#john x esme

[lucien-calore]

couples that "😐" together, stay together

[peakyblinded]

JOHN SHELBY & ESME SHELBY (née LEE) PEAKY BLINDERS S01E04

for @zablife

[peakycobblers]

John: So how’s the food Esme made? 


Arthur: It's great! Compliments to her!


John: *goes to the kitchen*


John: You're adorable.


Esme: *blushes*

[cupofstarss]

What use is a man? A horse pulls the wagon. A dog keeps me safe. A cat keeps me warm at night.

[zablife]

To Have and to Hold

Summary: John and Esme barely know each other after they’re hastily married in the Lee camp. On their first night together, Esme learns something important about John and they go from strangers to lovers.

Author’s Note: Written for @magicalxdaydream 300 followers celebration. Prompt “If you were going to kill me, you would have done it already. So what do you want from me?” This scene takes place right after John and Esme’s wedding.

Warnings: PTSD, mentions of drinking, mild smut

After a long evening of wedding festivities, including lively dancing and one too many whiskey toasts, John and Esme had returned to John’s house on Watery Lane. They stumbled up the front steps, with three of John’s four children straggling behind. The youngest, four year old Henry, had fallen asleep in Esme’s arms, his tiny hands curled into fists at her neck. Desperate for a mother’s love and attention, he had taken to Esme immediately. After tucking the children into their beds, John and Esme collapsed onto John’s mattress before sleep quickly overtook them.  

In their haste to the altar, Esme had barely had time to talk to the handsome man who was now her husband. She had a sixth sense about people though and she could tell there was goodness in his heart. She had seen it in his bright blue eyes when they said their vows and later as he held her gently while they danced. He seemed to be a doting father as well, which told Esme John would take good care of her too. She fell asleep beside John feeling hopeful about the life they would have together. 

Early the next morning before first light, John began twitching in his sleep, a familiar fit overtaking his body as his mind tormented him. He felt a hand on his shoulder and it startled him in his semi-conscious state. Usually, any such movement and he was on his feet, looking for an intruder. He never slept too soundly after coming home from France. The discipline of a soldier ingrained in him, never allowing him to rest when danger might be near. 

When he was overtired and fatigue set in, the nightmares attacked him with the same vengeance as Tommy’s. Although he never spoke of this, the Shelby family knew John was not as carefree as he appeared. John’s children often talked about the nights Daddy “played soldier.” The boys demonstrating how John crawled across his bedroom floor shouting military commands.

The boys might have been too young to comprehend, but John’s oldest child, Katie, knew her father was suffering. She had Martha’s caring nature and wanted to help her father, but didn’t know how besides hiding the whiskey bottle. Although recently that had only earned her a spanking and a stern talking to. Most nights Katie just bolted the door to the bedroom all the children shared, her only way of shielding her brothers from her father’s misfortune.

Although the worst dreams were infrequent, John was tortured for days afterward, images of the trenches and tunnels feeling immediate and real. During the war he barely felt human, living in filth and eating whatever he could forage. In his dreams he was alone in the mud, cut off from the retreat with the Prussian cavalry hunting him like an animal. 

He hadn’t wanted Esme to know the truth, that he stayed up days at a time when he returned home from the war or how poorly he slept as a result now. He didn’t need opium like Tommy, but he needed the whiskey. She would learn that soon enough. 

Tonight it wasn’t the children who startled him, it was his new wife shifting position in her sleep. However, it had been so long since John woke to the the presence of a woman next to him, his brain didn’t comprehend. He immediately sprang into action, defending himself against an enemy. Pulling Esme’s arm from his body he pinned her to the bed, throttling her in one quick movement. Esme was awake as John punished her with the strength of a man fighting for his life, screaming, “Who the fuck are you? What do you want?” Just then the bedroom door slammed against the wall. 

