#thomas shelby x ofc

[sneakyblinders]

All His

A/N: another installment of the tommy x bee series aka Tommy and his darling wife!au <3 inspired by a lovely anon and @skydisneylover's asks for something with jealous tommy & how they said i love you <3 warnings: sexual themes, 18+ only, minors DNI. Alluding to smut, but no smut. Tommy being jealous/possessive, language. I take no credit for the gif! 1.5k words.

Tommy and Bee had been courting for two months. He felt like he was floating. In a dream. Having an out of body experience. This cannot be my life, he constantly thought to himself about this woman, this angel who graced his life with her time and attention. 

He began to bring her down to Birmingham on the weekends, sending a car for her up to London and having her brought to the Midland. He wanted her all to himself. Wanted to pleasure her, hold her, let her make all the noise she could manage without fear of his family overhearing and giving them both grief for it over breakfast. Wanted no one but himself to hear her mewls, her groans, whines, moans. The way she fucking moans makes him fall apart in her hands. 

She was everything he was not. Kind, charming, elegant, classy. She matched him in intelligence and wit. He had not seen her get angry with anyone besides him but once–she was calm–always soothing. 

In the back of his mind he knew she was too good for him. Out of his league. He knew she would one day discover his darkness, the depths of hell he had been through, and would deem him unredeemable. He was preparing for the day when his heart would be shattered, and his world would go from vibrant color back to shades of gray. 

But he loved her. He knew he loved her from the first few times they had really spent time together. Knew he loved her definitely from the first time they’d made love. How nervous she was to tell him she’d never done anything like this with a man before. His heart ached to tell her that he loved her. That he desperately loved her–that she was all he thought of day and night. He couldn’t bear to be apart from her any longer. Needed her, wanted her in Birmingham, sharing his bed, his home, his life. But he was terrified of her rejection, or worse, of her acceptance, and later, her rejection and abandonment.

So in the meantime, he showered her with gifts. Perfumes, dresses, lingerie, flowers. He bought her a mother of pearl watch with a gold band after they had been courting for a month. The next week he made love to her for the first time and bought her a delicate diamond anklet, clasping it on, her legs still thrown over his shoulders, still shaking from the pleasure he had brought her to seconds before. He’d recently discovered an emerald baguette necklace and instantly thought it needed to adorn her neck. 

He was walking faster than normal through Birmingham to get to the Midland, anxious to see her. Feel her. Touch her. Hear her voice. He walked through the doors and heard her giggle. Brow furrowed, he walked into the lounge, where she sat across from a young man who was flirting, telling her some ridiculous story. 

“Oh, there he is,” she said, looking at Tommy, breathless from laughing. Jealousy pooled in Tommy’s gut, knowing the day of her finding a better man was approaching soon. “It was lovely to talk to you, Sam,” she said, standing up to walk towards Tommy. “Hello, handsome,” she said, reaching up to kiss him on the lips. 

Far too distracted in his thoughts, he didn’t lean into her like he normally did, causing her to pull away far earlier than she would like. “Hello, darling,” he rasped, a hand on the small of her back. “Go on up to the room, I’m going to get some whiskey and I’ll be up, hm?” he said. She nodded before disappearing up the stairs to their room. 

He thoughtlessly retrieved a bottle of Irish whiskey from the bar before slowly walking up to the room. He groaned when he pushed the door open and saw her lying in the middle of the giant bed in nothing but a baby pink silk babydoll slip he’d bought for her. 

“Are you alright?” she asked as he kicked the door closed behind him and turned the lock. 

“Just tired, Darling. S’all,” he mumbled, walking to the window and closing the curtains. 

He set the bottle of whiskey down on the nightstand closest to the door–the side of the bed he always deemed as his. “Are you certain?” she asked as he loosened his tie and removed his jacket from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. 

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Been a long week and I’ve been looking forward to this since we left last time,” he said, unclasping his cufflinks as she rubbed her thighs together, dying from the anticipation, growing needy at this show of undressing he was making. 

“But,” she began as he removed his sleeve garters and braces from his shoulders. “You didn’t kiss me like you normally do,” she said, widening her eyes and batting her eyelashes at him as he unbuttoned his shirt. 

“Mm,” he threw his shirt and undershirt in the pile of discarded clothes on the floor. “And how do I normally kiss you, hm?” he asked, crawling on top of her on the bed. 

“Like a starved man,” she said, legs wrapping around his waist. 

“Mm, I see,” he kissed her neck. “If I am a starved man, then you are the meal I’ve waited my whole life for, eh?” he pressed his hips into hers, causing a whimper to leave her lips. Her hands moved down to unfasten his trousers and push them down his legs, along with his undershorts, leaving him bare atop her. His hand moved up to grip her jaw, causing her to gasp, eyes flying open. “Who was that man?” he asked, jaw clenched. 

“What man?” she asked, eyes wide in fear. 

“The man in the lounge,” he said, anger pouring from his words. 

“I don’t know, some man who wanted to ask if I knew of any good pubs,” she swallowed. “I told him the Garrison,” she said, flinching at his grip. “Thomas, please, you’re hurting me,” she whimpered. 

He loosened his grip immediately, breathing heavily. “If you want to run off with another man, just say it, Bee,” he said, sitting up and reaching for his bottle of whiskey, taking a long swig straight from the bottle. 

She sat up, hurt and confusion running through her mind. “Thomas, I’m not going anywhere,” she said, fighting back tears. 

He took another long pull on the bottle before setting it down with a thud and crawling back on top of her, laying her flat on her back. “Say it again,” he demanded, clasping her jaw in his hand again. 

“What?” she asked. 

“Say it again,” he demanded, pressing his hips into hers. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Thomas,” she repeated. 

“Tell me you’re mine,” he told her, dipping down to nip at a particularly sensitive spot on her neck that drove her wild.

“I’m all yours, Thomas,” she told him breathlessly, legs wrapping around his hips again. 

“Again,” he breathed, slinking down her body. 

“All yours!” she cried breathlessly. 

By midnight he was drunk. He didn’t make a habit of being drunk, and he actually couldn’t remember the last time he was properly drunk. But between the pleasure high he was riding and being thoroughly intoxicated with this woman, he had lost track of how much he had drunk until the bottle was nearly half empty. 

“Got something for ‘ya,” he said, walking over to his discarded jacket and fishing out the necklace he had bought her. 

“Thomas,” she scolded as he held it out, clasping it for her around her neck. “It’s beautiful, thank you,” she told him, pressing a kiss to his lips. 

They fell back onto the bed together, legs intertwined, her fingers drawing shapes on his chest while he lit a cigarette. “I don’t think I could deny you anything y’know?” he said. 

“Why’s that?” she giggled. 

“Those eyes,” he said, shaking his head. “Those fucking eyes could get me to do anything, I swear,” he said and she continued to giggle. 

“Anything?” 

“Yeah,” he said. “I have something else to tell ‘ya, but I know you don’t feel the same fuckin’ way so don’t laugh at me, eh?” he said. 

“Oh, Thomas, please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “What is it?” she asked, a hand over his heart. 

“I love you, Bee,” he said gently, all the tenderness in his mind, heart, body poured into those words. “I have from the moment I saw ya, I think,” he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. “There ya have it. Tommy Shelby–in love.” 

She looked at him with an awestruck expression, all words escaping her. “Thomas,” she breathed. 

“Ya don’t have to say it back, I know someone like you could never love someone like me,” he said, sitting up and reaching for his whiskey again. 

“Thomas,” she said again as he tipped his head back, taking a long drink.

“Hm?” 

She took his bottle and put it on her nightstand, before taking his head in her hands. “I love you too, Thomas,” a smile appeared on his face. “I didn’t think you were the kind of man to say I love you, that’s why I didn’t say it sooner,” she confessed. 

“I’m not the kind of man to say it,” he admitted. “But if you want to hear it, I’ll say it every day for the rest of my life,” he told her, happiness overwhelming him. 

“Are you happy, Thomas?” she asked.

“So fucking happy, Darling.” he breathed, kissing her. “All mine?” he asked, pulling away from her to look at her fully.

“All yours,” she said, smiling as he kissed her again. 

[vmrsdias]

I need help from Thomas Shelby fan readers, some time ago I was reading a story where Thomas had cheated on Y/N, the two of them had two children (Charles and Ruby), Y/N had kicked Thomas out of the house. I hope someone knows it because I would like to read it again. if anyone could help me thank you ❤️

[midnightswithdearkatytspb]

Visitor (Tommy Shelby x OFC!Estella Holland)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x (OFC) Estella Holland

Warning: Slight Swearing, A Slap, Death, Talks of Death, Tuberculosis, Taking Herbs

Word Count: 0.9K

Synopsis: Tommy goes to bed in one place and wakes up in another. He isn’t sure it’s real.

Notes: Divider is made by the beautiful @firefly-graphics; I know nothing about gems, but I did google and read my mother’s gemstone book, so please don’t come for me. 

Tommy wasn’t sure how it happened. He went to bed in his vardo in the middle of nowhere and woke up in the middle of the forest, Estella, his beautiful gorgeous wife sitting beside a fire. His beautiful dead wife, the one Tommy had just laid to rest just two months ago. When he first saw Estella, he thought it was just another vision his war-damaged brain conjured up again, but when she hugged him from behind, Tommy felt her lips on his neck and smelled the flowers on her skin. He knew it was his Estella. 

“So this is heaven, eh? I’ve got to say I never really believed in such a place. The closest I ever got to believing was when we were together, but this, this must be it, if we are together again.” Tommy grabbed ahold of Estella around the waist and pulled her to his lap as she laughed. Her laughter was music to his ears, even years after being together. Estella threw her arms around Tommy’s neck as he placed his forehead against hers. 

“Every day we were together was our little piece of heaven, but this is permeant. You’re here because you needed me. Why did you need me, Tommy?” Estella nudged their noses against one another, trying to get her husband to open his eyes to look at her. Meanwhile, Tommy felt his heart drop to the bottom of his stomach. She had to be real and not a dream or a mirage. Estella felt so real. Tommy could feel the velvet fabric of the dress she was wearing against his palms.

“Tommy, why did you ask Esme for the herbs to make you go to sleep? Why did you need me so badly?” Tommy felt a cold soft hand brush against his face. It was ice cold. It was so chilling for them to be so close to the fire, and suddenly he felt his heart breaking again. But, of course, it was not real. It was never real, to begin with. 

Cold lips brushed against Tommy, pulling him from his never-ending thoughts. Tommy opened his eyes to the lips, kissing him every day and night with love and tenderness. Tommy knew this was his Estella, whom he loved and cared for. 

“It’s Ruby. She got tuberculosis as well. It already took you from me. I couldn’t save you and break the fookin’ curse. The doctors don’t give her much time, but I thought if I came to you, you could do something, Estella, she’s our angel, and I can’t lose her too. I don’t think the kids could take losing their sister too.” Estella pulled Tommy into her chest. It wasn’t often her husband cried. Currently was probably one of the handfuls of times she had seen it happen, and they all had to do with their children and her. She knew this was serious, her daughter was lying in a hospital bed dying, and her husband had almost died via herb ingestion to see her. 

“Here is how we’ll fix this, Tommy.” Estella pulled her husband's head back from her body so they looked each other in the eye as she wiped his tears away with the pad of her thumbs like he often did for her. 

“In my jewelry box is a citrine necklace. Please take it to Esme, have her charge it, put it on Ruby, and ask her to make a balm. When you see Ruby Tommy, you must promise to wear your mask. So kids can’t lose you too.” Tommy took a deep breath, like most times when trying to keep himself from fighting with his wife. 

“If it’s my time to go, it’s my time to go. The kids have Polly and Aberama. They do not need me.” Tommy’s face flung to the side as Estella slapped her husband's face. Then furious at him, she stood up and started to pace. 

“Don’t you dare say that our children do not need you, Thomas Michael Shelby. You are the only parent they have left! I fought so hard to stay for all of you. Tommy, I would still be there if I could, Tommy, but I can’t. So that means it’s up to you to be both the mother and the father. You need to be the one that bandages scratches, cuddles the monsters away, settles the disputes, eases the heartaches, and most of all, has the heart to hearts. It’s okay to go to Ada, my sister, or Polly for help, but you need to be the one to do this. You are their father. Act like it, and show them you care. Don’t be like our fathers.” Estella leaned to her knees before him with her hands in his, pleading with him, tears running down her eyes. 

“You will never be alone, Tommy, because I’m always going to be in your heart, because you promised to love me with all your heart, but the thing is, you couldn’t. You shared your heart with our beautiful baby boy Charlie and girls Josie, Ruby, and baby Eliza. They will always make sure you are never alone again, either.” Estella stood with Tommy’s hand in hers, yanking him to his feet. The bonfire had gone out. The air was suddenly freezing, colder than he remembered. 

“I love you, Thomas Shelby.” Tommy started to look around as he began to notice the forest around them was getting darker and darker. 

“I love you more, Estella.” one last lonely tear slipped down Tommy’s cheek as Estella kissed him, whispering in his ear.

“Wake up, Tommy.”

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven In Your Eyes || Masterlist

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC (Heaven Lavey Shelby)

Additional content/Info: CLICK HERE

Fic Summary: He meets her at church one dreary night, guided by her singing. Her name? Heaven Lavey. White ivory hair, fair porcelain skin, and petite shape, this almost ethereal creature is Arthur's strict opposite. Yet, all it took was one dive into her heavenly eyes for him to be convinced God has sent His sweetest angel to save his bastard soul. The two lovebirds, obsessed with each other, are determined to live their love no matter people's judgments and no matter the dangers of a Peaky Blinder's life. They are together through the best and through the worst.

But behind her holy appearance and sweet facade, Heaven Lavey is dangerous. With rumors of witchcraft and murder, her shady past weighs on her shoulders. And if she is a blessing for Arthur Shelby, she will soon prove to be a curse for those who dare to stand in her and her husband's way. Even Thomas Shelby himself.

She is Arthur’s Angel, but don't get fooled by her doe eyes: for the rest of us, she is the White Devil.

And by extend, you are too.

Why? Because Heaven Lavey… It’s you.

TW: Major character death, explicit sexual content, canonical violence, graphic description of violence, blasphemy, witch trials and burning of innocent women, dependent relationship (if Arthur and Heaven are happy in their relationship, they are obsessed and possessive, which leads to bursts of violence and deifying from Arthur. By no means I am claiming their relationship is healthy, but it is what works for them)

ACT I. SACRILEGE

♢ Ch. 1 || Heaven in Your Eyes

♢ Ch. 2 || Never Did, Never Dared

♢ Ch. 3 || Something Wicked This Way Comes 🔞

♢ Ch. 4 || Dead Bird at Witchin Hour

♢ Ch. 5 || The Hell in His Eyes

♢ Ch. 6 || The One They Should Have Burned

♢ Ch. 7 || Of Matches and Gasoline 🔞

♢ Ch. 8 || Tango on Broken Dreams

ACT II. CARNAGE

♢ Ch. 9 || For Whom the Bells Toll

♢ Ch. 10 || Closer to Heaven or Closer to Hell? 🔞

♢ Ch. 11 || When The Bridges Burn

♢ Ch. 12 || As They Always Did

♢ Ch. 13 || Cross My Heart and Hope to Die

♢ Ch. 14 || Pure As a Lamb 🔞

♢ Ch. 15 || Women Like Me in a Men's World

♢ Ch. 16 || Après Moi le Déluge

♢ Ch. 17 || Our Old Friend Death (c o m i n g . . .)

♢ Ch. 18 || Il Diàvulu Biancu

♢ Ch. 19 || Empire of Lies

♢ Ch. 20 || The Fog of Silent Hills

ACT III.

♢ Ch. 21 ||

♢ Ch. 22 ||

♢ Ch. 23 ||

♢ Ch. 24 ||

♢ Ch. 25 ||

♢ Ch. 26 ||

♢ Ch. 27 ||

♢ Ch. 28 ||

♢ The series can be longer.

Some events from the show are taken and obviously reworked. Yet, except for a few quotes and scenes, everything else is imagined by the author.

Related works - in chronological order-

♢ From Blood We Will Grow

♢ To Bark and Bite

♢ Kaiser Meeting Cyril (requested)

♢ A Bone to Pick With It (requested)

♢ Perfect Lines

♢ Savage Daughter

♢ A Slice of Us (Modern!HYE)

♢ Love Ritual (@zablife's celebration)

♢ The Woods Whisper 1, 2 (Halloween Horror)

♢Little Lamb 1, 2, 3 (Yandere!AU)

Moodboards and other content

♢ Playlist

♢ Moodboard Aesthetic

♢ Moodboard Chapter 6

♢Heaven In your Eyes Act II trailer

♢ Moodboard Chapter 12

♢ Heaven in your Eyes chapter 16 trailer

Looking for more? Check out Heaven's masterlist I and II

Taglist:

@adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @meowtastics @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @justrainandcoffee @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @copinghex @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @cherubswhispers @lokigirlszendaya e @mischievouslittlecreature @he6rtshaker @bemyqueenofdarkness @cljordan-imperium @red-riding-wood @jjovin3221 @06nasyrah13 @randomcreator-09 @weepingdreammarvel

[justrainandcoffee]

Deal (Tommy Shelby vs. oc!Solomons) + (Alfie Solomons x fem!oc) Part 1

“You're a lamb entering the territory of a hungry wolf.”

Masterlist

Summary: Why is Thomas Shelby in front of Mrs. Solomons? Just business. Tommy just needs information. But first he needs to deal with Rose Solomons who, unlike her husband, has no sympathy for the man sitting in her office. And yet, they know how to make a deal. "A soul for a soul, Mr. Shelby."

Warnings: Mentions of dead, killing. Allusions to sex. Mentions of physical violence. Misogyny.

