#got x peaky blinders

[kisses4kaia]

in my feelings was so good ahhhh i would love to see a part 2 where its the morning after or like tommy slowly showing reader how he rly feels !! deciding they are gonna stay married 😍😍

yes yes yes!! so grateful for the love on imf tho i kinda wanna mention that it’s highly inspired by in my feelings by lana del rey. so go stream it !! oh and fair warning; this is tooth rotting fluff. do not read if you aren’t prepared to swoon.⚠️ (part one here)

blue velvet🥿 - t, shelby ,,

that night, you and tommy didn’t speak another word to one another.

for months, the only times you and him would speak would be when of two things. you would speak either about mundane things, like the weather and plans for the evening.

or, when the two of you fucked.

although he had you often, you were sure he was seeing other women, too. by the lipstick stains on his collars in a shade of red you wouldn’t be caught dead wearing and also by the hushed whispering of the maids, feeling pitiful for you.

it killed you, because deep down, behind all the fights and ‘i hates you’s, you loved him. hatable as he is, yes, but you loved the person he was when he wasn’t on his guard, who he was deep down.

but he was always on his guard. there were only a few times you had seen him off of it.

it happened when you were 13. tommy had just turned 15 and a party much like your wedding was thrown for him.

unbeknownst to many, tommy shelby was not a party man. never was, never will be. he was frankly the only person within his hectic family whom possessed that quality.

so, he snuck away from the garrison- where the party was being held- and carefully made his way over to the river bank behind your house.

he didn’t know it was your house, honest. simply, he loved the scenery. he loved the sound of the horses happily trotting in their stables and the sound of the dogs chasing each other around the prairie.

there was no fence separating your backyard to the river, and so one of your dogs made his way to the birthday boy who was dangling his legs just above the stream.

“hey, buddy,” he laughed as your dog snuck up behind him, licking his face and neck. he quickly found himself forever petting frankie and scratching behind his ears, too.

he looked around and behind him, but no owner was to be found. he held frankie in his lap, resting his chin atop frankie’s head.

thomas remained like that for a while, occasionally speaking rhetorically to the dog. “today’s my birthday, you know. they threw me a party, can you believe it? i wish they knew me well enough to know i absolutely loathe parties.”

frankie was soon asleep in tommy’s arms, breathing serenely.

“frankie!” your terrified voice called from a distance behind tommy.

he turned around to see your face relax at the sight of your dog safe and sound.

“i’m sorry, is this your house?” he asked, waving to the house and barn in the close distance.

the sun was setting, and the horizon never looked so beautiful as the waning sunlight shined on your face. that was the moment tommy knew he’d met an angel on earth.

the way your toothy smile shined stupidly as you sighed and nodded, being awfully proud of your home.

“oh, i’m sorry. i’ll go, i didn’t realize i was trespassing. my apologies,”

that had to be the first time you heard of tommy shelby apologizing to another person.

you quickly shook your head. “no, stay. you mind if i sit with you?” you didn’t wait for his answer before plopping right down next to him, your legs being even shorter than his as they dangled next to one another.

he looked at you to see if you were joking or just completely oblivious to who he was. then he laughed, figuring he was in much need of some friendly company.

now, this was before you and tommy had ever met. however, you knew of him, of his notorious reputation of being cruel. you knew what people thought of him, but you wanted to know him. to you, he was just misunderstood, and in dire need of a friend.

you two sat there and talked. minutes turned into hours as you talked and talked until the cicadas sung and the blue hue’d moon began her nightly waltz with the silver stars.

he told you about his birthday disaster and his family, about his love for horses and for knowledge.

he laughed, he argued, he listened, he smiled, and he was happy. really, truly, very, happy.

you didn’t judge him, didn’t hedge or waffle around any subjects in fear of what he might do to you if faced with an opposing opinion. you treated him like a normal person.

“i like you, tommy shelby,” you admitted, the once cool grass beneath you now warm due to your everlasting presence atop the soil.

“i like you too, y/n y/l/n.”

and you met him at the same place everyday after that, just talking. you told him everything about you, all your innermost thoughts and secrets. about your mother and your animals, about your love for history and reading.

and in return, he- eventually- let you know of his vulnerabilities and weaknesses.

from tommy, that was like being gifted the most expensive, purest, most glimmering, block of gold.

his feelings towards you were becoming stronger and stronger each time he returned to the river bank. tommy soon realized he couldn’t be around you anymore.

although he told you most of his weaknesses and such, he never told you of one.

you.

he felt a certain way about you, a feeling he couldn’t shake. he was growing weak, and thomas shelby could not be weak.

- and he wasn’t planning on it, so he just… stopped showing up.

for weeks, you would wait for him at sunset by the stream behind the stables, but he never showed again.

and when you became friends with ada and often visited her home, he would avoid you like the plague. it confused and angered you. how could someone go from so warm to so cold in less than a month?

you gave up on it soon after, figuring you wouldn’t chase after anything that’s running.

as a result, you ignored him just as he ignored you.

up until year 9.

you always wondered what happened, what caused him to become so cold to you when he was just letting you in.

it was too late now to simply ask, so you were left to be forever in the dark.

tommy came home late that night, as he did every night. yet another confirmation of his infidelity.

you sighed to yourself, forcing a semi-smile on your face as you walked out of the drawing room to greet your husband.

