#peakywomen

[thomashelbyswife]

Polly Gray - Peaky Blinders S3E1

[sneakyblinders]

The Shelby's

A/N: another installment of Tommy x Bee aka tommy & his darling wife!au. the Shelbys. hope you all are doing well! <;3 warnings: jealous tommy, sexual references, language, not canon, alluding to smut but no smut. 5.5k words. i take no credit for the gif!

1934

Tommy sat in his office at the betting shop one afternoon, sifting through paperwork. It never seemed to end these days, constant influx of papers from Parliament, things Mr. Churchill wanted his opinion on, speeches to prepare, bills to pay. It never ended. The phone call was a welcome distraction. 

“Mr. Shelby? This is Harold Archer, from London,” the voice on the other end of the line said. Tommy could faintly recognize the man's voice. He was an up and coming politician in London society, someone Tommy did not really wish to associate with, but understood it was a necessary evil he would one day have to confront. 

“Mr. Archer, what can I do for you?” Tommy asked. 

“I wanted to extend my sincerest apologies to you and your wife, Mr. Shelby,” the man began. “We are hosting a dinner and luncheon at our London home. I’m afraid a stack of invitations was missed by our mail carrier and the invitations didn’t get out to a few folks, and unfortunately yours was in that stack,” the man said. Tommy rolled his eyes, fishing a cigarette out of his jacket pocket. “My wife and I would love for you and Mrs. Shelby to attend. It’s next Saturday evening into Sunday afternoon. Accommodations will be provided, of course.” The man droned on. 

“I don’t involve my wife with business, Mr. Archer,” Tommy said, trying to get the both of them out of this predicament. 

“All of the wives have been invited, Mr. Shelby, my wife does enjoy getting to know them all–more of a social than political arrangement if you will. I am sure your wife would enjoy some time away from your children, no?” Tommy could hear the man chuckle. 

“No,” Tommy sighed. “She quite enjoys being a mother,” Tommy could hear Mr. Archer’s breath hitch on the other end of the phone. “But I will discuss it with her and let you know by tomorrow.”

That night, after the children had been kissed goodnight, all monsters scared away from under the bed and in the closets, Tommy breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, a moment with her alone. 

Bee curled up next to him on the balcony off their bedroom, on some of the wicker furniture he’d just bought for out there. The spring evening had been warm, the warmth fading with the setting sun. 

He wrapped an arm around Bee’s shoulders and she laid her legs over his lap. He absentmindedly rubbed her calf with his free hand, both of them sitting and watching the horses roam the back pasture in silence. Some of the groundsmen returned to their cabins for the evening after a grueling day of cleaning the dreaded pool house. The days were getting progressively warmer, and despite the cold snaps that were so prone to happening this time of year, the children were getting rather tired of being in the house all day. They had just constructed toy boats with Simmons and were eager to send them on their maiden voyage. So–Tommy had instructed the groundsmen to prep the pool. 

Tommy cherished moments like this. Not much about his life, his work was quiet. But he always knew he could rely on Bee for moments of solitude and peace. To be comfortable with the silence—not feeling the need to fill the void. 

His moment of peace shattered when he remembered—the dreaded dinner. 

“What’s on your mind?” His wife asks, noticing his jaw clenching suddenly. 

He sighed, shaking his head. “This man from London, Harold Archer,” he rolled his eyes. “Invited us for a dinner and luncheon next Friday into Saturday at his London home. Some big political to-do,” Tommy explained, shifting his attention from her one calf to the other. 

“Both of us?” She asks, ears perking. 

“Yes,” he sighed. 

“Why do you not sound excited about that?”  

“You know I don’t like to involve you in business, Darling,” he tells you. 

“Yes, but, maybe it would do me some good to get to know some of these people. Get to know their wives,” Bee sighs. “I do get lonely, Thomas.” 

He furrows his brow. “You have Sara, and Frances, and the children. And me.” 

Bee rolls her eyes. “Thomas, it’s not the same as having a friend.” 

“I’m not your friend?” He asks playfully. 

“You are my greatest friend, my love, but who can I complain about you to?” She jokes, a cheeky smile on her face. 

He brings a dramatic hand to his chest, gripping his heart. “I am hurt, my love,” he tells her playfully. “I am practically perfect, what in bloody hell would you have to complain about?” 

She leans over and playfully swats at his chest, laughter rumbling deep in his chest as she rests her head on his shoulder. Their whole lives together, he had never understood Bee’s loneliness. He told her nearly every chance he could that she was all he needed in this world. Her heart had nearly broken when she couldn’t return the sentiment. 

Of course, he was all she’d ever need romantically. But socially, she knew she needed friends. Women who understood. But no one really understood. Her or Tommy. Tommy unfortunately had cost Bee most of the friendships she had carried from adolescence into adulthood– and even her family did not understand their deep and unending love for one another, and many friends were either envious or afraid–too afraid to get close. 

“Do you really want to go?” He asked, hands covering hers, thumb rubbing gentle circles into the back of her hand.

“I think it might be nice to go,” she tells him, and he realizes he’s lost the battle when he hears that tone of longing in her voice. She looks up at him, and he melts into her eyes. 

“Alright, my love. I will phone Mr. Archer tomorrow and tell him that we will be there.”

“Oh, let me call his wife, please!” She says, looking at him, excitement filling her eyes.

And when she looks at him with those eyes—he cannot deny her anything. 

The next afternoon Bee phones Mrs. Archer. Her name is Laurel. “Yes, this is Mrs. Shelby,” she says into the phone. 

“Oh, my dear I am so sorry your invitation did not get in the mail! I feel so horrible for that oversight. I do hope you’ll forgive me,” she gushes into the phone. 

“It’s no trouble, I assure you. Thomas and I will be there for your dinner and luncheon, we are looking forward to it,” Bee tells her, beginning to think of what she should wear. 

“Oh, splendid! We will have the rooms ready, don’t worry about a thing,” she says cheerily. 

“Mrs. Archer, don’t trouble yourself, separate rooms won’t be necessary,” Bee tell her. 

“Don’t be silly, dear, it’s no bother. Looking forward to seeing you!” 

And she hung up. 

Simmons drove Bee and Thomas to the Archer’s London mansion. “No later than three, Simmons, not a second later,” Tommy told Simmons in regards to their pick up time the next day.

“Yes, Mr. Shelby, I’ll be here by three.” Simmons promised, throwing Bee a smile when Tommy’s back was turned. She smiled, shaking her head in annoyance at her husband. 

The butler retrieved their bags from the back of the car, the London home bustling with people. Bee’s heart fluttered in her chest, not used to these sorts of events–nervous that somehow she’d embarrass herself, or worse, embarrass Tommy. 

He held his arm out to her and she took it as the two of them were escorted into the house. 

 The Archer’s were waiting in their foyer, greeting guests as they arrived. “Mr. and Mrs. Shelby!” Mr. Archer beamed. He was an older man, about sixty, bald, with a gray mustache that reminded Bee of Arthur’s. Mrs. Archer had beautiful white hair and the most radiant skin Bee had ever seen. Her eyes were bright. “We are so pleased to have you, welcome to our home.” 

“Thank you,” Bee and Tommy say in unison. Tommy clears his throat, slightly embarrassed. 

“Right this way to your rooms,” Mrs. Archer said cheerily. Tommy shot Bee a confused look, but she was so busy taking in the beauty of this London house that she didn’t catch it. The hallways were ornately decorated, gilded frames of children, grandchildren, horses, dogs, prizes, meetings with US Senators, Presidents, prominent British families decorated the halls. Bee couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy at how active Mrs. Archer was with her husband's dealings–all the connections she had. Mrs. Archer led the two of them down a hallway, stopping in front of a dark blue door. “Mrs. Shelby, this is your room,” she said delicately, opening the door. “And Mr. Shelby, your room is right across the hall. I’ll have your things brought around directly.”

Not even five minutes into this trip and Tommy had already had enough. “My wife had told you that two rooms won’t be necessary, and that is still the case. One room will be adequate for the two of us,” he said, stepping into the room Mrs. Archer had deemed Bee’s. 

Bee blushed, throwing the woman an apologetic smile. “Oh,” Mrs. Archer said, surprised. “I am sorry, Mr. Shelby, I–most couples aren’t that way,” she said, laughing awkwardly.  

“Well,” Tommy said from inside the room, eyeing the vaulted ceilings and the huge windows. “We are that way.” 

Bee blushed again, embarrassed. “I am sorry, Mrs. Archer, we are very grateful for your hospitality. We’re just a little tired from the trip,” She tried to come up with an additional excuse to give for her husband's poor manners, but, truth be told, that was her husband most of the time. Bee was practically the only one he was never harsh to, and it was something his family reminded her of often, and with much disdain.

“I understand, dear. I will leave you to rest for the evening. Dinner is at seven,” she told them, just as the valet brought the bags to the room. 

“I’ll take them,” Tommy said, taking their suitcases from the awkward valet. The valet stood there, eyes wide, hands at his side. “That’ll be all.” 

Bee stood by the door as the valet awkwardly left, wringing her hands together. Tommy sat on the edge of the bed and pulled out a cigarette, the tension in his shoulders and jaw visible. “Thomas, are you okay?” She asks, sitting next to him on the bed. 