Words: 4.5k. || Special thanks to @look-at-the-soul who helped me today 🙃♥️.

1924.

Yesterday

"The bastard is a fookin' ghost!" yelled Arthur.

The Garrison was empty except for those members of the Peaky Blinders, allowed to be there. There was a person that they couldn't find. An Irishman called Nicholas Baker, possible member of the IRA. Last time they saw him, it was he when he shot a blinder and left him to die in the streets. He escaped before Arthur or anyone else could catch him.

Since then, the brothers and the rest of the gang were looking for him no succeed. Not just because he killed a man they know, but also because they were sure he was a spy.

"Maybe he's dead," suggested Isaiah.

"No. He's alive and living in London." This time, Tommy Shelby's voice could be heard all over the place. "And Elias is not the only person he killed. And his real name is Sean Patrick O'Finn."

Tommy dropped a newspaper in front of his brother and Arthur read it out loud.

"His own sister! He fookin' killed his sister!"

"And tried to killed his wife as well, according to the neighbours. She escaped." Tommy sat in his usual place as he lit up a cigarette and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He looked at Arthur and the rest of his men.

"We have nothing, then! He can be in middle of fookin' Russia by now." Arthur was frustrated as usual.

"I don't think so. I think he's still there in London, and as we know, police is useless. London is a big city and they don't care. People are killed every day" Tommy lit another cigarette "but I'm going to find him. And I'm going to put a bullet in his head, too."

"You don't know where to start, Tommy!" Arthur furrowed brow and look at his brother.

"Yes, I do know where to start. I need to talk to his wife."

"But do you know where this woman is, Tom?"

"Yes."

.

The Solomons residence in London was quiet. Rose was working and Alfie just arrived there over an hour ago. He was about to rest his back in bed when their maid announced that he had a call.

"It's Mr. Shelby," the woman said. She saw him do a grimace, but he said nothing to her.

"Thanks, Doris."

Alfie entered his office and closed the door behind before picking up the phone. Every time Tommy called it meant problems, usually for him. But this time what Tommy said, took him by surprise.

"Are ya mad?"

"I just need her this time, Alfie."

"She will kill ya, mate."

"No, she won't. Your wife isn't a killer."

"Maybe. But the women around her are. Honestly, Tom, they're a pack of fuckin' bloody wolves claiming for men flesh. You're a little lamb entering the territory of a hungry wolf. Rosie is the leader of that pack, if she gives the order next time I'll see ya it'll be in your own fuckin' funeral... If I find your body." On the other side of the line, Tommy opened a drawer and picked up some papers and started to take some notes. Sometimes Alfie exaggerated, especially if he was talking about his wife. As far as Tommy knew, Rose Solomons just worked helping women in need and in the streets fighting for equal rights. The few times he saw her in Alfie's place she didn't seem to be a menace to anyone.

"They're just women, eh?"

"My Rosie isn't just a woman, Tommy. She's me wife." Alfie sighed "Rosie will decorate the fuckin' Christmas tree they put on her workplace with your balls."

"I'll take a risk, then. Just wanted to inform you."

"Fine. But I'm not going to tell her yet. I prefer she knows it on her own… good luck then, Tom."

1924.

Today. London.

It's only 7am and the Solomons were making love for the second time in the morning. Rose didn't know what her husband was thinking, or feeling, that he had waking up so passionated but she wasn't complaining either.

"Alfie… I can't… god…" her back arched and her toes curled once last time until she fell on the mattress, completely satisfied. She could feel Alfie finish as well.

The man stayed on top of her few minutes more, catching his breath, before rolling on his back, laying next to her. Alfie opened his arms and invited her to be against his chest.

"Are you fine?" she asked kissing his neck.

"Feelin' like a God now, luv. Why do ya ask? You're talking like we never fuck like this before."

"I ask, because I know that sometimes you use sex to channel your frustrations and I just want to know you're fine."

"I'm perfect, Rosie. Gimme some time and we can repeat it."

She laughed. "No way you still have energy, Al. I can't, I've to work. Tonight, maybe."

In response, Alfie kissed her. That same night, probably she wants to kill him. He had talked to Tommy the day before and she didn't know. Alfie was just trying his best to calm her before the storm. Although spending time with her, it was always beautiful. The kiss continued until she pulled apart slowly. He caressed her cheek. Rose knew that Alfie definitely was hiding something from her, but she didn't know what. After one last brief kiss, she sat down in bed and then walked to the bathroom to take a shower.

Alfie stayed in bed, thinking about his friend going to his wife's place. In all those years, over a decade since it was founded, he visited her school just twice. Once when it was inaugurated, when they met each other again, and the other one after the war. They had an implicit deal: "You don't interfere with my business and I don't interfere with yours" even if they asked each other for some advice, suggestions or help. He was a bit worried about her, even when he knew that Tommy wasn't going to hurt her.

When Rose went out the bathroom, she found him sitting in bed, stretching his back, ready to have breakfast. She approached him and played gently with his hair.

"Thought you're going to join the shower."

Alfie put his hands on her hips and pushed her down on his knees. She was wrapped with a towel and when Alfie kissed her shoulder, he smelled the fresh soap on her skin.

"Ya didn't invited me."

"Since when you need invitation?" she chuckled and put her arms around him. Her hands were stroking the back of his neck. Rose was staring at him, "are you sure you're fine?"

"I am, Rosie."

"Okay," she didn't believe him, but she wasn't going to pressure him either. Instead, she kissed him and he reciprocate immediately. Her towel fell on the floor and she felt him ready to be with her once more.

Never two without three.

.

Arrow house

By the dawn of the next day, every Shelby knew where the leader was going. If they had any opinion about it, they didn't share it. A car was parked outside Arrow House with three men in it.

"I'm going now," announced Tommy. His black coat was over a chair and he took it. "Johnny Dogs and the Smiths are coming with me."

Arthur chuckled. "Johnny Dogs? And the Smith brothers? Ain't too much, Tom? Four men to visit just a bunch of pussies and tits? They're just chicks."

"Not according to Alfie."

"According to fookin' Alfie! The fookin' Alfie! Ya believe him?"

"Yes. Alfie will never allow me to be near his wife, if he didn't know now that she's safe. I know that. And if she's safe that means she's surrounded by an army."

"Are ya planning to kill them?"

"I don't kill women, Arthur. And I don't want problems with Alfie. It's just in case."

"So take me with ya!"

"Arthur, no offense but you don't know how to deal with a Solomons. Stay here and take care of the business, eh? I'll be back at night, probably or tomorrow."

"Tom! Tommy!" the eldest brother yelled but the other man already reached the door.

"Goodbye, Arthur. Tell Pol, that I left her a letter under the flowerpot."

.

Pebblebrock was Rose Solomons' former manor and prison hell at the same time. Now it was a beautiful school for girls and at the same time it served as a roof for some women who had run from their abusive homes.

As the owner, she was the one in charge even when she had several women in which she trusted working with her side by side. But the final decision on everything was always hers.

Alfie, and Tommy too, were right. The place and Rose, were surrounded by women specifically trained to kill. It wasn't uncommon for men to try to reach those who they already hurt. The rules were crystal clear MEN ARE NOT ALLOWED IN PEBBLEBROCK. The ones who didn't understand the warning were now resting eternally in a cemetery.

Men were only allowed if they were doctors or priests. The institution had nurses and two nuns who volunteered to help there. But sometimes a doctor was required, same with priests. Any other men should call for an appointment, only under that circumstances their entrance were allowed.

.

"Look at this fucking place."

From the road, Tommy, Johnny Dogs and the Smith brothers were watching the entire property. The gardens extended beyond their sight.

"Full of pussies, it's my fucking paradise. An all-you-can-eat-fucking restaurant" commented Gregory Smith. Except Tommy, the rest of them laughed.

.

Rose heard the crows. That was never a good signal.

"Now who?" she thought for herself. A lot of names crossed her mind, but none of them was the right answer.

Five minutes later a knock on her office's door brought the answer.

"Who?" she asked not believing her ears.

"Mr. Thomas Shelby, Mrs. Solomons" repeated the woman in front of her. "He says he needs you."

"The Thomas Shelby?"

But unaware of who he was the other woman didn't respond.

"Yeah, well. Tell him I'm coming."

"There are three other men with him, Mrs. Solomons."

Of course.

The day was beautiful. Cloudless sky and almost no wind. It'd be perfect if not for Tommy Shelby in her property.

"Didn't you read the sign?" she said greeting them "men are not allowed here."

"Good morning, Mrs. Solomons," said Tommy with deep voice.

"It is, Tommy. It is."

It always was intrigued him that a man like Alfie could be so devoted to a woman who barely reached his shoulders. His Rosie. Alfie Solomons could start a war against the king and the Pope if something happened to that woman.

Gregory Smith had another idea.

"We don't follow rules, sweetheart. We're the peaky fucking blinders."

"The Peaky who?" Rose looked at the man "Who the fuck are you?"

"The audacity of this bitch. It's a Solomons, eh?"

"Gregory…" warned Tommy.

"Yeah. I'm a Solomons. Proud of it. But I'm quite dumb, Gregory. So I need your help, I only know how to count to two. Like, one, two… what's next?"

"Three."

BANG.

A woman stading behind Rose was holding a gun.

The bullet impacted his head. The man was already dead when his body collapsed on the ground. Rose just looked her pocket watch and then clicked her tongue.

"Men are not allowed here," she repeated. "You understand the warnings now or you what to be the next?"

Tommy looked at the dead body.  The blonde woman behind Rose was staring at him and Tommy knew that she wasn't joking. One more step and it couldn't be any difference between a Gruyère cheese and him.

Tommy sent Johnny Dogs and the remaining man again to the car. He also gave his gun to his friend.

"Ya sure, Tom?"

"Just go, Johnny."

When Tommy turned around again, he saw the woman extending her arm, she moved her hand "gimme the fucking cap."

Again, Tommy did what she said. She gestured him to follow her.

The interior of her office was elegantly decorated. An expensive rug on the floor matched the wallpaper and the mahogany desk. Lots of books were perfectly ordered on the bookshelves. Rose Solomons invited him to take seat on one of her velvety armchairs. Tommy followed her with his eyes. Now his cap was over the head of a marble bust representing Aphrodite, just behind her, looking at him. The woman sat behind her desk and put her hands under her chin.

"We have a beautiful garden here. A greenhouse full of exotic flowers and plants. Was your man married? I'd like to send the widow some flowers."

"He wasn't."

"Better, then."

Her brown eyes never leave his blue ones and same as Alfie, he felt she was trying to anticipate his movements. But Tommy didn't express any emotion.

"So? What the hell is doing Thomas Michael Shelby here? My husband isn't here."

"Not looking for Alfie."

"That's fucking new considering the mutual obsession you have with each other."

Tommy curved his lips, barely smiling. "I'm here purely for business, Mrs. Solomons."

"I'm not the kind of person you do business with."

"You are."

Both of them remained in silence for several seconds. Probably she was unaware of it, but Tommy noticed some mannerisms in her that he had witnessed in Alfie before. She was thinking while playing with her fingers. Impossible to say who copied who.

"What kind of business? Illegality has no place here," she finally said.

"I need to know where a certain man is."

Before she could say something Tommy saw the door opening and a beautiful woman in her mid-forties, entered Mrs. Solomons' office. She greeted him with a movement of her head and then started to talk to Rose in French but she stopped her almost immediately.

"This isn't going to work now, Geraldine. The man knows french," she said pointing to him "same as Alfie he fought in France during years. Tell Edith to come. She speaks Hebrew."

Geraldine nodded before leaving again.

"You do that often? Speaking other language in front of strangers?" Tommy settled in the armchair.

"Don't you do the same? I'm sure that speaking Romani is very useful if you want to express something to a friend or relative but you don't want the other to know what are you saying. Don't judge me, Mr. Shelby."

Edith, Tommy asummed it was her, was barely in her 20s, probably she was still a teen. Young and with a cheerful face, the girl approached Mrs. Solomons and both of them started to talk in Hebrew, a language he couldn't understand. For a moment, Rose looked at him sideways.

"Thanks, Edith" she said and the girl left without looking at Tommy. "One of your men tried to sneak in my school. Or they're fucking dumbs or they're really ready to visit God."

"Fucking hell…" Tommy rolled his eyes before breathing deeply. He was sure it wasn't Johnny Dogs but the other Smith. "Listen, Mrs. Solomons, I didn't give the order. I didn't know."

"I know, he acted by his own. Good news is he's alive. Bad news is my girls are taking care of him. It depends on you what I'm going to do with him. Alfie knew you were coming, didn't he?"

"I called him yesterday."

Rose sighed "Yes, of course he knew. Of course he fucking knew," his actions that morning now it made sense to her. Not because it wasn't unsual for them to have sex in the morning, but because there was something in his eyes that his mouth wasn't saying. And after all those years together, Rose knew him very well. "Anyway… what do you want do with your man, Mr. Shelby?"

"Can I smoke?"

"If you go next to the window and put your hand with the cigarette out, I don't have any problem. But I don't want smoke here."

She saw how he stood up and walked towards the window. That one in particular faced one of the gardens where the rosebushes were. In spring and summer, the sweet smell of roses invaded her office and it was something that she really liked.

When that morning Arthur asked him why he took three men with him just to visiting a school and women's residence, Tommy  was exploring his chances. Better Gregory Smith than him. He trusted Johnny Dogs, he was a loyal, obedient man. But the Smiths…

"Kill him if you want," Tommy finally said "if my man can't follow my orders, then he should face the consequences. This is your place after all, Mrs. Solomons."

"Edith told me he was screaming that he wanted to avenge his brother."

"Yes. The one you kill it was his brother." Tommy glanced at her. A ghost of a smile was on his face.

"I never killed anyone, Mr. Shelby."

"You don't need to hold a gun and shoot to be a murderer. Most of the murderers just give the order behind their desks."

"Well, he'd be alive if he hadn't been an asshole. It's all about the rules, Mr. Shelby. The sign is there for a reason and if you ask me, you don't seem very concerned about your man's death."

"Rules, eh? Something tells me you're not very fond to follow them, either, Mrs. Solomons. How was the prison?" Tommy blew another puff of smoke out the window, but kept looking at her.

"Pretty cold. Full of cooties and rats. I named one in your honour, that's a tradition that we the Solomons have. Name a goat, name a rat… How's Arfah, by the way? Alfie misses him."

"Thanks for the honour, Mrs. Solomons. Arthur wanted to come. I told him he doesn't know how to deal with a Solomons."

"Oh," she grinned. "And you do?"

"I'm pretty confident about it. It worked in the past."

"I have no doubts about it. But I'm not my husband, Mr. Shelby. I don't fall for a pair of blue eyes and a chiseled face and most of all, I don't trust men."

Tommy threw the remaining of his cigarette in a basket that was there and walked again to the seat in front of her. He crossed his legs and rested his hands over his stomach.

"Do you want to fuck me, Mrs. Solomons?"

"Yes. Just bring me a bottle of cyanide to accompany the moment. And then I want to hug a black mamba. Your place or mine?"

Tommy chuckled. "Wherever you prefer, sweetheart."

Far away from being intimidated by the confidence he was exuding, Rose just scratched her chin.

"Alfie accepted? I mean, if this is the way you deal with a Solomons..."

"Never asked."

"Oh, you should have. The answer maybe could suprise you. But, let me tell you something, Tommy. Can I call you Tommy?" he nodded. Rose left her armchair and approached the man. He followed her with his eyes. Her face was now in front of his, their noses were touching. Both pair of eyes were staring at each other. Tommy felt her breath on his skin "I know who you are, Tommy. Reputation precedes you. I know how you do business with women. But here's the thing: I'm not them. And yes, I'm a Solomons, yes Alfie and I we have lot of similarities. But I'm not Alfie. I'm not interesting in you as a man and if your cock is the only thing you have to offer me, you're wasting your time here… sweetheart." Rose inhaled deeply "God! I never killed anyone, but I swear the devil keep tempting me. How about having your head as a trophy hunting hanging on this office? But…" Rose moved her head back again "as I said, I'm not a murderer."

"Alfie is a lucky man, Mrs. Solomons," Tommy said once she returned to her seat behind the desk.

"Is he?" She tilted her head.

"Believe me." Tommy straighted on his armchair "and I'm sure If something happens to him, I'm sure you're going to heard the devil that keeps telling you to kill someone."

"Be sure of that. If anything happens to my Alfie, the only one who can stop me is Alfie himself. I hope nothing happens to him, EVER. You know about it, don't you?. Your late wife, we knew what happened. I can't imagine the pain."

"No, you can't imagine. But I'm getting over it." Tommy cleared his throat "Mrs. Solomons, I need information."

"In exchange of…"

"Mutual respect."

Rose snorted. "Yes, sure. Alfie could be delighted when I tell him. Information means business, Mr. Shelby. And whiskey is for business, innit?"

She opened a cabinet in her desk and put a bottle of whiskey with the Solomons logo on it. Behind her, were two glasses that she grabbed. A rose was engraved on them.

"I didn't know you drink," he said.

"Only in very few occasions. I prefer just tea for the rest of the day. So? You tell me."

Tommy drank a sip of whiskey before talking again. In his mind the image of Elias dead on the streets of Small Heath appeared again. Contrary to Gregory Smith, Elias was a good man. Her widow was pregnant and a payroll wasn't enough for the woman to compensate her for her husband's death. Yet, it was the only thing that Tommy could do.

"I'm looking for Mrs. Baker."

"There are several, Tommy. It's a very common name. Any details?

"It's an Irishwoman. I don't know her appearance but her husband killed her sister-in-law. It means his own sister."

"Sonia," mumbled her, "but the last name isn't Baker. It's O'Finn. Although she said that prefers her own surname. I'm going to keep that information to me until you tell me what the hell is going on."