“hello, thomas,” you smiled through gritted teeth, trying your hardest to maintain a smile as he scowls at your sudden appearance.

“alright, then. i’ll be reading if you need me, i suppose,” he nodded dismissively at you, and all sense of respect you tried to hold for him, drained in an instant.

your smile dropped and you rolled your eyes with a grimace when you walk away, not even bothering to spare him another glance.

by the time dinner was served, you hadn’t seen tommy once.

you ate alone, as thomas was busy in his office. you sighed after you finished your meal, grabbing a clean dish and fixing tommy a plate.

your heels clacked against the wooden tiles beneath your feet as you made your way to thomas’s office, plate in hand.

you knocked twice, not bothering to wait for his response before walking into the study.

“you missed dinner, thomas,” you placed the food before him on the desk, disregarding the important paperwork and documents you sat it atop.

he sighed, looked down at the plate, then up at you through his gold-rimmed glasses.

“i’m sorry? is that what you want to hear?” he continued working studiously, secretly willing you to leave him alone.

it took everything not to set fire to that desk.

“why’d you come home so late? hm?” you asked softly, but wished to scream.

“there was work that needed to be done,” said tommy nonchalantly.

you laughed. like, genuinely laughed. “huh. work that needed do be done at brothels?”

he looked annoyed, like you were some bothersome pest. “why do you care? you really expect some faithful husband from me? you’re the one who wanted this to be an arrangement,”

you opened your mouth to yell back but realized he was right.

no, this marriage is not one you want. so? was that his fault? it wasn’t, but you so badly wanted it to be, because how could he have stolen your heart then abandon it like breathing? and get away with it?

it was then you realized you were crying. tommy suddenly rose from his desk. “oh, i-i’m sorry. i didn’t-fuck- i didn’t mean to make you cry,”

he tried to approach you, put his arms around you, but you turned around and put your arm out, signaling for him to stop.

“y/n, i’m sorry. really, i’m sorry. please don’t cry,” he ignored your request for him to stay away and wrapped his arms around you.

you tried to push him off of you, but he just kept holding you.

he let you fall into his chest and collapse on the ground.

“why?” you croaked out, looking up at him through wet lashes, your nose rosey and cheeks stained.

“what?” he was confused, but continued to run his fingers through your hair.

you sniffled and rose to your feet again, thomas following suit.

“why did you stop coming to the river bank?! why did you leave me alone just when you finally began to let me in?!”

you were hitting him now, pounding your fists on his chest, and he was annoyingly unaffected.

“what? sweetheart, slow down,”

your heart was pounding in your ears and you felt your heart drop to your toes when you heard that. tommy hasn’t called you anything but your name since the river bank. and at the river bank, his favorite nickname for you was sweetheart.

insanely enough, you started laughing through your tears. laughing because you were confused? hurt? you don’t know, all you know is for some reason, this is all fucking hIlarious.

tommy’s confused, more confused than you, probably. “y/n, what is so funny?” he approached you again, and this time you’re too wrapped up in your head to care or stop him.

all of a sudden, the pain hits you again, with the force of a train, and you are desperate for closure.

“do you know how long i waited for you? every day, by the river?” your eyes were drying now, and anger was overtaking you.

he blinks and suddenly it’s like he finally understands the seven wonders of the world. “fuck, is that why you’re upset?”

you couldn’t help but stare at his stupidity. “thomas, you led me on for weeks, weeks! and then you stop showing up, because, i’m presuming, i grew boring? or you found some new, young, prettier, thing? you could have told me!” cried your weakening voice.

he opens his mouth to speak, but you aren’t done. “i guess not much has changed. i’m still so boring to you? you still need other women although i’m ruining my life being with you, isn’t that ri-“

he abruptly cut you off “fuck, y/n! it’s because i’m ln love with you!”

your attention was immediately all on him.

“you… what?”

“the reason i stopped coming to the river bank in because i’m in love with you. the reason i go to the brothels is because i am so fucking in love with you and i can’t be! i know, i know, you don’t love me too, okay? i know this is but an arrangement, i know. but, please understand that it kills me to pretend like i don’t,”

you couldn’t believe what you were hearing, the word ‘love’ sounding foreign from thomas.

“that’s doesn’t make any sense. why would you stop seeing me if you loved me, start seeing other women?”

now he was scoffing at your ignorance. “don’t you get it? i can’t afford to be in love, not when i have the biggest bounty in the city on my head. i can’t put that danger on you, i’d die before. also, it scares me, quite frankly,” he whispers the last part.

you couldn’t hold back the twitching smile on your lips. “why didn’t you say anything?” whispered you softly.

he chuckled lightly. “you know yourself, you’d never had given up on me,”

you tilted your head in a ‘touché’ manner.

“i do love you too, you know. in case you couldn’t tell,”

a short silence whisked in the air like a winters breath.

