#peaky blinders tickle fic

[amazingmsme]

Under the Table

AN: Was worried I might not finish since I was leaving my nana’s house today, but I was able to get it done pretty early! Here’s day 8 with the Shelby sibs ganging up on Tommy!

Perhaps the only time the Shelby family behaved like a normal, proper one was when they sat down for dinner. The sound of silverware clanking and scraping against plates could barely be heard over soft chatter. Talks of what they did that day, requests to pass the potatoes, and compliments on a delicious meal well made. You didn't make a scene at dinner, unless you wanted to face the wrath of Aunt Polly. Dinner was when they all behaved like civilized people and held conversation. Everyone knew that, especially Ada. Thomas shot her a glare, which she returned with an innocent grin.

He felt another squeeze on his knees and swore under his breath just as he hit the underside of the table. A loud bang startled everyone, jostling plates and causing glasses to slosh precariously. Polly gave a stern and unamused look from across the table, arching a brow.

"Everything alright Tommy?" she asked, though it was clear it didn't come from a place of concern. He gave a curt nod, staring intently at his plate.

"Yes, everything's fine."

"You sure? 'Cause that's about the fifth time I've had to catch my glass before you knock it over," she said accusingly. "So what's got you so damn fidgety?"

"I assure you, I'm fine," he insisted, making Ada stifle a laugh. Tommy fixed her with a look as Polly shifted her attention. Ada beamed from ear to ear as she scribbled her nails over her brother's kneecap, making him spasm and fight back a laugh. Unfortunately for him, his family was accustomed to the sight and slowly put two and two together.

"And you? Mind sharing what's so damn funny?" she asked, cocking her head expectantly. Arthur bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, glancing at Tommy across the table.

"What, I can't be in a good mood?" she asked, leaning forward not so subtly and latching onto both of his knees. Thomas couldn't hold back the bark of laughter as he curled up, kicking the table so hard it hopped off the ground. Arthur stopped his and Polly's plates from sliding off. She was trying hard not to appear amused.

"Not if it's going to ruin our dinner," she said curtly.

"I don't see how that has anything to do with me. Tommy's the one flailin' about!" What had been one off squeezes turned into relentless ones, and he found himself sinking down in his chair as loud hysterical laughs echoed through the room.

Everyone was amused, eyes fixed on the scene before them. Arthur at this point was laughing along and managed to catch one of his brother's kicking legs. Tommy's eyes went wide and his chuckles kicked up a notch, morphing into nervous giggles as he tried in vain to stop him from taking off his shoes.

"NO! Arthur, Ihihi'll kill you!" he threatened, even holding his butter knife in a defensive position to add weight to his words, but it still wasn't enough to negate the effects of his rarely heard laughter.

"Well there's a sight you don't see everyday," Finn joked, a wide grin in his face as he watched from across the table. "Ada, don't forget to go for his ribs!"

"Nohoho, dohon't you dahahare!" he growled through gritted teeth, desperate to hold back but breathless snickers continued to push through the barricade of his teeth. He looked to Polly with pleading eyes. She was the only voice of reason in this madhouse, and the only one who wouldn't outright turn on him.

She knew she should put an end to this, to save Thomas from the wrath of his siblings and turn their attention back to their food, where it should be. But it's been so long since she's seen them all get along like this. And when was the last time she'd seen Tommy actually laugh and enjoy himself. So she really couldn't stop the fond smile that found its way on her face, or the warm feeling growing in her chest.

"Pohoholly! M-make thehem stohohohop!" he pleaded, but she saw something sparkling in his eyes and she knew: he was having fun.

"If you make him flip the table, you're all cleaning up." He scoffed indignantly at that response before chuckles and snorts overtook him once more.

"Except you Thomas,  I'm sure this is already punishment enough," she teased, shooting him a wink from across the table. She grabbed her plate and glass of water and left them to their devices.

And when she heard a telltale crash followed by Tommy's smug voice, "That's what you fucking get!" she just smiled to herself. She peeked in through the doorway to see Arthur, Ada and Finn picking up scraps of food and china from the floor. Thomas stood in the corner, brushing himself off and glaring at the lot of them, fighting off his grin.

"So, was it worth it?" she asked.

"No," Tommy answered the same time the rest answered with an enthusiastic yes.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: Lucy may be out of Luca's clutches, but that does not mean that the pain is over.

Word Count: 4,635

Notes: Warnings for depictions of blood, drug use, and references to torture and violence.

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Chapter 25: Safe

The tires of the Bentley squealed in protest as Tommy slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to a screeching stop just outside the steps leading to the church’s doors. Pulling his revolver from his coat, he leapt from the car, taking the steps two at a time, fully prepared to be met with gunfire the second that he yanked the door open.

Instead, he was met with eerie, impenetrable silence. 

He skidded to a halt, eyes widening in horror at the sight before him. 

It looked like a fucking massacre had happened. 

Blood was smeared all over the altar. Some had even splattered back to drench over the huge wooden cross mounted against the far wall. Two bodies were slumped over in chairs at a table set up in the space between the pews and the altar, cards spread out across the table. One of the corpses still had a hand of aces and jacks clutched between his fingers. 

There were more bodies scattered throughout the pews. Most were shot, but there was one by the foot of the altar that looked at though someone had been at him with a hunting knife or maybe a machete, his head hanging to his neck by only a thin sliver of skin. 

The burning stench of blood and gunpowder invaded Tommy’s nose, the smell metallic and almost eye watering. 

His ears pricked at a small sound. A tiny hitch in breathing. His fingers tightened around his revolver, wholly prepared for an ambush at any moment. With slow, cautious steps, he made his way down the aisle, rounding the front row of pews as he tried to zone in on where the sound had come from. 

Another noise that this time was more clearly a stifled sob came from the altar, and Tommy’s head snapped around in the direction of the podium. With quick, still cautious movements, he picked his way over to the very back of the altar where it was located, gun raised as he rounded the podium so that whoever was hiding behind it came into view.  

She was huddled there. A hunting knife clutched to her chest, and covered in so much blood and bruises that he hardly recognized her at first. 

Tommy swore that his heart stopped. Lucy’s hair was matted and greasy, her face splattered with so much blood he could barely make out how ashen her skin was underneath. The clothes she was dressed in were much too big for her and soaked crimson–with her own blood or with someone else’s, he couldn’t be sure. Her head was bowed so that he could not see her eyes. 

Tommy almost staggered at the sight of her. A sob of relief at finding her alive caught in his throat at the same time that horror at the state she was in warped through him like a shockwave.  

My God, love, what have they done to you?

“Lucy–” he dropped down to his knees, setting his revolver flat on the floor beside them. He reached out to touch her knee, and she suddenly jerked to life, knife jabbing out wildly. He barely managed to catch her wrist in time, the tip of the blade just tickling the front of his waistcoat. “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s me.”

She stared at him with wild, unfocused eyes, like she did not quite understand. Her breathing was rough and labored, but the moment recognition passed across her face, the wildness of lingering adrenaline and violence melted away. Tears filled her eyes, and her breaths started to hitch with barely contained sobs.

“Tommy?” her voice croaked, and his heart shattered at how small and broken she sounded. She was looking at him as if she did not entirely believe that he was actually there. Her grip on the knife slackened enough that he was able to pull it away from her and set it down beside where his revolver lay on the floor. “You came for me?”

There was something about the question that nearly cleaved him in two. Had she really not thought that he would? Did she really believe that he wouldn’t have torn apart the entire fucking world to find her if he had to?

“Of course I did, sweetheart,” he inched closer to her, wanting desperately to pull her into his arms, but not wanting to further hurt or upset her.

Lucy’s eyes screwed shut with a violent sob, and then she flung herself at him, arms locking around his neck, clinging to his collar as if it was the only thing holding her to the earth. Rattling sobs that jerked her entire body began to rage through her, crying so hard he was a little afraid that she wouldn’t be able to breathe. 

Tommy swallowed roughly, wrapping his arms around her and closing his eyes against the emotion welling up inside of him, just feeling the weight of her in his arms for a moment. She was here. She was alive. He felt tears of deep relief brimming at his lash line. 

“Oh my Lucy.” He turned his head to kiss her temple. “Shh,” he shushed her gently, stroking her hair and rocking them both a little from side to side. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

She just kept sobbing even harder, and when he brushed his hand across her back, she flinched with a soft cry. He quickly retracted his hand, eyes widening. It was obvious that she was hurt, but the extent of which he could not be entirely sure. 

“We need to get out of here, love.” He hated to move her so quickly, but who knows if there were more Italians skulking about somewhere, or even Luca himself. Much as he’d have loved to get his hands on him, he needed to get Lucy to safety first. 

She nodded weakly against his shoulder, and he leaned back to remove his coat to drape around her. The shock was beginning to settle in as her blood began to cool, bringing with it shivers that wracked her tiny body. 

When he finished pulling off his coat, Lucy's eyes grew huge, hand reaching out to questionably touch the stained sleeves of the shirt he was wearing underneath it, the dried blood having left the material crusty. 

“It’s not mine,” Tommy assured her, wrapping the coat securely around her shoulders, hoping it would help to cushion any injuries she had against his touch. She suddenly seemed very tiny and fragile, half hunched in on herself, eyes bugged out and half mad with pain and fear. He grabbed his revolver from the floor, jamming it back into its holster. “What did he do, sweetheart?” he broached the question as gently as he knew how. Lucy’s eyes unfocused. There was a haziness in them. A deadness that sent a shiver down Tommy’s spine. She started to shake like a leaf, lips trembling, clutching his coat tighter around herself. 

“I don’t…I can’t…”

“It’s okay.” He quickly soothed. “We can talk about that later. How badly are you hurt?”

Her eyes filled with terror. “I don’t know.”

Tommy swallowed hard, battling back his own panic. He needed to be the strong one right now. “Okay. That’s alright. I’ll get you to a doctor. They’ll make it better, love, I promise.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m going to pick you up now, okay?”

She didn’t respond, eyes staring blankly at a space directly above his right shoulder. Tommy touched her chin delicately, turning her face to look at him again. 

“Lucy?”

She blinked, as if coming out of a dream. “Okay.”  

He stood and scooped her up bridal style into his arms. A whimper left her lips. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he apologized at the sound of pain, carrying her with hasty steps towards the door. “Not that far to the car, I promise.”

Lucy made no indication of hearing his words. But her head leaned heavily against his shoulder, eyes staring straight ahead. Pale as a ghost, she could have been mistaken for a corpse at first glance with how still she was. He had to check to make sure that she was still breathing.  

Worry squeezed in his chest, and he tightened his grip on her unconsciously. 

Another Bentley was just pulling up as he stepped outside, and for a moment Tommy panicked, thinking that it might be Luca or some of his men about to ambush them. That was until he recognized Arthur behind the wheel.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Arthur said as he stepped out of the car and saw Lucy, his face going pale. Tommy shot him a grave look. 

“Open the door for me, will you, Arthur?”

His brother rushed around them to open the passenger side door of Tommy’s car, and he slid Lucy gingerly into place on the leather seats.

“Don’t leave me!” she cried out, suddenly rousing from the still, silent trance she’d fallen into as he carried her out of the church. Her hand flew out to grab desperately at him.   

“I’m not going anywhere, baby, I promise,” he let her draw him in closer to her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing the top of her head. “I just gotta get around to the other side so I can drive.”

It nearly killed him to pull away from her frantic grip, her hands extremely reluctant to let him go despite his reassurances. Mindful to stay in her line of sight as he walked around the front of the car to open the driver’s side door, he felt his heart twist at the way she followed him with wide, terrified eyes. The coat he’d wrapped around her made her look even smaller as she huddled under the heavy dark fabric. 

Sliding into the seat next to Lucy, he quickly wrapped an arm around her, letting her tuck into his side. Burrowed in deep against him, he could feel her shaking violently. Being careful not to put too much pressure into his touches to avoid hurting her, he smoothed his hand up and down her shoulder while he rolled down the window to talk to Arthur. 

“I’m taking her home.”

“Not to the hospital?” “No, I don’t trust them anymore after Luca managed to get in to see Michael. I’ll have a doctor brought to her.”

“You want me to stay here?”

He nodded. “Luca might come back. The Golds are on their way?”

“Yeah.”

“Right. Stay here for a few hours. If Luca or any of his men don’t show up, come back home.”

Arthur nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets, taking a step back so Tommy could begin to back the Bentley away from the front of the church. 

“Just hang on,” he told Lucy as he gunned them down the main road. 

“Hurts, Tommy,” she rasped, and he felt panic seize at his throat with icy talons. Casting a quick glance at her, the feeling only grew at the sight of her bloodied clothes. He didn’t even know where exactly she was hurt. Or how serious it was. 

“I know, baby. I know. I’ll make it better, eh? Soon as we get home, I’ll get you patched right up. Everything is going to be okay.”

He didn’t know if he was speaking more to her or to himself. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy stared numbly at the peeling paint of the front door leading into the Shelby’s home. It felt as though her brain had been filled with smoke, so thick that it was hard to think through. Her body ached, and she was so tired that she couldn’t even bring her muscles to move at all after Tommy stopped the car and got out. The most she could manage was a small whimper when he moved to pull away from her. 

“Just going around to get you from the other side, sweetheart,” he told her gently, kissing her forehead and making sure that she was leaning up against the leather seats so she wouldn’t tip over without him there to hold her up. 

True to his word, he came around to the other side of the car, opening her door and picking her up as though she weighed as much as a single pillow. She curled into his chest, wishing that she could somehow burrow her way entirely into him and hide away from the rest of the world. 

He carried her with hasty steps into the house, rushing them past the shocked, horrified expressions of the other family members. 

“Get me the medical supplies and a bottle of rum, Pol,” he ordered Polly on his way towards the stairs. “Finn, bring the tub from Charlie’s room into my bedroom and fill it with water.” With steps that were careful not to jostle her too much, he started to climb the stairs. “Ada, phone Doctor Evans at the hospital and tell him I need him to make a house call. I’ll pay whatever he wants.” 

Orders given and starting to be carried out, he kicked open the half ajar door leading into their bedroom. At the sight of the bed, Lucy was overcome with how tired she was. The kind of tired that went to the very bones. That made her feel as though she could have slept for an entire lifetime. 