From the murdered committed in Birmingham to the one in London's underground. Tommy told her about his suspicions that O'Finn was a member of the IRA and how he, Tommy, was now a target of them. Again.

"If that's true," she replied "then no matter what, your head already had a price and it's not going to be me the one hanging it on my office, but them. Nowadays it's very easy to send a message to the other side of the map. A telegram or a phone call… I don't understand why do you want to talk to this woman if he already communicated with his people."

"Because I don't think he did that. He's hiding. He's a fucking rat."

"Ok. Well, there's a lot of problems first. Mrs. O'Finn, she's not in conditions to talk. Even if she can, you're not allowed to be near her and this is not negotiable. These women are under my wing. Not you, not fucking Churchill can be near them. I don't give a fuck if you bring an order from the fucking president of I-don't-know-where. Understood? I have women specialized in talk to women with the kind of trauma that Sonia has, so, think about twice before suggesting another way to do this."

"The less people know about it, the better, Rose."

She pointed to the door, silently. Tommy sighed. "Fine. But I prefer that you can be present. And me too. Or at least I want to hear everything by myself."

"Agree. We have a place we can use. I need to tell you, or better say, reminder you that Sonia is highly traumatized. Yes, she's alive but the price she paid…" Rose stood up again but this time she walked to one of her bookshelves and picked up a carpet, although to do it she had to climb a ladder. "Tommy, I don't have this rule of "men aren't allowed" just because I'm fucking misandristic bitch, I'm not. I believe in equal rights. I fight for equality. I have that sign because people here, women, kids… are afraid of your kind. I have a register for every single woman that lived here since 1911 when I inaugurated this place. Open the folder."

Tommy obeyed and his first reaction was exactly what Rose hoped to get "Shit…"

The first page was the document of a woman who lived there in 1914 before volunteering as nurse in France, Rose never saw her again. Her name was Rita Brown, 20 years old. She escaped from her house because her father was an abuser. He ended up cutting her face marking a cross on her.

"I don't allow men, because we don't know what kind of bastard will cross that gate. Your man, that Gregory, he's not the first. Dozens before him, I'm genuinely surprised that if you talked to Alfie yesterday he didn't mention my women."

"He did."

"So you knew."

Tommy nodded and Rose studying his face laughed . Suddenly she understood. "You bring this bastard on purpose! You fucking did! You wanted him dead. Fucking hell, Tommy. I heard things a lot of things about you and I'm still impressed. The brother, too? You wanted me to rid off the other guy, too?"

"Why not?"

"Fine. I don't give a shit. One less." She returned to her seat and rang a bell. The same young girl called Edith appeared. Both of them talked in Hebrew again and Edith went out again once they finished. "We have an agreement, it seems. Now my payment."

Tommy opened his coat and placed two payrolls on her desk.

"I appreciate the effort," she said no looking at the money. "But I'm not interested it in cash, although if you don't want it. I can use it to buy something for the school like a new piano for the girls and some violins. A donation."

"I don't want it," he confirmed "then what's your price, Mrs. Solomons?"

"A soul for a soul, Mr. Shelby. I want a man dead."

"Who?"

"Churchill's right hand man."

Next part.

...so? 👀

[artemiseamoon-ficart]

Some kind of blue

Tommy x ofc

On hiatus but I may revise this and bring it back this year

Fic info and posted chapters | if if comes back it’s going to A03 and only short preview will post to tumblr (Artemiseamoon on there too)

[midnightswithdearkatytspb]

If you haven't read this yet, please do. It's such a good Tommy Shelby story, with magic and love in it.

A different sort of man

Or where Eva plays around with magic and Tommy wakes up in a universe where Grace is his wife while that universe's Tommy discovers just how different his life would have been if he pursued the pretty witch in 71 Watery Lane

Taglist: @look-at-the-soul @zablife @cillmequick @midnightswithdearkatytspb

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

[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.” 

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

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

hello!!! hope you’re doing great, I kinda wanna ask about Thomas x Sister Shelby if you do that ? And if you do I’m thinking she’d be smart, has a very quick tongue and she wants to get out of the Shelby business to marry the love of her life (alfie😝😍) so she fakes her death and ofc everyone is distraught and angry than after a few years Thomas sees alfie at his home and than comes his sister who he thought had died and he berates her than she says something like you’re a worse person than me always killing for money like he can’t live without a war. Also I am in the mood for a very angst ending

A/N: Hello my love! How are you doing? I am so so sorry that this has taken forever. Truthfully, I had no clue how to do this. I thought about this long an hard, and though some things I switched up, I hope you enjoy this. I feel like this got me to stretch my writing muscles, and it was really fun. Let me know what you think darling!

Run Away With Me Darling

Alfie Solomons x Fem! Reader; 3.8k words; fluff, angst

Warnings: language, contentious family relationships, arranged marriage???

It started innocently enough.

You bringing tea and biscuits to meeting rooms where the men started their schemes. Listening and taking notes alongside your ever watchful Aunt Polly. Sneaking glances at the big brute in the chair across from your big brothers.

“Thank you treacle. Yeah that’s real kind of you.”

That brute is the only man that would say thank you for the tea you bring by. And when you go to pour more for him, he’s the only man who says, “No need for that darling. Grown men can pour their own tea yeah?”

It wasn’t meant to be anything more than professional. But you should’ve known. Known from that first encounter outside those Shelby walls… you and Mr. Solomons shared a single soul… and heaven nor hell could keep you from each other’s grasp.

It was hot. London is not a tropical city by any means. But the sheer amount of bodies, activity, and warm rain, had transformed the city into a sauna. The wisps of your hair along your neck and forehead are plastered to your body. Rivulets of sweat sneak down your chest. The heat could only be described as oppressive. You were counting down the steps till you could go home.

On the one hand… it was strange having a home all to yourself. Truthfully, it was the Shelby homestead in London, where the family would stay when business needed attending to. However, when they all left, you stayed. Carrying delicate messages. Keeping a close pulse on the going’s on of the city. And perhaps most importantly… remaining a pretty show pony for the Shelby family.

You hated to admit it. But you were desperately jealous of Ada. She had the guts to sneak past Arthur, Tommy, and John. She had the foresight to marry her true love before Tommy could marry her off to the highest bidder. You had no such luck. No childhood love. No sweetheart to campaign for. The boys had made sure of it. Despite Ada and your protests, and Polly’s discrete ploys; Tommy had decided. The sweet, pure, and innocent youngest Shelby girl will be auctioned off to the richest and most lucrative partner for the Shelby Company. And she will remain pretty and docile. A prize.

The mere thought made your stomach twist and churn and burn.

You loved them. Your family. More than most love their family. But you could barely breathe under their watch. Even in another city you felt the reach of their eyes. Felt the whisperings of potential matches for your hand and womb. The sweat on your brow burned your eyes. Taking place of the unshed tears you long abandoned.

All you longed for was cold water. A cool bath. Anything to scrub off the sweat and dirt and exhaustion. However, shade covered your front door, casting a shadow over the threshold.

“Sweetheart! Been waiting a bit for you!”

No matter where you see Mr. Solomons, he seems to take up all the space. You don’t know how he is able to stand the heat, with his coat and hat and bushy beard. But he looks unfettered. Cool even. You finally felt the kiss of the breeze on your neck as you approached.

“Mr. Solomons. How can I help you?”

“You going to invite me in like a good girl?”

“I’m not in the business of inviting strange men into my home.”

“You think me strange?”

“Oh Mr. Solomons you are the strangest man I’ve ever met.”

“Makes you a little excited though don’t it? A hint of danger yeah? Big brute standing at your door.”

You stuck your chin out, staring directly into his stormy eyes. “I’m not afraid of you Mr. Solomons.”

His mouth quirks up in the corner. A twinkle in his eyes, and your breath hitched as he leaned into your space, “Oh I know sweet. You ain’t like the others ain’t ya? I saw it… the first time I laid eyes on you I knew you were different. Those boys… cold blooded little snakes… you… nah… there’s a flame in you treacle…and I look forward to see you set things aflame.”

Before you could respond in any way, he leaned away, smiling at your response. He pulled out an envelope from his coat and handed it to you, “Contract and information for your devious brother my sweet. Don’t worry, put a little something in there for you too for your trouble.”

You snatched the envelope from his hand. Unsure of how to respond to his… behavior. His rumbling laugh set a shiver down your spine, but you pushed it down as you appraised him, “This seems below your job description… don’t you have messenger boys?”

He further smirked, “I hope you’ll forgive me, that I want to keep you to myself.”

“I’m not a kept girl.”

“That you are not. Just have to inform your brothers of the fact don’t you?”

Hot shame rose in your cheeks. The envelope in your hands crinkling sharply. You felt the cool brush of gold rings on your cheek, “I have a standing dinner every Thursday evening. Let it be our little secret, hmm?”

Before you could react, a coarse kiss is pressed to your knuckles. As he started walking away, you called out, “And if I don’t show up? What then?”

He turned, with a boyish smile, “You’re not a kept woman treacle. Not my business. I’ll just send my messenger boys in my place.”

That was a year ago. Things were so simple then. Secret dinners. Secret mornings. Secret dalliances and outings around town. And when the family came to town, you placed that mask back on. Sweet, innocent, and docile Shelby girl. Ready at the beck and call of her family. And when they left, you ran right into the arms of Alfie. Because where it all started as something to feel disobedient, it grew into something deeper and more ancient. You felt your soul intertwine with his, as if it was always searching for him. In the evenings when he whispered his love for you and kept you close, you had never felt safer. Never felt more alive.

But dreams are not forever. Sooner or later the bubble must pop.

“You’ll need to come back to Birmingham dearest.”

“For how long?”

Everyone looked up at Tommy. Tommy didn’t even look up from his dinner plate, “Permanently. I’ve got a husband for you.”

Your fork dropped. Your heart stopped beating.

You faintly hear Aunt Polly call your name.

“Husband?” You whispered.

Tommy sighed, “That is what I said. High time you married, you’re old enough. Mr. Gorman has multiple factories both here and in the states, and his son is set to inherit them all. It’s a good match, it’ll be very beneficial to the company.”

“Tommy I don’t even know him.”

“You have your entire life to get to know him. Now finish your dinner.”

“So you just decided is that it? You just decided to that I’d belong to some man? Tell me Tommy… how much did you sell me off for? How much is my womb worth?”

“Watch your mouth!” Polly hissed, with Arthur wincing at the cutting words.

“I’m not going.” You stood from your chair. Preparing for battle.

“It’s not up for discussion.”

“I’m not going! You cannot make me!”

Tommy rose from his seat, John putting his head in his hands with Arthur knocking back a drink. Low. Deadly. Tommy always could command a room with his voice. Cold finger pointing at you like a deadly weapon. “You will do as you’re told. This is not about you. This is about the family. In a week, I will come fetch you. I will drag you back to Birmingham if I have to. And you will marry the young Mr. Gorman, and you will have as many of his fucking babies as he chooses. You will be rich. You will be safe. And you will be set. I am not about to argue with a child.”

You felt the tears well up in your eyes. Sorrow. Mourning. Hatred. “I hate you Thomas Shelby. I hate you.”

“You will get over it.”

You ran to your room. Weeping the rest of the night.

Because how can your body and name be given to a man, when your heart and soul belonged to another?

They left the next morning. Arthur knocking on your door to announce the departure, and trying to convince you, “He’s a good lad darling. Trust Tommy alright? Wouldn’t let nothing bad happen to ya, even though it seems like right shit. Don’t be too angry at us. We’ll all still be close. And anyway… it’s what’s good for the family.”

You didn’t look at him. Not even a hum of acknowledgment when he kissed your hair tenderly. A regretful sigh leaves his body as Arthur walked away, taking one last look at your quivering body on your maiden bed. Arthur always had a soft spot for you. Always defensive for you unlike your other siblings. He had tried in vain to get Tommy to rethink the arrangement. You didn't need to get married. The company didn't need such an alliance. They'd get by as they always have. But Tommy's sights were set much higher. He wanted that name of honor. And to get it, he was willing to play by the rules of old money. Tommy had convinced Arthur enough. Enough that you'd eventually forgive them all.

The orange sky illuminated your bedroom in a bloody hue. Your throat dry and head hot and pounding. The creaking and settling of the house had become a steady ring in your ears, you didn't even hear the bedroom door open.

"Treacle. What are you doing? Eden said you haven't left since last night. You ill?"

Maids hear everything, you think bitterly. But you couldn't be too cross with Eden. Not really.

"He's done it Alfie."

Alfie toed off his boots after the hat and coat. Sinking into the too ornate duvet. "Who treacle? What happened?"

You faced him, deep creases of the duvet threads divide your hot wet cheeks. Lashes clumped together and soaked. "Tommy... he... he finally did it. He's married me off. In a weeks time I'm to belong to some... Mr. Gorman. His father owns factories, and I suppose that's enough for my bride price."

You feel your body being gently tugged up and into Alfie’s embrace. Despite any protest from you about how it may affect his back, he shushes you instantly, “Now now my little dove. Nah you ain’t going back to Birmingham. You ain’t getting married to some prick. Nah you’re staying here with ol’ Alfie.”

You force your face under his chin, letting his unkempt beard absorb your sobs, “No Alfie it’s true! Tommy told me yesterday at dinner! He… he’s taking me away Alfie! I hate him. I hate him so much. I don’t want to marry some man I don’t even know!”

“I already told you darling, you’re not going to! It’s not happening.”

You push his shoulder, “You’re not listening to me! Tommy said-“

“I don’t give a shit what Tommy said! You’re not marrying the shit because you’re marrying me!”

Like an unpracticed magician, he pulled out a gorgeous diamond and sapphire ring. Its glimmer and fractals made it look as endless as the night sky. You felt the breath in your lungs catch, anger and fear simmering down and cooling. You dared not touch something to precious, “Alfie Solomons…”

“Was my mother’s. Gave it to me when I came back from the war. On her death bed. Made me swear that I wouldn’t give it up for any pretty girl on the street. Had to give it to the one.”

You struggled to meet his gaze, “And I-“

“The one treacle. If you’ll have me.”

He shifted you in his lap, fully facing him, “Now… I had a whole event planned out. Garden stroll. Drinks. Music playing. And I know I’m a sorry old monster and you have loads of suitor-“

“Alfie-“

“But I swear on my life treacle, you’ll never want for anything. You will have freedom to do whatever you would hope to do. We’ll go anywhere. I’ll love you till the stars go out-“

“Alfie! Yes! Yes yes yes! I’ll marry you! You silly old man!”

You pushed him back and kissed him fiercely. With all the passion you had been hiding from your family for years. Until the acidic burn of reality came down, “But what about Tommy? Alfie you hate each other, he’ll never let me go.”

Rough hands running up and down your thighs, gazing in awe at the fiery halo surrounding you. “I was willing to go in and threaten blessing or death.”

“I won’t have you put in danger for love. This isn’t Shakespeare.”

With a laugh and kiss to your fingertips he whispers, “You got any ideas? I’m all ears.”

You try to think, but kept coming across a wall. Any option you thought of ended in bloodshed. You fell into the bed next to Alfie, curling into his chest, “I wish we could just run away.”

His arms tighten around you, “What if we did?”

It would happen three days before Tommy would come to fetch you. You dismissed Eden with an oath to secrecy, and for four days you played the part of excited bride to be. Purchasing things for a new marital home, a wedding dress and new wardrobe. Who cares if the detail of the lucky husband was slightly off?

Whenever your family called, you lied happily through your smiling teeth. At first you felt a twinge of guilt. But in the end, they stood by as your brothers sold you off. They lost the right to the truth. They hated Alfie, said as much any time they came to the house. They would never understand. They would never allow it. But this was your life. And you would be damned before you were cleaved from your beloved.

The men from the distillery made regular visits to the house in the middle of the night, picking up your things to take to Margate, dropping off love letters and updates from Alfie. With each passing day, your heart became lighter. The binds lessening. Freedom was right on your tongue.

Three days before Tommy, Arthur, and John are to pick you up, the horrific news explodes through Birmingham. The Shelby home in London: set ablaze. No survivors. The beautiful bride, burned alongside her wedding dress hanging in the window. The youngest Shelby girl, an angel amongst demons, taken too soon from the earth from a horrific accident. The fire so destructive, not even a body is there for a proper burial. Just ash and a memory of that sweet face. The funeral is horrible. Wailing and weeping from all of Birmingham. Aunt Polly could barely keep it together, blaming Tommy for it all. Even business acquaintances from London and beyond come to pay their respects. The most shocking visitor, was Mr. Solomons, who paid for the funeral itself, “I’m sorry Tommy for your loss. I really am. She was a sweet girl. But… she’s in a better place I’m sure.”

And what a better place that is. White washed home right on the beach, windows open at all times, with the sea breeze billowing pristine gossamer curtains in the wind. You spend your days reading and writing to your heart’s content, strolling the beach, playing with Cyril like a child. As Alfie settles affairs in Camden during the week, he visits during the weekend, serving and worshipping you like a goddess. He never gave you information about the family. You didn’t want it. That was your old life. A you that you couldn’t recognize. Here, in this life, you were free. Free to speak. Free to argue and give your mind.

After a month, Alfie permanently moves to Margate. Home. Retired from the gangster life with enough money to live comfortably for the rest of his life, with more than enough to comfort when he’s gone.

And the years pass blissfully. Just how it was in the beginning. Kisses and dancing and laughter and arguing and love and joy. 3 years of absolute heaven, you had nearly forgotten how it all was almost taken from you.

But the past does have a way of rearing its ugly head doesn’t it?