“c’mere, sweetheart.” his voice beckoned you over towards him.

you slung your arms around his shoulders. “what if we… didn’t divorce?”

you smiled up at him before kissing him. “i think that’s a good idea.”

tags; @mrkdvidal1989 @fairytale07 @svtansdaddyx

[greycloudsinwinter]

OPEN TO REQUESTS

Masterlist ❤️❤️

Will write yandere only

Acotar

Twilight

Hobbit

House of dragons

Game of thrones

Pride and prejudice

Monsters

Bridgerton

Lord of the rings

Cruel prince

Oc’s

The bear

Haikyuu

Naruto

Beaststars

Fantastic beasts and where to find them

Bridget jones diary

Series of unfortunate events

Twisted wonderland

Record of ragnarok

Wednesday

Rocky balboa films

Peaky blinders

Kingdom of heaven

Historical characters

[alicent-targaryen]

ALFIE, ARTHUR & TOMMY ▸ Peaky Blinders, 3.5

requested by @raincoffeeandfandoms

[the-fandoms-swallowed-me-longago]

Please indulge my delusions 

[elskiee]

oh that's tommy shelby for sure I don't accept criticism

[onyondump]

Sly Fox 

Part 2 of Infatuated

Arthur Shelby x M!Reader x Linda Shelby

WARNING! : Slight NSFW🚨 , Slight Angst, Harsh Language, None of the characters here are good people  

Synopsis : Arthur came home to a silent wife and a smiling fox

Note : Thank you for liking “Infatuated” and wanting a part 2 of it. Honestly I don’t even plan on continuing it, I just had a funny one liner I thought would be good to write a fic around it.

Infatuated | Masterlist

English is my second language, my grammar and writing is not good. Please don’t eat me

It was dinner time when Arthur finally arrived home from the Arrow House only drinking one glass of whiskey which came as a surprise to Tommy and John. It’s a huge progress from finishing two bottles of auburn liquid in a single day, all thanks to the day he met you. 

When he first met you he had broken your nose out of suspicion. A smile he can only attribute to that of a cunning fox was plastered across your face and your eyes that follow his every move he makes irks him into thinking  that you were some opportunistic hooligan mistakenly taking the high in adrenaline Arthur Shelby as his enemy. Much to his surprise you would come back to his club the next day with a bandaged nose with the same shit eating grin asking if he’d like a drink. He laughed of course at the thought of this stranger buying him a drink. At his own fookin bar? Nonetheless he accepted, curious of what he presumed to be a stupid stranger buying booze for his own assaulter.

You were full of surprise for him, enchanting him with your stories, jokes and wit that he couldn’t get enough talking to you, not realizing that the club was now empty and the warm morning sun greets their tired eyes. You would come to his club every night after your unspecified job just to talk with him over everything and nothing at the same time, building up your friendship and maybe something more. The last day of his supposed ‘three month work’ (his excuse to get away from Linda for a while) he finally confessed his feelings for you. He explained how you made him feel like his old self again, how the sound of screaming and booming of war became a far away echo since he met you, and also how his stomach and heart aches for something. In his honesty, he told you how much shame he feels loving another man but also that he might explode if he never told you how he feels. You took it slow, processing the information he had just given you, this was Arthur in his most bare. Admittedly you had only wanted to quell your curiosity for the gangster, maybe even enticing him to be your new customer. You hadn’t really expected to develop feelings for the man much less him reciprocating it. That same night you hold his hands gently as you kissed his thinly chapped lips in the dimly lit private room of his club. Arthur wanted to be a good man for you so he thought bringing you to his house would be a such good idea, it’s not but you could figure something out. 

‘I’m home luv” Arthur open the door to the house to his wife and his lover preparing dinner, instantly relieving him of the stressful environment of the Arrow House 

“Welcome home, Art. Billy’s with Polly so its only us adults in the house” Linda flinched at your response, not even replying to her husband which Arthur found odd. Usually she would scold him for being late but any chance Arthur gets for peace he’ll take it. 

Dinner was awkward. Arthur tried to sprung up a conversation only to be returned with his lover replying dryly and his wife avoiding even looking at him. He couldn’t help but be worried at what happened when he was gone. 

He retired himself to his shared bedroom excusing his tired old bones expecting Linda to follow suit in a couple of minutes so he could ask her in private, not wanting to subject you to any of the fighting. Tiredness from the long drive got the better of him and he fell asleep waiting for Linda to enter their room. 

The sound of shattering glass woke him up, half asleep Arthur grabbed his gun he keeps in his side drawer. Even when life has gone soft on him he still needs to protect the ones he loves. As he ran to the living room expecting an intruder as he pointed the gun at the sounds of gasps and moaning. Wait! Moaning? Fully awake he realized that he’s pointing the gun to his lovers head

“How was your nap Arthy?” the ever distinct foxlike grin on your face “Care to join us?” Only then did Arthur realize what he’s witnessing. His wife was on your lap with her skirt hiked up revealing her bare wet cunt rubbing on your thighs and you naked with a face covered in his wife's favorite color of lipstick, Coral. 