He sighed, bringing the lit cigarette to his lips, tossing his lighter on the bed. “I hate these sorts of things. Hate being in these big crowds of people. Not being able to speak freely. I never feel like I fit in.” he admitted. 

He had struggled with a lack of acceptance in his life, in general. From his upbringing and his heritage to his unconventional line of work, a common theme in his life was feeling isolated. Alone. A feeling he had grown accustomed to–a feeling he had allowed to make itself home in his soul, only making room for Bee and his children when the time came. 

Bee rubbed gentle circles into his back. He fell backwards on the bed with a dramatic thump. The coils in the mattress squeaked under his weight. Bee giggled, climbing on top of him, pressing kisses to his forehead, nose, cheeks. “I know right where you fit, Thomas,” she tells him cheekily, earning a naughty smirk from him. 

“And where is that, Mrs. Shelby?” he asks, hands grabbing onto her bum and squeezing, making her yelp in surprise. 

“Right here!” she giggles, putting a hand against her heart. 

He let out a thoughtful groan. “I can think of another few places right where I fit, Darling. Shall I show you?” he asked, rolling the two of them so he was on top of her, hips pressing against her. 

“Oh, please do,” she nearly moans as he presses a kiss to her lips. 

That evening at six thirty, some ladies maids and butlers were sent around to the rooms. There was a knock on their door as Tommy zipped the back of Bee’s dress. A maid let out a startled cry, seeing the two of them in the room together. “Mr. and Mrs. Shelby, I am sorry!” she said, averting her eyes from Bee’s exposed back. 

“Oh, it’s no bother,” Bee tells her sweetly as Tommy glides the zipper the rest of the way up, smoothing the fabric over her shoulders gently. The back of the dress dipped down to the middle of her back, revealing the T M S Bee had inked into her shoulder blade a year ago. 

The maid gasped at the artwork that adorned her body as Tommy pressed a kiss to her back. “May we be of assistance?” he asked, voice gravely with desire; not turning around, but rather pressing more kisses to the exposed skin of Bee’s shoulders, the back of her neck. 

“Just here to help Mrs. Shelby dress, that’s all,” the maid said nervously, unable to divert her eyes from the scene unfolding in front of her. 

“I assure you, Mrs. Shelby is in capable hands,” Tommy rasped, subtly dragging his tongue over the top of her shoulder. 

“That will be all, thank you,” Bee manages to croak out as Tommy nibbles at the back of her neck. The maid scurries out of the room, closing the door softly. “Thomas, you’re cruel,” she chastises him as he turns to face the two of them in the vanity mirror. 

He eyes her in the mirror, hands roaming over the front of her dress, cupping, kneading, caressing. “How?” he asked, hands moving to her back, fingers tracing his initials, inked into her skin. 

“Practically seducing me in front of the staff,” Bee blushes, reaching into her jewelry case to retrieve Tommy’s cufflinks. 

His eyes are dark as he eyes her, moving back towards him to fasten the cufflinks on his shirt. “Anyone would enjoy watching that,” he tells her, voice deep with lust. “Listening to those fucking sounds you make,” he shakes his head slowly, biting his lip, watching her trying to focus on the task at hand. “You drive me wild,” he whispers, gazing at her–a mixture of lust and adoration in his eyes. 

“Thomas, please, you’re making me warm,” she stifled a giggle, an embarrassed smile on her face, cheeks flushing red under his gaze. 

“You’re always warm, Darling,” he tells her. 

“What’s gotten into you?” she giggled, finishing his other cufflink. 

He walks over to his suitcase, where he retrieves a dark black box. “A man can’t show his wife how in love with her he still is? Even after all this time?” He hides the box behind his back. “Close your eyes,” he instructs. 

She turns away from him and closes her eyes, giggling. “Thomas, what’d we talk about?” 

He smirks, opening the box. “You said no more diamonds, that you had far too many than you could ever wear,” he recounts. 

“Yes,” Bee agreed. 

“Good thing I listen, hm?” he says, placing the three strand pearl necklace around her neck and fastening it in the back. “Open,” he instructs, and she does, fingers moving to touch the pearls. 

“Thomas,” she gasps. “Thomas Shelby!” she turns around to face him, a smug smile on his face. “It’s too much, Thomas,” she tells him, fingers still running over the smooth surface of the pearls. “Thank you.” 

He wraps his arms around her from behind, chin resting on her shoulder, eyeing the two of them in the mirror. “Anything for you, my angel.” 

And she knew he meant it. 

The strands of pearls complimented the dark peach of her dress beautifully, which set off her hair and skin tone in the most enchanting way. It wasn’t a long necklace, the strands laying elegantly at the top of her collarbones. 

“You look stunning,” he tells her, peeling himself away from her for a moment to pull his tuxedo jacket over his shoulders, and slide his signet ring on his pinky; his wedding band a staple he never removed. 

“You look dashing, Mr. Shelby,” she teases him and he rolls his eyes. “You outshine me, my Darling.”

His sweet words bring to remembrance the first time he’d danced with her, all those years ago, at her grandfather's birthday party. That he had crashed. 

“After all this time, hm?” she smiles, straightening his bowtie. 

“After all this time,” he agrees. 

The dinner bell rings, and they both let out a sigh. 

The Shelby’s make their way down the hall, a housemaid guiding them through the various passages and hallways, to a large, open room. “Welcome to cocktail hour, Mr. and Mrs. Shelby,” the maid smiles sweetly at them, eyes lingering on Tommy. 

“Thank you,” Bee tells her, Tommys hand moving to the small of her back, straightening his posture and widening his shoulders. The maid bats her eyelashes at Tommy, who paid her no mind, eyes canvassing the room. “Are you alright, love?” Bee whispers to her husband, who immediately tensed upon entering the room. 

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Just hate these fucking things,” he said. 

The women seemed to be gathered on one side of the room, the men on the other. “I didn’t know there’d be a cocktail hour,” Bee said, pressing her lips together. 

“Let’s go, Darling,” Tommy said as a waiter walked past with a tray of champagne. Tommy grabbed two glasses, handing his wife one. 

A man approached Tommy–a man about his age, maybe slightly younger. “Mr. Shelby!” he greets enthusiastically. 

“Yes?” Tommy replies, unsure of who this man is, or how he knows of him. 

“I’m Hiram Quincy from Manchester,” he introduced himself, eyes sparkling at Bee. 

“Oh, yes, I recall seeing you at my oath ceremony,” Tommy told him dully. Bee stifled a giggle. She understood why Thomas got into politics, but sweet-talking with other members of the political realm was not his strong suit. He loathed small talk. Would rather be silent for hours than talk about the weather, tell others menial details about his life, his children, and would rather someone throw all his cigarettes into the punch bowl than divulge information about his wife. She was his. 

“Mrs. Shelby!” Laurel Archer spotted her from across the room, and waved her over. Bee gave Tommy an apologetic look before walking over to the crowd of women. 

Hiram turned towards Tommy, hands in his pockets, eyeing Bee as she walked away. “What special occasion is this that Thomas Shelby allows his wife to grace us all with her presence?” 

Tommy watches as the man's eyes devour his wife, eyes moving up and down her frame. “What the fuck did you just say?” Tommy asked, eyes narrowing at the man. 

Hiram pulled a cigarette out of his pocket. “It’s no fucking secret, mate,” he chuckled, the cigarette between his lips. “You keep her locked up in the Shelby fucking Manor for fear of another man getting his sights on her and,” he shook his head, eyeing Bee again. “I can fucking see why,” he lit the cigarette. “She’s a a fucking dream.”

Tommy’s wrath was seconds from spilling over. He angled his body towards Hiram, his back to his wife. “Do you want to fuck my wife, Mr. Quincy?” he asked. The man's eyes widened. Until that moment, Tommy didn’t realize how beady they were. 

Bee had her back turned, Tommy’s initials on her skin visible. “You marked her, hm?” Hiram asked, raising his eyebrows at Tommy. 

Tommy raised his eyebrows, lighting a cigarette of his own. “She got it for our anniversary last year, actually,” 

“How long have you been married to that siren of a woman, Mr. Shelby?” 

Tommy could hear the blood furiously pulsing through his body. “Fourteen years.” 

“Lucky fucking man,” Hiram ground out. Tommy protectively kept an eye on his wife. It appeared she was having a good time, speaking with the other women. 

“The best I can do is offer for you to watch from a chair in the corner while I fuck her,” Tommy lowly told the man. “But I’ll have to take your eyes after we’re finished. No one looks at my wife that way, Mr. Quincy.” 

Hiram shot Tommy a cold look as Tommy walked away. 

Bee was in comfortable conversation with the women around her. Mary, the wife of an MP from Liverpool had asked dozens of questions about their children. She had beamed with excitement when she had told her of the twins. 

“Oh, I’m sure they’re just darlings!” she gushed. 

“They are. To me anyway,” she chuckled. “The nanny may have a different opinion.” 

A young wife, Madeline, whose husband was an MP from Bedford had hung on every word she said. She had complimented nearly everything Bee wore, and gasped when she saw her tattoo. It was something Bee was proud of–something she’d never in a million years would have thought about before Tommy. But he could be so possessive sometimes. She got it to remind him that no matter what happened, no matter where life took them–she would always be his. 