It’s the dawn of summer. The final kisses of spring bringing crisp clean air through your marital home. Alfie had never felt better. The pain in his body had long left him, only flaring during the coldest evenings. The dark circles under his eyes have dissolved. His face and body, fuller, firmer with the glowing health of a man at peace who works for life not death. You were upstairs, searching for the a particular spool of thread you had been working with for a blanket you had spent days on. But it needed to be done soon. Alfie shifted through the records you both had been collecting. Symphonies had become his special interest in the recent months, and he was looking for a particular composition that he felt would make your heart sing.

The heavy knock on the door sent the hair on his neck stand at attention.

Only one demon knocked like that.

His eyes shifted to the stairs. He could still hear you moving things around. Searching tirelessly for that spool. You’d be missing for a couple minutes. Enough to rebuke the vile creature from the door without your discovery.

With a deep breath, Alfie tries to remember the armor of his past. The Mad Baker. Just as another round of knocks was about to come, Alfie opened roughly, “Tommy! What are you doing here? Gates of hell need their master don’t they?”

He looked thinner than normal. It’s been years since the men had seen each other, but the difference was still shocking. Those icey blue eyes even more haunting than they were at the funeral. Gaunt cheeks and pale skin made him look like a living corpse. A flicker of a flame winked behind those eyes. Hope for another fight. Something to set him aflame. “Hello Alfie. Enjoying retirement?”

“Yeah actually I am so whatever you have up your sleeve I want no part in it so if you’ll just fuck off.”

Before Alfie could slam the door, Tommy stuck his foot in the door, “Not that simple Alfie. Worlds gone to shit and it needs Solomons to set it to right.”

“Your world not mine. Now get out.”

“I’m not going to leave until you let me in Alfie.”

Your angelic voice danced on the breeze down to the front door, “I found it! Alfie you would not believe where it was! I swear I’m losing my mind.”

Tommy’s face some how went paler. As if he heard Satan’s whisper of condemnation. Alfie tried to push the door closed, but with the strength of a mad man Tommy pushed past the threshold.

Tommy almost fainted.

This must be hell.

He must have died.

It’s the only rational idea.

God chose to lock him in the home of his biggest agitation, with the ghost of his dead baby sister.

But this couldn’t be your ghost. Your swollen belly proves this.

“Holy shit.” You drop the tea cup in your hands when you see Tommy. Tommy who wasn’t supposed to be here. Tommy who saw you buried and dead.

Alfie rushes in, pulling you behind his broad frame. Through his linen shirt, you feel the ragged breath and hammering heart of your husband. You feel faint. “Tommy… you need to leave right now.”

“You paid for the funeral.”

“Tommy we can do this later but you need to get out right now. I’m asking nicely.”

“You knew she was alive… you knew.”

“She is very delicate right now she does not need any excitement.”

“You fucking made her delicate! You compromised her you fucking bastard!”

You cried out as Tommy lunged for your husband, “Stop it Tommy! Enough! Get out of my house!”

Tommy stumbled, pointing at you, “You… you’re fucking sick. You’re demented! You caused Polly a near heart attack. You are disgusting!”

You push past Alfie, who is left watching, “I’m disgusting! You sold me off to some man. And for what? To get people to see you as a big man? Guess what Tommy, you will NEVER be good enough for them! They’ll always see people like us as trash! But you don’t care. Anything to get ahead right?! You’ll stoop as low as you need to ahead.”

Tommy laughed bitterly, holding back the urge to spit, “And what about you yeah? So spoiled that you throw the biggest tantrum of the century. Whore yourself out to the Mad Baker, and get knocked up with his bastard.”

“I’d stop talking if I were you Tommy.”, Alfie snarled darkly. Fists curling in. Like a wolf ready to devour.

“I’d rather be his whore than be a part of any family of yours. You can’t leave well enough alone. Murdering and slaughtering for some honor so quick to tarnish and fade away. You tried to lock me away, never taking a care to what I wanted or thought. But you can’t do that to me anymore. I’m a Solomons, and I carry his child. You can’t touch me.”

Tommy settled, steel washed over his face. “They have a right to know.”

“You all have a right to nothing. I’ll see the family when I’m good and ready.”

His eyes shift to Alfie, “You are evil incarnate. You are cursed.”

No sign of mirth reaches Alfie’s eyes when he smirks, “Careful Tommy. You know what they say about curses. Especially when you curse family.”

Without another word, Tommy storms out. As soon as the door slams, shaking the lamps, you let out the breath in your heavy lungs, “Holy Shit”.

Your knees give out from under you, and cold shakes roll through your body. Alfie grabbed your body, helping you into a chair. “Settle my love it’s alright he’s gone. What do you need? Baby ok?”

“No I’m ok thank you my love. I just… I need air. I can’t believe he came here. He knows. They all know.”

“Hush darling, breathe for me, settle your nerves, you don’t need to worry. They know but they can’t touch you. You’re my wife and they can’t get to you. You are your own woman. You are safe.”

“But what are we going to do. What if they come?”

“Then we’ll deal with them. I’ll have some boys come in, set up a watch. We won’t be caught off guard ever again.”

You nodded. Trusting the words of your husband. You felt an affirming kick in your ribs. The rushing of your heart. You had paradise for three years. You couldn’t run forever, no matter how far you got. The bell had finally tolled, and it was time to face it.

[brummiereader]

@emotionalcadaver my face throughout the entire chapter...

The amount of second hand awkwardness I felt when I read this chapter 😬. Both the scenes with Lizzie and May had me wanting to peek through my hands 😂.

I appreciated the casualness in the first scene where she's trying his gin before I was in the corner with popcorn watching the awkward encounter between Lizzie, May, Lucy and Tommy 🤭.

the temptation building within him to pick her up, swipe all the bottles of gin off of the table to crash upon the floor, and make love to her on that table until she screamed his name. I love how feral he is for her 😅! There doesn't seem to be a second that goes by where he's not falling into a daydream about what he wants to do with her. You can't tell me she doesn't know it, when she sees him slip into those moments 🤭.

"The toe of her shoe bumped against Tommy’s shin, rubbing up and down idly while she rested her head on her fist" I couldn't not mention this, it's just too cute how much she needs that physical contact with him at all times 🥰.

Honestly, this whole scene was so uncomfortable. It was uncomfortable enough in the show, but for some reason, even more so in this chapter 😩. The canal trip was definitely a bad idea 😬.

I'll play a little bit of devil's advocate here for Lizzie, and I think that Lucy feels the same with her internal thoughts - Tommy clearly still doesn't understand how scorned a woman can feel. He's been playing with her emotions for too long. And while, she may mean nothing to him, Lizzie has fed off those moments when he's shown her even an ounce of attention or affection. This is what happens when wires get crossed and feelings get hurt 😬. I do feel sorry for Lizzie at times, but I'm mostly pissed at Tommy for leading her on like this.

What I don't like though and something I'll never defend Lizzie over, is how she treated May and Lucy in this scene. She was already crossing the line with the subtle digs at May, but then she had to go and say this...“Fucking slut. Don’t know what he fucking sees in you.” 😤. The only one she should be angry at is Tommy and his carelessness. She knows the nature of Tommy and Lucy relationship and their encounters with other women. May and Lizzie were both willing participants in that, knowing full well that Tommy's heart belongs with Lucy.

I really enjoyed the little moment Lucy had with Aberama and his kind words to her ❤️. She had all these clippings from the papers, about Shelby Company Ltd., pictures of you at various company events. Miri said she would sometimes spend hours just pouring over them.” 🥺 this was such a beautiful insight into Lucy's mother's nature and the pride she had for her daughter that she made something of herself 🥰 .

May shook her head. “That’s such a strange thing to hear, having known him for a few years, now.” arghh, the awkwardness resumes 🙈😂. I was honestly as confused as Lucy in this, with Mays weird comments 😂. I think she was trying to understand why the hell Lucy was still with a man as chaotic and unstable as him 😅. Maybe that intrigue for a bad boy gangster had worn off and she saw seeing the reality of Tommy's life and the complicated web of emotions he has inside, and wanted nothing to do with it 😬. He's a handful!

But what I loved the most about this part, was this line...Lizzie had never learned. Linda had never learned with Arthur. Hell, Lucy had sometimes wondered, at some level, at least, if even Grace had not understood that reality completely. And this is it in a nutshell. They won't change for anyone. This is who they are, who the war and lifes struggles shaped them to be. Lucy gets it, probably the only one that does since she's been through so much trauma. And I agree that, Grace did understand Tommy the most out of his previous lovers and future lovers (apart from Lucy), but she wanted him to change too. And granted, Tommy did for her as well...but was it just because he loved her and wanted to say the things she wanted to hear 😩?? He'll never stop pushing forward, never stop trying to reach the top to distract his inner thoughts and demons, and that's why i love him with Lucy so much. They compliment eachother in that way, and are both equally hell bent on distracting the trauma inside ❤️.

I do feel sorry for Lucy in this scene though. She seems quite taken with May, more so than Tommy 😩.

“I mean it, anytime you need to get away from this one, just come on by.” 😯, maybe this was Mays plan all along! She doesn't want Tommy she wants lovely Lucy 🤣! I love his reaction, I think he got the message 🤭.

Great chapter, hun 😍! We're moments from everything going to shit 😬. I can't watch, but I wana watch, but I don't...arghh 🙈😂!

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: May's visit does not go as anticipated.

Word Count: 6,477

Notes: Warnings for depictions of sexual content and jealousy.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 14: The Man Who Doesn't Exist

“Right. Now try this one.”

Lucy raised an eyebrow at him, taking the small shot glass filled with clear, shimmering liquid that he offered her, holding it up to the light, swirling it, and bringing it to her nose.

“You better be careful, or I’ll be drunk before midday,” she commented, taking a sip. Tommy watched her intensely as she swished the helping of freshly made gin in her mouth, testing the taste of it thoroughly before swallowing. “It’s good.”

“You’ve said that about all of them,” he pointed out with fond exasperation. It probably would have done him well to find someone less biased in their opinions about everything he did. But then again, it would probably be equally difficult to find someone not so stone cold terrified of him that they would be willing to be honest in their assessments of the recipe. 

“I don’t know. I’m not much of a gin drinker,” she set down the glass, eyeing the bottles lined up on the table in front of her, each containing a different variation of the recipe he’d been tinkering with.

“Exactly; I want it to appeal to both seasoned and unseasoned gin drinkers. Try ordering them for your favorite to least favorite,” he suggested, nudging one of the bottles her way. She started to pick them up, moving them around the table, sometimes pouring a splash of liquid into a glass to give it another taste before deciding on its ranking. 

“You should have May try some of it while she’s here. I bet she drinks more gin than I do.”

He rested his cheek on his fist as he watched her work. “Yeah. That’s a good idea.” 

The light struck her face at an angle, highlighting the shape of her cheekbones. The freckles that always dotted her skin were a little more pronounced, likely as a result of spending more time outside in the sun since Christmas. Her lips formed an adorable, ever so slightly downturned pout when she concentrated, comparing the gin from two separate bottles before choosing their positions in the ranking.   

She had been sad for a while after Aberama gave her the news about her mother. Understandably so, of course, but it still hurt him to see her so despondent. Like the spark that lived inside of her had dulled, somewhat.

But she was coming back to herself, gradually. A healthy hue of color in her cheeks, the bright warmth in her eyes steadily returning. 

Tommy shifted a little closer to her, swallowing roughly when she pushed a lock of deep red hair back out of her face. He was close enough to smell the distinct scent of her rose perfume, the temptation building within him to pick her up, swipe all the bottles of gin off of the table to crash upon the floor, and make love to her on that table until she screamed his name. 

“Done!” she announced, rousing him from his lascivious daydream. She looked over her shoulder at him, and the spark of conspiratorial cheekiness in her eyes nearly had his self control snapping completely. “Tommy?”

“Mm?”

She looked to be trying very hard to suppress a smile, head jerking towards the bottles. He cleared his throat, rising from his seat and moving to stand behind her, bending down to wrap his arms around her shoulders, hooking his chin over her shoulder. 

“Right; let’s see what we’ve got, eh?” he assessed her decisions carefully. She’d rated the one flavored with cinnamon the highest–predictably so, Lucy did love her cinnamon. “Didn’t like the one with the coriander, eh?” he asked, leaning forward to swipe up the bottle she’s put at the bottom of her ranking. 

“It was more that it’s too weak on the alcohol, rather than the coriander that was the problem,” she tapped the bottle that was second to last. “But this one was too strong. You’ll have people staggering around after one glass if you sell them this stuff.”

He reached into his pocket, fishing out a notebook already half filled with various gin recipes he’d been trying out, jotting down the notes she was giving him. 

“Honestly, on all of them I could use a little more sweetness. I like the cinnamon flavor, but I don’t know how popular that will be with the general public. You’ll have to ask a couple more people,” her head craned around to look at him from over her shoulder. “It’s getting there.”

He smiled shyly. “You think so?”

“Mhm.”

He squeezed his arms around her, leaning in to press a kiss to her lips. She tasted sweetly of gin, a soft, wanting groan leaving his mouth at the first meeting stroke of their tongues. Lucy giggled softly against his mouth, giving him another peck before leaning back, smiling again when he bumped her nose affectionately with his. 

“We better get going if we want to be there when May arrives at the yard.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, but made no movement, instead dropping his head into her neck, mouth trailing kisses up to her jaw. She laughed, a sound more beautiful than a harp or the chirp of birds, squirming halfheartedly in his arms.

“Tommy!”

“Alright, alright,” he huffed in teasing grumpiness, forcing himself to draw away from her. She touched his cheek, her expression one of deep affection.

“There'll be time for more of that later,” she promised, kissing him quickly once more before standing. He reached for her hand eagerly, enveloping her seemingly eternally chilled fingers with his, and let her pull him with a strong tug from the room.  

∗ ∗ ∗ 

May’s perfume smelled sweet, the fur that rested around her collar soft against Lucy’s cheek when she pulled her in for a hug. In the mist whirling around the canals, she had looked nearly ethereal as the boat glided up to the dock. 

“Hi, May. It’s good to see you.”

“Hello, Lucy. You’re looking well.”

She smiled bashfully, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Tommy smiled at her from over May’s head, and began ushering them to the office. They chatted as they walked, inquiring about what May had been up to (not much, outside of her horse training duties) and how things were going with the horse (very well). 

Lucy glanced over her shoulder, brows pinching when they passed by Lizzie’s desk on their way to the doors to Tommy’s office. She could hear her muttering angrily under her breath, shooting glares in their direction, but couldn’t make out entirely what she was saying. 

She frowned, but decided not to say anything on the matter. At least not now.

She hadn’t expected Lizzie’s black mood to last so long. Especially since things had been going so well between them beforehand.  

Shaking her head, she closed the doors behind the three of them, moving to plop down in the chair next to May, taking an offered cigarette from Tommy while he and May talked about the horse. The toe of her shoe bumped against Tommy’s shin, rubbing up and down idly while she rested her head on her fist, looking over at May appreciatively as she set down the horse’s registration papers for Tommy to sign. He fixed her with an intense gaze, and Lucy leaned forward a little in eagerness as he questioned coyly just why on earth May would come all the way here in person for nothing but a signature. 

May’s eyes darted between them, a little color rising in her cheeks. Lucy couldn’t help the cheeky smile she sent her way, shifting in her seat with barely contained excitement. 

Outside of Grace, May had always been her favorite of the girls she and Tommy had included in their trysts in the past, and she had remained a close friend even after they’d broken things off.

May raised her eyes back to Tommy, and there was something in her face and voice that Lucy couldn’t entirely place; something that smothered her excitement a bit.

“Nothing seems to change you,” May said, in reference to both Grace and John’s death. The words alone had Lucy’s brow furrowing, but before she could fully ponder them, the door flung open and Lizzie waltzed in. Tommy started, and Lucy’s head snapped around sharply at the sudden intrusion.  

Fucking hell; had she fallen and hit her head and forgotten how to knock?

Her shock at the intrusion, however, had nothing on her surprise when Lizzie openly sneered at May, tossing the file she was carrying onto Tommy’s desk, then pulled herself up to her full, impressive height, arms leaning against the back of the large chair behind the desk. She ignored Tommy’s attempts to dismiss her, smirking at May smugly.

“But, you know sometimes, he sees something glamorous and expensive, he just can’t resist it,” Lizzie grinned, as if she’d made some big, clever point. “He’s so weak.”

Lucy’s jaw just about hit the floor. She had been on the receiving end of several of Lizzie’s jealousy-induced fits over the years, but this one had to take the fucking cake. May hadn’t even done anything. And in all that time, she didn’t think she’d ever seen Lizzie take such a harsh swipe at Tommy before. Normally it was just Lucy she went after, never him. 

The blatant smugness and disrespect had her so flabbergasted that she couldn’t even speak. 

Tommy seemed equally as stunned, meeting her gaze with widened eyes. She wasn’t entirely sure if the repeating thought of what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck was in her own head, or something that she was picking up through the silent way that they sometimes communicated through glances. 

May responded before either of them could, and in quite graceful fashion too, announcing her desire to make a donation to the charity set up in Grace’s name. Lizzie’s smug smile faded steadily as May filled out the check, and Lucy caught herself feeling a spike of satisfaction at seeing her knocked so cleanly off of the high horse she’d decided to perch herself upon.

She immediately scolded herself internally for the petty feeling.

Lizzie’s jaw was clenching, entire form practically vibrating with rage. For a moment, Lucy thought that she might explode without another glorious display.

“That’ll be all, Lizzie, thank you,” Tommy said firmly, hardly even looking at her. Her jaw twitched once, and then she went stalking from the room, slamming the door behind her.

Lucy stared at the place where Lizzie had been standing, thumb dancing along the length of one of her rings, trying to figure out what the fuck had just happened. 

Lizzie had always been one for more the cold shoulder when she was jealous or upset. Subtle jabs and maybe the occasional snide, hurtful comment. But never anything quite like that.