Tommy set her down on the bed with a gentleness that was near heartbreaking. He stroked some hair out of her eyes, fingertips brushing delicately along her skin, checking her over as if to make sure that she was still there. 

“It’s okay,” he said when he met her teary eyes, a hand holding her by the upper arm to help keep her upright. Polly came rushing in with a box clutched in her arms. She set it down on the nightstand, opening it for Tommy to rifle through. Finn arrived a moment later, dragging the bathtub with him, vanishing then returning with buckets of steaming water to pour into it. 

“Lucy,” Tommy touched her face, urging her gaze back to him. “Love, I’m going to need to take off your clothes to check your injuries.”

A shudder went through her. She did not want him to see what Luca had done to her. How he’d ruined her; reopened all the wounds she’s worked so painstakingly hard to close.

Tommy cradled the side of her head, drawing her close until she could rest her face against the side of his neck. She sniffled.

“Polly or Ada can do it instead if you’d rather,” he whispered. She shook her head, panic seizing her at the idea of being in such a vulnerable position with anyone other than him. “Okay.” He stroked down her hair, along the nape of her neck, and she let out a relieved breath that he understood without her having to explain further. “Right,” he raised his voice to address the rest of the room. “Everyone out.” The command was followed by a snap of his fingers. Finn immediately went to the door, shouldering past Ada and Lizzie who had crowded in the hall to peer through the doorway. Polly hesitated a moment longer, staring at Lucy with wide, dark eyes, before setting down the bottle of rum she’d brought along with the medical kit on the nightstand.

“I’ll let you know when Doctor Evans arrives,” she said to Tommy quietly. He just nodded, and she finally went to exit the room, herding Lizzie along with her. But Ada remained. 

“Tommy, if you need help, I’ll be just downstairs.” She touched his shoulder lightly. He shot her a grateful look before returning to rifling through the medical kit. Ada glanced at Lucy, taking a careful step forward, as if trying not to spook her, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I am glad you’re alive, sister.” She murmured into her curls, and Lucy almost started weeping at the sentiment. 

Ada departed, closing the door behind her and leaving them alone. Lucy felt her bottom lip begin to tremble, hands bracing on either side of the bed. Tremors started to wrack through her limbs again, her breathing growing ragged and short, chest tightening. 

“Hey, hey.” Tommy was suddenly kneeling right in front of her, cupping her cheeks. “Look at me. It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re safe, Lucy.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, another round of sobs overtaking her. It hurt to cry. It hurt to do anything. “T-Tommy…”

“I know, I know,” his strong palm curled around the back of her head, resting on the base of her skull, and then pulling her face forward to tuck into his shoulder. He smelled strongly of the dried blood still clinging to his shirt, but under that she could still detect traces of his cologne. Of smoke and pine. Of safety. “I’m sorry, love. I’m so, so sorry. I came as fast as I could.”   

She nodded. Of course. Of course he did. She felt guilty for ever even considering that he wouldn’t.

He gave her a gentle squeeze then leaned back, caressing her face and leaning in to kiss her forehead tenderly. His fingers traced over the collar of her shirt, drenched in a combination of blood that belonged to both her and the guards that she had killed. 

“Can I take this off so I can check you?” he asked, wide eyes searching hers. She swallowed hard around the panic in her throat and nodded. It was just Tommy. She was safe with Tommy. 

At her nod, he pulled from the medical kit a pair of scissors and, with careful, gentle movements, started to cut away at the fabric of her shirt.

The fabric had stuck to her skin in multiple places where blood from her wounds had started to clot and harden, and Tommy had to yank a little to get it off. A harsh breath sucked into his lungs once he’d pulled the garment away. Lucy couldn’t bring herself to look at him, instead staring down at the floor with a lump in her throat, fingers playing with each other. She could feel him examining her, taking in the ruined expanse of her back, the reopened scars winding down her body, the bruises blooming on what little was left of her that hadn’t been sliced open.  

“Lucy…” he choked out, inching closer to her. She sniffled, burying her face in her hands, trying to hide her shame from him. “Hey,” he put an arm around her, careful to settle it high enough around her shoulders so that he wasn’t disturbing the worst of her injuries. “Oh, my love, shhh…” his thumb stroked up and down. “I know. I know, baby. I’m so sorry.” He waited until she quieted before his hand ghosted over–but didn’t actually touch–her shredded back. “Sweetheart…what did this?”

“He called it a cat o’nine tails,” she whispered. Tommy sucked in a breath again, suddenly leaning over her, examining her left shoulder more closely. “You have a bullet wound in your shoulder.”

“Oh.” She blinked, suddenly remembering. “Yeah. One of them got me during the shootout in the church.” Her voice was scaring even her with how dead and empty it sounded. Tommy gingerly touched the skin beside the bullet hole.

“I’m going to have to take it out.”

“Okay.”

He started to gather up materials from the kit. Snatching the washcloth hanging off the rim of the tub, he dipped it into the water. “Sorry,” he apologized at her hiss when he wiped at the wound. “Drink this.” A glass of whiskey was nudged into her hand. She took a few sips, aware that she would need as much pain numbing as she could get, but also unable to bring herself to entirely care. It wasn’t like it could hurt much worse than what Luca had already done to her.

She was aware of Tommy shooting her worried looks of deep distress every few moments.

“Right,” he cleared his throat, adjusting the way that he was sitting on the bed so that he was behind her. “Try not to move. I’ll make this as fast as I can.”

She curled her head down so that he could have as best access as possible to her shoulder. He hooked one arm around her, thumb repeating the soothing up and down rubbing motion when she hissed a little at how tightly he gripped her to keep her in place. A pair of tweezers probed at the wound, and then plunged in. She cried out, hands latching onto her knees, gritting her teeth. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Tommy sounded to be almost on the verge of tears, holding her firmly in place while he worked the tweezers. She screamed again as they scraped against the edge of her opened flesh, trying to get a grip on the little metal ball inside her. “I know. I know it hurts. Just a bit more. You’re doing so well, love…”

Another whimper of pain from her, a slight twist of the tweezers, and then he was retracting them along with the bullet that had lodged itself into her flesh. 

He wiped at the wound, dropped the bullet into an empty whiskey glass on the bedside table, then hugged her. She realized that she’d started crying again. 

“All done, all done, love. No more. You did so good, sweetheart.”

She burrowed into him, shuddering, closing her eyes until the sharp bite of pain drew back into the consistent throb she’d grown accustomed to. 

“Alright?” Tommy asked, after giving her a few moments to recover. She nodded, eyes closing and leaning into him. “I need to disinfect all these cuts, honey.” He sounded truly distraught at the idea of causing her more discomfort, and when she looked up, she was met with an agonized expression she’d only seen cross his face a handful of times before.

“Okay.”

He leaned back, looking earnestly into her eyes. “Tell me if it hurts too much.”

She nodded. He kissed the top of her head, and once more reached for the rag, wetting it in the water in the tub, and beginning to very, very gingerly clean her skin of all the dried blood so he could get a better look at what her injuries looked like.

They had to pause so that he could remove her trousers, Lucy gripping his arm tightly to keep herself upright as she stood so he could pull them down her legs. The frown on his lips only deepened as he took in the cuts that marked her hips and legs. He knew her body well enough, there was no doubt in her mind that he recognized that the pattern of the fresh cuts perfectly matched those of her old scars. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispered, as she whined when he poured the rum he’d asked Polly to bring over her injuries, taking care to ensure he got each and every cut. Most had already clotted and partially scabbed over, so she was in no real danger of bleeding out. Luca had been careful in his every incision. It had not yet been his intention to kill her. 

A shiver wracked down her spine at the thought of what else he may have done to her if she hadn’t managed to get away.  

“Is the doctor not coming?” she asked, as Tommy finally set aside the rum and started to prepare a needle and thread to stitch her up.

Tommy frowned, glancing at the clock. “I don’t want to wait for him.”

She nodded. Truth be told, she’d rather Tommy stitch her up over anyone else anyway. 

It was as he began to thread the needle through her skin that, in a small, hoarse voice, she started to tell him what had happened. How Luca took her from Lizzie’s home. How he strung her up in the bowels of the church for days on end. The whipping. The reopening of her scars. How she escaped. The carnage that she had to commit to do so. 

He listened silently, only interjecting every once in a while with the occasional question. But she could see his jaw tighten as she described the things that Luca had said and done to her, black pools of rage opening up behind his eyes, rivaled only by the horror that she also saw reflected there. 

When he was done stitching and bandaging her up, he retrieved one of his shirts–the soft, white cotton Henley that she liked so much–for her to wear. It was loose enough on her to not disturb any of her bandages, and as an added bonus it smelled like him. His brows pulled together at the way she yelped and flinched when she had to lift her arms so he could help her pull it over her head. The movement sent her shoulders ablaze with pain. 

“Lay down,” Tommy ordered gently, a hand on her head guiding her to rest her cheek against the pillow. She curled up on her side. There was no way she could lay on her back right now with the state that it was in. “There you go.” He pulled the quilt up to her chin, making sure it covered her completely. 

“W-wait, don’t go–” she lifted her head, suddenly half panicked when he rose to his feet. 

“I’m not going anywhere, love,” he assured, urging her to lay her head back down. Still, she watched him anxiously as he went to the nightstand, pulling open the drawer and rifling around inside until he pulled out a small vial of liquid.

“Tommy?”

“It’ll help with the pain.” he sat down on the edge of the bed, pouring a glass of whiskey and then adding a splash of the liquid into it, giving it all a quick stir. “It’ll help you sleep. At least until the doctor gets here.” 

She frowned. They’d bought it for special occasions. It seemed a pity to waste it on something as dour as this. But she didn’t have the energy to argue with him. And she did want everything to stop hurting. Even if just for a little bit. 

“Alright.”

He raised the glass to her lips. The whiskey and opium burned a little on the way down, and almost immediately she felt her eyelids grow heavier.

“I’m going to go get changed and cleaned up, alright?” he leaned over to set the empty glass down on the nightstand, then smoothed his hand along her forehead. “I’ll be in the washroom right down the hall. Just shout if you need me, eh?”

“You’ll come right back?”

“I promise.”

She nodded. It was getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open. Tommy kissed her forehead. 

“Just rest, eh? Try to sleep. I’ll be right back.”

She watched him go, pulling the blanket in tighter around herself. She heard his footsteps thud on the floor across the hall to the washroom, the squeak of the hinges and then the click of the door closing. 

She was pretty sure, despite her mind drifting in and out of consciousness by that point from the opium and pure exhaustion, that she then heard the muffled sounds of him retching. 

She was in and out after that, so it was hard to pinpoint how long Tommy was actually gone for. It couldn’t have been long, though. Only ten minutes at most.

“Tommy?” she asked, stirring against the pillow at the sound of footsteps near the bed, unable to open her eyes. 

“I’m right here.” His voice came somewhere near her head. Her hand reached out weakly, and a moment later his fingers engulfed hers tightly.

“Don’t leave me alone,” she begged. He kissed her temple. 

“Never in a thousand years.”

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[red-riding-wood]

Hi! :) first of all, I love your blog and your writing is amazing!

I'm obsessed with peaky blinders for years now and i would love to request a fic about arthur shelby (cause he's my comfort character :') is it possible that you write a fic/imagine about him and a younger female reader (in her early 20s) that had a traumatic past and as a result resorted to unhealthy coping mechanisms (hurting herself, drinking,.etc.). Arthur and her are dating, he gets more and more protective over her cause he wants to keep her safe and as they get more intimate with each other (smut) and he notices her scars etc., he tries to make her feel more comfortable by praising her. So a mix of feelings, smut and a slight power dynamic (arthur is more dominant/caring and the reader is a little insecure). I hope that makes sense!

Also, if the topics make you uncomfortable/you don't like to write about said things, i can totally understand that you turn my request down. :)

~sending you positive vibes ! ♡

Ruined

moodboard by @shelbydelrey

Arthur Shelby x F!Reader I Peaky Blinders

Warnings: smut, mentions of self harm and scars, allusions to past sexual assault, angst, reader has body issues

WC: 2415

AN: Thank you so much for the request and the support, anon! It means so much to me and I'm SO sorry it's taken me so long to get this written. You've been in my thoughts a lot and I hope you're doing well! Actually was holding onto this one for a little while, too, because I didn't think the smut was very good, but I'll give myself a break because it's been a while since I've written anything spicy. Also, apologies for cutting it short; it was getting to be quite a long oneshot. I hope you like it!

---

“He wasn’t even looking at me, Arthur.”

“Nah, Y/N, you didn’t see him. I’ve seen enough bad men in my life to know he was up to no good,” Arthur disputed, aggressively hanging his overcoat on the rack.

You sighed, and closed the gap between the two of you; your hands went to the stubble of his cheek, and you sought his gaze with your own.

“Arthur,” you said, softer this time. “Just because I…” Your words hitched in your throat, your tongue bound from speaking of the assault as if admitting it would make it real. “… just because I’ve been hurt in the past doesn’t mean it’s going to happen again.”

Under your touch, he settled, if only slightly; it had been proven, time and time again, to tame the beast inside him. But his chest still heaved, and with a gentle finger you wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.

“Arthur,” you said again to ground him, as his gaze began to wander anywhere but your face. “I hate seeing you like this, picking fights everywhere you go.”

Sometimes you wondered if you had made him worse. Ever since you’d started dating the eldest Shelby brother, he’d found more and more excuses to punch or bludgeon whoever looked at you the wrong way. Though your touch may have soothed him, your existence only stoked the fire that burned bright in his damaged soul.

“What am I supposed to do, then, eh?” he said, exhaustion working its way past the thorns of his tone, and his forehead brushed yours, unruly locks of brown hair tickling your lashes. 

You inhaled his scent – the sharp spice of his aftershave, the sweat of his ire, the musk that was so uniquely him that you couldn’t help but feel at home each time you breathed it. Your heart fluttered in your chest, and you cocked your head at him slightly as an idea formed in your head.

“Maybe some kind of…” You drew a finger from his jaw down the bare of his chest before it disappeared beneath his shirt, and you swallowed as your heart beat faster against your ribs. “… physical therapy?”