Bee had felt Tommy’s eyes on her all throughout the cocktail hour, protectively keeping watch. She’d caught his eye a few times, and had gently smiled across the room at one another. 

“Will you sit next to me during dinner, Mrs. Shelby?” Madeline asked. 

Bee smiled gently at her. “Of course, that would be lovely.” 

The dinner bell finally rang and Tommy let out a sigh of relief, anxious to be near his wife again. He came alongside her, a hand on the small of her back, already feeling more grounded from just a simple touch. “Madeline,” Bee says sweetly to the young woman standing rather close to them. “This is my husband, Thomas,” Tommy meets the young woman's eyes and is stunned by how incredibly young she is. Maybe nineteen. “Madeline is Mr. Stetfordshire’s wife, from Bedford,'' Bee tells him as he shakes her hand. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Stetfordshire,” Tommy says. 

“Your wife is wonderful, she’s kept me company this evening. I’m not too good at these social things, you see,” she said bashfully as her husband, easily thirty years her senior approached her. 

“Aah!” the man said, “Shelby! I see you’ve met my wife,” the man said, an arm around his wife’s waist. 

“Yes, Hugh,” Tommy said. “This is my wife, Bee,” Tommy introduced the two of them. 

“We have all heard many things about Mrs. Shelby,” the man said, smirking at Tommy, who fought back a flush that crept up his neck. 

“We’ll sit next to them tonight,” Madeline said, flashing her husband a pleading look. 

“Of course, of course,” her husband said, giving her a sympathetic look. 

The first course went smoothly enough, Tommy’s hand on Bee’s thigh whenever he wasn’t actively engaged in eating his dinner. It was something she’d gotten used to, really. Him always touching her, always wanting to be near–to know she was there. To feel that she was there, even though he could see her. 

“Mr. Shelby,” Hiram bellowed from another end of the table they were seated at. “Tell us of your background, what interested you in politics.” 

Tommy took a sip of his whiskey and cleared his throat. “I am Romani,” he started off with, earning several raised eyebrows from around the table. “We grew up very poor, being travelers, and I would like to see the world a little better–different for those after me who are in situations similar to the one I grew up in,” he said truthfully, one of the more transparent things he’d said in front of a group of people. That much was true, Bee knew, and her heart softened at the goodness that lived in this man. This man she loves–this man she would do anything for.  

Hiram chuckled. “A Gypsy, hm? Bee, really, what did you see in him?” 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “He’s a war veteran,” she says, tone firm. “He was a Sergeant Major in the tunnels in France. He was at the Somme and Mons,” she told them, their eyes flashing sympathetic. “He saved me from being raped not long after we first met. He’s a wonderful father. A protective brother and uncle. There’s a lot I see in him. Not that it’s any of your business, but if you’re interested I could easily spend hours telling all of you of what I see in Thomas Shelby.” 

Tommy’s eyes dropped to his hands in his lap, a wave of emotion overtaking him. The pride she had in him. The pride that she had to be his. Unashamedly and unabashedly. Bee literally wore him on her body and would scream it from the rooftops of Buckingham Palace that he was yours if he asked her to. He reached for her hand, smiling softly at her as the table fell silent, Hiram’s face falling. 

Anger poured from Bee–anger at this assumption that her husband wasn’t worthy of love. Wasn’t worthy of her love, of this life he’d built. Tommy’s thumb stroked gently on the back of her hand, drawing her from her angered state. 

The evening ended with a nightcap in the library, which was the most impressive home library either of them had ever seen. Madeline didn’t leave Bee’s side, almost like a lost puppy. At the end of the evening, as Bee made her way back to her room with Tommy, and Madeline with Hugh, she looked at Bee with a heartbroken expression. 

“I would give anything for a man to look at me the way Mr. Shelby looks at you, Bee,” Hugh caught up to her and escorted her to her room. 

“Goodnight, Dear!” Bee calls after her. Madeline threw her a smile over her shoulder as Tommy came up behind Bee, opening the door. 

Tommy opened their room door, letting Bee in before closing it gently behind the two of them, securing the lock in place. 

Bee sinks into the vanity bench, mind and body ready for sleep. “These things are exhausting,” she says, slipping her shoes off. 

“Tell me about it,” he ground out, shrugging his jacket off his shoulders, lying it neatly across the dresser top. “All I heard about all evening is how many men want to fuck my wife,” he said, angrily tugging his bowtie free from his neck. 

Bee turned around to face him. “What?” she asked in shock. 

He scoffed. “Oh don’t act like you don’t know, Darling.”

“I don’t!” she tells him, mouth open in shock. “What on earth do you mean?” 

He unclasps his cufflinks. “This is why I can’t bring you to these things because everyone,” he throws them down on the nightstand with a clang. “Wants to know about you,” he says, toeing off his shoes next. “Wants to talk about you,” he removes his braces from his shoulders. “Wants to know why I keep you locked up in a castle in Birmingham to rot away, while you make me out to be some hero at dinner. Here I am a jailer.” 

Bee eyes him in the mirror. “Thomas,” she says softly. She gets up and walks over to him as he nearly rips his sleeve garters from his arms. “Thomas,” she holds his face in her hands and he sighs. “Look at me,” she tells him sweetly when he doesn’t meet her gaze. “I love you,” his hands grip her wrists. “They don’t know about us,” she tells him. “They don’t need to know everything. They just need to know that I am yours and you are mine.” 

They undressed each other quickly, desperate to touch one another, feel one another, after a long night of longing looks from across an unfamiliar room. She was panting beneath him when he dragged his thumb over her lower lip and rasped, “Don’t you dare be quiet tonight. I want them all to fucking hear you. Hear you say you are fucking mine.” 

She obeyed. 

Bee fell asleep in his arms while he laid awake, observing every inch of her body as she slept. He ran gentle fingertips up and down her body, watching in amusement as goosebumps rippled in his touch's wake. 

During the night she rolled over, the dim candlelight from his nightstand illuminating his initials on her back. He pressed a sleepy kiss to the ink. He rehearsed in his mind all the sweet things she’d whispered, moaned, cried into his ear when he made love to her. How worthy she made him feel. How loved. Treasured. Respected. Adored. Cherished. Feelings he’d never felt before. Never felt free to feel before. 

His father had drunk to forget how he felt, allowing only anger to be the driving emotion in his life–something Tommy and all his brothers wore scars both physically and emotionally from. His mother felt everything deeply–something Tommy was afraid he and Arthur inherited. His father made them feel ashamed for feeling any extreme emotion.

Tommy remembered when he was five, his favorite horse fell lame and had to be shot, something a boy of his age was not prepared to hear, let alone see. He had run to cry in his mothers chest, terrified of the horror his father had inflicted on his favorite animal. His mother tried to soothe him, rubbing his back, rocking him gently in her lap. His father wandered in later, drunk and angry, pulling Tommy from his mothers lap. He screamed in his face, Tommy not remembering most of what he had said, half asleep and still terrified. 

It wasn’t until he found Bee that he could feel safe again. She was his hiding place, his refuge. The one he could always run to. The first time he’d cried in front of her he’d been beyond embarrassed. But she held him and kissed every inch of skin she could get her lips on. He shook, body overwhelmed from exhaustion and pent up emotion, and she held him together in her arms. 

When she woke up the next morning, she smiled at him and he looked at her with all the love and tenderness he could muster. “My lighthouse,” he whispered. “I was lost. Drowning. You saved me with your light,” he pressed kisses to her collarbones. 

“Mr. Shelby, waxing poetic this morning, hm?” she asked as he moved atop her. 

“I think when I’m old, I’ll write poems for you. That way you can read them when I’m dead and you’re missing me,” he said, half jokingly, half serious. 

“Thomas!” she scolded, playfully swatting at his bum. 

“Darling, the chances of us both dying at precisely the same time are terribly slim,” he said.

“But that’s how I want it to happen,” she said, eyes wide. 

“I know, my darling, but that is the risk you run I suppose when you marry a man ten years your senior,” he told her, dropping to his forearms above her, his forehead against hers. 

“Old man,” she giggled playfully, kissing him, her hands in his hair. 

“Old man who knows what the fuck he’s doing, eh?” he smirked into the kiss, grinding his hips against hers. 

“Oh yes,” she moaned as he made love to her again… for the first (and not only) time that day. 

The Shelby’s skipped breakfast entirely, too wrapped up in one another to care that their bellies rumbled with hunger. They decided to prepare themselves for the luncheon and for their departure. 

“Are you ready for your shadow to return?” Tommy asked with a small smile as he tied his tie. 

“What do you mean?” Bee asked, selecting her jewelry. 

“That young woman from dinner last night. She practically followed you everywhere.”

“She needs a friend, Thomas. And so do I,” Bee said, not meeting his eyes. 

“Alright, my love, I’m sorry,” he came up behind her and pressed a kiss to her neck. “I do think her husband was rather old for her,” he said, hands resting on her belly, chin on her shoulder. 

“Yes, it’s unfortunate but I do think they care for one another,” Bee said, reaching for her bottle of perfume. 

Tommy stepped back as she misted herself with her perfume, the one he loved, the one that drove him wild. He admired her. Her grace, her elegance. And in that moment his heart swelled with gratitude that he was able to marry for love. Not forced to out of convenience, not trapped in a loveless one, bound only by the children they’d brought into the world. But for love. 