It was obvious that taking Lizzie to the canal had been a mistake. She’d gotten her hopes up, though Lucy couldn’t entirely understand why. Perhaps if Tommy had taken her there on his own, just the two of them, it would make more sense why the sudden mood change, but Lucy had been there too. It wasn’t like her presence had been even subtle. So why? Why had it clearly affected Lizzie so deeply?

Maybe it had just been a reminder of what Lizzie wanted so badly, but could never have.  

She had always known deep down that Lizzie used their rendezvous to fulfill her own fantasies: ones in which Lucy was positive she did not exist, and it was just Lizzie and Tommy, happy and in love.

All this time, Lizzie’s feelings for Tommy had perhaps not been fading, but simply sleeping. And they’d gone and woken them back up again. 

They could never do something like that with her again, Lucy decided resolutely. It wasn’t fair, and it only brought them trouble. 

“Lucy?”

She roused, realizing that she had just been staring intensely at the wall behind the desk, and looked over to find that Tommy had gone over to the shelf of liquor, his hand resting on the decanter of whiskey.

“Sorry?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Drink?” 

“Yes, please,” she said desperately. He shot her a sympathetic look, pouring a glass and handing it to her before returning to fix another for himself. She took a gulp of the amber liquid gratefully while Tommy hastily corrected course, asking May if she had packed an overnight back, and explaining that the train drivers had called a wildcat strike earlier in the day.

Lucy raised an eyebrow at the lie, but didn’t comment. 

May didn’t seem perturbed, simply asking where she was to stay. Tommy offered that they could meet her at four. 

“Meet and do what?” May asked. Lucy looked up at her through lowered lashes, one corner of her lips pulling upwards.

Surely you must know, my dear.

Tommy was fighting back his own coy smile, but rather than stating the obvious, merely offered for her to try the gin he’d been distilling.

A…not a hobby, precisely, but an activity that he had grown more and more obsessive over recently. Probably just a symptom of him going minorly mad over being cooped up in Small Heath for so long. 

It was honestly kind of cute, how serious he got about the whole thing, tinkering with the recipe that his father had left him and asking her to consume far more amounts of gin than she’d normally prefer–she would always be more of a whiskey girl–to get her opinion. 

Again, there was that moment of trepidation, when May did not immediately seem amiable to the suite at the Midland that Tommy had booked for her–them, technically, if May even wanted them there–but it faded when she agreed to a tasting of the gin. Lucy wetted her lips, cigarette turning over and over in her fingers, trying to puzzle out the mixed signals May was giving out. 

They agreed to meet at four, Tommy pulling on his coat and ducking out the door. Lucy could see his figure through the glass, moving over to Lizzie’s desk, the gestures of his hands making it blatant that he was scolding her.  

“I’m sorry about Lizzie,” she apologized to May, grabbing her coat and beginning to pull it on. 

“Is she often like that?” May asked curiously, rising elegantly from her own seat.

“She’s…” Lucy sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t everything, when it comes to Tommy?” 

Lucy finished pulling her coat up over her shoulders, adjusting the collar. “Not always,” she murmured quietly. Her relationship with him had never been all that complicated, after all. They loved each other. They were together. All the rest was just details. “I have to go with him,” she said apologetically. “You’re welcome to stay here in the office, if you’d like. Or I’m sure Charlie and Curly would be happy to host you at the yard.”

“I worry that if I stay here Lizzie might try to maim me.”

Lucy chuckled. “No, that’s more Polly’s thing. Lizzie will just mutter nasty things behind your back when she doesn’t think you’re listening.”

May shook her head, shooting her a funny look. “I don’t know how you put up with it.”

Lucy shrugged. “You and me both. I’ll see you at four?”

“Yes.”

She gave her one last smile. “Alright.”

Tommy was just stepping away from Lizzie’s desk, head turning when he heard the door opening, tensed shoulders relaxing at the sight of her. 

“Ready?”

She shot a curious glance at Lizzie, who was sitting at her desk and visibly sulking, lips pursed. “Yeah.”

He took her hand, and began to pull her to the doors, when she heard, muttered snidely under Lizzie’s breath:

“Fucking slut. Don’t know what he fucking sees in you.”

Tommy’s hand squeezed hard in hers in reaction to the words he had also heard, body half turning, mouth opening to shout at her, but Lucy grasped him tightly, pushing him lightly towards the door.

“Don’t,” she hissed, half begged, under her breath. He was so puzzled at the reaction that she managed to push him out the doors and away from Lizzie, though not before they also heard her bellowing on about May again. She would have stopped to verbally cuff her for that, had she not been confident that May could more than handle herself. At the moment, she needed to get Tommy out of there before an actual fight broke out.

“Let it go,” she told him firmly, half pulling him along to the corner before stopping. Tommy gave her a baffled look. 

“But she–”

“She’s just had her heart broken, Tommy. Give her a break. I’m fine,” not entirely true, the words still stung, no matter how often she had to hear them, but she was a big girl. She could handle a few insults flung her way. Given her role in Lizzie’s anguish, she probably deserved it, on some level.      

His face furrowed with guilt, though a spark of anger still flickered in his eyes. “Upset or not, that’s no reason to speak to you or May the way that she did.”

Lucy made a noise of agreement, gaze darting away, passing over the street without really seeing it, hands twisting and fumbling with each other. 

“Hey,” he touched her chin, raising her gaze back up to his. “Don’t let her get to you.”

“I just thought that we were passed all of this…”

“I know,” his eyes were sad. “I know; me too,” with a sigh, he looked away to the rising smoke of the factories. “Not much we can do about it now, other than distance ourselves until the storm passes.”

“I can never tell if she really means it or not. The things that she says.”

Tommy opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, looking down, hand smoothing along her arm. “I’m sorry.”

She just shrugged. “Not your fault.”

“It kind of is.”

“You don’t control what Lizzie says or does.”

“I could go back in there and yell at her some more if it would make you feel better.” 

She bit back a small, terrible smile at the suggestion. “I appreciate the offer, love, but I’m pretty sure that would only make things worse.”

“I don’t understand her,” he shook his head. “You’re wonderful. All you’ve ever done is try to be nice to her…”

“I stole you from her.”

“What?” he looked entirely taken aback. Lucy shrugged again.

“She was here first, technically. Then I came along and snatched up you and all of your love for myself.”

“That’s not what happened. She and I never even were anything. She was just a whore I saw on a semi-regular basis.”

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure that’s how she sees it.”

He touched her face, expression puzzled and concerned. “You’re not stealing her share of love from me.”

She leaned her face a little into the soothing warmth of his strong palm, closing her eyes. “I know,” she mumbled softly, though she was not entirely sure that she really did. Because the guilt still gnawed at her; the wondering that, maybe, if it weren’t for her, Tommy and Lizzie might have actually had a chance.  

When she opened her eyes again, he was looking at her with an appraising, narrowed expression.

“You’re really sure you don’t want me to go scold her some more?”

A small, sharp exhale of air that might’ve been the beginning of a laugh passed through her nose. “I’m sure, love,” she turned her head, kissing his palm and taking it in hers, stretching up onto her toes to peck his cheek. “But I appreciate the protectiveness.”

He gave her a gentle, adoring look, lips brushing the crown of her head. 

“We should get going, or we’ll be late to the boxing ring.”

“Mm. Yeah,” he squeezed her hand still holding onto her firmly, their shoes clicking in tandem together against the cobblestones as they started to walk. 

∗ ∗ ∗ 

The boxing ring smelled of sweat and rubber. The slap of boxing gloves hitting both flesh and the punching bags filled the room, as did the grunts of exertion and concentration of the men practicing. Bonnie Gold already had his gloves on and was in the ring, practically bouncing on his toe while he waited for his first opponent. Aberama was standing on the sidelines, hat cocked on his head, watching his son. He gave Tommy and Lucy a respectful nod of greeting when they approached, and while Tommy went to speak with King Maine, the boxing trainer, she moved to stand beside Aberama, arms crossed over her chest.

“Good afternoon,” he said, after a moment, eye remaining fixed on Bonnie with Maine directed another boy to get into the ring with him.

“Afternoon,” Lucy said back, shifting from foot to foot.

“You look to be doing well,” he finally turned his gaze onto her. Lucy rolled her head to a noncommittal angle, shrugging.

“Not much use that can be done just sitting around and crying,” she looked back at Tommy still talking with Maine. “It’s better that I keep busy.”

“I can understand that.”

“Thank you again for telling me. Mum and I…we fell out of contact around 1920 when she went back to the caravans.” She was grateful that he did not ask her why.

“She was very proud of you, you know.”

Brows furrowing, she looked at him sharply, searching for any trace of a lie in his face and finding none. 

“I spoke to her, once or twice when we would run into her and Miri at the fairs. She always had such a glow about her, when she told us how she had a daughter in the city, in a high position in a company there.”

Lucy looked down and away quickly, hoping that he wouldn’t notice the sudden glassiness in her eyes.

“She had all these clippings from the papers, about Shelby Company Ltd., pictures of you at various company events. Miri said she would sometimes spend hours just pouring over them.”

Lucy swallowed hard, clearing her throat roughly. “I wish that she had stayed here. I wish that I could have looked after her. Maybe then…”

Aberama suddenly touched her shoulder. “There’s no point spending valuable time and energy mulling over the things we could have or should have done. It brings nothing but pain. Your mother loved you. Focus on remembering that.” He gave her a stern, yet paternal look, waiting until she nodded before lowering his hand from where he’d rested it lightly on her shoulder. Lucy looked at him for a long moment. 

“You’re not entirely what I expected,” she admitted. Aberama chuckled.

“And what were you expecting?”

She shrugged. “After everything Johnny Dogs told us? Someone more…”

“Savage?”

“I was going to say feral.”

He cracked a sly smile. “I’ve found that playing up the reputation at times can be…beneficial,” those clever, fox-like eyes darted back to hers. “Something tells me that you’ve discovered the same.”

Lucy bit back a smirk. “Yes, something like that.”

“What you did with Changretta’s cousin was impressive.”

“Thank you. I’d prefer to avoid advertising it around for just a little while yet, though.”

“Why?”

She smiled sweetly. “I want to see the look on Luca Changretta’s face when he realized that I’m not just a tiny little woman who only got where she is by fucking the boss.” 

Aberama’s lips quirked in quiet approval, expression growing serious when Tommy and Maine approached them to watch Bonnie fight.

After it was over, she followed Tommy out of the gym, his hand dipping into his pocket to procure his watch, glancing at the face before tucking it away again. 

“I need to go by the factory and speak with Devlin. But you can head back to the yard and spend some more time with May, if you’d like.” 

“You’re sure?” She tried not to show just how excited the idea made her. Tommy nodded. 

“I can deal with Devlin. You go on. You can show her the gin distillery, if you’d like. I’ll meet you at four.”

With a grin, she stretched up onto her toes to peck his cheek. “Thank you.”

He gave her a small smile. “Try not to have too much fun without me.”

“No promises, Shelby.”

The skin around his eyes crinkled, even as he attempted to suppress the fond smile pulling at his lips. His hand curled around her hip, pulling her just a little more closer so as to press a quick kiss to her lips. 

“See you soon,” he promised.

She gave him a small smile, walked a few paces backward before turning around and heading in the direction of the yard. She could feel the protective presence of his gaze on her until she went around a corner and out of his line of sight. 

The walk to the yard was quiet and peaceful. While the smog and smoke still lingered in the air, the sun was actually out for once, and she enjoyed the gentle warmth that the beams languished upon her.

“Charlie,” she greeted him where he was working by the entrance when she came in. “Where’s May?”

“The stables.”

“Right. Thanks.” She weaved her way towards the aforementioned building, stepping through the open barn doors, smiling to herself at the sound of May’s posh accent speaking lowly while she stroked careful fingers through Sin’s reddish mane. She started at the crunch of hay under Lucy’s boots, head turning in her direction. 

“I thought I wouldn’t be seeing you until four.”

“First meeting wrapped up quick. Tommy’s got another one he needs to go to, but he doesn’t need me for it.” Coming up beside May, she gave Sin a little pat to her flank. “Charlie and Curly been treating you alright?”

“Yes,” but there was a small hesitation before she spoke, and Lucy shot a curious look her way, again feeling that prickle in the back of her mind that something was not entirely right. “I was going to take a walk by the canal, but then Charlie told me I’d need to take a revolver with me, so I figured perhaps it would be best to just stay here.”

“I can take you, if you’d like.”

Again, May hesitated, doe-brown eyes looking Lucy over as if she were assessing her. “That’s alright. I’d rather try Tommy’s gin, I think.”

“Okay.”

She led the way through the yard, into another set of stables where Curly was busy at work. 

“Curly, dear, could you get us a bottle of Tommy’s gin?” Lucy asked. He nodded, bustling away hastily. While they waited, Lucy grabbed a blanket to spread out over a haystack for May to sit.   

“Is everything alright?” Lucy asked after a few moments, the silence feeling long and all encompassing. 

“Yes, of course.”

“You’re sure? Charlie and Curly didn’t say anything, did they?”

“They said several things. But it’s alright. Really,” she turned her face away from Lucy to look at the entrance to the bar expectantly. “How are things going with the Italians? Honestly, I mean.”

With a sigh, she shrugged, and it was her turn to avert her gaze down to her shoes. “Could be worse. But could be a lot damn better, too.” Looking up, she met May’s worried eyes, her brow furrowed in a way that only served to accentuate the unique shape of her face. “We���ll be fine.”  

But the frown did not leave May’s features. “What about you? Are you doing alright?”

Lucy shrugged. “It took a little adjusting at first with everyone being scattered and then coming back together after so long, but I’ve managed.”

“Polly hasn’t been causing you any trouble?”

“Actually, no. Not really. She’s been…nicer maybe isn’t exactly the word, but it’s been easier to be around her.” She gave May a small, humorless smile. “I doubt that it’ll last, but I’m going to enjoy it while I can.”

“And what about you and Tommy?”

Lucy cocked her head, not understanding. “What about us?”

“Is everything alright between you two?”

Now she was truly puzzled. “Yes, of course. Why?”

“So much tragedy, and in such a short span of time…I’ve seen it have nasty effects on couples before.”

“Most everything else has been hard, at one point or the other, but not us,” she again shot May a curious look. “We help each other, we…it’s always been easy. Being with him.”

May shook her head. “That’s such a strange thing to hear, having known him for a few years, now.”

Lucy didn’t entirely know what to say to that. She was aware that the way that Tommy treated her was different from how he was with almost everyone else. It was not something she could entirely explain. Hell, she doubted that even Tommy would struggle to entirely articulate why that was. It probably had at least something to do with all of the trauma that they shared. But it wasn’t just that.  

“You’ve really never wanted him to change?” May asked, the question completely catching Lucy off guard. “Not even a little?”

For a moment she could only stare at May in bafflement. She felt like she was teetering on the edge of understanding something, but what that was, she couldn’t entirely say. May met her gaze with those wide, dark eyes, waiting patiently for her answer.  

“No,” she said softly, truthfully. “Not ever. I like him just the way he is.” 

  A flicker of disappointment, quick as a sudden, sharp spark, ignited in May’s eyes. It was gone just as quickly, only appearing for such a brief moment that Lucy was left half wondering if it had actually been there at all. May smiled at her, sadness entangled with the expression.

“I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me.”

Lucy nodded, still confused, still trying to grasp onto what it was that was causing May to behave so strangely. But before she could get a good grip on it, Curly came back in with a bottle and two glasses clutched in his hands. 

“Thank you, Curly,” Lucy took them from him and shooed him away, pouring a glass first for May and then for herself. 

As they drank, they talked about lighter things: May’s horses. The particularly talented gardener she had just recently employed at the house. The beautiful tea set Lucy had found during her and Tommy’s most recent trip into London. 

But all the while, even as they laughed together in the stables, sitting nearly shoulder to shoulder, Lucy could not shake the feeling that May was steadily drifting farther and farther away. 

Fumbling with her pocket watch, she checked the time, finishing off her glass and setting it aside. 

“He won’t be long. What do you think?”

“It’s alright. A little too sweet for my taste, I’d say.”

Lucy nodded. “He’s hoping that it’ll be big in America, so he’s been trying to tailor it more to their tastes.”

“Has he been working on this long?”

“Not as long as you’d think. I’ve probably taste-tested at least a bucket’s worth of it, now.”

May let out a quiet chuckle, taking another sip from her glass. They continued to chat while they waited for Tommy, ultimately winding up laying side by side on the hay, May’s voice a soft, low hum as she started to sing. Lucy stared up at the ceiling, her empty glass seated beside her, throat constricting with memories of lingering near the doors of the Garrison, watching Grace stand up on a chair in the back, her rich voice echoing throughout the pub as she sang song after song, some her own choosing, others requests from the crowd. 

Her eyes darted to the dark corners of the stables, searching with hope for the golden-haired ghost, but finding nothing but black shadows. 

May’s singing cut off abruptly at the sound of Tommy’s voice announcing his presence, both of them sitting up to see him approaching them with quick steps from the door. Lucy hopped down from the hay while May offered her opinion to him on the gin, Tommy dipping his head to give Lucy a quick kiss to say hello, big hand taking hold of hers, beginning to lead the way towards the stairs that led down to the distillery.

It was cool down the stairs. Lucy jumped up to sit on the table where Tommy deposited a crate of bottles, legs swinging in the air. He rifled through the bottles, selecting one and uncorking it to pour another glass for May to try. 

Lucy’s legs unconsciously stopped swinging as she watched him begin to lay on his famous charm, standing close to May, glass filled with clear liquid offered to her, voice lowered, eyes looking steadily into hers. May continued to keep her eyes on him, even as she lifted the glass from his fingers and took a sip.

“You’re unlike any man I’ve ever met,” she told him, and Lucy felt the beginning pulsings of want stirring within her, leaning forward where she was seated on the table.   