Winter-blue eyes clouded in lust, and his Adam’s apple bobbed along his throat. Despite seeing him for a while, the two of you hadn’t gone all the way yet, but it wasn’t that you didn’t want him, or didn’t trust him. You had always been afraid that, when he saw the scars on your flesh, he would discard you for another young woman who didn’t ruin her body.

Ruined, indeed, you thought, with a bitter jolt in your chest. Your eyes lowered from his winter blues so that he wouldn’t see the self-hatred in your eyes.

“Now, don’t tempt me with that, love.” His breath fanned the hair from the side of your face as his hand slid from your shoulder down to your hip. “That somethin’ you want?”

Repressing your anxiety and your sullenness, you drew closer to him, pressing yourself against the heat of his body as you tried to formulate a verbal response.

“Hm?” His fingers tipped your chin back up to look him in his eye.

You nodded, biting your lip as your hips connected and you felt him hard beneath his trousers.

“Yes,” you breathed.      

“C’mere, then,” he growled playfully, his hands scooping your legs up. You wrapped your thighs around his waist for balance, and you chimed out a giggle as he carried you to his bedroom.

Though you knew he tried to be gentle, he practically threw you down on the bed, but you didn’t mind. A puff of air escaped your lungs and you sank into the mattress, your head spinning and heat pooling between your legs. Your pointed toe ran down his waist, not wanting to part from him even for the seconds it took for him to shed his shirt. You tried to prop yourself on your elbows to get a better look, biting your lip. A grin stretched apart his lips as he looked down at you, undoing his belt. And he said, with that gravel in his tone that you’d come to adore,

“Going somewhere, love?”     

You shook your head, but you managed to sit up, your breaths cast across his navel as you looked up at him from bright, playful eyes. “Not without you.”

Your fingers ghosted over his, knuckles rough against the softness of your palms. They stilled, and you pried them from his belt, your index slipping between the hem of his trousers and the heat of his flesh, your heart skipping a beat when you felt the coarseness of his hair.

Arthur’s breath hitched in his chest as you rose, on your knees, to place kisses along the ridge of his collarbone, tasting his sweat on the tongue you dragged down his clavicle to the center of his chest. An animalistic groan rumbled beneath your lips as you cast his belt aside and tugged the buttons from his trousers.

“Seems I’m not the only eager one,” he rasped as his fingers wove through your hair, seeming to light a trail of fire from the nape of your neck to your scalp and sending a shudder through every nerve of your body. For a brief moment, you stiffened, the sensation of his fingers tightening around your hair familiar to you in a way that had once been most vile but, in this moment, you were most ashamed to find thrilling. You reminded yourself that he wasn’t pulling as hard, and that at any moment if you asked him to stop he would. You reminded yourself that this time it was Arthur. And it was okay for it to feel good.

Heat suffused your cheeks at his words, and you cast a small moan just above the hem of his trousers, having worked your way down in loving kisses. His hand loosed from your hair, and his other came around to tilt your chin back up to look at him, hair flopping in front of those lustful eyes and the light of the chandelier framing his head in a halo, like he was some kind of fallen angel.

“As I much as I want you to continue…” he said, voice coming out ragged. “… I want to see what we’re dealing with.” His fingers ran along the outline of your breasts beneath your shirt, another shiver passing through you as his thumb brushed a pert nipple.

“I want to see you, love,” he said, thumb dragging down to the lip of your breast, your heart rate increasing the further he explored. You wanted to sit still, and be a good girl for him, but the pounding in your ears and the clamminess of your palms just wouldn’t subside.

You shuddered this time out of fear, that jolted through your veins, intense and cold and criminally contrast to the heat that inundated every other fibre of your being. But you hid it well. How could he had known he’d just traced over a scar you’d never shown him?

Your stomach twisted as you wondered what he would think when he saw them… all of them. And while you wanted nothing more than to be laid bare before the man who owned your heart and your soul and who deserved your body, and you wanted to give him it, you also couldn’t help but wonder, what if he thought you were ugly? What if he thought you were ruined?

And in that moment you scorned yourself for ever laying a blade to your thighs, or your stomach. You hated yourself for ruining something you could never have back, something that would’ve been beautiful had you not squandered it, time and time again.

“Arthur.” Your lip trembled, and your hands were shaking as they left the hem of his trousers. You panted out your breaths, your head even lighter than it had been before. And on your lips you could taste the words you yearned to say, to tell him why you ached so badly to do this but feared so cruelly unveiling a gruesome body that he did not deserve.

But all that came out was, “I’m scared.”

Something in his eyes softened at that, and any trace of his grin vanished as his weight sank into the mattress beside you. His hands were on you, but not in a frightening way; one ran across your trembling back and the other rested reassuringly on your thigh. You felt yourself leaning into his touch, as if it would vanquish any trace of fear or doubt that made your body tremble with such pitifulness. As if it would cleanse your impurities and make you whole again.

Arthur’s words seemed to catch on his tongue, and a flicker of his own uncertainty darted through those winter blues. “You’re not… scared of me, are you?”

“No, Arthur.” You cupped his cheek in your hand now, forcing his gaze to yours, even if yours was brimming with unshed tears. “I want you. And I trust you. I just…”

I’m ruined.

The words froze before they could even reach the back of your tongue, instead strangling your throat, your eyes bugging wide as you swallowed against them. All the while, Arthur’s gaze dragged solicitously across your face, and this time, he was the one to press his forehead to yours, his fingers tangling gently in your hair and rubbing soothingly along your back.

“Y/N,” he said, his heavy breath tangling with your short, frenzied ones. “So long as you ain’t scared of me, you don’t have to be scared of anything. I’m going to take care of you.” His lips dragged to your neck, placing a gentle yet firm kiss along your clavicle. “You don’t have to worry about a thing, love. Just let me take care of you.”

A soft moan stirred from your lips as you felt the heat of his lips on your neck, and your heart pounded in your core. Physically, you had never felt so conflicted, but his words, they were all you needed to hear. You trusted him, and that was what was important. Whether or not you deserved to be taken care of, that was a whole other demon, but Arthur Shelby had a way of making you want to submit to his every whim, to let him do with you as he pleased. This was how you would take care of him.

“Is that a ‘yes’?” he said.

You licked your lips, and said, “Yes.”

“Good girl.”

His hands lowered you to the bed, his stronger, sinewy frame looming over you and making your heart pound wilder in your chest. You licked your lips again, mouth dry, and swallowed back your fear as you felt his fingers begin to undo your blouse, revealing more of you until you were certain he could see what you had so desperately tried to hide. But his kisses were trailing between your breasts, and you helped shrug the garment off as he was absorbed in his work. Had your heart not been beating so fast and had your stomach not been turning so much in fear of what he would soon discover, you would’ve enjoyed the attention a lot more.

And there it was. He hesitated, the bristle of his moustache lifting from your skin and a hot breath exhaling across the scar, still fresh, still burning from the other night.

Your heart practically stopped.

“Y/N…” he breathed, the stubble of his chin brushing your skin to indicate that those blue eyes were on you. You peered back at him reluctantly, expecting horror in those eyes.

And they were filled with adoration.

“Is this what you were scared about, love?” he murmured against your stomach.

“Yes.” Your breath came shattered from your chest, still not quite able to believe your eyes.

For a moment longer, he held your gaze, with a pity you weren’t sure you wanted, but a love that eased your frenzied heart. And then, saying nothing, his lips brushed the scar ever-so-gently, as if to pay it reverence, and though the wound stung, you didn’t care in the slightest.

He still wanted you.

Once he had spent time on the first scar, he let his lips trail all across your stomach, with a surprising tenderness, his fingers gripping your hips tightly but in such a way that felt as if you were safe within his touch. He laid kisses across older scars, that had been slashed across your stomach, and as his lips grazed the lowest, you rocked your hips against the bulge in his trousers, drawing a moan from him and casting it hot against your belly.

“Don’t stop,” you murmured. “Please don’t stop.”

“Y/N, you’re fucking perfect. Have I ever told you that?”

“No,” you laughed, a tear pricking your eye but your anxiety and your tension all dissipating in wake of the sensations that the heat of his lips and the firmness of his hands and the tickle of his moustache sent racing along your skin.

“Well, you’re fucking perfect,” he said, as he pulled your skirt from your waist, and you helped kick it off, your legs instinctively crossing over to shield the scars along your thighs.

He seemed to notice this, and cast you a reassuring look before prying your knees open with strong fingers, and saying, “I’m going to have my way with every bit of you, love. Gonna kiss you everywhere because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had in my bed.”

Your head rolled back into the sheets as he began kissing and running his hands along your inner thighs. Chapped only slightly, his lips were hot as hellfire but soft as heaven as they explored each scar in a way you never had. In a way that was loving rather than shameful.

“Arthur,” you moaned, bucking your hips impatiently as his lips fell in the crook of your thigh.

“What’s the matter, love?” he asked, coming up between your legs and cupping your cheek in his hand.

A streak of a playful grin pulled at your lips, and you whispered, “Fuck me.”

That devilish grin that you knew so well plastered itself across a handsome face, and as you felt him shift his trousers down, he murmured into your ear,

“Told you wouldn’t have to worry, love. Because if that wasn’t the plan for even a goddamn second…”

---

MASTERLIST • REQUEST

Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed to any of my taglists and notified of new works!

TAGLIST: @eclecticwildflowers @emotionalcadaver @evita-shelby @minaethrym @shelbydelrey @zablife @midnightswithdearkatytspb @poisonedtruth

[heartfelttickles]

Hey everyone!

My name is G.

I have been a silent tumblr reader for years and finally have a smidge of confidence to post my own fics on here from time to time!

My fandoms are;

TV Shows:

- Heartstopper

- “A Tale of Two Ticklers”

- “Ticklish Terrors”

- Bridgerton

- Peaky blinders

- Friends

- Haunting of Hill House/ Bly Manor

- The Umbrella Academy

- Headcannons

- Modern Family

- The Big Bang Theory

- Criminal Minds

Movies

- Marvel

- Hunger games

- Kingsman

- Top gun + Top Gun Maverick

And a lot more that I cannot current think of 😂

I mostly do tickle fics so if that’s not for you then that’s fine but it will be mostly SFW!

I will try to post on here every now and then about these fandoms but feel free to send a message for movie/tv show suggestions so I can write about them!

Looking forward to sharing my lil fics with you all <3

[iantimony]

tuesdaypost

tried a new thing this week where i started drafting this as i went - so any time i read something that i wanted to put here, for example, i just slapped the link in to expand more on when i got around to finishing the post, yanno? i liked it, i think it made the whole process less "??? what did i do this week???" i also think i do like tuesday, actually, because it means i can put all my various weekend craftings/watching/playing in while it's still fresh in my mind.

because i noted things down as i went this is a RICH tuesdaypost, buckle up

listening

up to partizan 15! also been listening to fatt soundtracks as background while i work, it's very good for that.

reading

a looooot of bloodletter this week, notably all the tgcf and most of the mdzs fic, but especially both ways open jaws: delicious, pun intended. found it through this tumblr post of the art that's in one of the chapters. (saw dreamwidth user rigormorphis in the acknowledgement notes on there!!! [leonardo dicaprio pointing meme] i follow them on dreamwidth!! hello!) also read you were not mine to save by factorialrabbits: this isn't really how i understand nhs as a character, personally, but i liked the narrative structure a lot! read it because bloodletter wrote a fic that was inspired by it and i liked that one a lot too.

read some of the tgcf donghua just because i wanted to look at pretty pictures.

the poster's guide to the internet of the future by david pierce: interesting. i've never much thought about having all platforms be cross-connected and cross-interact-able and i'm not sure if it's something i would want, to be totally honest. i like certain things to be separate. we should all go back to geocities. (jk) (unless....)

caught up on the soft news newsletter by joy alicia raines, one that's been sticking in my head is the bit about 'but and therefore rule' from may

i started 'the house on vesper sands' by paraic o'donnell while i was at my grandma's because she had a copy in the guest room, read about the first 100 pages or so, liked it enough that i rented it from the library but we'll see if i finish it haha

playing

oh i'm DEEP in pokemon go again :p send me friend codes if you wanna be pokego friends!

watching

my grandma has been recommending peaky blinders to me for ages so when i visited her last week for thanksgiving i decided that if we started watching it while i was there i might keep watching it when i got home. i probably will! we watched the first three episodes while i was there, definitely has the Drama and Intrigue that i would expect, doesn't hurt that cillian murphy is easy on the eyes, etc.

as promised last week, i've watched the new tgcf episodes! as you can probably tell from my reading section, i am fully back in the tgcf brainworms, frothing at the mouth waiting for new episodes to get released

finished cowboy bebop with my bf, it was so good :( i think our next show is finishing kill la kill, i had him watch the first threeish episodes a while ago but might as well. also on the list to watch together is jujutsu kaisen, mob psycho, space dandy…feel free to rec!

making

continued progress of my big scarf! started what will hopefully be a very quick winter headband knit for my roommate's mom, i'm spending time with her over christmas and i'm absolutely sure she will get me a gift so i need something to give to her lol.

after tragically missing the deadline for secret samol i sent the tumblr account a message asking to be put on the pinch hitter list and it turned out that they were able to slide my entry in after the deadline!! so i got my secret samol assignment in my email on saturday and i'm VERY excited, there are some really good prompts and i have to figure out which is tickling my fancy and what medium to do it in…the funniest part of it is probably that my assignee is a geologist. like, what are the odds, right? (i am not a geologist by training but the research i do now for my phd is way closer to geology than i ever thought i would be. i wonder if they'll be at AGU in a few weeks…it's such a big conference so odds are slim but there's definitely a funny universe out there where i run into them without either of us realizing :b)

i spent most of sunday cozy inside because it was snowing out, and i did a lot of little mending tasks! i finally blocked out the tank top that i finished knitting a few months ago, fixed the lining for a cowl that i made in 2021, darned some socks + some holes in a shirt that i like…

(the Cowl Saga: i finished the object in 2021! it was a little scratchy so i made a cute lining out of matching plaid fleece! i never fucking wore it because it was too small and pressed on my nose uncomfortably and sucked to pull over my head!!!! so i went, damn, wait, i didn't block it. i bet i can make it a better size by blocking it. so this summer i took the lining back out and blocked it (and laid it in the sun to dry, so it FADED UNEVENLY because the yarn was just dyed with turmeric in 2020!! i am not a professional!!! so it definitely isn't colorfast!!!) and lo and behold, now it fits better! however now the lining was too damn small! so finally, FINALLY, i used some leftover plaid fleece scraps to patch in an extra panel to make it big enough! so now i can wear it! i wore it yesterday because it's finally cold enough!!!)

no pictures of me wearing the tank top because i don't love the fit…i have some spare bra inserts at home that i can get when i'm there for the holidays so hopefully sewing those in will help? i can't really wear a bra with it otherwise. despite using an old norwegian cast-on, which according to google is one of the stretchiest options, to wear it the hem is stretched completely taut so i probably should have sized up >:\ it was a fun project otherwise, might try it again with a different size/yarn/cast-on, perhaps without the waist increases.

also, started writing again?? something about glancing at my decade-old nanowrimo last week tickled my brain and i started poking at something inspired in that direction. no promises.

misc

i was thinking of getting a small keyboard for my ipad so i don't have to bring my whole laptop to a conference next week, i was discussing with my roommate, she was like "ah but they're sooo small…" i said "we have tiny hands, it's not a bad size for us", she goes "but they're scared of each other" which made me crack up. will probably try to go to best buy or something, one of the little logitech ones could be good, but also do i Need a keyboard?? will i actually type ANYTHING while i'm at this conference????? i doubt it. so maybe not huh my current week looks like powering through my poster for AGU, that way i can spend next week tweaking as needed and print a few days before travel…….fingers crossed. i laid that timeline out for my advisor yesterday and she nearly cried from how reasonable it was, apparently her last phd student was a "finish the poster on the plane and print the day of the presentation at the conference" kinda guy oops. :")

[sapphicmicrofics]

September 21: Painting Open to any Harry Potter femslash ship. We aim for a word count between 50 and 500, but any length is allowed. Post your fic on Tumblr (tag this blog in the post and use the hashtag #sapphicmicrofics).