Taking in the scene in front of him, Henry's little voice cried out in fear, “Daddy!! Daddy, no, please don’t hurt her!" With the sound of his son’s voice, John’s trance was broken and he looked over at his son before looking down to find his hands around Esme’s throat. Looking into her eyes for the first time, he saw a pained look. It wasn’t fear or agony, it was a look of deep empathy. John pulled his hands away and climbed off Esme’s body as Katie rushed in to get her brother. The room was deathly still as she led Henry out of the room by his chubby hand. Henry couldn’t help but venture a glance backward at what he had seen, sobbing. “It’s ok, Henry,” she assured him. “Dad was just having one of his fits. He’s awake, he’ll be alright now,” Katie said leading him away and closing the door.

John slid to the edge of the bed and swung his legs over the side. The feeling of the cool floorboards beneath his bare feet bringing him around. The burdensome weight of his shame and guilt hitting him hard now and keeping him rooted even though he felt like running away. He ran a hand over his face slowly, unsure how to apologize or explain any of this to his new wife. 

“Are you alright?” John asked in a strained voice, low and rough with sleep. “I’m stronger than I look,” Esme quipped, attempting to disperse the negative energy she felt in the room. “I would never hurt you,  I swear,” John said turning back to her with tears in his eyes. Esme scooted to John’s side and placed her hands on his shoulders tentatively. 

“If you were going to kill me, you would have done it already, “ Esme said watching his eyes carefully. “So what do you want from me? What can I do to help you, John?” Esme asked and John believed she really did want to help him. He had been so afraid she would shrink away from him after his outburst or ask to go back to the Lee camp, but she was steadfast in her devotion as a wife already. 

The morning air was cold and still. The quiet of the pre-dawn hours was not yet ready to be disturbed by the light of the day and the noise of the children. John pulled Esme into him for what seemed like ages and he told her everything. She listened as he talked, laying across his chest as he carded his fingers through her hair and recounted the trauma he had survived. He had never trusted anyone like this before, but something told him she would accept him as he was. 

As relief washed over him, Esme sat up and removed her night dress. She sat before him, naked and vulnerable. The only adornment were her dark curls and a black madonna hanging between her full breasts. Keeping eye contact with John, she pulled the necklace from around her neck and pushed it into his hands. “This will keep you safe, love. Never be without it,” she said softly as she leaned in for a tender kiss. 

John understood her intention immediately and silently thanked whatever God might be in the heavens that he had sent Esme to him and made her his somehow. He knew he didn’t deserve her, but he needed her so badly in that moment. He pushed himself off the pillows to take her head in his hands and kiss her passionately. In the first rays of the morning light, John made love to his new wife and when they were done he felt as though he had been reborn. 

[byorder-fanfic]

Home Of Revolution

(Gif by @twvstedsouls)

Author's Note: Ada and Freddie are honestly my favourite ship in the whole show!! I just loved them so much and I wish Freddie hadn't died because they would have been such a powerful communist couple. Just imagine how fun it would have been if Tommy had two Thornes in his side!

Word count: 898, short and sweet

Freddie didn't want to take Tommy's offer on the house. If it wasn't for his revolutionary ideals, it was simply for the fact that he wouldn't take his brother-in-law's charity. But even Ada, who was by far more stubborn and proud than her husband could ever hope to be, wouldn't let her baby boy grow up in that dingy little attic. Although he wouldn't admit it, he had found the idea a good one when he saw Karl waddling through each room, wagging his chubby little fist to show his parents their new home. Tommy gave it to them as a gesture of good grace, to apologise for the Grace that had tore his old best friend from his newborn. On those grounds, Freddie could accept it, with only minimal grumbling. Besides, the extra room means he could rent it out to that young writer boy that had more interest in a roof over his head than a revolution.

"Hear that, Freddie?" Ada smirked as she awed in the corridor, turning around to admire the shining walls and the staircase- and all of it was theirs. He stopped for a minute, craning his head for the scratching of rats that Ada could chase out with her revolver, or the sound of domestic arguments echoing through thinner walls. "Silence. At last."

The little sigh and smile on her face was so much more relaxed than he'd seen her in a long time, the tiredness that made its home in her shoulders lifting with joy.