At May’s determination that the gin was still too sweet, Tommy leaned in, and kissed her.

It was a soft, sensual kiss. The kind that Lucy was intimately familiar with receiving from him. Lips moving slowly against each other, his touch gentle but firm. 

May responded with a hand on his chest, leaning into his body. Quiet and graceful as a cat, Lucy slid from her spot on the table, padding over to them and pressing her front to May’s back, running her nose through her soft, sweet-smelling hair to get at the nape of her neck, ghosting a kiss across it while her hands landed gingerly on her shoulders. She could feel Tommy shifting the positioning of his arms, so that he was more thoroughly embracing her. 

And then she felt May go abruptly stiff and freeze. Tommy felt it too, pulling back a fraction to look at her. 

“You said you booked a room?” she asked softly, after a moment. Tommy’s lips quirked up a fraction. 

“No, I booked a suite.”

“Thank you,” there was something dull in May’s voice that had Lucy pulling slightly away from her, head angling to try to get a look at her face. May drew in a deep breath. “If you book a taxi, I’ll go.”

Lucy started, brow creasing and eyes shifting from May, to Tommy, then back again. Tommy’s face drew away from her, expression suddenly hardening, going cold. The warmth and tenderness he’d been exuding a moment ago almost entirely shut off in the face of the abrupt rejection. As May continued to speak, Lucy drew her hands from her, taking a step back. 

“If only you could…”

“If only I could what?” Tommy asked, with a voice like sharp razors, eyes searching May’s before he took a large step back, away from her. “‘If only you could change.’ Go on, say it. If only you could change the bad.” 

Suddenly, all of May’s strange behavior over the day started to make sense. Particularly that curious question she had broached about whether or not Lucy ever wished Tommy could change.

He continued to verbally snarl for a moment, a wounded animal, hurt and angry and lashing out at the person who’d stung it. Because Lucy knew that it kept him awake at night, how badly he wanted to be better.

“You all deserve better than me,” he sometimes whispered, head resting on her chest, against her breasts on the particularly bad nights when she held him and stroked his hair. She always shook her head, kissing him between the brows, reminding him as best she knew how that she loved him exactly as he was.

May had struck a raw nerve she was not even aware of.

“You fucking people,” he fumed, storming away, back to them. Lucy watched him mournfully. She did not think that May intended to hurt either of them. But still, it ached. 

At least she could recognize that perhaps they could not offer what she truly wanted. At least she had the sense to understand that and step away.

If only more women were like her: with that sense and acknowledgement that she could not change nor heal a man through the power of love alone. 

Lizzie had never learned. Linda had never learned with Arthur. Hell, Lucy had sometimes wondered, at some level, at least, if even Grace had not understood that reality completely. 

“You bite like your horse,” May said after a long moment of silence, and there was both regret and apology in her voice, but not for how she felt. No, the apology was for the unintentional sting that her rejection had inflicted. Tommy’s eyes moved from hers to Lucy’s.

Fuck. 

Yes, she agreed silently, sadly. Now over his little outburst, Tommy beckoned May to follow, reaching for Lucy’s hand before beginning to move. She squeezed his fingers, his grip tightening enough that her rings bit into her flesh a little. 

None of them said much of anything at all on the walk through the canals, to a boat that could take May to the train station. It was a long enough of a walk for the disappointment to really settle in Lucy’s stomach, leaving her feeling gloomy. 

“Here’s your carriage,” Tommy said, gesturing to the boat, informing May of the train that she could catch. She gave him a look of exasperated fondness when he admitted to lying about the strikes. Lucy couldn’t help but smile a little herself at her gangster’s devilish antics.

May touched his cheek gently for a moment, looking between them, suddenly earnest.

“We’ll keep in touch?”

They both nodded, and that seemed to relax her a little. Lucy felt a wave of relief wash over her. At least May did not want them entirely ejected from her life. 

“I’ll call with updates about the horse. And please, feel welcome to stop by the house or the stables anytime you’d like.” 

At their agreement, she moved away, but not before giving Lucy a firm hug in farewell.

“I mean it, anytime you need to get away from this one, just come on by.”

“Oi!” Tommy sputtered in indignation, and they both giggled while he rolled his eyes, looking to the sky as if asking what he’d done to deserve such teasing. He helped May up and into the boat, and Lucy watched with a steady ache in her chest as she disappeared below deck, Curly climbing aboard after her. 

Tommy settled a hand on her shoulder, and very gently, began to guide her from the canal. As they walked, he wrapped an arm around her, and pulled her tightly into his side. 

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

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[midnightswithdearkatytspb]

MidnightsWithDearKatyTSPB’s Recommendation List: April PT. 1

Welcome to April’s recommendation list. Below is the link to take you back to March pt 2 featuring Peaky Blinders, Triple Frontier, Frank Castle, Joel Miller, and the works I posted. The goal for April is to write another chapter In This Heart and rewrite The Spark. If you are interested in having your writing challenges featured here, your stories, or even your blog, please feel free to tag me in your works, message me, or use the hashtag MidnightWithDearKatyTSPB. I hope you had a great Easter if you celebrate it!

<< March ‘23 PT. 2 🍀

April ‘23 Pt. 2 🌷 >>

Masterlist

A Different Sort of Man (Moodboard) for @evita-shelby story.

Feel What You Feel (Moodboard + Blurb) >> Tommy Shelby x OFC!Estella Holland | "Perhaps this was the day she fell in love with Tommy Shelby."

Happy Birthday Mr. Pascal (Moodboard)

Invisible String (Moodboard) >> Tommy Shelby x OFC!Estella Holland | "And isn’t it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?"

It's Ok (Moodboard) >> Arthur Shelby x Beth | "It’s okay to be not okay."

Secret Garden (Moodboard) >> Arthur Shelby x Beth | “You saved me, Beth. Perhaps it’s time you allowed me to protect you from whatever demons you allow to darken your beautiful mind.”

Visitor (Moodboard + One-Shot) >> Tommy Shelby x OFC!Estella Holland | "You will never be alone, Tommy, because I’m always going to be in your heart..."

BLURBS:

I'd Kill For You by @there-goes-thefighter >> John Shelby x f!reader - Summary: John doesn't take too kindly to someone asking the girl he likes out. | This was so fluffy and cute in a Peaky Blinders sort of way.

March Madness Drabble Challenge 2023: DAY 23 by @acewritesfics >> John Shelby x Wife!Reader - Summary: John cares for his wife and son. | I love reading about John Shelby and his kids.

Obvious by @peakyscillian >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary/Request: 'Giggling about how their friends haven’t found out about them yet even though they’re being so obvious.' | This was very cute. I enjoyed it.

ONE-SHOTS:

Bye Bye Blackbird by @zablife >> Tommy Shelby x F!Reader - Summary: Tommy's love interest from before the war leaves for the excitement of the city, but a chance encounter years later finds her disillusioned with all that sparkles. Can he convince her to come home? | Lee does a wonderful job writing something beautiful and sad simultaneously.

How Much I Love You by @runnning-outof-time >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: (Y/N) takes the opportunity to tell Tommy what she thinks when she finds him still in bed. | Melancholy Tommy to content and in love Tommy, beautiful.

Life is a Cabaret by @notyour-valentine >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: Tommy has an iron-clad arrangement with a performer, one of his own making. | Val does such a good job with imagery in this one as well as emotions, leaving you wanting so much more for both Tommy and the reader. Like with most of Val's writing, you don't want to miss this one. It's angsty.

Not Yet by @raincoffeeandfandoms >> Tommy Shelby x Wife!Reader - Summary: One of the most difficult days of his life awaits him. He's ready to kill Mosley, but not yet. He's ready to make him pay for his horrible thoughts and crimes, but not yet. For the moment, he is in bed with his wife. Life at your side, it seems to be easier, and he loves that feeling. | Flor's way with words in this is just breathtakingly beautiful. It's a must-read.

Philopator by @notyour-valentine >> Tommy Shelby & Daughter!Reader - Summary: When Michael presents his offer to Tommy for a restructuring of the company, he mentions his daughter - after all, she is already involved, even if Tommy doesn’t know it yet. | The emotions are so well written in this, and the tears that I shed while reading. It's a must-read.

*Saltwater Tears by @areyenotfondofmelobster >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary/Request: Do you really want me? Or is this your way of getting back at my father? | So much emotion in this one. I felt the big decision weighing down on me. So good.

ONE-SHOTS:

Stormy Night by @jackfrombaskinrobbins >> Matt Murdock x teen!adopted!reader - Summary: Matt comes home banged up when his teenager should be in bed asleep. | I always thought Matt would make a good Uncle/Dad, and this further proves my idea he would.

An Unexpected Delight by @amhrosina >> Poly!Frank Castle x Reader x Matt Murdock - Summary: Frank wants a taste after Matt tells him how perfectly delicious you are. | Amazing and hot.

PEDRO PASCAL CHARACTERS:

Delicate by @slow-motionlovepotion >> Joel Miller x Reader - Summary: Sometimes when I look into your eyes, I pretend you're mine, all the damn time. | It was so scorching and very well written. I loved it.

Learned Something New by @wheresarizona >> Jack Daniels/Agent Whiskey x F!Reader - Summary: Reunion sex with Jack leads to a discovery. | This is just so very hot that I needed a tall glass of cold water to go with it.

Like Real People Do by @tightjeansjavi >> Joel Miller x f!reader - Summary: You, Joel, and Ellie arrive in Jackson for the first time. Joel sees your real smile for the first time in months, all thanks to Jackson’s horses. | This was adorable, and at times Ellie maybe steal the spotlight (in a good way.) I truly did love reading this fluffy piece.

Long Long Night by @toxic-seduction >> Joel Miller x afab!reader - Summary: “I’m not done with you.” or big dick Joel Miller fucks you hard. | 🥵 🥵 🥵 🥵 🥵 🥵

Nadie Espera un Milagro (No One Expects a Miracle) by @oonajaeadira >> Javier Peña x f!reader - Summary: Sassy, confident, American ex-pat female who finds her parents a little tedious and enjoys both her independence and her job as a high-level admin at the DEA. | Had me falling in love with Javi and how much he cared for the reader and wanted to prove to the reader's parents she could take care of herself.

Need To Know by @ayorooster >> dbf!Joel Miller x afab!reader - Summary: THE FIRST TIME Joel Miller realized how bad he had it for you was on a Saturday night. | It's hot 🥵 and I really enjoyed it.

*Salvatore Pt. 1 to Playing Dangerous by @devilmademewriteit >> Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader - Summary: A secretary with an attitude problem, a DEA agent with an insolence problem. Years ago, you'd stopped hoping for his character to improve, but he's still gunning to set you straight. It’s the worst day of your life, and Javier Peña aims to take advantage of that. | Plot leaves you wanting more and more and so excited there is a second part.

*Playing Dangerous Pt. 2 to Salvatore by @devilmademewriteit >> Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader - Summary: Sure, the fact that he’d schemed up an entire, elaborate ruse to get between your legs was upsetting. More upsetting was the fact that he refused to fess up, insisting that you needed to be protected (or at the very least—cautious) because your life was in ‘grave danger.’ Most upsetting, however? That would be the fact that through it all and above everything else, you still wanted him—badly. | It's a masterpiece. That's the best way to describe this overall.

Still Here by @sl-ut >> Joel Miller x Reader - Summary: Joel is older than y/n, but that’s never been a concern of hers until very recently. | The number of emotions I went through while reading this one was dozy. I needed tissues. So well written.

Swaddling by @babydin >> Joel Miller x Reader - Summary: Joel was not a morning person. But the morning after he had spent the night with his cock inside you and woke up fucking you? That day he was definitely a morning person. | Dirty with a dash of cuteness.

TRIPLE FRONTIER:

Erase It by @jake-g-lockley >> Santiago Garcia x reader - Summary/Prompt: they’re teasing each other when one character goes “then kiss me” and is surprised that the other character actually does it. | Can Santiago come take care of me during my periods, please? It's so fluffy and sexy. TW: Period Stuff

Husband Duties by @rayslittlekitten >> Will “Ironhead” Miller x Wife F!reader - Summary: Not being able to fall asleep, you wake your husband up to help with your situation. | Currently wishing I was Will's wife. TW: Pregnancy

WILLIAM DAFOE:

*Heroes by @areyenotfondofmelobster >> Sgt. Elias Grodin x OFC! Alexis Ryder - Summary: He is king, and she is queen. He smokes, and she is mean. Tomorrow, death may take them, but today, they are heroes. A story about love, war, courage, and the duality of man -- inspired by the David Bowie song, "Heroes". | This is a beautifully well-done story.

Just Because 🌻 (Moodboard) by @raincoffeeandfandoms >> Modern!Tommy Shelby

Keep Us Safe (Moodboard) by @running-outof-time >> Tommy Shelby x Wife!Reader | for @zablife story Keep Us Safe.

Peaky Blinders characters with a daughter who gets her first period by @scorpiussage | I read Alfie’s dialogue in his voice; it was so spot on. I can see Arthur getting all pale. Tommy would stand by and listen to help in the future. So good.

Phantom!Alfie x Christine!Reader (Moodboard) by @raincoffeeandfandoms >> Alfie Solomons x Reader | I'm a huge fan of Phantom of the Opera, so this moodboard is just perfect, especially for Alfie. I think.

@notyour-valentine - Val is a fantastic writer at conveying the tone, setting, and emotions. I often feel like I've stepped inside the piece of writing I'm reading or watched it play out on screen instead of reading it. Not only does she write for Peaky Blinders, but she also writes for House of Dragons.

@cillmequick - Alex is a talented writer who writes for Peaky Blinder's fandom with two main stories. The Lockdown Sessions is a Cillian Murphy series, and Betrayal is a Tommy Shelby story feat. Luca Changretta. Alex recently celebrated 6 months of posting her stories. So, give her stories a read and a follow.

@areyenotfondofmelobster - S brings forth emotions when writing for Adrien Characters and Peaky Blinders, to name her current favorites. I've enjoyed three of her pieces, and they have moved me to tears, and I love it when a writer can do that. Her current series White Ribbon features Luca Changretta.

[novashelby]

His Innocence-TommyxOFC Masterlist

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OFC

Warnings: Please refer to my pinned post for the themes I write about. Age gap, manipulation, abuse, gaslighting, noncon, dub-con, emotional and mental abuse. Time appropriate language, attitudes, and violence.

Summary: The year is 1936, and Thomas Shelby retires to the countryside, taking refuge on Robert Turner's farm. For food and a roof, he spends his days cleaning after cattle, drinking, and watching Turner's young daughter, Joni. Small, innocent, and just eighteen years of age, Thomas feels like the devil with the thoughts circling his brain.

Wattpad Ao3 Chapters will soon be available on Tumblr as well! Please be patient or feel free to read at the following links!

Pregnant Joni Innocent Joni Joni Character Profile

[evita-shelby]

Forbidden

Based on @justrainandcoffee post where tommy is married to Rose and Eva to Alfie

For both @justrainandcoffee and @emotionalcadaver

Cw: open marriage, cheating, illegitimate children, drama

Rose was born to love Alfie just as Eva was born to love Tommy, and yet the whims of a higher power have made Rose a Shelby and Eva a Solomons.

Rose married Tommy to escape Lawerence Evertt and Eva married Alfie to escape death by firing squad. Neither are happy despite their many attempts and until they happened to meet their true soulmates by chance and realized they were married to the wrong person.

Eva met Tommy when he came to meet her husband in 1922 while Rose had reconnected with her love in the same train station she was to meet her husband on in the winter of 1918.

There was a silent agreement in their marriages, you go your way, I will go mine.

If Diane Solomons had Tommy Shelby’s cheekbones and left blue eye or if Mrs. Shelby seemed to book all their reservations with Mrs. Solomons only for both women to exchange spouses every time, no one dared to speak it out loud.

They could divorce, but their reputations could not handle it. Not after both Rose and Tommy entered politics and Eva rose so high in society even the Queen feared the witch’s displeasure.

1923 turns to 1927 and until that night they believed they could weather it and keep their arrangements until their marriage ended with death. One cannot simply divorce a gangster, nor can a female politician weather the shitstorm that would come from marrying her best friend’s ex husband while said friend married the other point of the triangle.

It is at a party for Tommy’s reelection campaign that both couples realize they cannot wait anymore.

Eva steals away with Tommy the moment both could invent a reason to get away, and Rose decides her career isn’t worth this torment and runs out of there.

She knows Birmingham as good as she knows Camden Town and leads Alfie to a Night Market she’s been dying to show him.

“This is wrong.” She breathes as they kiss in a dark corner, still terrified of stepping into the light hand and hand.

“They don’t care, love, what do you think they are doing in that dressing room right now? Next year I’ll be holding a bris for his bastard and you and I pretending we’re just friends.” Alfie says bitterly thinking Rose will call it off again.

“No, I don’t mean that, Alfie. I mean us not being together. Why must we all be miserable when the four of us can be happy with the right person? Eva loves Tommy in ways I never will, and I love you in ways she cannot.

Tommy knows it, I know it. Parliament isn’t worth all our suffering, my love.” Rose threw her arms around his neck feeling happier than she had ever been. “What do you say, Alfie Solomons, are you willing to see me burn it all to the ground for you?”

[brummiereader]

Another fantastic series, and another OC anniversary ❤️! One chapter behind, I've been eager to find the time to sit down and lose myself in your most recent part to this wonderful story.

Here's to you darling, Nina 🥂!

Heart, Body and Soul

Tommy Shelby x OC

When the conflict with a powerful family threatens to bring down the Shelby Clan, Tommy takes a trip to Italy. In order to stop the disaster, two families must become one: marriage seems to be the only way to seal an alliance and bring peace.

It’s Nina Ferrante, fierce and rebellious, the one who slowly makes her way into his heart, with steps so light he doesn’t even realise it.

