sat back so he could watch his cum leak out of her spent hole. He looked down proudly at his softening cock, which had some of her blood on it. Shit, he really filled her up with his load, there was so much of it. And the whiteness of him and the dark crimson of her virginity made such a lovely contrast together.

He took a rag from his bedside table and cleaned her up, making sure that he was gentle with her, the girl just got fucked and she was sensitive both physically and mentally, he had to be gentle.

After he made sure they were both clean, he once again brought her into his embrace. He smiled at her lovingly, which caused her to do the same. Her hair was all puffy from his touch, but he loved it.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” He cradled her cheek, and caressed her under eye area with his fingertip.

“I’m good, I feel a bit sore, but it’s okay.” She nuzzled into his neck and left little kisses. “I’m so happy to be here with you.”

He smiled in a way he didn’t for a long time, and he felt his heartbeat quicken. He wanted to give the world to the girl in his arms, and he felt the primal urge to protect her and keep her away from all the bad. “Me too. I’m happy to know that you’re finally mine.”

taglist: @your-nanas-house

[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”