They managed to emerge from their room a decent amount of time before lunch was scheduled to begin. Madeline caught Bee’s attention almost immediately. “Oh, are you feeling alright? We missed you both at breakfast,” Madeline smiled kindly at both of them. 

“Nonsense,” another wife, Carol? Anne? Bee couldn’t remember, commented. “We all heard them last night. It’s ridiculous! This is a sophisticated party and they fuck like animals. Hmph!” she turned her nose up at Bee. Who smirked. 

“At least my husband fucks me,” Bee smirked before walking towards the appetizer table, rather pleased with herself. 

“Well! Most couples aren’t that way!” The goody-two-shoes wife said, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. 

“Well,” Bee shrugged. “The Shelby’s are.” 

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[dreamsandscenes]

My Thoughts on

ESME SHELBY

*spoilers ahead for S1 - S6 of Peaky Blinders*

Ah Esme, how I wish I’d seen more of you. When compared with the other Shelby wives (Linda, Grace, Lizzie), I don’t think Esme was really used as much within the story. She was left more in the background for some reason.

When we first see Esme, she’s being married off to John, apparently because she was a “bit wild”. I love the scene at the wedding when John and Esme first see each other. You can see the pleasant surprise on both of their faces, and this is the beginning of their mutual attraction, because as we see throughout their time together, they really fancied each other.

Was the marriage the right thing for Esme? No. I don’t really think so. Through the marriage, John gains a wife and a new mother for his four children who have been running wild since their birth mother died, an alliance with the Lee family (which Tommy wanted), and if I remember correctly, a car from Esme’s father.

What did Esme gain from the marriage? Well, I suppose we could say that she gains the security of a husband (which was an important thing in that time), albeit John is also quite wild, cheats on her, and is a criminal. She loses her freedom, which was clearly what her family wanted because they didn’t agree with her actions. In that time, going “a bit wild” is probably very tame compared to what people do nowadays. She also gained four young children, that she was now in charge of raising, along with the rest of the Shelby family as her new relatives. I’d never say that she didn’t love her stepchildren - she clearly did, and she took them with her when she left in S4 - but it’s a lot to suddenly become a stepmother to four young children.

The interactions we see between Esme and the Shelby clan (from what I remember) are never overly positive. Sure, she could get along with them decently enough when needed, but she didn’t seem close to anyone.

Her interactions with Polly range from Polly holding a knife to her neck in season 2, to them seemingly getting along well enough to work together - and strike together - in season 3. We don’t see what their relationship was like in the years between S3 and S4, but they clearly never got any closer, as Polly didn’t seem devastated when Esme left after John’s death.

Another Shelby that she shared a few scenes with was Tommy, and I think it would be generous to say that she disliked him. In S2, she seemed to respect him, and spoke at the family meeting about not wanting them to start expanding the business into London. Her reasons were understandable; she was afraid for her husband’s safety and she knew how dangerous London would be. And yet, everybody just brushed her off like she was an idiot.

All she wanted was for her family to go on the road or live in the country and be safe. She tried to convince Tommy that it was the best course of action, and in return, he grabs her face and tells her that if she talks about it again, he’ll cut her from the family. It’s overly harsh and personally, I wanted Esme to slap him when he did that, but of course she didn’t, so oh well. 🤷‍♀️

It seems like she properly hated him after the end of S3, when he almost got John killed. As we see, Esme is always loyal to John and anyone who crosses him, crosses her. She’s protective of the ones she loves, so it isn’t a shocker that she hates Tommy for mistreating him. She even charges at Tommy in the morgue after John’s death, grief riddled and furious.

I can’t remember much about Esme’s appearances in S6, probably because I did not like that season, so I’m not going to speak much on that time or her scenes with Tommy. She doesn’t really have a relationship with Arthur or Ada, so I can’t really say much about them either.

Her relationship with John did seem to become genuine, despite it starting off as an arranged marriage. I’ve seen some people say that John and Esme never loved each other because they didn’t choose each other and they were basically forced to marry each other, but I would say that from what I saw, I do think Esme loved him. (I’ll talk about John’s side of things if I make a post about him). She tried to keep him safe, despite his lifestyle, and when he died, I feel like no one can say that she wasn’t devastated by the loss. That scene right after John is shot dead outside their house where she runs out and lays her head on his shows how heartbroken she was.

Ironically, after wanting to escape to the country for a while because she believed it would be safer and better for her family, their country house is where John dies in S4. I don’t think that she would’ve ever found peace or safety as long as she was married to John and connected to the Shelby’s. She only managed to get the life she wanted for herself and her family after John’s death.

Esme was a strong woman for making that decision to leave the Shelby family. Perhaps it would’ve been easier for her to stay within their circle as John’s widow, but staying would’ve meant being around the family and Esme clearly didn’t want any of them around her children. So, she packed up all six of her kids - not that we ever get an official number or even the names of their kids, but I’m pretty sure that they had six altogether - and went away.

While the loss of her husband was awful, in the end, I’m happy that Esme finally got to make her own decisions about her life, and get her freedom back. When we last saw her in S6, she was on the road with some of her kin, living freely, and I would say that out of all the characters, she probably got one of the best endings.

[bleekbacchanal]

One of the most gorgeous (and underrated) dresses in cinema.

[batmanlovesnirvana]

this.

the Changrettas had every right to do what they did to the Shelby family.

Whenever I think of Audrey Changretta I'm sure I cry a little harder. The poor women lost everything to one man. Please tell me I'm not alone in feeling this way

do you even think about how audrey was like…a good person? she was a teacher, a nice one, one who even arthur and john commended like all she did was help kids, raise her two sons, and love her husband, and she had her entire life pulled apart bc boys and their dicks are a lethal combination

also vincente seemed to be a pretty considered guy, he paid his tithe and got on with it because he knew it was the way business was done and how best to avoid unnecessary conflict, if john wouldn’t have stepped seven miles over the line he would have just…been fine

all this started bc the shelbys laughed at the thought of john marrying lizzie and then john couldn’t get over his damn crush like pls everyone make better decisions

but anyway, in my happy place vincente somehow fooled the shelbys into thinking he was on a later ship and was already halfway to new york by the time they showed up at the docks so now the changrettas are just living in a cute little like extended family neighbourhood in new york where like luca lives next door and then matteo the house opposite and vincente has a little garden where he grows tomatoes and they have tea together every night and luca looks amazing just like drinking wine with his sleeves rolled up laughing at some joke matteo made and getting all flustered when his mum asks him when he’s getting damned married already bc he adores her so much but mother please! but at the same time he’s like when am i getting married bc i have such a headcanon that luca is just pining for domesticity complete fluffy wreck of a man and i need to stop before i write a saga

cute domestic changretta family is my happy place basically

[peakyblinded]

POLLY GRAY PEAKY BLINDERS S03E05

[crowleying]

Tommy's Smile | m! reader

Date: 06.10.2022

Pairing:  Tommy Shelby x m!reader

Reader’s pronouns: he/him

Words: 2.120

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Characters: m!reader, Tommy Shelby, Polly Gray, Ada Shelby, John Shelby, Arthur Shelby, Harry Fenton

Genre: Romance

Length: Oneshot

Warnings: Internalized homophobia, mention of war, mention of injury (nothing descriptive)

Requested: No

Prompts: No

Summary: Polly knows you and Tommy have been in love with each other for years, so she decides to take matters into her hands.

A/N: It's my first time writing for Peaky Blinders and with a male reader. I’m sorry for the requests still waiting in my inbox, my inspiration is all over the place.

English is not my first language so feel free to correct any mistake and I would love to know what you think about it. If you like my works, please like and reblog them. REQUESTS ARE OPEN. I posted a List of prompts, so check it out! Let me know if you would like to be tagged in my works.

IF YOU LIKE MY WORKS, PLEASE REBLOG THEM

Masterlist

Ao3

[ID: a gif of Tommy Shelby smiling. End ID]

After the war, everything had changed. The men that had come back weren't the ones that had left. They were haunted by nightmares; they drank a lot more and smiled a lot less, especially Tommy. He used to smile all the times, so bright every room would light up. Now, however, he rarely ever did. At first, Polly had even thought he wasn't smiling at all, but then she started noticing. The first time it happened was just after she had scolded him in his office. As she was leaving, you walked in and greeted her. She had almost missed the childish, amused smiles you and his nephew had exchanged then, so similar to those you used to share back when you were fifteen and you had managed to do something mischievous. From then on, she kept a close eye on the two of you, but you were too lost in each other to notice.

You had grown together. You would always play together and were joined at the hip since you were little kids. You were like a son to Polly. She and your mother used to joke about the fact that if they called one of you, both of you would appear. Polly was convinced you were two bodies sharing one soul. She was sure of it when you started to fall for each other without even knowing. You were young back then, and she thought you would have time to get your shit together and admit your love to the other, so she didn't say anything.

When Tommy announced his intention to volunteer for the war, she had looked at you, expecting you to join him, and you were already standing, looking at Tommy.

"I'm coming too," you had said, when what you really wanted to say was "I'm coming with you, I'll follow you anywhere, Tommy." The two of you had been so lost in each other's eyes that Polly was sure you didn't even hear when John and Arthur said they would come too. She had prayed for all of you that night and every night and day until the day you came back.