But things are not as easy as they may seem: one, Tommy is expected to marry her cousin, and two - Nina has no intention of getting married.

Find the series HERE.

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven in Your Eyes|| Arthur Shelby x OC!Reader

Summary:  When Arthur comes home with his arms wrapped tight around your shoulders, willing to introduce you to the family, the reactions are lukewarm. Some love you, some are wary, and others do not really care. But when it comes to Thomas Shelby, things are different. After meeting you he comes to two conclusions: first, Arthur is madly smitten with you to the point it worries him. Second, he does not like you. Not at all. That's why he tries to scare you away.

Words: 4,5k

TW: smut, non-protected sex, p in v, age gap (reader is in her late 20s), typical canon violence, mention of suicide attempt, mention of drugs, Tommy being a dick,

Notes: ✞ All chapters can be read as stand-alones but it's obviously better if you read everything.

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT PART

“Bloody Hell.” 

That was all John could say when his vibrant blue eyes fell on you.  The night Thomas told him Linda and Arthur had divorced, he could not believe it. He, more than anyone else, was well aware of his older brother’s tendencies to kowtow under his wife’s authority. Hence his reluctance to believe in such an improbable event. Once he processed the information, John thought about the whole ordeal over and over again. At first, he genuinely thought Linda was the one who left for she had already threatened Arthur to do so countless times. Let alone the fact their relationship had been hanging on by a thread for a while. Somehow he could not blame her — dealing with his brother’s mental illness and tantrums was overwhelming, he could get it, but if there were positive traits among Arthur’s troubled behaviors they were certainly his loyalty and the gigantic amount of love he could give to his significant other. That was why he was persuaded Arthur would never leave his wife, as much as John and the Shelby women warned him she was not a good person.

— And here he came today after weeks of absolute ghosting, the fairest creature he has ever seen snuggling in his arms. For sure, no one expected it.

“Bloody. Fucking. Hell.” He reiterated, standing in the doorway with his hand still on the knob and his eyes wide open. Astounded, John looked at you from head to toe for probably the tenth time in a row. 

“Are ya going to stand there like a dumbass or can we come in?” Arthur growled. He tightened his protective embrace around you, ready to bounce on his little brother’s throat at the slightest inappropriate comment. You bit your lip, not really sure what to do or say — maybe meeting the Shelby family was not a good idea after all.

“Is she really your woman?”

“Fuck off, John! Let us in.” Arthur said louder. He did not want to throw a brutal fit in front of you but you could feel his body shaking against yours, for John was about to cross the very short limits of his patience. One of your small hands gently stroked his chest in an attempt to calm him. Luckily for John, the sensation of your cold skin, which he could feel through the thin fabric of his shirt, was enough to tame his fire.

John Shelby blinked again and, this time, his thin adorable lips stretched in a teasing smile. You did not know him, but you felt he was about to say something stupid. Very stupid.

“How could such a stunning young girl like her be interested in an old and ugly ass dog like you? Fuck, is that your real hair color tho?” 

The flip in Arthur’s brain switched - it was too much for him not to react.

“YOU LIL PIECE OF —“  

“Arthur, dear.” You said with an indescribably soft voice, stepping in front of him to block his path. You pressed your hands on his chest a second time to gently keep him from fighting with his younger brother and probably knocking him out with his bare fists, “It’s alright. He is just messing with ya, you know?” You looked at him, a loving smile flattering your juicy lips.  Letting a long and noisy exhale out of his quavering mouth, Arthur looked dagger at his brother one last time with a threatening gleam burning in his iris before shifting his focus on you. As soon as his steel blue eyes caught sight of your adorable pout his face relaxed.

“Alright. Alright.” He whispered, feeling his rage evaporating at the sole view of your holy smile, “Ain’t going to smash his face in front of such a delicate little lady, eh.” He said. The gravel in his voice never failed to make you burn with both love and desire.  Then, he leaned over you for a kiss, his mind finding its peace only when your lips crashed together.

John watched the scene with vivid interest, for he had never seen someone handling his brother with such genuine care.  To be honest, he had hated Linda since day one — not only for the power she exerted on Arthur but also because of her irritating and condescending nature. She had always walked among the Shelby family as if she had been irremediably better than them, both morally and socially. John could not help but see all her sweet gestures being tainted with a will of controlling Arthur. That, along with the muzzle and leash she had put on her brother,  strengthened his deep aversion for Linda. But you were different — he could sense it. There was something about the way your fingers laid upon his brother as if you were not afraid of his destructive fire but did not want to extinguish it either. Also something about the way you looked at him, with both love and admiration, to the point he could not say if you were his guiding light or if it was the other way round. And when he saw the sudden shift in Arthur’s behavior, immediately calming down at your angelic voice, he knew you were the one.

“Moreover” You added, slowly pulling away from the kiss to press your forehead against his. Arthur looked at you with eyes half closed, bewitched by your enchanting tone.

“Hmm?”

 “I only see one ugly ass dog here and it’s chewing on a toothpick.” Your smile turned into a cunning smirk and your precious aquamarine eyes glanced at John.

“Hey! Hold your woman.” John retorted, pretending to be vexed — truth was he liked your wit, “Alright you can come in,” he said, stepping away from the doorway to invite you inside the Shelby’s house.

“Ain’t holding shit, I love it when me angel bites,” Arthur stated with one sharp, almost carnivorous grin on his face. As he passed by his little brother he punched him right in the shoulder in a typical sibling way to avenge himself. The younger one swore.

You took a deep breath and looked at Arthur, trying to find the necessary courage you needed for this first encounter. Admittedly, you did not know what to expect, but one thing you knew was that the Shelby family was not people you wanted to mess with. 

A relieved sigh escaped from your lips as you filled the teapot with water, all alone in the family kitchen. You enjoyed this quick moment of calmness, soothed by the pleasant smell of freshly baked cookies Esme had taken out of the oven minutes ago. The wooden floor creaked when Arthur entered the kitchen, closing the door behind him. As soon as you left the table following Polly’s comment he had followed you.

“Yer okay?” He asked, his hoarse voice highlighted with sincere worries. 

“I’m fine dear,” You glanced at him above your shoulder and offered a light smile to reassure him even though you both knew you were hurt, “You should go back to your family, I won’t be long.. Just needed to take a big breath. And we are running out of tea.” You added, waving off his question.

Arthur shook his head in disapproval and walked toward you with his so-specific yet adorable gait, swinging both arms at the same time. You had always found this detail absolutely endearing, which had surprised him at first — you never mocked him for the way he walked, nor made the slightest snarky remark.

Your smile, flickering and fragile at first, soon widened in comfort knowing he’ll keep you company during this life-saving break. 

“I’m sorry for what Pol said to you. She doesn’t mean it.”

“Pretty sure she did mean I was a Devil and that I’ll bring woe to this family, but it’s fine.”  You said before shifting your attention back to the teapot. Arthur wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you in a tight and reassuring back hug. As soon your bodies collided together, his warmth alleviated all your doubts and you found a well-deserved comfort in his presence. Worries vanished in smoke, annihilated by his protective demeanor. 

Each time you touched was a reminder that everything will always be fine as long as you were together.

You wiggled your nose like a little bunny for his musky perfume tickled your nostrils. And its familiar fragrances were enough to chase Polly’s unpleasant comments away from your brain. If you had not been busy making tea, you would have buried your face in his chest and never moved again.

“It has nothing to do with ya,” Arthur broke the silence first, “it’s your hair.”

“My hair?” You asked in a half-convinced tone, one brow raised. 

“Yes, your hair. She thinks someone cast a spell on ya when you were young or something, and she’s afraid the spell will harm her too if she sits next to you. Like it’s bloody contagious. It’s some kind of superstitious shit, not that she had really felt something evil in you.”

At such a revelation, you brought your small hand to your mouth to cover it and tried your best not to laugh. If her words had hurt you, painfully reminding your troubled life in France, the idea of a strong woman like Polly Gray being afraid of you only because of the color of your hair had something hilarious.  

“Esme too. She told me she’d personally kick me in the balls if her fookin’ baby comes out with white hair. But that woman is batshit crazy anyway. Pretty sure she’ll kick me in the bollocks for free.”  He growled, his arms tightening around your waist. He rested his chin on your shoulder. Arthur was holding you firmly as if he was afraid you might run away from him after the disastrous encounter with the two Shelby women. After waiting all his life for a woman not to flee from him, he would break into a million pieces if you would do so. Fortunately enough, Ada seemed to like you. She fancied your wit and your curiosity. Most of the afternoon had been spent chatting with her and John under the judging eyes of both Polly and Esme. Usually, people would shut Ada down each time she would talk about politics, especially about her communist ideas, but you did not. Quite the contrary, you listened to her carefully and questioned her with a genuine will to learn — even though you had never been good with politics. At least the conversation had been stimulating. And just like John before, she had also noticed the indescribable care and love with which you blessed her older brother, never controlling him, and always showering him with signs of deep affection. Maybe that was why she did not tease you when she noticed that you and Arthur were holding hands under the table. 

As for Finn, he had been too busy staring at Arthur with eyes wide open to even bother interacting with you. He could not believe that you, a tiny young white-haired girl with an angel face, were in love with his violent brother.

“So they think I’m contagious.” You might have been too confident about your ability to remain impassive because you suddenly snorted with laughter as you understood the true nature of their rude behavior. The crystalline laugh that escaped your mouth sounded like the most delicate music to his ears — he would listen to it with delight each time, his sick brain momentarily forgetting the booming canons and cacophony of war. Arthur, relieved by your reaction, allowed himself to chuckle along. 

“They do, eh.” He admitted, his lips gently brushing your neck, irremediably attracted by your fragile porcelain flesh. His breath, slow and peaceful, caressed your sensitive skin as he exhaled, sending shivers down your spine. Arthur closed his eyes for a second and let the delightful scents of your perfume intoxicate him. Way stronger than any drugs, your fragrances made his head spin — he was losing touch with reality but, this time, he was more than allowing it to happen. Because instead of being sent into a violent craze, he would drown in a blissful haze. 

“You should flee from me, I might infect you too, and you’ll be under my spell.” You teased, your heavy French accent adorning your words.

“I’m already under your spell, love.” His arms freed your waist from their grip only for his strong, calloused hands to run up your sides. How much you enjoyed the sensation of your body flickering under his touch as his soft fingers left trails of fire in their sillage until they finally cupped your small breasts. A blazing desire awoke in your belly and spread like wildfire through every inch of your flesh.

“Arthur — no,” You looked around you to make sure no one had discreetly entered the kitchen.

“Why not say Arthur yes?”  He grunted in your ear. His raspy voice caused an earthquake in your whole being — it shook you so strongly that your legs were now trembling, ready to give up under your weight.  Your lips parted to say something but words got stuck in your throat as his hips pressed against yours to keep you trapped between the kitchen counter and his tall, lean body. 

“I’m serious, we could get caught. And half of your family already distrust me so I’m pretty sure fucking in their kitchen won’t do me good.” You managed to say quickly before biting your lip, trapping its juicy flesh between your teeth. 

“It will do good, love. Fookin’… Good…” His thumbs gently rubbed your perky nipples, which were already pointing through the thin white fabric of your dress. A feverish and liquored sigh escaped from his lips, as he started moving his hips against the sinful curve of your butt cheeks, “I crave you so much Heaven, ” he paused his sentence to lay myriads of hungry kisses on your neck, “You make me lose me bloody mind…” An excruciating heat pooled in his body, so insufferable he could have ripped his skin apart. Arthur growled again at the overwhelming sensation of lava flowing through his veins

—  “I. Need. Ya.”

You don’t understand. He did not only want you, he needed you.

You were his missing half, and he could only feel complete with you.

You were his light, and he could only find a way out of the darkness if you were here.

You were his saving grace, his redemption.

You were his breath, his blood, his heart.

You. You. You. You. 

There was only you. 

You could not help but moan in a frail and aroused whine: his hands had left your breasts to travel everywhere they could on your body, almost a bit too eagerly for you to keep up with what was happening. At that point you had to hold onto the counter, nails digging into its worn wood. 

“Arthur.” You whispered, eyes closed and head down. As the arousal building within almost suffocated you, Arthur kept invading your pale and fragile flesh with both his daring hands and mouth. You whimpered at the pinching sensation of his teeth that had just bit the base of your neck. You were usually not timid when it came to sex, but not when the family of your man was taking the tea in the room that was right behind the door. But Arthur could not care less about getting caught. All he wanted was a taste of his angel.

He was everywhere — on every inch of your body, his lips kissing and biting. His hands rubbing and grabbing. He was overwhelming your senses with his unquenchable need to touch you again and again. And how good it felt to be desired as he did. 

To be desired "À la Folie".

“Say you want me, eh. I wanna hear it.”  The gravel in his voice sent tremors in your belly. You exhaled, your breath shaky, for one of his hands had just lifted your dress. Doing so, he disclosed your garters and the beautiful lace panties you were wearing. The fear of getting caught was still pounding in your chest, but the way he touched you was too good to resist. You gave in, ready to pay the consequences. 

“I want you Arthur, “ You finally admitted, your lips stretching in a smirk, “ I want you,” You repeated, arching your back and spreading your legs  to show how eager you were to feel him inside you, “Only you.” You had uttered the last two words with such tenderness, such a comforting tone, that you felt him smile against your neck. His mustache was tickling you at each word, each movement, which only contributed to the hurricane of sensations and feelings he provoked within your soul.  Right next to you, the teapot had started to let out a faint and continuous whistle as the water boiled inside. At one point you were convinced it was not the kettle, but your scorching desire that made such a sound.  

With one skillful movement, Arthur’s fingers shifted your soaked panties to the side and he unbuckled his belt with his other hand.

“Please…” You bent over the counter and begged, for the clothes that separated your bodies had become a far too heavy burden to bear. The only moment you felt a twinge of satisfaction was when his hard shaft pressed against your dripping pussy. 

“Bloody hell, woman.” He grunted, his voice raspier than it usually was, as your delightful warmth and wetness welcomed him. 

Arthur grabbed your hips fiercely and, unable to wait any longer, sunk into you in one slow but determined trust. A gravel moan, far from being discreet, echoed in the kitchen at the dizzying sensation of your warmth swallowing him. Struck by a moment of clarity, you covered your mouth with your hand to muffle your whimpers of pleasure.  Stars dangled behind your closed eyelids, along with the melody of beating hearts and snapping flesh. In that risky situation, you were both well aware it was not time for a languid and intimate moment, but rather for a quick and torrid fuck. Hence, Arthur started to pound you with a fierce and quick pace as soon as you had adjusted to his size.  Your legs quivered even more for his cock was thick, so thick your walls were stretched all around him. 

“So… Tight…” He stuttered, breathless.

“Oh my — Arthur, Arthur!” You chanted, as a poor sinful soul chanting for God to set her free. The way his name melt on your tongue only made his thrusts rougher, for he loved how it sounded in your mouth. Especially with that adorable French accent of yours. There, with his cock buried deep in your heavenly cunt, he felt like a proud man — not some kind of rabid animal, or a lonely lunatic anymore.  He just felt like a good man, giving pleasure to his good and beautiful little wife.

His pulse quickened. His pupils dilated, and you felt him going faster. Muffling your screams, you lost yourself in a fire of lust. You were not you anymore, but a wet mess of desire.

The pleasure you were giving him sent a shot of dopamine through his brain. Arthur threw his head back, grunting louder, and let his whole being sink in the high you were causing him “So — good. Yer so good, Angel. Keep pleasing your ol’ Arthur, will ye?”  His hips jerked for he felt his climax coming. Yet, Arthur put his own pleasure on the back burner, refusing to come if you did not. He kept fucking you on the counter and slipped one of his hands between your legs to rub his fingers against your swollen clit. This time it was too much to handle: your walls clenched around him and you froze, all your muscles tensing at once. A cry of release would have echoed in the kitchen if you had not choked it with your hand. A tsunami of pleasure crashed against your bones, leaving you panting and shaking like a leaf, still bent over the kitchen counter with your dress lift and Arthur deep inside you.  

As you cum, your glistening love juice dripping along his shaft, Arthur allowed his own pleasure to overflow. He slammed his hips one last time against yours -- his cock throbbed, at the edge of climax. But as much as he wanted to fill you with his semen, he still gathered all his remaining will to pull out in extremis.

You sighed with ecstasy when warm and milky ropes of cum rained down on your ass.

“Aah yes, love.” Arthur’s hoarse moan echoed in the kitchen. How long did you stay there? You could not tell, for you were still dizzy with the orgasm he had just given you. Arthur slowly came back to his senses, the fog of pleasure in his brain evaporating. 

"We should get back to the living room, eh."

That was at this moment of intense relaxation, the two of you catching your breath and sharing post-sex smiles, that the door slammed open.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Your heart missed a beat. In one movement, Arthur pulled up his pants while you strengthened up and smoothed the folds of your dress before turning to the newcomer.

“Fuck off Tommy. Can’t you knock?!” 

“This is no bedroom. I don’t need to knock because I am not supposed to find anyone having sex here.” A freezing and quiet voice, also blessed with a seductive and hoarse tone, retorted.

The infamous Thomas Shelby stood in front of you, arms crossed in his back and cold blue eyes staring at you.  If you had the ability to disappear right on the spot you would have used it without hesitation. Yet, you remained silent, slightly hidden behind Arthur who ran his hands through his hair to slick back the rebel strands that had fallen on each side of his face. The older Shelby quickly moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue before talking.

“Erm, can I help ya Tommy?” He asked, still panting from your quick but intense fuck. You took advantage of their conversation to wipe the sweat from your forehead and briefly redo your hair.

“I am afraid you can’t, brother. However, I am pretty sure you charming woman can. I’d like to talk to her if she allows me to.” 