Please tag your works for any potential warnings, and if you want you can add them to this AO3 collection. For more rules check here!

You can also still write for any previous prompt!

Potential ships: Katie/Angelina, Millicent/Luna, Dorcas/Narcissa Inspiration: Painting your lover, painting someone’s skin, face paint at a children’s party, or an adult’s, comparing someone to a painting, painted lips, painting your nails, splatters of paint after decorating a house, painting a fence in the middle of summer, art museums, nude modelling, using a paintbrush to tickle someone, destroying a painting out of anger (peaky blinders vibes).

See the other prompts for this month here! See the previously written works here! For any questions, ask here!

[theshelbyclan]

Snitch

Summary: You’ve accidentally snitched on your brothers and now that Polly is furious, you have to deal with the consequences

(gif by @mistress-gif​)

A/N: For my 4k celebration I finally got round to this request. My previous fic Family Secrets was such fun to write, all fluff, and now a sweet anon requested: Hi, if I could request a fic, could you do one similar tickle Shelby sister one like family secrets? Maybe the sister could snitch or do something to John/Tommy and she gets tickled? If not it’s fine xx I could never turn down something this wholesome and I hope you like it!! This is nothing but fluff and childish brothers, entirely based on my own annoying siblings  Words: 4301

*****

On one bright sunny morning down in Small Heath, you were watching your brothers work in the betting shop. Being their sister of sixteen now, you were no longer the family baby, though they often still treated you this way. So many times you’d longed to grow up quicker, just so they would allow you a bit more freedom, but now you often missed those old days. The days of sleeping outside together or piled together on a narrowboat. You often dreamed of how the boys were before the war, back when they still played and laughed. But those days were long gone now. 

Tommy beckoned you over and handed you some papers to look over. He asked, “Have you heard of this one?”

“The foal?” It wasn’t unusual for him to ask your advice on horses. You spend more time over at Charlie’s yard than any of the siblings and you’d grown up riding. So, you frowned and asked, “What do we need a foal for?” “I want to train her,” Tommy said pensively, “But I need to know if you know the stallion?” “Oh yeah, I’ve heard of him. Fucking hell, Tommy, what does this foal cost?” He pointed at a figure on the paper. “Fuck,” you breathed, and then, “Did you discuss this with Aunt Polly, because she’ll never let you spend this much money on the mere possibility of a racing horse.” “I’m not telling Polly just yet.” You eyed him but decided to move on, “Wait a second, isn’t this the horse that made all the headlines? This heiress of some kind who was left the stallion in some will, but it was attested or something?” “Yes.” You fixed him with a gaze once again, waiting for him to explain. “I know the heiress,” he finally said, with a wave of his hand. “You know the heiress…” “I know the heiress, yes.” “Oh,” and you rolled your eyes, “So, she’s selling you the horse.” “Not quite, I’ll need to steal it first.” “What, the horse or the woman?” you joked, but he didn’t seem to share in the fun. So, you said, “Fine, but this is bound to end in tears.” “Just let me do the thinking, eh Y/N? Me and John have got it all worked out.”   You sighed again, “Whatever happened to family meetings, Thomas?” He shrugged and gathered up the papers, “You sound just like your aunt.” “Thank you. I’ll tell her.” “Wait,” Tommy stopped you as you turned to leave, “Don’t tell her about this. Not yet.” “Fine,” you sulked, already bored with this day.

*** Polly Gray’s voice boomed through the house the very next day. You’d been asleep, but you sat bolt-right up in bed at the sound. Only then you realised she wasn’t calling for you; she was calling for your brothers.

You listened intently as they dragged their feet towards the kitchen. The truth was, you always enjoyed it when they got scolded, it was a sibling thing, so you silently crept down the stairs and watched through the banister. “What the hell is this I’ve heard?” your aunt sounded incredibly angry, “Why the fuck did the two of you think you could pull a stunt like this without informing me!” John whimpered and becameshorter on the spot, but protested with, “It’s not like we took the foal yet. We’ve only just made contact.” This earned him a smack around the head and Aunt Polly bit, “No, you only let your brother fuck for the cause.” “Well, he’s good at that…” John whispered, rubbing his sore head. “Polly,” Tommy held up a hand in an attempt to soothe things, “It’s a good plan. We just need you to agree to…” Tommy was on the receiving end of the next slap, and you smirked in the dark. “There’s no point in me agreeing now, is there!” she snapped, “It’s done. If we back out now, we’ll have half of the lords and ladies of fucking England on our backs! And unless you plan to fuck them all, Thomas, we’ve no choice.” And out of pure irritation, she smacked him again. You, meanwhile, held a hand to your mouth to stop the giggles from pouring out. It really was good fun to be just the spectator for once. “Pol, we didn’t plan on hiding it from you…” “No?” she had her hands on her hips now, which was never a good sign. Polly was like a mother to you: she’d raised you, praised you and scolded you all your life. And if you weren’t at least a little afraid of her when she was angry, you had no sense at all. She continued, “So why did I have to hear about the foal from Y/N?” You froze. And then you realised, you’d completely forgotten. Memories flooded back from breakfast when you sat at the table, chatting away with Ada about the races, and you may indeed have mentioned this foal in passing. You suddenly remembered Ada asking about the heiress and you calling Tommy a ‘man-whore’. Apparently, Polly had listened in, but not only that, she’d added two and two together.

As the scolding went on and a few more smacks were administered, you slowly made your way up the stairs again, deciding that would be in your best interest. You were almost at the top, when you heard Aunt Polly stomp away. For a few moments, you only listened. “How did she know?” you heard John ask. “I told fucking Y/N,” Tommy replied, darkly. You’d meant to sprint the last few steps back up to your room, but unfortunately, you tripped and slammed down into the stairs. Within seconds, your brothers were at the bottom of the stairs, looking menacingly up at you. “Hello,” you said, praying for some manner of escape. Much to your good fortune, Polly crashed back into the kitchen, glaring daggers at the boys as she walked on by. In those short moments, you fled, but behind you, Tommy called out, “Oh, you better run, Y/N!” *** The next few days, you tried your best not to be alone with either John or Tommy. Not quite sure just how mad they really were, you decided not to risk it. Still, you couldn’t help but think back to the both of them at the bottom of the stairs, where you’d been certain you’d seen a smile playing about Tommy’s lips. John was a lot easier in that sense; his mischievous nature was never far behind, but if Tommy really was angry, there’d be no chance. Either way, better not to be at their mercy. One afternoon, you were sitting in the front room with your Aunt Polly. When John and Tommy entered, you quickly looked away. Polly noticed at once however and immediately asked, “What’s going on?” “Nothing,” Tommy put on his best angelic face “Just need to have a word with Y/N, that’s all.” Aunt Polly got up to leave, but you tried to run after her, calling out, “No! I’ll come with you, Aunt Pol!” Again, she eyes the room suspiciously, “If there’s anything going on behind my back again, I’ll have all three of you. Don’t think just because you’re grown now, I won’t.” None of you even dared to think so, so all three Shelby siblings nodded obediently. And before there was anything you could do, you were left alone with John and Tommy in the front room.

Frantically, you let your eyes flit back and forth between both brothers. This was not a good situation to be in.

“I think we should punish the snitch,” Tommy growled, unusually playful. For a moment, you felt relief wash over you, recognizing the old Tommy again, but then you weren’t so sure if this really was in your favour.  

“What?’ you asked, with big eyes, “Why?” “You told Aunt Polly about the horse, didn’t you,” John continued, “You got us in trouble.” “What are you?” you joked, “Five?”

John stood leaning against the door, making sure you had nowhere to go if you planned on escaping, “Remember when we were kids,” he mused, “When she used to hide our caps and we used to chase her around the camp?” “Oh, I remember, she used to be a little devil.” “Yeah, but that was before,” you tried, “before you all got caught up in business and became boring.” “Boring, eh?” Tommy said sarcastically, “We became fucking boring, do you hear that, John? We became boring. Well, I’m guessing that’s the worst charge, eh?” “It is,” you said, decidedly. “Remember when we caught her and threw her into the canal, Tommy?” John grinned, “Polly beat us both.” “Yeah, but she always tried to run off,” he took one menacing step towards you, “Just like now,” because Tommy had most certainly noticed you eyeing all the exits. “If this is about the horse…” you started, but you didn’t get to finish your sentence.

You fell to the ground as John launched himself at you. Luckily, the rug provided for a soft drop. But the air was knocked from your lungs, having John and his full weight on top of you. As you clawed at your brother to no avail, John was giggling like a small child and you threw your head back in defeat, catching a glimpse of Tommy who had apparently decided not to do a thing about the situation. “Now what?” you asked him, as you fell still, because quite obviously, resistance was futile.

Tommy lifted one eyebrow and said, “Well, you’re the clever one, aren’t you? Little miss know-it-all? Get yourself out of this one.” Straining every muscle you had in you, you managed to wiggle your legs out from under John’s torso and tried to buck him off. For a second, your brother was lifted up into the air, but he was too heavy and immediately dropped back down again, managing to make you wheeze for a second time. So, you tried to pinch John, hard, and that worked. He called out and tried to move away, which gave you the opportunity to extract your arms and grab a chair. Using the chair, you then tried to pull yourself out from under him. Tommy, however, calmly picked up the chair and moved it out of the way. So, you stuck out your tongue at him and ground out, “Spoil sport.” “Am I?” he nodded, “Oh right, I’m the boring one.” “You could,” you groaned under the weight of one very childish brother, “you know, help?” “Help? Alright, I’ll help.” For a moment you saw the flicker of mischief in his eyes and then he jumped on top of you as well. You shouted out theatrically at the weight of a second, “Get ooooooooff!” “You said we were boring.” “You’re not boring, you’re behaving like fucking children!” you scolded. Full of satisfaction, John said from somewhere in the pile, “So maybe it’s you, Y/N, who’s the boring one? You’ve forgotten how we used to do this all the time.” You hadn’t forgotten. And you certainly hadn’t forgotten what would follow next, which made it all the more frustrating you couldn’t move an inch. “John, are you ready?” Tommy informed casually. “Ready!” “Nooooooo,” you protested in advance. John shouted out another battle cry by way of an answer. Seconds later, they both started tickling you and you actually screeched. It felt like a hundred hands were attacking you, instead of only four, and this indeed brought back all kinds of memories. You’d forgotten just how annoying they could be when they were in a playful mood, and on the one hand you enjoyed this immensely, on the other hand you regretted this immensely.

“Still think we’re boring, eh?” But you couldn’t answer, only giggle like an absolute maniac. At some point, you were quite sure you wouldn’t survive. John’s face was close to yours and a massive grin was plastered all over his face. He demanded, “Apologize for getting us in trouble!” Now that really took you back to all of you as kids. It had happened so many times that one, or all, of you had done something they weren’t allowed to do and, as good siblings do, tried to drag down the others with them. This would always have consequences, however. But there was no way you were apologizing. It was a matter of honour now. You managed to pull out a hand from the pile and grabbed the first tuft of hair you could find. The groaning that followed told you, you’d gotten hold of Tommy’s rogue locks. “Get her fucking hand, John,” he ordered his little brother, and at once John started tickling you more under your arms. You dissolved into another pit of laughter. The squirming pile of siblings managed to knock over quite a bit of furniture in the front room, but no one seemed to care. Suddenly, all three of you froze, when you heard Polly call out from the kitchen, “John!” John’s head shot up like a deer in headlights and he looked at Tommy, legs sticking up into the air, for advice.

Tommy called back, “John’s busy, Pol!” But his aunt wasn’t done yet, “Have you seen Y/N?” she called out. This time John replied, “She went out, Aunt Polly!” None of you dared to move and looked at each other one by one. Like a live painting, limbs all over the place, you’d been frozen in time and waited for what your aunt would do next. Then you heard footsteps and she was evidently approaching the front room. Tommy hissed at John, “Why the fuck did you tell her Y/N was out?” You all now knew you were going to have to explain this to an already aggravated matriarch. Unless, “Quick, hide her!” came John’s solution. Before you knew what was happening, two brothers lifted you up and stuffed you into the fancy cabinet against the wall. Sitting there, with the expensive plates and cutlery all around you, you watched through a crack as Aunt Polly marched into the room. John had quickly grabbed a book, holding it upside down, but pretended earnestly to read it. Tommy leaned up against the mantlepiece, smoking solemnly. The only thing that gave him away was a slight dishevelled look and bits of hair sticking in every direction imaginable. Tasting the atmosphere, she demanded, “What in the hell is going on here?” Tommy lifted one eyebrow and shrugged, “Working, Pol.” She didn’t believe him for a second, that much was obvious, and she looked around the room where none of the furniture was in their proper place anymore. Finally, she said, “Well, if you do see Y/N, tell her to come to me.” “Why?” John asked, always the one to ask question. “Because I told you so.”