“What The Fook IS GOING ON HERE!” his horse screamed echo’s through the vast and lonely land he purchased for Linda. Betrayal was the first thing he felt, forcefully separating both of them from each other. He was a good man! He doesn't deserve this!

“He told me he fucked you! He told me that your three months of ‘work’ is spent fucking around at your satanic club” she barked back with an equal amount of emotion. She felt empty, the man that she sacrificed her perfect life to redeem went back to his old ways

“I gave you everything Linda! This fuckin house, this big ass land, the fuckin chickens. I cut off Tommy to be with you, I became a good man FOR YOU. I deserve to have some time away from your screaming” 

“You were a sack of sad shit when I met you. YOU were a child begging for his dead mommy to come and tell him he’s a good boy after snorting a whole bottle of satan’s seeds and now your bent. I deserve a better man than you!” 

A laugh escaped your mouth like you were watching some kind of circus act unfolding in front of you. What a conundrum to catch your partner cheating with the same man you were with, while both of you try to spin the story like they’re the good one in this situation. 

Of course it didn't go unnoticed by pot and kettle as their furious face snaps at you like dears realizing the fox has tricked them. 

“What the hell are you laughing at?” his voice softens when asking you, its almost unfair.

“Well for one, you're hard” you eyed his growing tent in his trousers which he tries to hide with his hands which really didn’t do much as both yours and Linda’s eyes had already preoccupied itself on the shape. 

Without warning you push both of them down into the sofa, “Second its funny that you two decided to cheat on the same person, me” you let off a small laugh 

“He cheated on me first” Linda’s pride in her righteousness is something to behold honestly. How she convinced herself that se had redeem the gangster is beyond ludicrous. 

“Now you're just being a kid Linda. You didn’t know that before you confessed to me earlier this morning. Talking about running away to the States like I’m some kind of prince charming here to save you from you big bad gangster husband” 

“YOU WHAT?!!” 

“Look! The truth will set you free eh? You're both lonely people that grew apart as the spark of your marriage dims down. So why not accept me as your new addition to your relationship? Besides you two can’t get enough of me anyway” sly as a fox everybody tells you

“That's immoral” “Your cocky ain't ya?” 

“Yea well what do you expect? you’ve both sinned so why not just dive into the deep end and enjoy the ride since your both still in this living room and haven’t beaten me out of your house yet” both of your legs moved between each of their thighs, dangerously close to their leaking arousals. 

“What do you say Lovers?”

[dreamsandscenes]

Ada, when she went back home after 2x05 and saw the state of her settee after Tommy and Grace were there:

[peakycobblers]

John and Esme: *making loud, shouty gorilla sounds at each other*  Alfie: Tommy, exasperatedly: We have a guest.

[divinekangaroo]

just enough to let me drown - pettiot - Peaky Blinders (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | ? | ?

During S6-E5, starting with Tommy meeting Diana at the narrowboat, how he gets back to Arrow, that particular Dinner, through to Tommy returning home after dropping Jack Nelson off at the train.

Tommy was running out of women who didn’t look like other women. If Lizzie found out, he’d have only redheads left to fuck in his old age.

No. No old age. Only this.

.

Diana Mitford/Tommy Shelby, Past Oswald Mosley/Tommy Shelby, Tommy Shelby/Lizzie Stark, Past Oswald Mosley/Lizzie Stark, Jack Nelson, Charles Strong, Small Heath Sex Worker | Reference to Incest, Dehumanisation, Cigarette Burns, Disassociation, Racism, Class Issues, Intrusive Thoughts, Extremely Dubious Consent, Post Rationalisation, Flashbacks, Dyfunctional Relationship, Self Harm, Oral Trauma, Trauma, Plausible Deniability, Close POV/Unreliable Narration, Horrible Dinner Parties, Prostitution, Shame, Hurt/Comfort, Eating Inedible Objects, Vomiting, Pre-Seizure Markers, Where Fascism becomes a Personally Targetted Sexual Nightmare, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Falling Off the Wagon, Unreliable Memory, Hoarding, Orgasm Control, Innuendo, Ethnic Slurs, Trying (so fucking hard!) to Communicate (emotion is the enemy of oratory!), Spiralling, Purposeful Ambiguity, Failed Love Confession/s

.

[bouncydragon]

I wrote a thing. It's chunky and angsty but there's also some softness. Got inspired by the amazing fic Shock by @whentommymetalfie. I hope you like it. Hope everyone does!

Words: 6776

"In the aftermath of Polly's temper getting the better of her, it becomes awfully clear just how much damage her actions truly caused."

[saintshelby]

Brother I only just discovered that you also WRITE. You are very talented and I'd like to ask if you'd please be considering to do some more

Thanks so much for the kind words! I actually did have plans for the next chapter of Afterlife but I sort of lost the plot and haven't been able to pick it back up.