"I'm sorry I couldn't give you this myself," he said, taking the bag out of her hand and onto the floor so that he could replace it with his palms encasing hers. "You ended up with the poor old communist toad who can't give his princess a palace."

He brushed a bit of her hair back behind her ear, seeing her beam up at him with all the love he saw in her eyes on their wedding day. She'd charged through Small Heath, not caring who saw her in her pretty white dress and flowery veil. She was a braver woman than he often gave her credit for.

"Oh, sod off," she said, as lovingly as ever. "You know I'd live in a bloody prison cell as long as I had you and Karl with me."

"Maybe we'll have to see." He gave a cheeky arch of his eyebrow. "We still don't know how Tommy got this place."

His old argument on Tommy's ambiguously legitimate methods forced a groan from Ada as she rolled her eyes. She always took Freddie's side when they were together, lecturing her brothers about the class consciousness and their continued efforts to try and find a way to make capitalist systems suit them would only oppress another. They'd taken to rolling their eyes whilst Polly offered to make another cup of tea and Finn looked more confused than amused or annoyed. The only reason they were ever down in Small Heath now was to make sure the family were still living and breathing, and the family only invited them over to see little Karl. Since he was born, Ada had found her place as favourite Shelby had been replaced, not that she could find it in her to be jealous. Karl was just as angelic as Freddie swore she was. And with Esme and John just having their first child together, a beautiful baby boy called Lee who Karl loved nothing more than playing with, the divides between morals and family were becoming increasingly small. 

Just as though he were summoned, Karl came tottering into the corridor as he began garbling about one thing or another. With as much enthusiasm, Freddie moved down to pick his son up and hold him in his arms, nodding and agreeing to whatever it was he was saying. Ada looked at her two boys tenderly, one hand stroking Karl's dark hair and one pressed under her coat, up against her belly.

"I think he likes the house."

"Yeah, maybe he does," Freddie murmured as he looked round. It was bare at the minute, but he could imagine it in a few months: Ada's books lining the walls, some Communist newspapers and leaflets lining the coffee table, more blankets and cushions than they needed (just as Ada liked it), photographs crowding each mantle place and empty space there was left, and the three of them curled up on the sofa. "Maybe he likes his new home, hey?"

Karl gave a big grin, face so close that he nearly knocked Freddie's teeth out as he shook his head. He moved away quickly, as Ada stifled a scoff and bit her lip at making a remark at her husband's sudden change of heart.

"Why don't you go upstairs and choose your room?" Ada suggested. "You can have any one you like."

"Any?" He looked up at his parents, wide-eyed and surprised.

"Of course, son," Freddie grinned. "It's all ours."

And Ada looked up at her husband and grinned- they may be principled, but it doesn't mean they have to let their boy grow up in poverty. Not like they did. That's what they were fighting for, after all, wasn't it?

[stardust4ver]

[red-write-hand]

Idk what this could be used for but characters trying to play poker and someone doesn’t understand it so they stop and try to teach said character the rules and they pretend to understand because it makes everyone else happy to play.

absolutely luv <3

Poker Face

paring -> thomas shelby x reader

warnings -> nothing much, just some shelby fluff

word count -> 250

The private room at the Garrison was currently occupied by the Shelby’s doing an array of different activities. Ada and Esme were talking politics, Finn was darning the edge of his cap, Polly was drinking and smoking while presiding over everything. The three brothers had started to play poker and Tommy had asked his wife if she had ever played poker, she had said yes so they had dealt her in.

“Alright love, you’re gonna-“ He could see that her eyes were slightly glazed over. His cornflower eyes met hers and she shook her head.

“Sorry darling, no one’s really really taught me how to play and I’m rather tired.” She leaned into his form that was behind her, letting her head loll against his chest. His expression softened and wrapped his free hand, that wasn’t braced against the table, around her cards, playing the hand for her. A small kiss was planted on his jaw and the mood was normal again.