You frowned. Why the hell did he want to talk to you in private?

Arthur nodded and wrapped your shoulders with one protective arm, his surprised expression turning into a smile. He could not wait to introduce you to his little brother, filled with pride at the idea of showing him his magnificent woman. It was important to him — even though he would have preferred him not to meet her in these conditions — “Of course, I've been waiting to…”

“Without you.” Tommy cut him off, and his words broke Arthur’s dawning grin.  Despite the rollercoaster of emotions you just had, you could not help but open your mouth.

“He’s your older brother. He has every right to remain here while we talk, hasn’t he?” You argued, unhappy with the way Thomas Shelby acted. Arthur had waited the whole afternoon for Tommy to come so that he could introduce you to him, and when his little brother finally ought to show up he sent him off. That was painful to watch, “or if you really want to talk to me in private I think you might ask politely.” 

A heavy silence fell in the room. How dare you speak to him with that arrogant tone? He thought. Tommy inhaled through his nose slowly, and moistened his lips, “Well, Arthur would you please leave me and your charming lady alone for two minutes?” He reiterated with a more polite phrasing. In spite of his unshaken placidity, his bleak winter eyes were looking daggers at you. He had certainly killed you at least three times in his mind. Slightly confused, Arthur looked at you, then at Tommy, before nodding, “Right,” he mumbled, his eyes fleeing his brothers’. He kissed your cheek and reluctantly left the kitchen, already aching from your absence. 

You sighed, wondering what was going to happen now that you were all alone with the fearless Peaky Blinders’ boss everyone was talking about. Rather than starting the conversation, you took a cigarette from the small silver case that was on the counter and slipped it between your full lips, still swollen from the countless times you had bit them when you and Arthur had sex. Thomas Shelby remained silent too— all he did was walk to you, his soles hammering the floor, and lit up your cigarette with his zippo. But you were not fooled by his gentlemanly appearance nor by his undeniable charm. You took a puff from your cigarette until the tip ignited, and you stepped back from him as quickly as you could. Contrary to what people could think when watching Arthur and you, you did not like people entering your personal space without an invitation.

“I’ll go straight to the point, Miss Lavey. How much do you want?” He asked, his low and quiet voice undisrupted by the slightest emotions. While Arthur was made of fire, Thomas Shelby was surely made of ice. 

“I beg your pardon?” You asked, brows furrowed , for you had not understand what he meant.

“How much money do you want to leave my brother?”

His words were so violent, so unexpected, that you were unsure if he had just slapped you across the face or not. Your mind started to buzz, its gears creaking and tinting as you tried not to burst out in anger at such an indecent suggestion. Against all his expectations, your innocent pout turned to the most freezing expression he had ever seen on a woman.

“To Hell with your money. I don’t know what you're trying to do but I won’t leave him. Why would I, eh?”

“Because I don’t trust you.” He retorted as soon as you had finished your sentence. Thomas quickly rubbed his cigarette on his lower lip and lit it. White smoke came out from his nostrils as he stared at you, like an angry dragon gazing upon the last breath of his future meal. “When I learned for you and Arthur I decided to send some of my guys to investigate on you. They told me every bloody thing,” He emphasized each syllable, almost baring his teeth doing so for you to understand he was not joking — in case you doubt it, “ I know you come from that small town in the French Alps. I know about the witch hunt that took place there and all the women who have been tortured and burned. But more than that, I know that you managed to escape right before they tied you to the pyre. And I also know about the story of the five poor villagers who have been hunted and killed like animals — it was you, right?” Tommy exhaled another cloud of smoke, his eyes never losing their focus on you.

“— And?”  You gritted through your teeth, hatred blooming in your heart at the mention of these traumatizing memories. However, you did not let it show, for you knew it would please him. Thomas Shelby was well aware of the threatening aura that emanated from him, and how to use it for his own benefit. If you displayed any sign of fear or anger, it would be over and he would win. And somehow you were not particularly afraid of him.

He might had blood on his hands but you did too.

“And I will not tolerate a witch and a murderer around this family, nor will I let you take advantage of Arthur and ruin him.” 

“Now you’re worried for Arthur. Isn’t it a bit too late?” You said, all the traits of your doll-like face suddenly devoid of any emotion, except a slight shade of unsettling arrogance, “You throw away his meds, you send him off when he asks you for help — when he tells you he’s desperate.” You stubbed your cigarette out in the nearest ashtray, “You didn’t even help him when he was ruining himself with cocaine. But that’s not it.” You walk toward Tommy, reducing the distance between you and him with unstoppable steps until you were standing a few inches from him. You raised your head to look at his arctic blue eyes, “He tried to kill himself and all you did was wave it off at best and treat him like a child at worst. Now let me ask you something, Thomas Shelby. Who’s the one who uses his own brother as his combat dog? And who’s the one who closes his eyes on his problems until they are insufferable enough for him to attempt suicide?” 

Thomas clenched his jaws, his gaze hardening. He had to admit you had guts for a frail creature he could have broken in half with his bare hands. You were such a small yet fierce woman, it almost unsettled him. Moreover, you were smart, and smart was dangerous.

“So, don’t ever say I am the one who will manipulate and ruin Arthur when you do it on a daily basis. I love your brother, and whether you like it or not I’ll stay by his side.”

He rolled his eyes. The conversation was slowly but surely getting on his nerves, “Listen, I don’t need another Linda. She almost turned him into her dog and yet he was barely half in love with her compared to what he feels for you. Look at him! Look at fucking Arthur Shelby! He would throw himself out of London Bridge if you’d ask him to do so. She already tried to change him and took him away from this family, so don’t think I am naive enough to believe in your so-called love and kindness.”

“I ain’t gonna change shit. I am well aware of his demons, well aware of what he is but that's okay, I accept him the way he is. All I want is to see him healed and happy. No matter if he wants to keep killing people for your business. Sky could break loose I won’t give a damn as long as he feels better.”

Another silence. Thomas was trying hard to decipher your intentions but he could not probe your far-too-unique eyes. His brows furrowed; it was the first instance of emotions you had seen on his face since the beginning of your not-so-cordial conversation. 

“You’re a bad omen, Heaven. I can feel it.”

“Why dear?  Do you see a sapphire in my eyes?” 

A rush of thunderous rage ran through his veins — how could you mention Grace's death? A gleam of violence ignited Thomas's eyes, who suddenly grabbed your throat without any warning sign. His strong and large hand tightened around your fragile neck and pressed against your windpipe enough for you to give you trouble breathing. You tried to talk but nothing came out, words choked under his palm. The pressure was not enough to really choke you, but it was still painful. With eyes wide opened in surprise, you wrapped your own fingers around his wrist and clawed his flesh in a desperate attempt to free yourself from his grip, but Thomas did not falter. Quite the contrary, the more you struggled the more he closed his fist around you.

“Don’t ever disrespect Grace anymore!” He gritted through his teeth, “You want to stay by Arthur’s side? Fine. So here's the plan: you’re going to be a good little wife for him and you won’t cause any trouble, nor interfere with my business. You’re going to do the best you could to make him happy and you’ll take care of him. You'll want him even when he’ll go back home wasted, yelling at you and breaking things because he will ultimately do it,” He paused, his eyes falling on the pale flesh of your throat he was still holding. The expression on his face changed for one brief second as he started to caress your neck with his thumb, almost too tenderly to be completely devoided of any kind of attraction, “but let me set this straight: if you ever try to leave him, if you become an inconvenience or if any member of my family is hurt because of your cursed being… I’ll burn you in a field like the witch you are.” 

He finally released your throat and looked at the scratches you inflicted on his wrist. As you inhaled loudly, Thomas rolled down the sleeve of his shirt to hide the red and thin cuts your nails had left on his skin. He did not even bother checking on you.

“Let’s go back to the living room. And wear your most beautiful smile.” He stated with his usual cold demeanor, watching you rub your sore throat. Then, he offered you his arm to keep up appearances. You reluctantly accepted and followed him out of the kitchen, still shaken by the conversation — 

The whole family, freshly joined by Michael Gray, was chatting together, all scattered here and there in the living room. Arthur, a hip flask filled with whisky in one hand, got up from his chair as soon as he saw you. At first, you thought he suspected something but the truth was that Thomas was insanely clever and he took care not to leave any bruise on your delicate skin.  And when it came to hiding things, he was certainly the best. Even better than you. Tommy finally released you from his grip so that you could come back to his older brother, then he poured some whisky into a glass for him.

“Well Arthur, congratulations. You’ve brought a stunning and lovely lady into that house. I guess we could welcome her in the family, since she made our good ol’ Arthur happy, eh.”

He rose his glass to you, his threatening blue eyes staring right at your soul. 

“Welcome, Heaven. Hope you'll stay with us for a while.” He said, pretending nothing had happened.

Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivated me, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

Also, the third first parts of this series can be read as stand-alone but I advise you to read everything if you want a better understanding of details.

Tagging those who might be interest: @areyenotfondofmelobster @meowtastick @babayaga67 @sired-to-hybrid

[justrainandcoffee]

For a better future (Alfie Solomons x fem!oc)

He could never choose death over her.

Alfie Solomons x Rose Coldwell (ofc) Masterlist

Summary: Alfie wakes up after Tommy shot him. After the hell he went through. After the hell she went through. It's a warm morning but he doesn't open his eyes yet. Alfie prefers to enjoy the sounds and smells around him first. He's back to life for her. He promised her a future together and he's now ready to give her, the best future of all. Starting with the fact that he's alive.

Warnings: None.

Words: 1.8k || continuation of this fic.

1926.

When Alfie was born 38 years ago, Rose was already there. She was 87 days old. She was little baby wrapped in a white blanket in her mother's arms.

Alfie decided to born around 3am when everyone was sleeping and his mother's screams woke up the neighbours who run to help her. One hour later he was already part of this world. Alfie was a big healthy baby.

Neither of them were concious at all of what happened but the morning, while his mother was resting trying to recover from his birth and Rose's mother was there to clean Mrs. Solomons' sheets and towels, both babies were resting in the same crib. That day, his first morning on Earth, Rose was already there.

And 38 years later, she is still there.

He can smell the breeze. Mix of rain and sea. Mix of salt and sun.

Alfie is back. A bullet sent him to hell but the devil sent him back to Earth. He's back because while he was still in a limbo some words reached his ears.

"Don't leave me."

And there is no man on Earth, no supernatural entity who can stop him from helping his wife.

"Don't leave me."

That wasn't a request, it was her begging for him. It was her crying over his chest, imploring him not to die.

He could feel her. He could feel her tears and hear her sobs. Her soft hands touching his face, whispering lovely words. He could feel her sadness. But he couldn't do anything about it. He was less than a man. He was more dead than alive. And his wife was dying with him.

Only when he couldn't bear with it anymore, Alfie's brain could make his body respond to her words. Although it was just his hand squeezing hers.

How easy it could have been if he had allow death to embrace him. Sweet death, helping him to forget all his physical pain. But how sad at the same time.

Alfie doesn't dare to open his eyes. Not yet. He breathes deeply and the let the breeze fill his nostrils.

He knows one of his eyes is covered in bandages. Alfie fears that he won't be able to see with it anymore, but it really doesn't matter. His cheek hurts like hell. He feels like it's burning and the fire is inside his face.

Far away in the distance he can hear the seagulls, probably they're eating near the seashore. Fucking seagulls. He can hear voices on the other side of where he is. Probably nurses or maids. Along with them, there's a dog barking and he knows that's Cyril. He could recognise his barking anywhere. Alfie smiles for the first time.

And yet his eyes are still closed.

He hears the door open and he pretends to be sleeping. He doesn't want to speak yet. After few seconds, the door closes again.

Alfie remembers the incidents that lead him to where he was now. The sunny day, the beach, the sea in front of him and Thomas Shelby shooting him. It was his own fault, Alfie knows that and he paid for it. What he never wanted was to her suffer because of him.

There's a new voice now. Not behind the door but next to him. A very familiar voice.

"No! No! Don't! Alfie! Alfie!"

That's when he opens his eyes. It's still the sunrise. He can see the sky through the open window. It's a mix of orange, yellow, pink and blue and some white clouds. It's a beautiful view. But he barely watches it. His sight is fixed on her.

She's curled up, embracing herself and her body is shaking, whispering his name in her sleep. She's crying too.

"Alfie, please… don't die."

"Shhh… it's over. Rosie, it's over," his hand is stroking her head. "Rosie, wake up, luv."

First, she calms herself. She's still sleeping but she's not having nightmares. Alfie keeps stroking her head.

He could never choose death over her.

Her hair is a mess and her dress is crumpled. Signs that she never left his side. Of course not. The most loyal person he knows. And she's his wife.

Alfie touches her face. His fingers tracing a path across her forehead and nose. And then her cheeks and jawline. Why die and private himself of having her a lot of more years? His fingertip touch the tip of her nose. Alfie smiles looking at her.

If he could only describe in one world what that she means to him…

When Alfie woke up from his first nap ever, 38 years ago, Rose was still sleeping and the baby he was had his eyes on her. He was lying on his back with his little head facing her. Impossible to know what he thought, if he thought at all, but the baby looked at her. And for a few and quiet minutes, after she woke up as well, they looked at each other. That was the first time they saw each other.

Suddenly, she opens her eyes and stares at him. Confused. Is it a dream? Is her mind playing with her?

"Rosie," he says.

She is still cautious. Slowly, her hand touches his healthy cheek and he puts a hand over hers.

"Oh my god… Alfie."

It's not a dream.

He sits on bed and carefully she sits on him hiding her face on his neck. His arms are around her, like preventing her to go anywhere. Alfie is hugging her tightly and her hands are clutching his pajamas shirt.

"I'm sorry," she says. Her face is still against him. "I'm sorry, Al."

"Sorry for what, sweetheart?"

"For being mad at you. I-I thought I was going to lose you. I thought you're going to die and I could never have had the chance to apologize. Never… Al-"

"It's okay, Rosie. Not your fault, luv, it wasn't your fault. And you were right, as always. Except that ya believed I was going to die. Fuckin hell, luv, dying it's not in my immediate agenda. Ya know, that. Leaving 'ere alone… no. Never."

Alfie knows what she's talking about. Their biggest argument ever. When Rose knew about his pact with Luca Changretta they argued strongly and lead them to not talk to each other for days. In fact, when Tommy shot him, they weren't in peace. So, he understands her pain. Too much love between them and it could have ended with one of them dead and without the chance of saying sorry.

"My love for you is stronger than a bullet, sweetheart."

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

"I'm sorry, too, Rosie. Never again, right, pet? I promise it won't happen again, luv," he says and she nods.

Alfie closes his eyes again but this time is to kiss her. The muscles in his face hurt but he doesn't care. If that the price to pay for kissing his wife after his almost death, then let it be. Her hands are on his shoulders and Alfie can feel her fingers pressing on him. He also feels her tears wetting his own face.

"Rosie…" he says pulling apart from her, to look at the woman in her eyes.

"I was there, Al. I saw you fall over the sand. I saw the fucking bastard standing up… fuck! I always hated him! I saw your almost lifeless body. You were cold… And the bang. I hear the bang in my dreams. Every fucking night. In my nightmares I see you falling, your blood in my hands. Sometimes you die there. If… if you- if you have died, I was ready to kill him. And you know that."

"Yeah, I know that..."

He knows she's not lying. Those aren't just empty words. Alfie knows that it's true because no one knows Rose the same way he knows her. Because no one else except them know about the kind of love they have for each other. Every person in his path knows what are the consequences of saying something about his wife. But few know that it's the same with her. Nor Polly Gray, nor Arthur Shelby, nor his fucking cousin, nor Lizzie… no one could be able to stop Rose to put a bullet in Thomas Shelby's brain. He, Alfie, taught her how to shot. Only an idiot could underestimate his wife.

"…But you don't have to now. Because I'm back. I reborn. I can't protect you from your nightmares, luv, but I can do my best to help you to erase them."

Alfie caresses her face again. She's tired maybe not physically but mentally.

"I love you," she says.

"Me too, luv."

He kisses her again and she reciprocates. It's slow and intimate. Alfie doesn't know how many days passed since the cunt shot him, but it feels like a century, since he could kiss her that way. Savouring her, feeling her, smelling her. Alfie pushes Rose to him to have her closer to his body. Not longer after, the morning finds them making love again. Smiling at each other, not just because they love each other. But also because they're alive.

38 years ago, after helping to clean her neighbour's house, Mrs. Coldwell went to see her daughter. It was strange that Rose wasn't crying demanding to be feed. To her suprise she found her still sleeping but the newborn baby wasn't. He was awake and in silence. Mrs. Coldwell felt like he was guarding Rose. Stupid to think because Alfie was less than 10 hours of life. But that was she thought.

It's not longer the sunrise. The sky is completely blue and the sun is shining. Alfie had already taken his pills and had his first breakfast in a long time. The drugs are making effect, he's a bit dizzy now but awake. At his side Rose is sleeping against him. His arm is around her. Protecting her. Guarding her. His, sweet and yet strong, Rosie. Alfie strokes her hair, she's sleeping peacefully with no nightmares. They will return, sooner or later, Alfie knows a bit about having nightmares after a traumatic episode. But for now she sleeps.

The sound of the waves give him the rest of the calm he needs.

Something good is about to come. Alfie doesn't know what yet. But there's something there… he can feel it.

Down in the beach a mother and her daughter are having a day at the sea. They are playing and collecting seashells. It won't last, she has to go to work again but the day is too nice to not be there with her two year old baby. A childish laugh can be heard for all over the beach.

"Come here!! Leave that crab, alone!! We have to go, Allie!!" the mother yells before grabbing her daughter's hand and walk towards the building where they're living.

But Alfie doesn't hear the name. Drugs finally did they work and now both Solomons are sleeping.

But he's right, the best is about to come.