Just for you, here's a piece of a prequel chapter I never posted. Hope you enjoy it. 💛

It haunted him in the late hours of the night, when he closed his eyes for a moment's rest. If he was idle for just a fraction of a moment too long, it all came flooding back. It tormented him, the image of Alfie's body laying lifeless on that fucking beach. The blood soaking into his hair, staining the beautiful white sands. And the pain of being shot in turn did nothing to stifle the despair Tommy had taken with him long after he'd returned to his manor full of ghosts. Because, at that moment, he genuinely thought he could walk away from all of it.

But he couldn't. And he still fucking can't.

Tommy returns to the scene of his crime at regular intervals under the express and explicit understanding that they would be continuing their previous business arrangement. It would have been a waste to let things come to an end, after all. It was Tommy's suggestion. Alfie agreed. Bygones being bygones, he had said. Considering their past, Alfie’s particular standing, Tommy's wild ambition, for all intents and purposes and absolutely nothing more. But it was, of course, a complete fucking lie. That's the lie he tells himself. The lie Alfie goes along with. The lie Tommy wants desperately to be true.

And though he tried to stop, tried to give up the pretense, it was that same powerful longing that he hadn't the strength to deny which drove Tommy to make a desperate pilgrimage back to that place over, and over, and over again. And each and every time Tommy darkened his doorstep, Alfie greeted him with the same kind of warmth he always had. Though his face was badly scarred and he was now half blind, it was always the same fucking expression. One of delight, unabashed, loudly affectionate. And Tommy could never understand why.

Predictably, they hardly talked business during Tommy's visits. There wasn't much to talk about anymore. Tommy would settle himself in that same armchair and Alfie would sit across from him, hum and haw about rum barrels and warehouses as he always had. As if nothing had ever happened, nothing had changed. Humoring him. It was all just one long fucking con. A tired play at normalcy. A selfish attempt to ease his battered conscience. But it never fucking worked. The only thing Tommy had ever managed to accomplish was feed his growing demons. He would leave the same way he'd come. Full of darkness and unease. A growing guilt that was becoming much too difficult to contain. A renewed fear that he couldn't continue this. But he couldn't stop coming. And he found, if he thought about it for more than a passing moment, that he didn't want to stop.

Tommy finds himself in the car again one Saturday afternoon. By now he's traveled to Margate with such frequency he's sure he could make the drive with his eyes closed. And as he goes, he quietly ruminates on the imminent end that's surely coming. Because it has to be. Even now, Tommy can't help but wonder why Alfie enables this lie. What the purpose of all of this must be. For what reason would Alfie keep opening his home to the man who left him for dead on the very beach he now lives?

He thinks of this as he drives, as he always does, knuckles white on the steering wheel. He tries to rationalize that same question, over and over again, endlessly searching for an answer that simply isn't there. Tommy knows deep in his bones that he doesn't deserve this. Doesn't have any right at all to be in this car again, to be going where he's going. And yet he can't turn back. A purgatory of his own making. And he hates himself for it. For this. For everything. Why is he so fucking selfish?

By the time Tommy pulls up to Alfie's house it's dark. His fingers ache from their grip on the wheel. He sits there for several long minutes, staring out through the windshield. It's late, but the lights are on. The lights always seem to be on when Tommy arrives. Finally he gets out of the car and as he does he realizes abruptly that he's left his gun behind. He'll long for it later, after he's left, on the lonely drive home. He always does.

This time, Alfie's already standing in the doorway when Tommy finally finds the courage to climb the walkway. "Evening, Thomas," he calls out, voice boisterous and inviting. He's wearing a wrinkled shirt rolled up to his elbows and his suspenders are hanging off his trousers. It's a relief to see Alfie looking so warm and lively. Tommy regrets the feeling almost immediately, because he knows it's not a comfort he's deserving of. Alfie's expression is unchanged, open and honest as it always is. Tonight Tommy finds he can't bear to look at it.

"Hello, Alfie," he says quietly, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice as he quickly sidles past. There's a fire burning in the hearth when he enters the sitting room. Tommy gravitates toward it, craving the warmth. He hears Alfie pull the door shut and putter around behind him, talking about something or other that he can't rightly focus on before disappearing into the kitchen. The atmosphere feels relaxed in a way that he wasn't prepared for. He feels shame for finding comfort in it. It's getting harder and harder to live this lie.

Tommy's stomach twists. He’s just turning towards the armchair when he sees it. The glass of whisky, freshly poured, sitting on the table next to the spot he usually occupies. He stares at it. Startled. There had never been any alcohol present on any of his previous visits. Alfie doesn't drink. He can't even begin to understand the implications of it. Can't understand why Alfie would possibly want to put forth any effort to make him feel welcome here. The weight in the pit of his stomach grows heavier when Alfie returns with a tray of what is most assuredly bread freshly baked by his own hand accompanied by butter and jam.

"You're looking quite bird-boned these days, Tom. You can pick at that whilst we conduct our business." Alfie sets down the tray and gestures for Tommy to sit, but he can't move. Rooted to the spot by this apparent tenderness he can't fathom. His hands are shaking. He shouldn't be here. Shouldn't be doing this. The guilt is a weight bowing his spine and he's going to drop it if he doesn't—

"Why?" Tommy hears himself say. Almost unsure it was his voice at all. He doesn't sound like himself. He sounds small and weak, like a child.