After Aunt Polly had left again, Tommy told the cabinet, “You’re in trouble too now, Y/N.” “Why?” you sounded a little muffled coming from inside. You’d recognized her tone as well and it was quite clear you were in for a scolding, but you had honestly no idea what you’d done to deserve it this time. It had been so much more fun watching your brothers being on the receiving end of her temper. But that was concern for later, because judging by the silence on the other side of the door, your brothers weren’t done with you either. “Can’t stay in there forever,” Tommy commented dryly.

Can’t I? You thought about it for a second and looked around for some food in there, but there was nothing to be found. John seemed to sense your thoughts, “Ada’s eaten everything in there, Y/N, nothing but rats for you.” “Great, rats on both sides of the door,” you snapped. You surmised you had no other option but to run. So, you crouched down in the dark, suddenly slammed the door op and bolted. You managed to slip through John’s hands and sprinted towards the kitchen, hoping to God Polly wouldn’t be in there. Tommy called out behind you, “Go left, John-boy!” and you understood at once they planned to cut you off from both sides. There was only one thing left to do really, which was to gain the upper hand somehow. You scanned the kitchen for a weapon of some kind. There wasn’t much to work with, but you did find the infamous wooden spoon. Throwing it at Tommy, who dodged it calmly, you were now once again without any protection. For you second attempt, you held up an egg as a warning. “Put the egg down,” your brother held up a hand, “I’m warning you, Y/N, do not throw the fucking egg.” John didn’t even try to be scary anymore, he had too much fun playing, but he did say, “Polly will actually kill you if you throw the egg, you know that, right?” And then he made another dive at you, which made you throw the egg, which then hit him perfectly on the forehead. With a shout of glee, you tried to make another run for it. While John was wiping the egg of his face, Tommy was quicker this time and he grabbed you around your waist and threw you over his shoulder. The younger brother then proceeded pummelling you with all the eggs that were left. You tried to wiggle your way off the older brother’s shoulder, made a grab for some flower and covered Tommy with it. He spluttered a little, but his grip remained firm. The kitchen was in an absolute state within seconds.

Somehow, you’d worked yourself up and were now sort of balancing up top of Tommy. Then you caught a glimpse of his face, covered in flower, but you noticed the sheer joy that you saw in his eyes. And you stopped, and felt a warm sensation inside you hadn’t felt in years: happiness. This was it, you thought, we can still be like we were before the war. It’s rare and it’ll only last a few moments, but those amazing precious moments could still exist. Maybe they did too, but you had needed this so much the last couple of years. John interrupted your happy thoughts when he tried to lift you off of Tommy’s shoulder, but somehow underestimated how easy that would be, so the both of you landed on top of the kitchen table. It broke. Tommy sighed, “Polly’s not going to be happy when she hears you broke her table, Y/N.” “Oh, you wouldn’t dare,” you breathed, “there’s no way she’d believe it was just me, by the way, why would I break an actual table?” “Why should we?” you brother returned the question, “You’re the only child around here.”

“If you tell Polly I broke the table, I’ll tell John.” “Tell me what?” John’s head shot up, as he kicked away some pieces of wood from what was once your kitchen table. “Remember that wagon that burned down at the Lee camp?” you asked, sweetly. Tommy glared daggers at you, but John said, “Yeah, me and Arthur got the blame.” “Tommy burned it down,” and you quickly added, “And don’t think Polly’s forgotten about that either!” John turned to Tommy, “That was you? I thought it was bloody Arthur.” “Because I told her it was bloody Arthur,” Tommy replied. Then he turned to you, pointing finger and all, “Now, quite obviously you haven’t learned your lesson yet about being a snitch. Whatever happened to family loyalties, eh?” You shrugged, “Maybe I’m just loyal to Arthur.” Tommy Shelby, man feared by all, tried his most intimidating look on you. When it didn’t seem to do much, he called out, “Right! Into the canal, it is. John, take her legs.” You screamed again as you were being hoisted up into the air, though it was practically drowned out by John’s laughter. Chaos ensued once again and, in the end, Tommy had one of your legs, while John sort of carried your torso about. Your free leg you pulled back and you kicked Tommy hard in the chest. At once, he flew back and landed right on his arse. Both you and John burst out laughing. “Tommy, we’re never getting her to the canal like this,” your brother commented, while wiping the tears from his eyes. Tommy got up and he looked genuinely angry now. Any other person would be shitting themselves out of fear for what he might do. Any other person would start praying out loud. Any other person would quickly apologize and try to make a run for it. You were not any other person, you were his little sister, so you just continued laughing at him. It really was a funny sight, to see Tommy so dishevelled, but still trying to salvage some of his dignity. Within seconds, he was on top of you. He sat on your waist and took both of your hands in his, so much quicker than you had expected, and placing you in a hold you had no chance to get out of. You’d forgotten he could do that. Wide eyes, he ground out, “Respect, little sister. You need to learn some fucking respect.” “I’m sorry,” you said, cocky now, “Respect for what exactly? The brother covered in egg or the brother covered in flower?” Tommy sighed deeply, took both of your hands in one of his much bigger hands and dug his free hand into your stomach. For the second time, you were quickly screaming with laughter. He lowered down his face and whispered, “Apologize.” “For what?” you managed to get out in between giggles, “For being the only Shelby with a brain?” This didn’t help you much, as it only seemed to spur Tommy on. He started scribbling all over your ribs and soon, you weren’t able to say anything anymore, sassy or not. Then he paused for a second, mirth still visible in his eyes, and asked, “Want to try this again?” You sighed, exhausted already, and said, “I am sorry… I am sorry that you both are absolutely terrified of Aunt PolLY AND HER NOOOO!” He continued and left you with very little air. “John,” Tommy was now grinning broadly, “Take her arms,” and Tommy shot his evil fingers under your arms, which made your laughter go almost silent and you kicked your legs about, but to no avail. Tommy’s teeth blinked as he laughed with you, “Oh, little sister, you think you can be cocky with us, eh? With fucking us?”

Finally, feeling slightly desperate by your own ticklishness, you gave in, “Okay! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!!” But still, they wouldn’t let you go. He demanded, “Sorry for what?” “I’m sorry I told Aunt Polly about the horse,” you panted, “I didn’t mean to but it sort of slipped out? Either way, I’m sorry.” “And,” Tommy cracked his fingers as if to say: I can do this all day. You believed him too. You rolled your eyes, “I’m sorry I kicked you and made you fall on your arse. And I’m sorry I laughed at you because you looked hilarious, while falling on your arse. My bad.” “Still think I’m boring?” John asked, which made you wonder if you’d genuinely offended him by saying that. “No,” you spat, “but I do think you’re a mad bastard.” “I can live with that.” “What about me, eh?” the other one asked, still straddling your waist. John had let go of your arms and you smiled up at Tommy, deciding to be completely honest, “Nah, but I wish you could be like this more often.” “Maybe I should be,” he thought out loud. When you saw his deep thoughts were taking him back to whatever dark place he inhabited now, you decided you didn’t quite want this lightness to disappear yet. So, you started poking Tommy’s ribs, which was never a good idea, especially in the position you were in. Tommy flinched and even squirmed a little, trying to protect himself from your hands, which gave you the chance to crawl out from under him. “Don’t fucking tickle me,” he huffed, “Tickle John!” For the second umpteenth time that day, the kitchen had turned into a battlefield of wrestling and tickling siblings. From a distance, it looked far too rough and like you were really hurting each other, but that was just the Shelby way. This was all just good fun, or so you thought. Polly watched the three of you and smiled, because to her, a Shelby, this was nothing but pure Shelby sibling love. After a while, she decided to put a stop to it, by banging a pot down onto the stove. The effect was immediate, as all three siblings practically jumped up to salute. For a moment, Polly just glared darkly at all three of you, as you bowed their heads in shame. Then she said, calmly but sternly, “You have two hours and then I want this entire kitchen spotless. And that includes a new table. I want you in clean clothes and faces scrubbed before dinner and I don’t want to find a single speck of flower on anything. Do you hear me?” “Yes, Aunt Polly,” you mumbled, trying desperately not to make eyes-contact with your brothers for fear of bursting out in laughter. “I’ll keep this to myself, if you can swear you’ll get it done,” she emphasized and waited for all three of you to agree.

When she walked away, head held high and sure of her parental duties well done, she heard the fight continuing. But she smiled and decided not to hear. Let them have their fun, she thought, let them have their fun while they still can. *** Masterlist

[cas-kingdom]

Spies

A/N: Just a little fluffy something. Finn is 10, reader is 9.

Find the OC version of this fic here.

Title: Spies

Summary: You and Finn spy on Tommy.

Words: 456

"Do you see him?"

"I do."

"What is he doing?"

"Eating blueberries.

"Hey! They're mine!"

"Shush, Y/N! He'll hear us!"

"Sorry."

You and Finn had been hidden behind a table in the living room for ten minutes, now. Your keen eyes were fixed on one man in particular, who was sat in front of the flickering orange flames of the fire, eating – as you had so angrily pointed out – blueberries.

"What's he doing now?"

"I don't know."

You watched intently as the man stood up and walked towards the exit to the room, knocking over a house made from bricks that had been standing on the floor.

"Hey!" Finn screamed, and you turned to him with wide eyes. "That took me hours to build!"

The man stopped in his tracks.

You and Finn stared at each other.

"Run," the latter whispered, before he grabbed your hand and burst out from behind the table.

But the man had disappeared.

"Has he left?" you asked, tightening your hold on your brother's hand and glancing around nervously.

"I don't know," Finn said suspiciously, "I didn't see him leave."

"That would be because I didn't," came a low growl, and the two spun around, coming face-to-face with Tommy.

"Tom!" Finn said, offering a smile to the tall man stood in front of him. "We, er, we didn't see you there!"

"Hm. Would that be because you were hiding behind a table?"

"Probably, yes."

"And what were you doing behind the table?"

Finn hesitated, but you didn't. "Spying on you!" you told him proudly.

"Spying on me?" Tommy asked as he crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, but there was an obvious spark of mischief in his azure eyes.

"Y-yes," Finn confirmed with a nod, before a look of realisation appeared on his face. "You knew! That's why you ate Y/N’s blueberries and knocked down my house!"

"My, my," Tommy said with a low chuckle, and Finn felt his sister's grip tighten around his hand, "you’re getting fast! You should’ve known I would have realised eventually that I wasn’t the only person in the room."

Finn huffed. "That took ages to build."

Tommy smiled. "I’ll help you rebuild it."

"And what about my blueberries?" you demanded, eyes narrowed in a way that reminded the man almost fearfully of his aunt.

"Those weren’t the only blueberries in the kitchen, little miss!" he rumbled before advancing on you.

You squealed and turned to run, but the man snatched you up and immediately began to nibble on you neck, laughing maliciously as you practically screamed with laughter.

Finn stood back, smiling a little nervously at your giggles.

"And now," came the growl again, "time for seconds."

Finn hadn't run faster in his life.

Peaky Masterpost

[artedimichelangelo]

Cab I please get an alfie solomons x (shelby maybe?) Reader?

Just something with them trying to woo each other (him getting her flowers or learning gypsy lore, y/n learning how to bake challah (Jewish bread)) etc.

Thanks either way! <33

Pleasant Hours in Camden Town - Alfie Solomons x Shelby! Fem! Reader.

Author’s Note: Hii! Thanks for the request!

I love writing Alfie fics, they're my favourite!

As always, thank you all for the love and support you’re giving me, I really appreciate it <3 !

Pairings: Alfie Solomons x Shelby! Reader.

Warnings: English is NOT my first language; possible grammatical errors; fluff.

Word Count: 1140.

"I'm sorry, tell me again why the fuck you're always taking her along and not one of us?" John asked his brother, a slight note of irritation in his voice.

"Because she can be very persuasive, plus, she knows how to do her job," Thomas replied quietly, clouds of smoke escaping his lips as he kept talking. "Besides, I don't risk a possible fight between her and the men we do business with, unlike you."

"Sounds more like favouritism to me."

"Hello? 'She' happens to be here." Y/N butted into the conversation, reminding the brothers of her presence inside The Garrison's private room. "And shut up, Arthur, no one has any favouritism. I simply know how to keep my violent instincts at bay."

"Tell me again, where is it that you have to go this time?"

"We, my dear brother, have to pay a brief visit to Alfie Solomons in Camden Town."

Brief. Tommy chuckled, knowing that his trip would be anything but quick.

London's weather wasn't so different from Birmingham's: there too, the humidity began to seep into the bones of the two Shelbys, who had just arrived at their destination, new business arrangements with their old friend awaited them.

A tall, broad-shouldered figure emerged from the doors of the so-called bakery, his booming voice echoing against the old stone walls as he moved closer to the newly arrived visitors.

"Look who's here, in the flesh before me, my favourite Shelby!"

"I didn't know you missed me this much, Alfie."

"Don't flatter yourself, Tommy. I was referring to your wonderful sister." The man turned to Y/N, a bunch of azaleas in his ruined hands. "These are for ya... last time you said you liked flowers a lot, I hope they're to your liking, dove."

"Thank you so much, Alfie. It's a truly precious gift." The young Shelby stood on her toes to leave a tender kiss on Mr Solomons' cheek, the hairs of his beard tickling her lips.

Thomas cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the two lovebirds to himself.

"If you don't mind, I would like to sit down, as there is much we need to discuss, business-related."

"Business, of course..." Alfie watched his friend carefully before taking Y/N's arm under his. "Very well, we can move to my office, I have something to talk about too, a proposition."

The two Peaky Blinders exchanged a puzzled look, waiting to have a seat before exploring the topic further.

"I'm afraid I didn't understand the first time, Alfie... can you repeat that?"