The day you had left, while the women and little Finn hugged the Shelby brothers, Polly had taken you to the side at the train station to ask you to take care of Tommy, and taking care of him you did.

In France, you didn't let anyone come between you. A month in and every officer knew you two weren't to be separated. You would make sure Tommy was eating and would share cigarette after cigarette with him when he couldn't sleep. You still gave him reasons to smile. And you saved his life.

You were shoving him out of the way before even realizing what was happening. You didn't die that day in Tommy's arms, but it did change your life. As you were hit by the bullet aimed at Tommy, he was hit with the realization that life was too short to spend the entirety of it trying to ignore his feelings for you.

He didn't listen to any of the people who told him he couldn't stay by your side the whole time you spent in the hospital. He was finally left alone when John and Arthur convinced one of the officers that he would be of no use on the field if you weren't there by his side.

When you woke up in the middle of the night after the surgery, Tommy was there. And hidden by the dark, he kissed you for the first time.

Keeping your relationship hidden when living in such close quarters with so many people hadn't been easy. Coming home had meant you could finally kiss and hug and fuck. Nobody knew about your relationship, but you didn't mind and you understood why Tommy didn't want anyone to know. You respected that but dreaded the day people would start to get suspicious and he would have to marry some girl to avoid the rumours.

You had no idea someone suspected of your relationship, but Polly noticed it all: smiles, fleeting touches, glances, winks. She never thought she would see his nephew wink or you blush like that. You were Tommy's smile. You clearly made him happy. So she was having a hard time wrapping her head around the fact that her nephew had yet to make a move on you. It seemed like her intervention was needed.

It was the end of the day. You were sitting on Tommy's desk, laughing at something he had said. He was lounging back in his chair, relaxed as he could only be around you. A cigarette was being passed between the two of you.

Polly barged into the office. You jumped up from your spot and Tommy straightened in his chair.

"Thomas, a word," she demanded, barely acknowledging your presence.

"I'll see you later at the Garrison," you said quickly to Tommy, before disappearing quickly out of the door without even waiting to see him nod.

You were always included in family meetings, and your opinions were held in high consideration, but you didn't want to intrude on Tommy's relationship with his aunt, not when Polly was like that.

Tommy's eyebrows arched as he watched Polly carefully, trying to understand what had gotten in her this time. He slowly killed his cigarette in the ashtray.

"Polly," he started cautiously, but before he could continue, his aunt spoke.

"When are you going to put an end to this foolishness, Thomas?"

Tommy's heart skipped a beat. "What are you talking about, Pol?" he asked, trying to sound more nonchalant than he felt. He leaned forward a bit. His hands gripped the armrests of his chair, bracing for the impact. He knew the moment would come, sooner or later, when he would have to choose between you and his family. But the time was here and he wasn't ready. He would never be.

"Don't play dumb, Thomas, you know what I'm talking about... This," she gestured to intend the relationship between the two of you.

"I don't follow," he said.

He took a cigarette from the case you had given him before the war. It had seen everything you two had gone through. He stroked the cigarette on his lips before setting it between them. The motion always made you weak. He lit it up to keep himself busy and try to calm down. There was no way she could know. she had to be talking about something else.

"You two are grown men. I didn't say anything when you were young. I thought you just needed time to figure things out, but it's been a while and nothing has changed."

He slowly exhaled the smoke, giving up all hope she could be talking about anything else. "How long have you known?"

"Years. You were sixteen and no matter how many girls tried to win you over, you only had time and eyes for him."

"He was my best friend!" he spitted through gritted teeth.

"One day, after you had spent the whole afternoon together in your room doing God knows what, you came to me and asked what was the difference between friendship and love, Thomas. Do you remember?"

He nodded slowly and cursed himself. If Polly knew, other people might find out. You were in danger. He needed to make sure you were safe, and then he would think about Polly.

Before he could spiral, Polly spoke again. "When will you grow a pair and just tell him you love him?"

He was surprised, to say the least. He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand to stop him. "I know you are afraid people won't respect you anymore if they find out or that someone will try to hurt him to get to you. All I'm saying is you can be open with your own family, Tommy. He deserves this, and you do too."

He closed his mouth, then opened it again. "What if Arthur tells someone when he is drunk, eh? What if little Finn goes around telling someone thinking it's no big deal?"

Polly shook her head and smiled gently. "Do you really think you can hide that forever? With the way you look at each other? I don't think so, Tom."

She turned to leave, but before she could, Tommy's voice stopped her in her tracks. "Is this your way to say you approve?" he asked.

She looked at her nephew and for a moment she saw the sixteen years old he once was, with those big blue eyes, that were your damnation, wide, looking for approval. She smiled and left.

That was a lot and completely unexpected. Tommy fell back into his chair and ran a hand over his face.

When he walked into the Garrison, Polly was already there, sipping a whisky at the counter. He nodded at Harry to have his whisky in the private room. He didn't notice you sitting at a secluded table, uncomfortably close to a girl John had introduced to you upon your arrival. However, when he saw you weren't in the little room with his brothers, he panicked, already expecting the worst.

"Where is he?" he demanded. His brothers stopped laughing at something, to look at him confused and worried. "Who?" Arthur cautiously asked, irritating Tommy further.

"Your lover is sitting on the other side of the room with a girl your brothers so kindly introduced to him," Ada piped up from her spot, a fake smile on her face and her arms crossed. Her eyes bore into him. She knew too. Damn, the women of that family.

Arthur and John's faces were comically confused.

Tommy stormed out of the room and spotted you. Your head snapped up when you heard the door bang open. Your eyes widened as he made his way over to you with long steps. He looked unstoppable and scary. That was probably what anyone else saw when they laid their eyes on Tommy Shelby. Everyone was looking at him, trying to understand what was going on. Harry winced behind the bar, already picturing the place after the fight that would very likely take place there in a matter of minutes.

Ada, John and Arthur had followed their brother out of the room and had stopped at the door to see what would happen.

He came to a stop in front of you.

"Tommy," you uttered, trying to find the words to explain the situation. You had tried to convince John that you didn't need help finding a girl, but Shelbys would never take no for an answer.

"Mister Shelby," a sickly sweet and flirty voice interrupted the staring contest. The girl next to you leaned forward to introduce herself to your boyfriend, whose complete attention was on you. He pushed her back into her chair. She let out an outraged cry, but he ignored her in favour of grabbing the front of the suit you were wearing, one you had bought together, and pulled you into a kiss. You didn't hear the gasps and murmurs coming from around you. You relaxed and your hands fell to his hips. You kissed him back until you both needed to breathe. You gave him the brightest smile, winning one back.

He wrapped an arm around your hips and turned towards the onlookers.

"This man is mine, and if any of you fuckers tries to take him away from me or says something nasty about him, I'll cut you personally."

The room was so silent you were sure you could have heard a pin drop.

"By order of the Peaky fookin' Blinders!" Arthur roared from the other end of the room.

Polly and Ada smiled.

"Fucking finally, Tom!" John chimed in, grinning. And just like that, the tension in the room dispersed.

"Harry, open that bottle of champagne!" Arthur boomed, making Tommy laugh. You loved seeing him so happy and carefree. You promised yourself you would do everything you could to make sure he would always be like that.

You two made your way over to the private room to join the other Shelbys on the celebration. John patted your back. "Welcome to the family."

"Are you implying I wasn't part of it before?" you asked, pretending to be offended.

"No, of course not, you know..."

"Relax, Johnny boy, I'm just messing with you." You pulled his cap down his face, making Ada laugh.

She pulled you into a hug.

Tommy and Polly observed the exchange amused. "You were wrong about one thing," Tommy told her. His eyes didn't leave you.

"What's that?"

"We've been together for some years now."

She looked at him surprised. "Thomas Michael Shelby, you..." She slapped his arm, making him laugh.

"Let's make a toast," Arthur said, after filling the glasses and handing them around. Tommy wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer.

"To Tommy finally getting his shit together." Ada raised her glass and you laughed.

Tommy kissed your temple.

[thesoldiersminute]

Anya Taylor-Joy for Vogue Australia (2022)

[lavender-romancer]

Deceiver

Part One Tommy Shelby x Reader cw: slow burn, violence, swearing

You've been involved with the Peaky Blinders business for a few years now, undiscovered as a woman posing as a man. Now the Shelby boys have grown suspicious of you and want you found out.

an: set in season one

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

Hiding under a disguise had become second nature for you these days, you didn't slip up, you didn't find it hard to lie and you never under any circumstances made any exceptions to the rule of being secretive about your identity. You weren't y/n y/sn, you were Eddie Thompson, your hair was short and black shaved on the sides, and ruffled forward on top. You wore shirts, waistcoats, and trousers with socks in your boxers to give you a false cock. You flirted with women, never took any home and you drank like your dead father used to every night. You wore razors in your cap and a pocket watch attached to your waistcoat with a short gold chain. You learned how to bind your chest and flatten it completely but allow your chest to still look muscular. There never was a better cover, but you didn't do it to spy or cheat or deceive at least for the wrong reasons. The reason you did it was because you wanted agency, taking your dead cousin's name was easier than it should've been but there was no one around in your family to protest.

"We need some boys down in the Garrison, rowdy ones to get everyone riled up about fucking Campbell," Tommy announced at the front of the betting shop where all the Peaky boys had gathered "We need some fucking unity in this place or that man's going to separate us all."