"Why?" Alfie parrots, looking at Tommy with a gaze far too heavy to hold. He laughs, but it doesn't sound right. It's hollow, humorless. "Why are we sat here in the middle of the night week after week drumming up whatever piss poor excuse for business we can manage, you mean? Honestly, Thomas, I was quite hoping you'd tell me that."

But he can't possibly. Doesn't have enough air in his lungs, enough strength to vocalize what he's supposed to say. What he needs to say. He's not ready for that, never will be, so he reaches for that blessed glass of whisky as his throat is closing up, can't even bear to fucking look at Alfie as he drinks just to fill his mouth with something other than words. He can't do this. Can't keep fucking doing this. Tommy grips the back of the chair so hard his knuckles turn white as the realization makes his blood cold.

It's already happened. His time has finally run out.

[winnie-the-monster]

[2braincellslz]

HEY!

If yall send me in requests for GOT/Peaky blinders/The Sandman/male (y/n)/something new I'll give you a cookie.

Do it or I'll throw your atoms in the hydrocolider. Punk.

Ok bye <3

[duckyduckposting]

Considering posting profiles of all my muses (with varying degrees of detail and completion). Probably would include

Helena Reese (X-Men)

Astris Mudd (Game of Thrones)

Olira Crakehall (Game of Thrones)

Taffeta “Etta” Bell (The Hunger Games)

Nadia Gonzalez (Breaking Bad/Better Call Saul)

Noelle Bragg (Supernatural)

Avery McIntyre (Supernatural)

Perdita Wells (Peaky Blinders)

Martha Cole (Stranger Things)

Loretta “Lucky” Cavanaugh (Shameless)

[willsdreamgirl]

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

tommy shelby x fem!reader

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

18+ minors dni please! angst, fluff and smut

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

word count: 5.4k+ (sorry lmao)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

dearest y/n,

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

all my love,

tommy shelby.

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

dearest tommy,

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

only yours,

y/n.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“mornin’, sweetheart.”

[queenshelby]

Siblings (Part One)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Half!Sister

Warning: Incest

It was around 10'clock at night when you heard a quiet knock on the door.  You couldn't help but feel a little surprised—and a bit nervous. You had never had a visitor this late before as usually your siblings were out, getting themselves into trouble, and your Aunt Polly, who had taken it upon herself to look after everyone, was in bed.

Your sister Ada, with whom you shared a room, had sneaked out earlier to see her boyfriend Freddy, so it was just you that night, alone in your small room, lying on your single bed, wearing a nightgown and reading a book. 

"Who is it?" you called out, your heart skipping a beat.

"It's Thomas," came the reply. His voice was quiet and calm. 

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should let him in that late at night. He had just come back from the war a few weeks ago and his demure had changed towards you. It was almost like he had become obsessed with you, wanting to keep you company more often than you were used to. 

Thomas was gone for five years and came back more handsome than ever.  He had a rugged jawline, and deep-set blue eyes. He wasn't tall, but well-built with a perfect gentleman's body.

The war had hardened him, made him stronger, but also wiser. He had seen the worst of humanity, and you could tell that it had affected him deeply. It was understandable; he had been through hell and back.

"May I come in?" Thomas eventually asked, his voice still composed.

Without saying a word, you stood up and covered yourself with a robe , before opening the door slowly.

The light from the hallway spilled into the room, illuminating Thomas's figure. He looked a bit tired, but his eyes were still bright and clear.

"Of course," you said finally, as you walked back to your bed and folded your book closed. 

"I have heard that there was trouble today, at the docks," Thomas  said as he sat down on the edge of your bed. He looked tired, but fatigue failed to sap the confidence and dominance from his demeanor.

You sighed and nodded. "Ada told me not to go there, but curiosity got the better of me Tommy," you admitted whereas, the truth was, that just recently you began to involve yourself with Isiah, another Peaky Blinder and your new-found love had gotten you into trouble. 

"Curiosity, eh?" Thomas chuckled, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Isiah wouldn't have anything to do with this curiosity now, would he?" he then asked, his eyes locked on yours.

You looked away, feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks. "He never meant for me to get involved, Tommy. It just kind of happened," you replied quietly, seeing how Isiah took risks and those risks involved you. 

"Listen Y/N, you are a fucking Shelby," Thomas said, his voice stern but not unkind. "And you need to be careful about who you associate with."

"But Isiah is your friend, is he not?" you asked, slightly confused with Thomas's sudden change of tone.

"Isiah works for me Love. That doesn't make him a friend," Tommy replied curtly, his gaze still fixed on you. "Despite, even if he was my friend, I wouldn't allow him to be involved with my fucking sister,"  Tommy added, the veneer of calmness cracking a bit.

You sat on the edge of the bed, feeling a knot forming in your stomach. The way things were going, it seemed as though you had made a mistake. With the tension in the room growing thicker by the second, you felt compelled to speak.