"Now you're being a dramatic cunt, yeah? I suggested that Y/N's presence in the warehouse might bring a good profit for me and you Brummies."

A heavy sigh escaped Thomas' dry lips, the gears in his head began to turn loudly, even his sister had guessed he was intently thinking.

"She's smart, she can do the math, she would have no problem working with me and my men."

Y/N smiled at the man, a slight blush creeping on her cheeks after the few compliments.

"Alright, but I want to test this 'proposal' of yours with a short trial period first."

"What's this? A school test?"

"You think of it like that, Y/N," Tommy swiftly got up and reached the office's glass door. "I'll pick you up in a few days, be good."

"I've never been the opposite."

Thomas only had to glance at her to make her understand the seriousness of his words.

"Have a good day, see you soon." And with that, the Birmingham Devil left the room with high expectations of a solid alliance with the King of Camden Town.

"At last, it's just you and me, what shall we start with, love?"

Days of hard work between percentages and stock preparation came to an end.

Alfie and Y/N, however, never got bored during this period in each other's company. Indeed that aspect made the hours go by even faster.

As a well-deserved leisure activity, Mr Solomons decided to teach the woman he was madly in love with how to make Challah, a traditional Jewish bread.

And if the big gentleman from that infamous district of London had decided to turn his office into a kitchen, it was because of the importance of that activity with an equally important person.

"Perfect, now let's make a volcano in the middle of the flour, so then we can pour the water, yeah?"

"Like this?" Y/N replied, pointing at the hole she had just created, the office desk looking like a hot mess at that moment.

"That's right, now take the jug and try to pour the warm water slowly in the centre."

Sweet Shelby jewel seemed in distress, a look of dread in her eyes for fear of ruining the dough.

"Here, let me help ya." Alfie positioned himself behind her, his large hands resting on the woman's to help her with that recipe process. "Atta girl, good job."

Y/N would forever hold that moment in her heart. It had a domestic something about it and spending it with someone she loved immensely made her feel over the moon.

She was in such a powerful peace of mind that she didn't realise she had let herself go in Alfie's arms, her back against his broad chest as the man's voice cuddled her.

Meanwhile, inside the warehouse stepped in a tired Thomas Shelby, back in London after leaving his sister there on business.

Had it not been for the dim light coming from the upper floor where Mr Solomons' office was, Tommy would have thought that no one was in the building.

"What the fuck is going on here?" The man from Small Heath interrupted what seemed to be a moment of extreme closeness between Y/N and his friend, her lips united with Alfie's in a kiss. "You know what, I don't really wanna know... I just hope the job I sent you here for, my dear sister, is done."

"Yes, Sir Captain, all done!"

"Now ya have a new brother-in-law, Tommy boy. Are you happy?"

"No, but I'll leave you to your sappy moment anyway. See you later."

When Thomas left that building once again that week, the bearded man's attention returned to his woman.

"So... where were we?" Alfie reached Y/N's hips with his floured hands and pulled her close to him.

"Brother-in-law, you said?"

"Why not? It's like I've already fuckin' proposed, ya know, the flowers and all the rest. Yer officially my woman now."

"Yeah?"

"Of course! I can see myself spending the rest of my days with ya," He held her tight, his lips lingering down her soft neck. "Ya make me feel like a well-rounded man and not as a freak, or a monstrous gangster, as outsiders call me."

"Then, know that I'll never leave you."

And when Y/N said that 'never', it was because she meant it.

[zodiyack]

Niffler’s New Discovery

Requested by anon: May I request a the youngest Shelby sister x Newt Scamander story? The Shelby sister is nothing like her siblings. She’s shy, reads books like they’re oxygen, loves animals, and doesn’t drink, smoke, or anything like that. She doesn’t even swear, she’s so pure. She also loves his animals. And Tommy acts like her father but she loves her brother very much. Same as her other brothers. They find out she’s dating him and get all overprotective. Sorry if this is too specific. I just love the idea of a Shelby sister who’s nothing like her siblings. Because most of the Shelby reader fics always have them smoking and all that. Which they are fun to read, but it’s nice to see something different. Feel free to pick the Scenario. :)

Pairing: Newt Scamander x Female!Shelby!Innocent!Reader

Warnings: Swearing (not from reader ofc :)) slight suggestiveness (also not from reader), fluff, ✨m a g i c✨

Words: 1,303

Summary: (See Request...also I thought the gif was cute, so anon, I based it off the gif kinda)

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @simonsbluee, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @marquelapage, @stuckysslag, @psychkunox​, @i-love-superhero​

Masterlist | Fantastic Beasts (AWTFT) Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

At first, they had no problem keeping their relationship hidden from her overly protective family, but the troublemaker Newt constantly had to chase down and return to his case was the thing that exposed them. The bloody Niffler just loved things that shined. Who could blame it though? It was it’s nature.

Just as it was the Shelby brothers nature to react the way they did. Violent, perhaps, but of their nature. Their possessive, over the top protective, shitty, big brother, nature.

And it all started, one late afternoon...

The older Shelby trio, not counting Ada with her age advance over John, returned home after a nice night out at the pub. Sure, the sun hadn’t set yet, but Pol wanted them to return home a little earlier today for a family meeting. The meeting included everyone, minus the innocent angel whom the Shelbys called their sister.

It was the perfect time to have Newt over. The perfect time to explore the secret world hidden inside his little brief case. If only they knew the pesky Niffler had been waiting.

“Are you sure they won’t suspect anything of my presence?” Newt hesitated, one foot hovering above the wooden flooring of Y/n’s bedroom, the other resting on the rooftop outside her window.

She ushered him in the rest of the way, making sure to lock her door after checking that no one was around. “Positive. Family meetings take a while, so we’re good on time. How about you? Are you sure this is good with the council?”

He had a guilt-ridden look across his face as he looked around. “There are some things the council doesn’t have to know.” A nervous laugh rumbled in his throat before he cleared it and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Uh huh... Well, just promise me that you won’t get into any serious trouble for this, alright Newton?” The blushing hufflepuff gave his lover a quick nod, as well as a smile in return for the little peck she placed upon his cheek, pinkening his skin further down his neck- it was no surprise that Newt was terribly new to receiving affection from anything other than his beasts that resided in his case.

“S-shall we be going?” He broke the tension, gesturing to the case in front of them.

“Boys.” Polly stopped the bickering that had started up between John and Tommy, her eyes drifting toward the ceiling, the trios’ following. “Your sister’s been awfully quiet.”

John cackled, “Oh no, maybe she snuck out, went to have a quick fuck with some guy off the streets, didn’t she Pol?” His rather sarcastic tone suggested his knowledge that the referenced behavior was most certainly unlike his little sister, but the immaturity of John Shelby simply couldn’t resist making a joke.

Polly, however, was in no mood for John’s incessant kidding. Her hand met the back of his head, a disapproving furrow of her brows telling him to stop talking. “I’m being serious, you idiot. It’s more quiet than usual.”

“And what about it, Pol?” Tommy spoke after taking a drag from his cigarette, an eyebrow quirked.

“If she really does have a boy up there, he better pray he’s out the window by the time we get up there.”

Tommy’s brow, lowered after asking Polly how she’d respond, lifted back once again. “There’s no God for him to pray to, Arthur. The boy is fucked, plain and simple.”

“In more ways than one.”

John’s childish cackles were hushed into silence, a slap sounding throughout the room prior to their ceasing. A hand rubbing the back of his head, John glared at his aunt, yet continued the discussion of what to do with Y/n nonetheless.

The past ten minutes had been spent trying to block off any and all exists for the pesky little Niffler. Each time it attempted to escape the bedroom, Y/n or Newt were quick to block it off. It amazed Y/n how many places the little creature could scurry off through. Unfortunately, with their wild-goose-chase, footsteps turned to stomps...well, really running, but downstairs it was more likely to sound aggressive, such as the hard thud of a Blinder’s boot on the floor of the Garrison.

It was inevitable; the possibility of being caught, but the fact seemed to slip their minds as they both tried to corner the Niffler, as well as capture it once more. Every shiny thing, ranging from jewelry to bullet casings, or things that caught her eye, made into décor (gifted from her brothers, as she would never touch a gun unless need be) were being stolen as the creature evaded capture.

Newt shot Y/n a sorry look each time one of her belongings were snatched up by the Niffler. It touched her heart, truly, it did, but now was not the time to swoon. Y/n froze as the Niffler wandered over to a bottle. Wine? Champagne? She didn’t know; Y/n never drank- the bottle was a gift from her sister in law, which she couldn’t turn down without upsetting her, so it soon became another...decoration.

Atop the bottle was shimmery, gold-like, wrapping. Of course it caught the mischievous little shine-thief’s eye. It pulled and pulled, Y/n and Newt made eye contact as the uneasy feeling in their guts mirrored, until POP!

The door broke open with a loud bang, Arthur standing confused before getting both a Niffler and a cork to the space between his brows. While Y/n flinched, Newt only looked away in shame.

“What. The. Literal. Fuck. Was. That?” John gapped. His usual remark would be to poke fun, but he too was in great shock, he couldn’t even think of anything humorous.

“A- ...A Niffler.” Newt stuttered. His rather shy demeanor was rarely common around Y/n, so she new he was slightly uncomfortable the second his hand lifted to itch the back of his neck as his eyes found interest in the floorboards.

“Did I fuckin’ ask you?” John narrowed his eyes at the timid wizard.

It was unusual for Y/n to get angry, but the unjustness of John’s attitude toward her lover didn’t sit well with her. “Leave him alone!”

Now there was more to be shocked about. “I- what?”

“You heard me, John. You, Arthur, and Thomas. Leave Newt alone. He didn’t mean for this to happen, so he shouldn’t be harassed by you three. Want to question him? Have Pol do it, but the second you come to my room and bully my lover is the second you cross the line.”

Tommy, amused, let out a little chuckle as he raised his eyebrows.

“Something funny to you, Thomas? ‘Cause I don’t think any of us are laughing.”

 “No, sister, nothing is of humor to me.” He muttered despite dawning a lopsided smirk. Tommy looked at his brothers and nodded his head toward the stairs before walking away. Although he was leaving, he never said he wouldn’t poke at the boy some more. Now just wasn’t worth it; he was already shaking in his boots as it is.

“Tommy- where- where’re you goin’?” John did a double take, following shortly after.

Arthur rubbed the red spot where he’d been nailed by the creature and it’s new favorite possession, proved by it cuddling the cork close to it’s body on the floor where it had landed after hitting Arthur. He excused himself politely before walking in the same direction as his brothers, still rubbing at his soon-to-be-bruising injury all the way down.

Newt took the opportunity to grab the niffler and tickle Y/n’s possessions from his tummy before running over and tucking him in the case. The anger faded from Y/n’s eyes as she watched her lover. “It looks as though the Niffler has discovered something new.” Newt chuckled lightly, easing up slowly.

“New indeed.”

[runnning-outof-time]

In Celebration of Reaching 800 Followers...REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

Hello, hello!

Firstly, thanks so much for following me! I can’t believe that I’ve hit 800 followers this quickly. ☺️💕

Y’all are the reason why I keep going and why I’ve written so much in such a short time. Although writing is a big stress reliever for me, your love and support is the main reason why I post my creations on here!

So as a thank you for this amazing milestone, I’ve decided to open up my requests again!! 🥳🥳

Here are some rules if you’re thinking of requesting:

-> I only write for Tommy, Arthur, and John (from the show Peaky Blinders)

-> I will accept platonic or sister!reader requests, but I am more apprehensive to them. I will say for those requests that if they’re more detailed, I’ll be more apt to accept them, but don’t be disheartened if I write back saying I don’t want to write it.

-> I do not write straight up smut — the furthest extent I will describe those kinds of scenes to is PG-13 rated, so you can include that in your request accordingly.

-> I’m also open to accepting ‘preference style’ requests...I’ve done one before and found it to be quite fun, so send them too if you have any in mind (same restrictions apply as the regular fic requests)

-> I’m usually pretty open to requests/will write almost anything, but I also reserve the right to turn a request down...if I don’t know much about or don’t feel comfortable with the topic, I will send a note back saying that I won’t be writing it — please don’t be mad at me if I do this!

ALSO ... if you’re like me and you want to send a request but you’re not good at thinking of them, I have a list of prompts available for you to choose from! Feel free to look through and see if any tickle your fancy!

!!Check out the prompt lists HERE!!

My inbox is open and ready for your lovely requests!

Note: if I don’t respond to your request, it means that I’ve accepted it and I’m keeping it in my inbox so that can look back at it and make sure that I’m following it.

Thanks so much for all of the love you’ve been sending me. I cannot express how much I appreciate it!! I’m so looking forward to writing these requests! (That you hopefully send)

[amazingmsme]

Looking For Trouble

AN: Yes I know it’s late, but it’s a busy time so bear with me. This fic was so much fun to write tho! Wish I could’ve made it longer, but I have other fics to write, & there’s still 1 more peaky blinders fic this month! Thank @a-fluffer-nutter for the prompt, I had a blast planning things out! I still might flesh this out into something longer when I’m not on as big of a time crunch lol.

Thomas should've known something was up when Arthur waltzed into his office, but didn't say a word. He eyed him as he wandered about the shelves, studying all the odd knickknacks and accolades, before turning his attention back to the stack of papers in front of him.

Arthur started casually whistling a low tune, picking up a snow globe and turning it around in his hands to inspect it. Tommy watched him with a bored expression.

"Yes, can I help you?" he asked, not so subtly hinting for him to leave his office. Arthur perked up when spoken to, turning to face him.

"Not particularly, no," he said, managing to maintain his casual facade. He set the snow globe back down, strolling over to his desk with meandering steps. Thomas watched him with a careful eye while still trying to focus on the paperwork in front of him.

"Well... you're distracting me," he deadpanned, but Arthur didn't seem to get the hint. Or rather, he deliberately ignored it.

"Am I?" he asked, and there was something in his voice that should've tipped him off, but went overlooked.

"Yes. So if you have no business, I'd appreciate some peace and quiet." When Arthur still didn't leave, he gave an exaggerated sigh, "What?"

"I never said I didn't have business," Arthur said, mustache twitching with his smirk. "Never said I didn't have business." He took a step closer. "It's just not... business business." Another step. Tommy cocked a brow, leveling him with a gaze.