Slowly, as he kept showing her how to play, she was learning. The whole family were throwing out tips on how to play to get the best possible outcome, how to keep a poker face, when to fake a poker face, what to play at what time. Tommy’s smile was broad and genuine. Everyone being accepting of his darling’s inexperience. He started to kiss her hair as they played. She let out a small hum of happiness, no, not happiness, complete serenity. She was happy. Completely and utterly.

(pls do tell me if i made any grammar mistakes, thanks yall)

[crowleying]

My policeman | m!reader

Date: 06.12.2022

Pairing:  Tommy Shelby x m!reader

Reader’s pronouns: he/him

Words: 4.840

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

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

Genre: Romance

Length: Oneshot

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending

Requested: No

Prompts: No

Summary: Tommy Shelby is suddenly very interested in you and you have no idea why.

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

IF YOU LIKE MY WORKS, PLEASE REBLOG THEM

Masterlist

Ao3

You were on patrol around the city with one of your colleagues. You knew he was on the Peaky Blinders' payroll but, after all, only a handful of policemen weren't. You were one of them. It was confusing to most people in Small Heath, mainly because they knew you were John Shelby's best friend. He had offered you money to give them information and turn a blind eye to their affairs as they did with everyone, but you had made it clear that you couldn't be bought. He had respected that. The balance was fragile. The whole deal was based on your friendship. You had been able to refuse the money without losing your job because you were friends and people respected you because of your bond to the most powerful family in Birmingham, and a little because you did your job and wouldn't hesitate to throw people in jail if needed. You didn't pretend not to see what happened around you. Not even if the Peaky Blinders were involved. However, being friends with John also prevented you from trying to tear the whole business down. Everyone had learnt it pretty soon, so they had just started doing their things when you weren't on patrol, which meant your rounds were always quiet. You didn't complain. You didn't like arresting people, especially if they were Blinders.

That day seemed to be especially quiet. Well, as quiet as Small Heath could be. Your eyes observed the people going on about their lives around you while you chatted with your colleague. Many people greeted you, and you smiled back.

You turned to your partner, your eyes wide and a big smile on your face. "What?! No way. What is this, your... seventh?"

"Yeah," he replied smiling proudly under his thick moustache. "Four girls and two boys. I'm rooting for another boy."

"Congrats!" You patted his back, but you saw his face change, suddenly becoming serious.

He looked up and touched his cap, tilting his head down. "Morning, Mr Shelby."

You turned and saw Thomas Shelby on one of his horses, riding down the road. You nodded towards him as a form of greeting but didn't touch your cap or wish him a good day.

He nodded back at you, and you felt his icy blue eyes pierce through you. It wasn't anything new. You felt that way every time he looked at you and you wondered if everyone could feel it when they were under his gaze as if he could see everything that was inside. It felt as if God was scrutinizing you. You did understand why John called him Tommy the Almighty.

Even as he passed by you, you could still feel his eyes burn holes in you. You kept walking but turned to look at him and saw he was already looking. You turned back to the front.

"I don't know how you can refuse their offer. By the way he was looking at you, he really wants you on his payroll."

When you walked into the Garrison that night and asked Harry for a glass of whiskey, he refused your money and said it had already been paid for, then nodded towards the private room next to the counter.

"Yeah, well, John knows it won't happen." You shrugged, but the feeling of his eyes on you lingered and stayed with you for the rest of the day.

"Mr Shelby wishes to speak with you."

You rolled your eyes at the formality John liked to mess with when you were involved and grabbed your glass heading to the room.

"Come on, John, how many tim-" you started as you opened the door only to stop mid-sentence when you met Tommy's icy gaze instead of John's warm and playful one. "Thomas."

He was smoking alone, a glass of whiskey in front of him.

He beckoned you with a motion of his fingers. "Close the door and take a sit."

Your eyebrows raised, unimpressed by how he was treating you like one of his men. Maybe he had forgotten you didn't work for him.

"If you want to buy me, Thomas, you can save it. I'm not on sale," you said without doing any of the things he had asked of you.