"Honestly, I don't even know why I got myself mixed up with him, Tommy," you admitted, shame coloring your voice. "I suppose I was bored," you added as an afterthought.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed your face. "You're better than that, Love," he finally said, his voice steady and firm. "And if boredom is what bothers you, then I am sure we can make arrangements for you to work at the betting house," he then told you a lot more gently than before, placing some stray hair behind your ear. 

"Aunt Pol won't allow it," you  said quietly, not because you didn't want to work there, but because you believed that your aunt would not approve of such an idea.

"It is not up to Pol," Thomas said shortly, his fingertips  tracing the curve of your cheek gently. "But out of curtesy, I will discuss it with her, alright?" he added after a short pause.

Before you could respond, Thomas's hand dropped from your face, and he stood up, his presence in the small room suddenly overwhelming.

"But Y/N, if you are going to continue seeing Isiah...," he began to say and you quickly interrupted him. 

"Not after today," you replied firmly. "Not after what happened at the docks. I promise," you added, reassuring your brother.

Thomas looked at you, relief visible in his eyes. "Good. I'll hold you to that Y/N," he said before leaning down to give you a peck on your forehead.

You blushed slightly, shocked by this sudden display of affection from your half-brother. But before you could react, Thomas walked out of your room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and, when you settled back on to your bed, you couldn't help but wonder what just happened. Thomas and you have always had a close relationship since him and Arthur had assumed responsibility for you after your father got arrested by the police, but you have never witnessed such a display of emotion from him before.

As you lay there in the dark, the silence was broken by the moonlight filtering through the blinds. The light cast a soothing glow on the room and made the floral quilt on the twin bed look more inviting. Your mind was abuzz with thoughts, each one trying to get a different message across. You tried to silence them and focus on the recent events.

This whole situation with Thomas, your curiosity, the sudden shift in your relationship - you knew that it was not something to take lightly. It felt different, and you could not ignore the strange tension that lingered between the two of you.

You sighed deeply and turned to face the window. It was then that you noticed the stars twinkling in the night sky ever so slightly. They were there, silent and unassuming, much like Thomas. You couldn't help but wonder what was going on in his mind.

Thomas had always been a mystery to you, even before he left for France, but now it felt like there was a whole other person behind the blue eyes that you had grown up with.

Days had passed and you indeed started working at the gambling den , which was located in the heart of Small Heath. It was a bustling place, and it was chaotic during peak hours, but you found joy in the chaos. Surprisingly, Aunt Polly did not seem to mind much; she knew that this was one of the ways to keep you out of trouble.

While you were working there, your brother Thomas kept a close eye on you and as different men attempted to flirt with you, they quickly learned that you were untouchable, a notion further solidified by Thomas’s warning glares.

On two occasions, he even threatened gamblers with a gun after you were propositioned for a date, and it was clear to you that he wasn’t playing around. Thomas Shelby never made idle threats, after all.

"You do realise that most of these men are harmless, Tommy,"  you said to Thomas one evening, after you had closed the betting shop for the night. The sky was a deep indigo and the stars were shining brightly.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes sharp and piercing. "That may be true, but you are my sister and they need to show you some fucking respect,"  he retorted, his voice steadier than before.

"But Tommy," you began, still unsure of what to make of this sudden outburst. "I am capable of handling my own affairs. I can fend them off," you assured your brother who appeared somewhat overprotective of you.

"I am sure you are," Thomas agreed, a hint of amusement in his voice. "But what kind of employer would I be if I did not at least protect my employees from unwanted advances, eh?" he asked, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards in a half-smile.

"A pretty shite one I suppose," you admitted, returning his half-smile with a lopsided grin as he locked the door.

"Exactly," he concurred, shaking his head as you stepped onto the sidewalk, right by your brother's side. "Now let me walk you home. It's late," Thomas said as he always did when you worked in his betting house until after dawn. 

As Thomas and you walked side by side, the silence between you was comfortable, but there was still something that kept niggling the back of your mind. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but it seemed like Thomas was hiding something from you.

Nonetheless, as you walked to the house you shared with Polly, Tommy and the others, you couldn't help but steal glances at him, trying to gauge what it was that was causing this strange behavior lately.

It was like he took a liking in you that almost felt, more than brotherly, but you decided not to focus on the matter and instead enjoyed the warmth of his company while it lasted.

Days passed, and your routine at the gambling den turned into sort of a normality, despite the occasional tensions between patrons and your brother that threatened to boil over.

On evening, at your house when you and Tommy were on your own, you ought to address it, his overprotectiveness and  the strange tension that kept building between you.

But, Tommy simply brushed it off and told you that he was simply concerned for your safety.

"But I am safe here Tommy, with you and the others," you reminded him, your tone gentle yet firm. "And at the gambling house, even if some of the customers are inappropriate, it is a safe place because no one would dare to fuck with you, Arthur or John and  I think you know that," you said, unable to mask the frustration that crept into your voice.

Tommy looked down at you, his gaze intense but soft. He took a deep breath before speaking, as if choosing his words carefully.