"Then it doesn't concern me."

"See, that's where you're wrong." He sat down on the corner of his desk, shifting and crinkling the papers scattered about. "You're the only one who can help."

That got his attention. "Help with what?" Arthur leaned across his desk, far into his personal space and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm lookin' for trouble mate," he practically growled, and only then did Thomas recognize the mischief gleaming in his eyes.

"The hell's that supposed to mean?" Before he could even scoot away from his desk, Arthur was on him, keeping him pinned to the office chair. Thomas yelped, fighting him off for as long as he could, struggling to keep his hands at bay. Arthur was quick and stronger than him, and easily slipped from his grasp. He dug into his ribs, reluctant chuckles fighting their way to the surface. He tweaked his bottom rib, earning a bark of laughter before Tommy managed to slip out of the chair.

He landed on the hardwood floor, bolting to his feet before Arthur could pin him. His eyes were wide and had a wild look to them, but his smile still lingered. He pointed a stern finger at him, “What the hell was that for?”

Arthur chuckled, a deep, gravely sound. “What? Can’t a guy tickle his grumpy ass little brother in peace?” He relished in the way his jaw dropped, a dark pink blush spreading across his cheeks. He floundered for an answer before he was composed enough to speak.

“No!”

“Agree to disagree.” Arthur stood in front of him, blocking the only exit. Thomas tried to step around him, but the taller mirrored his movements. A smile twitched on his lips, arms curling in to protect himself. All it took was a flinch to the left for Arthur to strike.

He caught him around the waist, wiggling his fingers into Tommy’s sides. A strangled choking sound escaped his throat, a tight lipped smile stretching over his face despite his best efforts to suppress it. His resolve didn’t last once Arthur went for his hips, squeezing and drilling circles over the bones.

“Y’know somethin’? You’re real easy to catch off guard when you’re working. Practically have a target painted on your back!” he said conversationally, hands crawling over Tommy’s stomach.

“Ahaharthur! Knohock ihihit ohohoff!” he scolded through his laughter, but the venom was gone from his voice.

“Mmm, no, don’t think I will. Not really a sneak attack if I don’t do much attacking,” he teased, reaching a hand down to squeeze his knee, chuckling when Tommy snorted. His legs buckled and Arthur had to guide him to the floor so that he wouldn’t just collapse into a giggly heap.

Arthur used the new position to loom over him, a sinister grin in place. He wasted no time and latched onto both knees, sending him into howling laughter that turned to deep cackles once Arthur got ahold of his thighs.

In the midst of the mess that was his mind, Thomas couldn’t help but think he might need to launch a sneak attack of his own. Once he can breathe, of course.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 19: In the Bleak Midwinter

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Grace Burgess x OC

Summary: A dinner with Hughes and the Russians goes just about as well as one would expect.

Word Count: 3,146

Notes: Warnings for references to pedophilia.

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Chapter 8: By My Side

She giggled, leaning against the mattress with her head pillowed on one hand, watching as Tommy lifted Charlie up high above his head. Mary had brought him to them early that morning, the little man crawling into bed with them and immediately demanding to be played with. Not that either of them minded. His giggles and happy flailing with his toys were a welcome distraction from having to reckon with everything that had happened the day before.

The baby laughed when she scooped him up and set him in her lap, looking up at her fondly before dissolving into giggles again when Tommy reached over to tickle his sides until he squealed. 

And, for once, she started to think that maybe things actually would be alright.   

∗ ∗ ∗ 

The police station stank of mold; damp and dark and cold, and she was relieved once they were out of it and back into the familiar, smoky air.

Monkland had been very forthcoming, all things considered. Ada had been gracious enough to give them his name, and all it took was having their coppers pick him up and take him down to the station so they could question him to get the answers that they needed. Not that she had to do much but stand there behind Tommy and look threatening, playing idly with her revolver a little bit while he questioned him. Tommy barely had to even poke Monkland to have him spilling his guts to them. Eyes round and huge as they darted fearfully between the two gangsters looming over him. 

“Well,” she turned to Tommy, who was swiping a cigarette across his lips. “Fuck.”

He sighed, staring out at the street. “Yeah.”

“What are we going to do?”

Tommy rubbed at his brow. “We have that meeting with the Russians. I’ll inform them then.”

“Isn’t Hughes also expected to be at that meeting?”

“I was planning on being a little more subtle than just standing on the table and shouting that the pedophilic priest is a spy, love,” he shot her a look. “You sure you still want to go to that meeting? With Hughes being there?”

“I’ll be fine so long as you don’t let him too close to me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I was more worried about you being unable to resist the temptation to climb across the table and tear his head off.”

“Oh,” she choked on a laugh. “I think I can control myself.”

He flashed her a smile from behind his cigarette.

“Besides,” she linked their arms as they started to walk. “I was thinking more something in the vein of castration rather than decapitation.”

Tommy laughed, and kissed the top of her head. “Oh, I’m sure you were, love.”

∗ ∗ ∗ 

“Did he say what this was about?” she asked, following Tommy into the yard.

“No, he didn’t.”

“Well,” she glanced at her watch. “Better hope it won’t take long. We can’t be late to meet the Russians.”

“We won’t.” 

They rounded the corner to find Arthur, John, Charlie Strong, and Curly all already gathered around a fire that somebody–probably Charlie or Curly–had lit. As they approached, John broke off from the group, stomping away towards them. When he saw Lucy, he scowled. 

“All right, what is it?” Tommy asked. John grumbled to him, but Tommy just urged him to return to the gathering as they swept past him. Arthur was digging his teeth into the cork of the bottle of champagne he was trying to open, until John snatched it away from him.

“Right!” he leapt up onto a chair. “Gentlemen!” he spotted Lucy. “And lady!” his eyes bulged with excitement, glimmering like an over enthused puppy. He hesitated, removing his cap from his head. Lucy curled herself into Tommy’s side to help combat the cold chill that had swept over the yard, sharing a puzzled look with him at Arthur's behavior.

“Linda,” he announced in a booming voice. “Is up the swanny. I’m gonna be a fucking dad!”

Everyone started laughing and whooping, Charlie going to hug him and offering his congratulations. John also came forward, his utterances far less…sentimental, but the congratulatory feeling still seemed to be there. She thought.

Truth be told, she wasn’t paying all that much attention to them, too busy watching Tommy from the corner of her eye. He’d gone stiff beneath her arm when Arthur gave the news, and was looking at his older brother with an expression that, while pleased, was also rather sad.

“Nothing’s gonna change, John,” Arthur was saying, turning to stare at Tommy expectantly. Aware that the longer it took him to respond, the worse Arthur could take it or misinterpret it, Lucy stepped forward to hug him and whisper a congratulations in his ear to buy Tommy more time to process the news.

“Thanks, Luce,” Arthur beamed at her, giving her curls a fond ruffle.

“Goodbye, Arthur.”

Glancing over her shoulder, she raised an eyebrow, but one look at Tommy’s face told her that it was not said with malice or any ill intent as he took a step forward. “I have a meeting I have to go to,” he explained, giving Arthur a hug. Over Arthur’s shoulder, their eyes met and she shot him a knowing look. The double meaning of the farewell was not so easily lost on her. 

“Yeah. Yeah, of course you do. Yeah, you…you go to your meeting,” Arthur pulled back from the hug. Tommy nodded.

“Congratulations.”

“I’m gonna be a dad,” Arthur grinned.

“Proud of you,” Tommy stepped away. Lucy gave Arthur a final clap on the shoulder and a small smile before following after him. 

“Well that…might change a few things,” Lucy mumbled once they were out of earshot, relinking their arms. Tommy sighed tiredly.

“Suppose it shouldn’t be all that surprising. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Poor Arthur,” Lucy shook her head. “I can’t imagine being stuck with that woman forever.”

“He doesn’t seem too unhappy about it.”

“That’s because all the praying has rotted his brain.”

Tommy chuckled as he opened the car door for her to jump in, walking around to the driver’s side and stepping in, starting the engine. 

Lucy had never liked Linda. Granted, it didn’t help that she was wary of pretty much anyone who was deeply, obviously devout, but it was more than that. From the moment she’d seen them together, Lucy had known that Linda’s love for Arthur was not for him, but for the opportunity she saw within him. Linda saw a project in Arthur: a man desperate enough to reform that he’d fallen right into her clutches, drawn in by promises of redemption and forgiveness and goodness. It wouldn’t take long for it to start to crumble. As soon as Linda realized that you can’t change someone with just the power of love alone. She remembered, with a combination of fondness and melancholy, how she and Grace and Tommy had all taken bets on the drive home from meeting her as to just how long it would last before the relationship imploded.   

To be fair, Linda had made it plain that she didn’t like Lucy at all either. She thought she was an adulterer and a slut, tempting a married man and woman–or about to be married, which was what Tommy and Grace were when Linda first met them–into sin. She’d never been one to pass up on making some sort of snide remark towards her when given the opportunity. To the point where Lucy knew for a fact Grace had come dangerously close to punching her on multiple occasions in response to the things she said. 

Snorting, Lucy lit a cigarette, letting the hand holding it hang limply out the window. Poor Arthur.  

∗ ∗ ∗ 

It was getting dark by the time they rolled up to the Russian’s residence, car coming to a stop in front of the stone path that led to the house.

“Last chance to back out,” Tommy said as they exited the car and began to walk towards the big house. Lucy scoffed, shoving her hands into her pockets. “We won’t stay long,” he promised. Truth be told, even he wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to spend in Hughes presence without throttling him. 

The first sound they were greeted with as they entered the house was a violin playing in another room. Tommy waved away offers to take their coats, following the butler down a hall and into an extravagant dining room. The violin music had stopped, and he could hear clapping. 

“Your highness, Mr. Thomas Shelby and Miss. Lucy Winters,” the butler announced as they walked into the room. The men around the table stood. Izabella remained in her seat at the head of the table, while Tatiana twisted around in her chair to look at them. Leon introduced them to Izabella graciously and Tommy nodded respectfully before taking his seat, ensuring that he was directly across from Hughes, with Lucy between him and Tatiana. The further he kept Lucy from Hughes, the less likely she was to murder him. And the better he would feel, knowing that he was between them. 

Tatiana leaned across Lucy to speak to him, offering her condolences over Grace. He barely heard them, keeping his gaze focused on Hughes. He needed to stay focused. He couldn’t afford to get lost in the memories of how Grace’s body had slackened into dead weight as she died in his arms. The way Lucy had clutched at him, sobbing into his shirt, big green eyes looking up at him desperately. As if begging him to tell her that she had misunderstood what was happening. As if he could fix it. 

Tatiana was asking him something about cars. Trying to flirt with him, probably. He answered in simple sentences, not once taking his eyes from the priest. 

“I am curious, what was your father’s profession?” Izabella asked, and Tommy finally ripped his gaze away from Hughes. 

“Well, he told fortunes, and he stole horses. Often, he would tell a man that his horse would be stolen, and they would marvel at his powers when it was,” he answered. At his side, Lucy giggled, and he felt a tendril of warmth and affection wash over his heart at the sound. She always laughed at his terrible jokes.

Izabella offered him a small, not unamused smile as servants came in with bowls of soup.

He had to fight back the desire to roll his eyes so hard they might’ve run the risk of popping out of his skull when Hughes suggested they say grace before they eat. He felt Lucy tense beside him, and shifted his arm closer so that it pressed against hers subtly in comfort. Everyone except for them and Izabella had closed their eyes and bowed their heads as Hughes prayed. Tommy wondered which ones were genuine in their grace, and which were just being respectful. 

“I’m not here to eat,” he announced as soon as Hughes was done. Best to get this done fast. Then he and Lucy could be out of there and on the way back home. He wanted to see Charlie before going to bed tonight. “I’m here to do business. What I have to say can be said before the main course. Then I will leave you all to your evening.”

Hughes was staring at him, clearly upset. “Grand Duchess, I must apologize for the bad manners of my compatriot,” he said to Izabella. As if seeing that as a challenge, Lucy lifted one of her hands to her lips, biting obviously at a hangnail on her middle finger. Tommy had to stifle a grin.  

He made his report smoothly, pulling the copy he’d made of the report on the operation’s current progress, which he gave to Leon at Izabella’s urging, though she took it from him only a moment later. Good to know that she really was the one actually in charge, then.

They all listened, as he carefully laid out the plan. Tatiana kept looking him up and down. He ignored her.

“I have to say that this soup is exceptional,” Hughes interrupted him, glancing around the table with a wide smile. “Absolutely delicious.” 

Tommy continued on with his explanation, answering questions and ignoring the interruption.

“Your highness, if you’re having difficulty understanding his accent, then I can go through the plan with you at a later date,” Tommy decided that if Hughes interrupted him one more time, he’d say to hell with it and let Lucy have at him right then and there. 

Could be fun to watch.

After he’d finished his report, he pulled a cloth napkin from the table, scribbling down a message on it with his pen in dark ink. “This is the amount of extra expense I believe I will incur for trucks and fuels,” he tossed the napkin to Izabella. “I trust you will respond in kind,” he watched as she snatched it up and looked at the words–not numbers–he had scrawled down.

“But of course, Mr. Shelby,” she said. He nodded. Good. That was done. 

“Lucy,” he said to her, and she nodded, rising with him and taking a step back from the table. He looked around the table.

Oh, fuck it. He was feeling petty. “Before I go, I would like it known that I’m unable to swallow food in the same room as this priest.”

Hughes’s face dropped, a look of thunder crossing it, but Tommy couldn’t bring himself to care. He could sense Lucy grinning gleefully behind him. 

“Enjoy your evening,” he nodded to the Russians and Jarvis, going to the door with Lucy on his heels. They made it to the open door before he paused, pulling his cap onto his head and leaning against the doorframe, waiting. Lucy was still smiling, clearly overjoyed at his humiliation of Hughes. It had probably been a mistake, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The priest turned his stomach. 

There was the click of heels, and then Tatiana was joining them at the door, smile deceptively sweet and gloved hands clasped in front of her. 