"Oh we've got no problem being fucking rowdy, 'ave we boys!" Arthur yelled with a cheer rousing from the crowd before Tommy.

"Alright, Eddie, John, Scudboat, Lovelock, Danny, Arthur and whoever else is willing to put out some good fucking press for us and against Campbell." Tommy straightened his blazer and looked toward you, you lifted your whisky to your mouth looking over your glass at him.

There was a respect between you and Tommy that had been there since he employed you, you weren't old enough to have fought in France but you worked in explosives as a teenager and were very helpful. Tommy could see your value from the moment you stepped into the shop looking for work, your verbal CV was glowing with value. Questions never seemed to arise due to the impressive cover story you had built for yourself from an extremely young age so you could survive in a world of men. You had absolutely nothing in your possession that would point to you being a woman, no mementos of your time before your deception started and you never changed that fact. You were quieter than some of the other boys until you got a drink in you but it allowed you to assess situations and know your next move that wouldn't raise suspicion.

"I've got a job for you," Tommy told you as the other boys began to leave, he sat down on one side of the table and you sat on the other. You spread out your legs and leant over your knees, taking off your cap and ruffling your hair.

"What have you got for me, Mr Shelby?" You asked.

"I need you to follow Billy Kimber, take off your hat and clean yourself up a bit. You're gonna need to look the part for this role," Tommy took out a cigarette and you tossed over your matches "You have proved very valuable since my return and I want you to keep doing that."

"And what am I doing following Kimber?" You raised an eyebrow and lit your cigarette.

"I need to know where he's going, who he's meeting even if it's just the types of people he's with. I want to know his every move today, especially when he hears about how we've been fixing his races, he's going to be pretty pissed off." Tommy took a drag of his cigarette and put his feet up on the table.

"Sounds like an interesting one," you held the lit cigarette between your lips "and what is the aim of this intelligence? Anything you want me to look out for?"

"I want to know how he reacts, how he… how we're getting under his skin. He's gonna be in this restaurant, at table 4 at around 4pm. Before that I want you to follow him on the train before listening and noting what he says, then come straight back." Tommy looked you in the eyes and you nodded, picking up the pieces of paper he'd given you about the locations.

After changing your look into a more slick back and clean look you headed off to the train station, onto the 2:30 towards Worcester. You saw Kimber's men head into the fourth carriage, you headed into the third and walked through to the fourth to sit with your back facing Kimber on the other side of their booth. Lighting up a cig you looked out the window and listened intently to Kimbers conversation.

Tommy always knew there was something off with you, he hadn't been able to put his finger on it till today. Your eyes, they had a certain femininity that he hadn't noticed before until you looked at him over your glass. It was different, your eyes had looked so stern before that the change was easily noticeable that he'd sent you on a minor errand at the chance Kimber would let something slip.

"Arthur, John, in here." Tommy called as he entered the Garrison and the boys sat in the private room as he closed the door.

"What's going on, Tom?" Arthur asked.

"I believe we have a rat in our ranks and I want to stamp them out." Tommy poured himself a whisky.

"Who the fuck dares rat us?" John seethed.

"I think it's Eddie," Tommy paused. "I've sent him off to report on Kimber, so we can discuss what we're planning."

"We're gonna cut off his fucking cock is what were gonna do!" Arthur yelled louder than he should have.

"Yeah, we can fuck him up one by one," John laughed and Tommy looked at him with a straight face.

"You two are too bloody excited for what the situation is, someone we thought was fucking helpful. Fuck, loyalty is hard to find these days." Tommy rubbed his forehead.

"We're still gonna fuck him up, Tom." Arthur grinned at John and Tommy couldn't help but mentally agree, he was too fucking angry.

You left the restaurant at around 6'oclock and headed back to Small Heath, you hadn't really got much from Kimber as he just talked about women and blow. It was a fucking boring day and you wished you were down the pub instead. As soon as you got back to Small Heath you headed to the Garrison and sighed in relief at the noise that was coming out of the doors. Walking in you ordered two whiskeys and downed one, holding the other in your hand as you turned around and greeted some of your Peaky boys.

"The fuck is going on with your hair, you twat," Scudboat asked with a laugh.

"Ah just a bit of fucking dress up, you know I'm posing as a twat so I thought I should look the part too." You raised an eyebrow and held out your cigarette in your mouth for Scudboat to light.

"You're fucking mental," he told you, as he lit your cigarette you took a drag. You sat next to him, placing your drink on the table and breathed out slowly.

"You know today I-" you were interrupted

"Eddie, fucking here. Now," Arthur yelled and you turned your head expecting a smiling Arthur but instead he looked like hell. You picked up your drink and walked towards the side room.

"What's going on?" You asked, taking a drag.

"We need to take a little walk," Tommy told you with stern eyes.

The boys walked you towards the shop and you couldn't help but feel like something fucking awful was about to happen to you. John and Arthur were behind you as Tommy walked Infront, you were surrounded by the brothers and even though you wanted to run you knew you couldn't.

"In there," Arthur told you, pointing to his office and you walked in, "sit down." Arthur nodded towards the chair in the middle of the room. The air was thick and tense as ever, you were going to die, you just knew it.

"What's going on here then boys?" You asked, trying to keep the tone light but it wasn't working. You ruffled your hair, the gel making your scalp hurt. Arthur suddenly grabbed you by your chin and forced your head back harshly.

"So who the fuck do you think you are?" Arthur asked, his face was close to yours and he glared into your eyes that went wide.

"It's a good question, brother." John added, he lit a cigarette close to your face and the heat made you wince.

"Who the fuck are you?" Arthur yelled and you didn't know what to say. He let go of your face and you looked up, seeing Tommy in the shadow near the door. Arthur punched you in the nose and your head flew back, blood running back into your nose and back out again.

"I don't know what you want to fucking hear! You know who I am!" You yelled back at him and Arthur shook his head.

"I'll ask you again, who the fuck are you!" Arthur screamed and when you just stared at him through angry eyes he punched you again.

"Stand him up," Tommy instructed and John forced you to your feet

"So this is it then Tommy? Now time for me to fucking die eh?" You asked, your arms held by your side by John as you struggled against him. Arthur pulled your head back by your hair and it left your neck completely exposed.

"Well if you tell me the truth it doesn't have to be the last time we see each other, does it?" He walked close to you and took off his cap. Tommy unbuttoned your trousers and let them open, revealing your boxers and you panicked, kicking your leg out to collide with Tommys leg.

"I don't fucking think so," Arthur forced you to sit back down on the chair with your legs opened "Too scared to loose your cock eh? You fucking traitor." Arthur flicked up his knife and ran the blunt side against your neck.

"Fuck off, Arthur. If you're going to kill me just fucking cut my throat, I'm no traitor and I never have been!" You yelled in his face and Arthur went to punch your cock but instead found a soft impact.

"What the fuck," Arthur put his hand on your crotch, knife in hand and you shifted uncomfortably, trying to get out of their grasps "He's got no fucking balls, Tom."

"What?" Tommy sounded like he would laugh and you tried to stand up but the Shelby brothers held you down, your neck still exposed.

"Don't fucking kill me, I- FUCK. I'll tell you alright, fuck." You pushed off their grip that had lessened and buttoned up your trousers.

"What the fuck is going on?" Tommy asked.

"I'm, fuck. Okay. It's not my real name alright, but I'm not a fucking spy. I'm deceptive but I'm not a fucking spy, I love this job and this family like my fucking own. I'm a woman," You looked into Tommys eyes and he had to admit it wasn't what he suspected.

"This is fucking insane!" John bursted out laughing and Arthur joined in.

"You're a fucking woman?" Arthur yelled as he laughed and John was inconsolable with laughter.

"He's a fucking woman, oh my life what is this shit?" John had to lean on Arthur for support because he was falling over with merriment.

"Still got a bigger cock than both of you out together though," you muttered and Arthur held your face up.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" Arthur seethed with a vision of humor in his eyes.

"Come on brother, can't beat up a woman who you know will beat ya!" John was laughing again and Arthur joined in, letting go of your face and smacking John on the shoulder.

"Now just piss off. I'm still angry you tried to fucking kill me," you gave John a playful push and he just laughed.

"Alright, leave us now brothers." Tommy told his brothers and they roared with laughter as they walked out the door.

Tommy poured two drinks and handed you one, you turned the chair around to face his desk. Tommy downed his drink and poured another.

"So, who are you really then, Eddie?" He asked, the fake name rolling off his tongue so sarcastically.

"Y/n y/sn, most of everything else was true. Every family I know is dead, it was my cousins name and I couldn't live as a single fucking woman in this city. I mean fuck, when my parents died I inherited everything and it wasn't even enough to get by a year. I was 13 and I had to completely fucking change." You took a swig of whisky and sniffed before wiping the blood from your nose on your cuff.

"How long since you've gone by that name?" Tommy asked, lighting a cig.

"8 years since someone's called me my god given name," You looked into Tommy's eyes and sighed "I'll pack up soon though don't worry, I can't stay here anymore now."

"Since when do you make the rules around here, y/n?" Tommy asked and your eyes narrowed at the use of your real name.

"Don't, Tommy. It's not fair." You looked at him with sad eyes and he smiled.