"Y/N, I know that you can look after yourself but, what I have learned over the years, is that no one is safe. Not here, not anywhere," Thomas said, his voice still firm but softer than before.

You stared into Thomas's eyes, feeling a strange mix of emotions coursing through your veins. Awe, admiration, and... something more. Something you couldn't quite put your finger on yet.

"The war changed you, you know?"  you said the words before you could stop yourself. 

Thomas sighed and looked at you, his expression filled with a mix of sadness and guilt. "Yes, I know," he admitted quietly. "I can't help it, Y/N. I've seen and done things that most people couldn't even imagine." 

You nodded, understanding dawning on you.

"No, you are right Tommy. I can't imagine," you said softly, caressing the scar on his cheek, causing Tommy to lean in closer, his eyes locked on yours. 

You felt your heart race as you looked into Thomas's eyes. There was something about him that made you feel safe, yet also intensely aware of your feelings for him. You had never felt this way about anyone before.

"But you know what's amusing though?" you murmured, breaking the silence that had enveloped the room as Thomas leaned over some more, his fingers lightly traced your jawline, you couldn't help but play along. "You are so overprotective towards me when it comes to potential suitors and there is almost no reason for you to be that way, because I never even kissed a boy before, so it just seems so absurd to me," you continued, allowing yourself to drop your guard, just a little.

"I find that hard to believe, Y/N," Thomas murmured, the pad of his thumb brushing the corner of your lips before slowly moving to trace the length of your jawbone.

Your breath hitched in your chest, hearing his low voice uttering your real name; you always felt an odd sense of familiarity from him, especially when he chose to use your given name, just for a brief moment. It almost felt like the two of you were not step-siblings. 

"No, it's true. I never kissed a boy before, Tommy," you confessed, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You didn't know what had come over you, but suddenly, you couldn't help but feel drawn to your half-brother. "What is it like?" you

asked, your lips barely moving as Thomas continued to trace a path along your jawline.

"What's what like?" Thomas asked, his voice low and husky, as he leaned in even closer to you.

"Kissing," you clarified, a slight blush creeping up your cheeks as you admitted this.

Thomas seemed taken aback by the question, his gaze lingering briefly on your lips before meeting your eyes again.

"I guess it depends on who you are kissing," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Sometimes, it's just a kiss and it feels like nothing because it means nothing. But other times, it's more than that. It can be a way to express your feelings for someone. To show them how much you care about them," Thomas explained, his gaze still locked on yours.

"Do you think you could show me?" you whispered, surprising yourself with your own boldness.

Thomas's eyes narrowed as he looked at you, taking in your flushed cheeks and the way your breathing had quickened.

"Seeing that you are my sister, that would be inappropriate, don't you think?"  Thomas said, a subtle hint of amusement in his voice. 

"It's just a kiss, Tommy," you replied, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. "And no one needs to know," you continued, your heart pounding in your chest as you confessed this vulnerable part of yourself to your brother.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes searching yours as he processed your words. You could see the wheels turning in his head, and for a moment, you wondered if he was going to tell you no . But then something shifted in his gaze, a heat that made your heart race.

"Alright. Fuck it," Thomas muttered, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

You gasped slightly, surprised by how sudden the kiss was and how soft and gentle his lips were.

Your  hands reached up to grip his arms, feeling the firm muscles beneath your fingertips as you leaned into the kiss. Thomas's other hand reached up to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss.

Not knowing what to do, you followed his lead and when he parted his lips, you did the same before tentatively touching your tongue to his, experimenting with the new sensation. 

Your brother's lips were warm and as the kiss deepened, you felt a fire ignite within you, spreading from your core to every inch of your body. Your heart was racing as Thomas's hand dropped down from your hair, tracing a path around your neck as he deepened the kiss once more before, suddenly,  he pulled away.

You stared at Thomas, your lips still tingling from the kiss. You could see a storm of emotions raging within his eyes, but you couldn't quite decipher what he was feeling. Was it guilt? Shock? Excitement? Pleasure?

"I am sorry Love, but I have business to attend to," he told you with a horse  voice, his breathing heavy and uneven from the kiss.

You nodded, trying to catch your breath as well. You could feel a blush spreading across your cheeks as you moved away from him, giving him some much-needed space. Thomas looked at you, his eyes heated with desire, before turning away and leaving the room without another word.

Even after he had left. a jolt of pleasurable heat still lingered on your lips where Thomas’s mouth had just been, you couldn’t believe what had just happened. Your stepbrother, fucking Thomas, he had just kissed you and you didn’t know if you should feel guilty about it or if you should be elated.

“You’re an idiot,” you muttered to yourself as you ran your fingers through your hair, still feeling dazed. Your mind was racing, replaying the image of Thomas kissing you, over and over again.

Your lips were still tingling from the contact, but the room felt cold and empty once he left, leaving you alone with your tumultuous thoughts.

You couldn't believe what had just happened. Thomas had kissed you. He fucking kissed you and you were the one that had asked him to do it. 

Later that night, at around eleven o'clock and well after you had already gone to bed, there was a quiet

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