He observed you for a few long seconds as if trying to read you. Then he sighed, tearing his gaze away from you and knocking the ash of his cigarette into the ashtray. "That's not why I wanted to talk to you."

When you still didn't move, he turned towards you again. "I promise. Please, come sit with me."

You hid your surprise at hearing him saying the word "please." You didn't think he even knew how to pronounce it for lack of use. You closed the door behind you and took a sit on the other side of the table from him.

You rolled the whiskey in your glass waiting for him to speak. "What did you want to talk about?" you asked when he didn't.

He offered you a cigarette but you refused. You didn't trust him outside family gatherings and that wasn't a social call.

"I would like to invite you to dinner."

You frowned. You had already been to dinner at the Shelbys plenty of times and not once had Thomas himself been the one to invite you. "Uhm... sure, tell Polly to count me in."

"I mean with me."

His reply startled a laugh out of you. "I never thought you were one for pranks. Thought you left that to Johnny."

He stared at you, his expression unchanged. There was no trace of a smile on his face. "I'm serious."

You looked back at him with a newfound seriousness and slammed your glass on the table, spilling some of its content. "I really hope not."

It was your turn to observe him, trying to understand what his real intentions were. "What do you really want from me, Thomas?"

"I want to take you out for dinner."

You snorted. "You think I'm a fool?"

"No," he let out much lower than his usual tone.

"You can't buy me so you're trying to get me arrested. That's too low even for you."

He shook his head. "That's not-"

"Save your bullshit," you interrupted getting up. You leaned forward pointing a finger at him. "You try this shit again and I'll get you arrested."

You were smoking with John by the cut like you did when you were fifteen. You loved the fact that your friendship hadn't changed all that much, not after you had been to war together, nor when you had decided to join the police. With John, it had always been easy. No judgement, just two boys having fun and doing what they had to live in such a hard world.

Then you walked out.

"So, new girls?" he joked.

You looked at him unimpressed, before looking back in front of you.

John was the only person who knew you didn't like girls. You had found out thanks to him. When you were young, you had experimented with each other. There had been some kisses and a couple of hand jobs. He had soon understood he wasn't into men, but he had never judged you. To these days he still joked about it and you had never really minded until Thomas had asked you out.

"Did you tell him?"

He abruptly turned to look at you. "You know I would never."

"Then how the fuck did he know, John?" you asked, throwing your unfinished cigarette into the cut, clearly upset.

"Tommy, he always seems to know shit," he said slowly, playing with his cap and looking down at it in his lap. He looked at you. "But he means good. He isn't trying to fuck you up."

You snorted. You trusted John and you were sure he believed what he was saying, but Thomas was cunning and he could have people believe anything he wanted. Maybe he had tricked his own brother into believing he really was interested in you, knowing he would have put a good word in for him.

"Are you still coming to dinner tomorrow though?"

You had been a guest of the Shelbys every Saturday for dinner for as long as you could remember.

"Will he be there?"

"Probably."

You groaned.

"Come on. You won't even have to talk to him. How many times have you two talked at dinner?"

You frowned. "Probably more than you would expect."

Now that you thought of it, Tommy had always found a way to exchange a few words with you after dinner about the most random topics. You had always enjoyed those moments. Talking with him was nice. He didn't smile a lot, not like before the war, but he had always been kind to you. You had always thought he did that just for John's sake, so you had never considered him a friend or anything. In addition to that, the huge crush you had had on him had made it hard to be as comfortable with him as you were with the rest of the family. You had completely overcome that now, though. Still, the awkwardness was hard to shake off.

John bumped his shoulders into yours, bringing you back to the present. "The kids will be a pain if you don't come."

You rolled your eyes. "Fine."