"You're not getting away from us that easily. I'll tell you that for free. My brothers are always saying I should take a woman, maybe you're just the type of deception I want in my life." Tommy rested the cigarette in the ash tray and stood up, walking towards you. You looked up at him as he approached you.

"You're going soft," you paused "and who says I'm even interested?"

"That look you gave me this morning, I knew there was something different behind those eyes." Tommy lifted up your chin gently so you were looking into his eyes again.

"You act like this wild stallion who can't be tamed with all this damage. I think you just need a good trainer," you were mocking him and he didn't seem to mind. Tommy held your chin a bit tighter and got close to your face.

"And you think that's you, eh?" He whispered

"I think I'm the most enticing person you've ever met," you whispered back.

"I always thought you were a pretty lad, might make an even prettier woman. Not as if I'm scared of some short fucking hair is it." As he spoke you could see the slightest of smiles on his lips and you wondered how long he'd been looking at 'Eddie' like that.

"You'll never be able to figure me out and I think that's healthy for you to experience every now and then considering how fucking vague you are." You raised an eyebrow and pulled his hand off your face.

"Hmm, hadn't met a better man who'd dealt with explosives before you and I haven't met a woman either. I can't say you don't interest me." Tommy sat back down and you scoffed.

"Tommy Shelby handing out a free compliment? What is the world coming to then?" You slid you glass across the desk for Tommy to refill it "I might not be a man but I know how they tick, I know how they think and you are the most interesting mind I've ever encountered."

"Fucking flaterry from someone who was my best footsoldier a moment ago," Tommy smiled and you raised an eyebrow. "Where do we go from here then eh?" Tommy asked in a low voice.

"I don't know if that's my decision, Tom." You leant over your knees, undid your top button and tried to relax.

"Men are free to do as they will in the world, I would hardly be fair to take that away from you because you are a woman. This business was run by women before us," Tommy took another drink.

"I don't want to be a fucking bookmaker or a chalky or any other shit that you get people to do. I've proven myself time and time through and I don't expect to be treated any differently." You held your hands together and looked at Tom.

"I will treat you a bit different as Y/n but I don't have another demolition option who I can trust won't blow my cock off altogether. Well, I suppose you've figuratively blown your own cock off now haven't you?" Tommy ran his tongue along the top line of his teeth as he looked you up and down.

"You seem almost too happy to find out that I don't have a cock?" You sounded questionable and Tommy looked curiously at you.

"Well don't most men act so close to their friends it almost seems they want to fuck them? I might actually get the chance," Tommy gazed at you through sky-blue eyes that were often in your dreams, or maybe he haunted you in your nightmares. Either way, you didn't know where to go from here with him.

next part

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

Taglist:

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Peaky Taglist:

@smile-sugar @queenofkings1212 @severewobblerlightdragon @cl5369 @fairypitou @stressedandbandobessed7771 @shadow-of-wonder @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns @curled-hair-red-lips @lucystivinsky1315

[izabesworld]

Peaky Blinders Fan-Fiction Help!

As someone part of the Roma community, I’m trying my hardest to spread awareness of the struggles the Roma community face, and how to help people make respectful choices when writing pieces about us.

I want to try my best to give you accurate names, to tell you what we did in the time period and how we did it. I’m focusing primarily on Peaky Blinders as I know that is what brought Roma so much attention, and it would be so easy to misinterpret us.

I’m going to split it into topics that you can find, with links for east access. I’ll give you popular jobs, popular names (which are often more “normal” than you’d think) and how we lived our lives.

I want to do anything I can to make sure our culture is represented, and make sure it is represented well! <3

A post that may interest you: Peaky Blinders and the Roma community.

GENERAL RROMA CONTENT

ROMA NAMES (FIRST, LAST AND MIDDLE)

ROMANI NAMES PT2

SPIRITUAL BELIEFS

COMMON ROMA JOBS

ROMA ATTITUDES (HOW TO PRESENT US IN YOUR WRITING)

ENGLISH ROMANI LANGUAGE

HOW TO REFER TO ROMA

CURTESY WARNINGS

ROMA AND CABBAGE

WORLD WAR ONE - ROMA JOBS

THE ROMA FLAG

MY TAKE ON THE WORD GYPSY

APPLEBY HORSE FAIR

APPLEBY HORSE FAIR (2)

ROMANI FOODS

PALMISTRY AND TEA

CONCERNS PEOPLE HAD WITH MY POSTS

Misrepresentation.

Dismissal of the bad.

țigan/cigan

ROMA NEWS

16 year old Romany boy shot by Greek police.

Rroma Heritage Month (June 2023)

PEAKY BLINDERS ROM

What dialect would the peaky blinders speak?

Shelbys and religion.

Peaky Blinder S6 culture

[edmundo-diaz]

[thomashelbyswife]

Polly Gray - Peaky Blinders S2E1

[sneakyblinders]

A Man's Philosophy

A/N: another installment of tommy & his darling wife au! aka. Tommy x Bee. this one is set in 1919... the first time they slept together. <;3 warnings: not canon. sexual themes. mild spice. minors, DNI. The sexual themes in this fic are not suitable for minors. 2.9k words. i take no credit for the gif!

Tommy stood in front of the mirror at his hotel room in London, straightening his tie and smoothing his suit jacket, preparing for his fifth date with Bee. He had told himself that he had to be patient. That she was young, beautiful, still venturing out and seeing the world for what it really was, not the picturesque world her parents had painted for her. 

He had kissed her already, and to say he was getting antsy to have more of her was the understatement of the century. He craved her touch, wanted her, more than he had ever wanted anyone–anything in a long time. 

So when he pulled up in front of her flat in London that Saturday evening in his best suit, he knew he had bad intentions running through his mind. Lustful intentions. He wanted to impress her. Wanted to impress her so badly that he had called in a few favors and got them both a table at a popular London club. She gasped when he told her he managed to get the two of you in, and squealed on the other end of the line. He instructed her to be ready by seven, and to pick whatever dress she wanted from Harrods and that he would swing by on his way back to Birmingham with a wad of cash so she could buy it. Bee told him that was too much but he refused, insisting. So, she indulged him. And the indulgence was worth it. 

He parked the car momentarily, walking up the three flights of stairs to her apartment, rapping on the door. Bee opened it quickly, standing in front of him in a knee length dress, small bunches of beaded embroidery dotting the light blue fabric that clung to her curves. She’d thrown a black shawl over her shoulders, eager to get out of her stuffy apartment on this warm spring evening. 

“Thomas,” she smiled at him. Her hair was perfectly waved and her makeup was–well she’d go so far as to say she’d intentionally made it slightly sultry. He didn’t say anything as she closed your door behind her, setting the lock. “Do I look alright?” She asks subconsciously, hand moving to her hair. 

Tommy shook his head, “You look perfect.” he told Bee before pressing her against your door and kissing her, arms caging her in on either side. 

When he pulled away she was breathless, heart racing. “Good evening to you,” Bee giggled. 

“Come on,” he said, taking her hand and leading her down the stairs. He led Bee to his car, where he opened the passenger side door. 

“Do you have anything else planned for the evening?” She asks as he slides in the driver's seat, starting the engine, his hand immediately going to her thigh. 

He leans in towards her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I think we’re gonna go to this club, eat something, drink some, maybe dance if you like,” he pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. “And then I’m gonna bring you back to my hotel room and do unspeakable things to you,” he rasped, nipping her earlobe. 

An unfamiliar heat pooled between her thighs and she let out a small gasp. “Oh,” was all she could say in response. 

Bee had been frank with Thomas about most things he had inquired about, but the one thing she had been not too eager to admit was her lack of experience with men. 

Thomas was the first man who ever showed any real interest in her. Sure, there had been boys in school who asked her to the dances and took her to movie houses, but they were never any relationships of significance. She’d see them a few times and then it would fizzle out, they would move on to the next girl and she would move on to the next boy. She had been kissed before, but not with the passion and heat that Thomas gave her, no, certainly not. And she’d certainly never seen a man naked before. 

So the prospect of this man, this intoxicating, powerful, handsome, brilliant man taking her to bed tonight was in short–overwhelming. 

He drove them to the club, one called Embassy, and held his breath that she would still be as excited about it now as she was earlier in the week when he had told her. And she was. But he could sense some sort of hesitation, or reservation that she had about something. 

He ordered them both a drink and let her pick what she wanted to eat. He had told her on their first date that nothing was off limits and encouraged her to order whatever she wanted. Bee eyed him apprehensively from across the table after she’d ordered and he had asked for the same thing. He licked his lips and smirked at her. “You look stunning,” he said from across the table. 

Bee blushed under his gaze. “Thank you, Thomas.” 

After they both ate their food, Tommy took Bee to the dance floor, where he held her closely against his chest, a possessive hold on her body, daring any other man to ask her to dance. No one did. 

After an hour or so of dancing, Bee’s legs were tired and she asked Tommy if they could return to your table. “How about we just leave, hm?” he asked as she led him back to your table. 

She turned around when they reached their table, and he pulled out a wad of cash, putting enough on the table to pay for the meal and a generous tip. “Leave? So soon?” She asks, heart beating quickly in her chest. 

“The plans I have for us will last quite a while longer, angel.” he says, the baritone of his voice sparking something alight inside her, his hand grazing her lower back as he pulls his jacket back over his shoulders. 