“Walk with me,” he told her, beginning to move in long strides down the path, then slowing slightly as he remembered that Tatiana was in heels and Lucy was short. From his case, he pulled out a few cigarettes, passing the first one to Lucy and the second to Tatiana, leaving the third for himself. When they were about halfway down the drive he pulled out his lighter, pausing to lift the light to the cigarette for the two women and then himself. He didn’t speak until they had begun walking again.

“The priest is passing information about the robbery to a Lloyds underwriter called Monkland. He, in turn, is passing information to the Soviet Embassy. You want him dead? I’ll kill him, no charge” killing Hughes would be nothing but a pleasure. And certainly not something he would lose any sleep over.

“Why would the priest pass information to our enemies?” Tatiana asked, stopping. Tommy sighed, glancing at Lucy, then returning back up the drive to where Tatiana was standing. 

“I’m being paid to act and to observe, like a soldier. The complexities are your business. Go and speak to Izabella. I trust her to decide,” while he’d spoken, Lucy had returned with languid steps to his side, linking his arm with hers. Probably because she was cold. He shifted so that she could more fully tuck herself into his side. A headache was building behind his eyes, but having her close helped ease the tension causing it. He noted the way that Tatiana’s eyes tracked the movements, lipstick painted mouth pulling into a smirk. 

He knew how it all probably looked to everyone who did not know the intricacies of his, Lucy’s and Grace’s relationship prior to Grace’s death. That in his time of grief he’d turned to his assistant and his late wife’s closest friend for comfort. Not entirely wrong, he supposed, even if it was missing some very important bits of information. But his need to keep Lucy as close as possible outweighed any worries he had over his reputation. She was the only real comfort he had; the press of her small body against his side or her hand on his back or shoulder the only thing grounding him to earth, some days. Without it, it felt like he would float away or cease to exist at all.    

Tatiana had not been subtle in the fact that she wanted him. And from the few glances he’d caught her shooting Lucy, he was fairly certain she would be amiable to her joining them as well. But he was in no mood to be dealing with that now, so instead he just turned away, Lucy still clinging to his arm, as they began to walk the rest of the way to the car.      

“You were able to contain your business dealings even after what happened,” Tatiana was following them. She leaned in close to his ear. “Perhaps you didn’t love her.”

He whirled on her, tearing himself from Lucy’s grasp to seize Tatiana by the face, walking her back a couple of paces. One of her silken gloved hands clasped over his, his fingers squeezing not hard enough to bruise but enough to make her face twitch with fear for a moment.

“She’s here,” he hissed. “By my side,” his eyes glanced around. He could not see her, right now, but he could feel Grace in the air around him. Lucy said she’d seen her when they were with Changretta. That she’d spoken to her, and he believed her. When she’d told him that he’d almost wanted to cry from relief, because that meant that the ghost, who’s fingers grazed across his cheek just when he was waking from sleep, who he swore in split second glances was leaning against a wall, watching him, or descending from the stairs in the morning, might not just be a symptom of him going mad. 

Perhaps Grace had not entirely left them, after all.

He leaned close to Tatiana’s face. “And she says, ‘don’t trust these people,’” he turned her face to look at him fully. “Now give me permission to kill the priest,” finished, he shoved her away from him, turning on his heel before she could say anything more. Lucy had been watching him silently, green eyes glimmering, practically glowing, in the dark, the orange embers of her cigarette delicately lighting her features as she raised it to her lips. Her head cocked, clearly rolling over what he’d just said in her mind, a knowingness entering her eyes. When he approached her, she took his hand, fingers lacing tightly as they walked back to the car.   

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Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[dini73]

Bathtub Nonsense Part II

(Peaky Blinders, Tommy & Alfie)

Please read part I (Vikings, Heavar) here

It's finally here. Thanks @whatsmyline-pb for your help, thanks @jackson--t for wanting this, thanks all for your patience.

So, after the fic was finally written I realised the moodboard above actually showas the wrong person in the tub...not that there could ever be something wrong with naked Tommy, but I still felt like doing another one:

This second part is actually what made me start this little series - of which I just decided I will go on extending it with more scenes between all the couples I adore so much - . And it started by thinking about scenes for the last chapter(s) of my T&A fic Together

So please imagine a long time established relationship between these two when reading this. Tommy lived with Alfie at Margate since several years already, decades even. And they take care of each other. In the nicest ways ;o)

****

Alfie felt Tommy's cautious question more than hearing it over the rippling of the water and the delicate crackling of the foam.

A gentle tickle, right on his temple, followed by a tender kiss.

“Better?”

He wanted to answer but his senses were enveloped in the delicate peach scent of their bathing foam and the soothing circles Tommy drew on his chest; the wet sponge moving up to his shoulders from time to time, the thumb slightly massaging Alfie’s stiff neck.

“Alfie?”

“I’m here, Tommy, I’m here.” He smiled at his stubborn lover, his eye catching a glimpse of the little stool Tommy always prepared next to the chair that had its constant place by their bath now. Alfie wouldn’t have minded getting his beard trimmed in his beloved armchair right in the middle of their living room, but of course everything needed to be taken care of in the proper places with Thomas Shelby. Thinking about it, Alfie wouldn’t have minded not getting his beard trimmed at all and just let it grow, but one day Tommy had murmured something about food remains and hygiene before he had- somewhat aggressively, if you asked Alfie – manoeuvred him in their bath and then trimmed his beard for the first time. What a paternalism! Not that he wouldn’t have enjoyed it…and maybe he was tempted from then on to emphasize his aching, making it obvious for Tommy that he needed to take care of his wise old Jew.

Alfie huffed out a little laugh.

***

“What’s so funny, eh?” Tommy asked, a bit drowsily, as Alfie’s laugh had torn him back from his own memories.

Memories of a time when he was the one that needed to be taken care of. Not that Tommy would ever admit to needing such care, but he didn’t really have a say in matters regarding his mental health if you asked Alfie; or all the women in his life.

Women…Tommy’s thoughts drifted off again. It seemed centuries ago that he had spared even one single thought toward a woman.

Lost in thought he leaned further towards the bathtub his hand absent mindedly reaching deeper into the water.

How could he ever have existed without Alfie? But he really hadn’t, had he? Wasn't it all just a big show, a dazzling façade, his life back then?

The gentle massage of his hand along the stiff, old leg seemed to numb them both a little. Alfie's pleased moans echoed from the tiles. Both their chests rose and fell faster and faster, while Tommy’s hand kneaded more and more determinedly, the water sloshing more and more. Tommy’s head searched for Alfie’s forehead; their steamy cheeks slid along each other, while Tommy’s right arm reached around Alfie’s shoulder and to his head, his fingers played with the grey but hair of his loved one.

“Tommy,” Alfie croaked, while leaning his head to the side, welcoming Tommy’s eager tongue, not wasting a second as it slid into well-known territory.

“Hmmm? That good, feeling better?”

“What, we…ah fuck Tommy!” Alfie’s hand shot up out of the water and clung to the tub.

Tommy’s hand moved up and down, the exact movements that drove Alfie crazy long engrained in his muscles after decades of amazing lovemaking; years spent pleasuring one another, not giving a fuck about the outside world. Not family or expectations, just them, just the two of them, their longing, their dedication, their devotion, their love. Nothing but their love.

Tommy felt himself getting hard; his trousers cutting electrifyingly into his tender flesh. He longed for some friction but above all, he longed for Alfie’s release. The wonderful sounds he could evoke by treating the love of his life just right. Treating him the way only he knew how. Spoiling him with movements learned and perfected during years of a devoted relationship.

The urge to touch himself got nearly unbearable, but Tommy resisted, using his hand to pull at Alfie’s hairs, moving his head back, exposing his neck just to lick at it as they had done when they were far younger.

Tommy heard nothing more than the fast pulsating of his own heartbeat. His tongue went down to Alfie’s collarbone. The whimper he provoked Tommy only noted through the fog of his own arousal. Sucking at Alfie’s skin, skin that was still so beautiful to him, and the accompanying memories of all the times he had done so before, made him throb.

Alfie’s moans got louder, he stirred in the water, trying to lift his hips.

“I-I can’t, Tommy, I need-I’ll, fuck, Tooom- oh god, Tommy! Tommy baby!”

Alfie came undone, and Tommy soon followed.

***

Alfie laid back, convinced he had just died the most perfect death. For a few moments nothing could be heard but the slowly calming water and the slowing breathing of the two lovers. But then Alfie couldn’t resist saying out loud once more what he was sure Thomas already knew deep in his heart:

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Alfie.”

@jackson--t @mintjamsblog @weeo @pieces-by-me

[vostokovasmelina]

Hi, I hope you're doing well! Btw, congratulations on reaching 100 followers 🎉! Could I request a Peaky Blinders imagine with the prompt “It’s okay, I couldn’t sleep anyway.” where the reader is the youngest Shelby girl (born in 1903) and is very close with Thomas? In the scenario, the reader is having trouble sleeping and she goes to her brother for comfort. Thank you very much in advance ✨💕

a/n: and that’s a wrap, folks! thanks for joining my celebration, here’s to another hundred xx  -  also thank you, my dude, hope you’re okay and will enjoy the tooth-rotting fluff in this one!!

requests for the blurb week are closed, fics and one-shots are open

fluff #11 - “It’s okay, I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

Your bare feet thomped quietly against the cold concrete floor and you could only count on your sense of touch on the way to your brother’s room in the moonless night. Once you reached the door you had been looking for, you wrapped your fingers gently around the doorknob, delighted to find it unlocked and slipped in smoothly, not wanting to wake Tommy in the process. You could see that he had left a small candle burn on his bedside table and you weren’t sure if it was intentional or if he had simply forgotten about it. You didn’t mind it though- it gave you the chance to watch your brother in his sleep for a few seconds only to be startled by him cocking his gun at you just as he saw you lurking in the shadows.

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N! I almost shot you!” Tommy breathed out, tossing the weapon back onto the small drawer and looking up at you with eyebrows raised in question. “What are you doing here?” He finally asked in a much more gentle voice and you felt encouraged to move closer to him, finally stepping into the weak light of the leftover candle.

“I had trouble sleeping and didn’t want to lie alone in bed all night... Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, I just wanted someone close,” you whispered, eyes lowered in a thorough examination of your toes so you could avoid your brother’s searching gaze.

“It’s okay, I couldn’t sleep anyway,” he assured you, reaching out for your hand and you let Tommy pull you onto his lap and even tickle your belly, something he hadn’t done since you were a toddler- since he came back from the war. It still felt so natural and it transported you back to a time when everything was much simpler and the world seemed kinder. Even Tom smiled as he saw your frowns in an attempt at strangling your own laughter but once he had let his hands rest around your waist in a protective way and saw your worn-out expression, he was pulled back into reality harshly.

“What’s up with you? Huh?” Tommy put his index finger under your chin and lifted it gently, practically forcing you to finally look into his pale eyes which looked like they held flames inside as they reflected the burning candle- something to resemble the old times just again.

You leaned into his chest and suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion hit you as you finally rested somewhere much warmer and more welcoming than your lonely bed. You shrugged absent-mindedly but still smiled softly when you felt Tommy’s gentle kiss on the top of your head.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” You blurted out, hopeful for the answer to be ‘yes’. You could feel your brother’s chest rise and sink under your head as he inhaled deeply and let out a long sigh, accepting that it wasn’t the time for you to give him answers.

“Alright, lemme tuck you in,” he replied and you climbed onto his bed cheerfully. It was already too small for Tommy himself, let alone both of you but you completely pressed against the wall so only one of your brother’s legs would stick out from under the blankets.

You had to strangle your laughs again when Tommy did as he said and completely wrapped you up in his softest blanket. He finally lowered himself on the old bed closely next to you and enveloped you in his strong arms. You giggled into his chest one last time, right before he scolded you and sent you to sleep and you gladly welcomed it, thus starting your first peaceful night in weeks.

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@writerdream22

@lordofthunderthr

[azurethevampire]

Peaky Blinders drabble

A/N: I’m trying to get back my habit of writing that I’ve neglected because of my busy life as of late. Enjoy this little Tommy Shelby x sister!reader drabble that I did as a quick warm up based on a dialogue prompt I got from here. The title of this fic is the prompt.

The reader is a child in this one

Characters: Tommy Shelby x sister!reader

Words: 379

Title: “Sweetheart, what did you bury in the garden?”

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

“Y/N, come here.” 

“Yes, Tommy?” you asked as you happily obliged to your older brother’s request and climbed to sit on his lap. He wrapped his arm around your waist to keep you from squirming around. 

He leaned back casually in his seat and watched your face carefully. “Sweetheart, what did you bury in the garden?” 

Your eyes widened in shock. 

“W-...I didn’t bury anything!” You tried to say in the best possible innocent voice you could muster up, but it was difficult when your voice was shaking without your permission. 

“Come on, darling. You know better than to lie to me”, Tommy scolded lightly, making you drop your head down in shame. 

“It’s nothing.”

“What was that? You’re gonna have to speak up.” 

Tommy gently placed his finger under your chin and lifted your face. He had suspected you would be in the verge of tears at being caught doing something you obviously didn’t want anyone to know about. Instead, he found that you seemed annoyed. 

“Y/N, what did you do?” 

You pouted and crossed your arms. “I won’t tell.” 

Tommy smirked. “What exactly won’t you tell?” 

“That I buried Finn’s- Hey! You tricked me, Tommy!” You glared at your older brother and slapped him on the shoulder. 

Tommy chuckled at your face. Even when you were mad at him you were adorable. Quickly his fingers dug to your sensitive stomach. “Now, I wouldn’t do that to you, would I?” he asked innocently, while his hand tickled you making you giggle and squirm in his lap. 

“Toohmmy! Sto-ohop!” 

A rare genuine smile graced your brother’s lips as he stopped tickling you, hugged you close to him and pressed a kiss to your hairline. 

“Now”, he said. “What of Finn’s did you bury?” 

“His peashooter”, you admitted. “But only because he kept shooting John’s kids with it!” 

“Hmm”, Tommy hummed in thought. Then he gently tapped you on the stomach and pushed himself - and you along with him - to stand up. “I’ll speak with Finn, alright? Come on then, little digger, let’s go and unbury that Finn’s toy.” 

“But Tommy! Finn will just start shooting peas and paper balls at innocent people again!” 

Tommy winked at you. “Who said anything about Finn getting it back, eh?”