When you stepped into the Shelbys' household the following evening, you got surrounded by John's kids. They either hugged you, pulled you somewhere, or screamed at you about their day. You loved them, but they could be a lot. Finally, Ada came to save you, and you smiled gratefully at her. She hugged you and invited you to follow her to the kitchen where all the others were. Tommy was missing, and you felt relief flooding you. You hadn't even finished greeting everyone when the front door opened. Little Finn ran to welcome the newcomer. You held your breath and your eyes found John's on the other side of the room. He looked guilty. You frowned, but before you could take him aside to ask what he had done, Tommy walked into the kitchen with Finn in his arms. When you turned towards him, he was already looking at you and you couldn't bring yourself to utter a word in greeting. Your lips stayed still.

John grinned triumphantly.

"Let's sit and eat," Polly said, setting the pot in the centre of the table.

While she served, everyone took a seat, and somehow you found yourself next to Tommy. John had taken the seat that was usually reserved for you and you had to take his. Now you understood the look you had seen in his eyes earlier. You would punch him later.

"Not exactly what I had in mind, but it's something." Tommy's murmur was drowned by the others chatting and you would have missed it too if you hadn't been so close to him.

You pretended you hadn't heard and instead thanked Polly for filling your plate.

For the whole dinner, you did everything you could to forget Thomas was there. You chatted with everyone, complimented Polly for her cooking, asked Esme how she could be so patient with all those troublemakers around, glared at John multiple times, joked with the kids, even taking one of them on your lap when he wanted to show you the small gap in his smile left by the tooth he had lost a couple of days earlier.

Tommy stayed silent for the most part, as usual. He commented on a thing here or there and messed with the kids for a little fun. You could always feel his gaze on you. His eyes might have been the colour of ice, but sure as hell, you could feel them burn on your skin. He saw to it so that your glass was never empty, and even if you remembered distinctly rejecting him that day at the Garrison, it seemed like he hadn't gotten the memo, although he had probably just decided to ignore it because Tommy Shelby only ever played by his rules.

After dinner, the children went off somewhere to play while Polly and Esme washed the dishes. Ada had excused herself saying she was tired and she would go to bed early, but you were pretty sure she would climb out of the window to go see Freddy. Arthur took out a bottle of rum and filled four glasses.

"I should go, actually," you announced, getting up.

"No way!"

"Oh come on, you can stay for a nightcap."

John, who was now sitting next to you, pulled on your arm and you sat back down with a sigh. Arthur grinned and a small, pleased smile appeared on Tommy's face. You wanted to slap it away. Instead, you glared at him and grabbed his cigarette case to take one in retaliation. It only caused his smile to grow.

You put the cigarette between your lips and scowled at him when he leaned in touching the end of your cigarette with his to light it up. You hated how your heart skipped a beat and blood rushed to your cheeks. You inhaled and pulled back quickly, missing the looks Arthur and John had exchanged seconds earlier.

You exhaled the smoke and quickly downed your glass, making John snort. You pushed the glass towards Arthur, silently asking for a refill. He chuckled and shook his head but poured you another glass. Tommy was looking at the whole thing with an amused glint in his eyes. Once again you did your best to ignore him.

"Seeing a girl tonight? Is that why you're in a hurry?" Arthur teased.

You felt Tommy tense next to you, but you couldn't be sure and you didn't dare turn to look at him, not wanting to give yourself away.

You waved a hand. "I'm leaving them all to you, Arthur."

That made him laugh. "That's wise."

"You should have it easy now that Johnny is taken," you commented. Then you turned towards Tommy. "What about you, Thomas? I bet you have all the girls falling for you. What is it? Nobody is good enough for the great Thomas Shelby?" you teased.

"You're the only person who calls him that," John commented amusedly.

"And aunt Pol when she's angry," Arthur added.

Tommy stared at you seriously.

When you had given up on waiting for a reply and went to take a sip of your rum, Tommy finally spoke. "I already have my eyes on someone," he said quietly.

You choked on the rum and coughed. John patted your back. "You alright?"

You nodded and pulled at the collar of your shirt, although it didn't really do anything to help your situation. You did your best to compose yourself while Tommy tried to hide a small amused smile behind his cigarette.

"So, who's the lucky girl?" you asked when you finally managed to breathe again.

Arthur's boisterous laugh filled the room. "That would be some change."