She knew she had to tell him, she just didn’t know when or how or what to even say or how to bring it up. She didn’t want him needy and panting above her before she blurted out that she’d never done this before, but she also didn’t want the shock of seeing him naked in front of her written all over her face either. 

The ride back to his hotel was quiet. He massaged her thigh with one hand while the other steered the car. Bee’s mind whirred, every nerve in her body on alert.

He handed the keys to the valet and led her up to his hotel room on the top floor. “Thomas,” she started, shrugging her shawl off her shoulders as he went to pour himself a drink. 

“Hm?” he mumbled, the glass clinking against the barcart in the corner.

“I um, I don’t know exactly how to say this but–” he cut her off, striding across the room to her, grasping her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. 

“You’re an excellent dancer,” he whispered, pressing his lips to hers. 

She stepped out of her shoes, shrinking by a few inches. He cupped her face in his hands, the metal of his rings cool against her skin. 

“Thomas,” she started to try again when he pulled away, placing open mouthed kisses to the side of her neck. “Thomas, I–”

“Sh… let me take care of you.” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to her collarbone, causing a moan to escape her lips. 

Take care of me? Bee’s mind whirred with more questions than she thought you had. Her knowledge of sex was limited to the information she had heard her girlfriends talk of, and most of it was that they left more dissatisfied than when they started–that sex was for the man and very little for the woman. 

He pulled her from your intrusive thoughts, literally, and into the bedroom of his suite. Eyeing her, he unclasped his cufflinks, letting them fall to the dresser with a clatter. He pulled his holster off his shoulders, setting it on the chair by the door. His sleeve garters and braces were next, and, with a sudden sense of boldness and maybe intuition, she walked over to him and began unbuttoning his shirt. He smiled softly down at her as he began to unzip her dress in the back. Bee’s heart raced, unsure if she was really ready for this. And calculating when exactly was the right time to lay this in his lap. 

After his shirt was discarded, he helped her step out of her dress. Bee stood there, in nothing more than her bra and underwear. He let out a low growl, backing her against the bed. She fell onto it when the backs of her knees made contact with the mattress. He climbed on top of her, pressing needy kisses onto the tops of her breasts, grinding his hips against hers. 

She let out a surprised yelp, which caused him to pause his actions, if only for a second, to look at her in the eyes. “Are you alright?” he asked, noticing the color draining from her face. 

“Thomas–I–I have something I need to tell you,” she stammered, her hands on his chest. “I’ve never–never been with a man before.” She tells him and his facial expression changes. He climbs off of her slowly, standing up and moving to the nightstand where he grabs a cigarette and a match. “I’m sorry–I should’ve told you long ago.” She says, tears stinging her eyes. 

He doesn’t meet your expression, jaw clenched as he takes his first drag on that cigarette. A million thoughts slam into his mind at once. What was he doing with a good girl like her? A good, innocent, smart girl? He would be her ruin, there was no way around it. But oh, he cared for her. He’d only known her barely a month and he cared for her. His world had changed that moment when she’d made him drop his bottle of whiskey, ruining his suit pants. He’d looked up and looked into her eyes and there she was. Like she was made for him. Like she’d just been dropped into his lap. 

These conflicting thoughts wrestled in his mind as he smoked, looking out the window. 

“Thomas,” she said in a small voice. “Thomas, say something, please.” 

He stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray, clearing his throat. He shook his head. “You’re too good for me,” she opened her mouth to speak but he continued. “I’ve had a feeling all along that we’ve been together, but this just confirmed it for me, angel. You’re far too good for a man like me.” 

She sat on the end of the bed, getting cold, rubbing her arms for warmth, feeling more bare than ever. She chewed the inside of her cheek nervously, tears threatening to spill over her waterline. 

“Sweetheart,” he says softly, sitting on the bed next to her. “You deserve a man who will give you a comfortable, safe, brilliant life. A man who doesn’t have blood on his hands, who doesn’t have nightmares every night of the horrors he’s seen. A man who doesn’t drink whiskey like water and chainsmoke,” he said, chuckling to himself as he eyed his pack of cigarettes on the nightstand, aching for another one right then. “You deserve an honest, good man to take care of you. Not a man like me.” 

Bee’s heart cracked in her chest. She could feel it. The last month of getting to know Thomas, she knew he was rough. She knew he had demons. She knew he was a dangerous man who was involved in dangerous circles. She knew he was a man who did what he wanted and didn’t care what others thought or how it impacted their lives. Hell, the other night he had just admitted to marrying his younger brother off to a Gypsy family to put an end to a feud and didn’t care what his brother had to say about it. But, past all of these negative qualities, she could see something in his eyes when he laughed. Something in his eyes when he smiled, when he looked at her. When he told her to order whatever you want. She could see pieces of a wonderful man, pieces she wanted to put together, pieces she was willing to cut herself on if it meant being just a little closer to him. To his heart. 

“But what if I want a man like you, Thomas?” She says softly, eyes locking with his. 

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” he said, shaking his head. 

“I do. I know how you are. I’ve heard of what you do. And despite all of it, I’ve still answered the phone every time you’ve called, and gone every place with you that you’ve asked. I want to be with you, Thomas. Please believe me.” 

And he did. Oh he did. A romantic, optimistic piece of him that he thought he left in the tunnels in France resurfaced in that moment and he kissed her. He kissed her deeply, rolling her onto her back on the bed. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, pulling away, his forehead against hers. 

“Yes, Thomas.” 

“Because, after we do this–I don’t think I can ever let you go.” he said, his nose brushing against hers. 

“I don’t want you to let me go.” 

She wasn't sure how long later, he rolled off of her, breathless. She thought certainly he was going to die at any moment. “Are you alright?” She asked, breathless yourself. Were they both going to die here? Now? Like this? 

He smiled, a hand on his chest, the other dramatically draped over his forehead. “I am blissed out of my fucking brains, yes, I am alright. More than alright, actually.” 

He went to the washroom in his suite and she heard him running water. He returned with a warm rag and proceeded to begin to clean her up, starting with her most intimate parts. She hissed at the sensation, body sore. 

“Sorry,” he apologized, applying less pressure. “You may be sore for a little while.” 

He ran the warm rag over her inner thighs, her stomach, breasts and neck, pressing gentle kisses to your temples. “Is that how it always is?” She asks as he throws the cloth to the floor, satisfied with how she was cleaned. 

“What?” he asked, lying down next to her, pulling them both under the blankets. 

“Sex, is it always like that?” She asks. She wanted to ask if it was always that intense, that deep, that pleasurable, but in fear of being too frank, refrained. 

“With me, yes, it will be.” he said, pressing a full kiss to her lips. 

“I didn’t think–didn’t think it would feel like that for me.” She says, blushing. 

“Why would you say that?” he asks, thumb gently stroking her cheek. 

“My friends–the ones who have been with men before–they say that it’s not really pleasurable for a woman. That it’s more for the man's satisfaction than anything.” 

Tommy chuckled. “That’s a boy's philosophy, Darling,” he eyed her with a gaze so caring, so kind, her heart could’ve burst at that moment. “Your pleasure comes before mine, and the day I forget that,” he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Remind me, eh?” 

Thomas Shelby never forgot. 

The next morning Bee was awoken with Tommy’s head between her legs, her calves draped over his shoulders, body already trembling.  

“Thomas,” she moaned as the pleasure overwhelmed her. 

Tommy smirked, pulling away long after she was satiated and reached into the nightstand. A glittering diamond anklet was stashed there safely, ready for this exact moment. 

“What’s that?” she asked as he pressed kisses to her ankle, her foot, her leg. 

“Something for you to wear,” he smirked, loving how it looked on her. 

“Does it mean anything?” she asked. 

He smiled softly, running a hand up and down her smooth, soft legs. “Means you’re mine,” he said, crawling on top of her, kissing her, grinding his hips against hers. 

“I’m yours!” she gasped. 

He paused, pressing his forehead into hers, breathing heavily, head swimming with lust, desire overtaking every sense. “I’m the only one? The only one to ever see you like this?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she breathed, hands cupping his face gently as he pressed his lips against hers. “Do you like that?” she asked apprehensively. 

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Yes, my sweet girl, I love it,” he kissed her again. “You’re perfect. Made for me.” 

“Just for you, Tommy,” she breathed. 

He made love to her slowly, languidly, making her tremble under his touch, aching for more. 

“I think you’ll regret awakening this–sexual side of me, Thomas,” she giggled as they got cleaned up for lunch. 

“Why’s that?” he asked absentmindedly, focusing on shaving. 

“Because I think I may give you a run for your money on who has the bigger appetite,” she laughed, pulling her stockings up her legs. 

He raised his eyebrows, eyeing her in the mirror, the hungry way she looked at him. “Fine by me, Angel. Fine by me.” 

tag list: if tumblr isn't allowing me to tag you, please see this link for reasons why the tags aren't working. (most likely #3)

@peakyltd @cctoma @lyarr24 @shelbyteller @mrsnshelby88 @skydisneylover @babygaga67 @mariarozasworld @kemillyfreitas @cyphah

[twvstedsouls]

S1.01 - PEAKY BLINDERS

[loveisalwaystheanswer]

Grace "don't mess with me" Burgess

[epiphaniiii]

Peaky Blinders, S4