Tommy paid him no mind and kept his glacial eyes on you. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Both his reply and Arthur's comment confused you. Before you could inquire further, you heard John's glass clink on the table, soon followed by Arthur's. Your eyes snapped to them as they got up.

"We're headin' to the Garrison. Are you coming?" Arthur asked.

"Uh... no. I should really go. I have work tomorrow."

John patted your back. "See you tomorrow?"

You nodded and they left. The last conversation had made you forget about John's guilty look at the beginning of the night.

You suddenly realized they had left you alone with Tommy. You cleared your throat and put out your cigarette into the ashtray, then downed the rest of your rum.

"I should really go."

You got up, but so did Tommy. He killed his cigarette. "I'll show you to the door."

You nodded stiffly and walked to the door. When you stopped at the hanger to get your coat, you found him closer than expected and your heart picked up.

"You like horses, don't you?" he asked, putting his hands in his pockets. You hated how cool he was about everything.

You nodded.

"You should come to the races once."

"Have you forgotten I go there for work sometimes?"

"Not for work."

Not again.

"It's not something I enjoy watching," you said shortly, then opened the door, anxious to leave that hallway that had never looked so small in your whole life.

"You might change your mind."

"I don't think I will," you insisted dryly, looking at him in the eyes, hoping he would get the message that you were talking about the whole situation.

You were doing everything you could to avoid Tommy, and it was not working. On the contrary, he was everywhere. He would pass by your house every time you were leaving for work and he would offer to walk or drive you there. You refused every time. You would meet him as you were walking by the cut. You would see him at a pub he had never frequented before. You even saw him at the market a couple of times. When you saw him in church you thought you were hallucinating. It seemed like the universe was working against you, but it was only Tommy Shelby, and maybe his family.

You opened the door and he held it open for you. "It's not a no."

You were surprised to find a little box on your desk at work on Monday. You looked around to see if any of your colleagues had noticed anything. They seemed to be minding their business as usual. You returned your attention to the box and opened it. A precious pocket watch was laid there, with a piece of paper. You picked up the note. You didn't recognize the handwriting. It read "counting the seconds to the moment you'll accept my offer."

John always found a way to mention him. He had never talked about Tommy as much as he had in the last few weeks. You pretended not to notice. You hoped Tommy would just give up at some point. How wrong you were.

You crushed the note in your fist and rolled your eyes, closing the box vehemently and shoving it in the only drawer in your desk that had a key. You locked it up. You thought you would deal with that later, but it was a busy day and you forgot until the next morning when something else was waiting for you on your desk.

It was your favourite book from when you were a kid. It was about horses. They were your favourite animals and obviously, Tommy somehow knew. You opened it and on the first page, with the same handwriting from yesterday's note, there was written "I think you'd really like to meet my horses. Think about it."

That evening you went to the Shelbys, hoping to find Tommy and give him back his presents. When Ada opened the door, you walked past her hastily.

You heard one of your colleagues calling you, so you quickly closed the book and threw it into the drawer where you had left the watch.

"Where is Thomas?" you asked looking for him around the house, startling the others, confused by your manners so out of character.

"He isn't back yet," Ada said, closing the door to follow you into the kitchen.

You let yourself fall down into a chair with a groan and discarded your hat on the table.

"Hello to you too," Polly piped up.

"Hi Pol, I'm sorry, but your nephew is trying to ruin me."

"Tommy?" Esme asked frowning. She wasn't a fan of him, but she was quite sure he would never do anything to ruin you.

"What are you talking about?" Polly asked taking a seat next to you.

"He is just being over dramatic." John waved a hand. You glared at him.

"Let him talk." Ada slapped his arm, making him roll his eyes. "What did Tommy do?"

You suddenly sobered up. You couldn't tell them. They wouldn't approve. You shook your head and got up. "It's nothing. I should just talk to him. I'm sure we can fix this."

"Where are you going? Stay for dinner." Polly stopped you gently.

Before you could refuse and leave, someone knocked.

Ada went to open the door.

"Hello, Ada." Thomas.

Ada was already telling him you were there looking for him when you walked up to him, hat in hand. He smiled smugly at you.

"Thought you would last longer," he commented.

You just looked at him as if you wanted to kill him.

Ada's eyes moved between the two of you.

"Would you mind leaving us, Ada?" Tommy asked, without taking his eyes away from you.

She rolled her eyes but did as she had been asked.

Once she was gone, you pulled the gifts out of your coat and shoved them into Tommy's chest. "You can take these back and leave me alone."

His hand raised slowly to take a hold of the items and he glanced down at them. "You didn't like them?"

"That's not the point. Stop fucking trying to ruin me. If I'm such a huge problem for you, why don't you pay my superior to transfer me somewhere else? Do you really hate me so much just because I'm not on your fucking payroll?"

He shook his head. "I'm not trying to ruin you."

"Really? Because sending me gifts at work tells me otherwise."

"I really am into you."

You scoffed. "Sure."

"What do I have to do to make you believe me?" his voice, quiet as usual, seemed to fill the entire house. Only then you realized the chatter that previously came from the kitchen had stopped. You glanced that way, then looked back at Tommy.

You lowered your voice. "If you care for me, stop this."

For the first time since you knew him, Tommy looked like he didn't know what to say.

You didn't wait for a reply. You just headed to the door, stopping in your tracks when Polly's voice came from the kitchen. "You're not staying for dinner?"

It was clear the others had listened in on your conversation.

You sighed. "Maybe next time."

You opened the door and stepped outside, putting your hat on.

Polly's interjection had given Tommy enough time to come up with something to say.

"Just give me one chance," he said quickly before you could leave. "We can go out of the city with the horses tomorrow afternoon. Nobody will see us. If after that you still want me to leave you alone, I will."

You turned to look at him and you hated yourself for being so weak.

The following day was nerve-wracking. No matter how you tried to distract yourself, you couldn't stop thinking about the date. The anxiety was eating at you. Part of you didn't want that afternoon to arrive, and another part was looking forward to it.

"One chance. Then you will leave me alone."

Time would not stop flowing for your sake, and soon you were making your way to meet with him out of the city. You asked the driver to drop you off way before the meeting point and walked the rest of the way.

Tommy was waiting for you with two horses. He smiled when he saw you, and you didn't know if it was knowing that this was the last chance you had given him or if that was actually the most genuine and happiest smile you had ever seen on his lips.

You smiled back. It was a very different smile from his. It was small and it had a hint of sadness to it. You wished this was real, but you couldn't bring yourself to believe it.

Without a word you got on the horses and guided them through the countryside. Sometimes Tommy would stop to show you something. He told you about his love for the countryside and that he would love to live there one day. He liked the idea of being surrounded by green fields and animals, especially horses, a passion the two of you shared. When you asked why he was so in love with the countryside, he explained that it made him feel closer to his mother. That was where her people lived and where she had grown up.

You hadn't realized, but at some point, you had relaxed. You and Tommy talked, joked, laughed and raced each other. Before you noticed the sun was setting. Tommy suggested you stopped to enjoy the view before heading back.

You got off the horses and sat down on the grass. You stayed silent for a while, simply admiring the colours of the sky. When you turned to look at Tommy, he was already watching you. You stared at each other for a few long moments before he cleared his voice and looked away.

"What's the verdict, then?" he finally asked, not looking at you.

"I had a good time with you," you admitted easily.

"But?"

"Is this really what you want? This life is... not great. So if you ever liked a girl in your life I suggest you go back to her and give it one more try."

"It's always been you and I know you are scared, but I sincerely don't give a fuck if you are a policeman or if you aren't on my payroll. We made arrangements to do our things when you're not on patrol just so you wouldn't have to arrest any of us. It wasn't much trouble. You are important to me, to all of us. I would never do anything to hurt you."

Your brain had gotten stuck on the first few words. "Always?"

"What?"

"You said it's always been me."

"Yes."

"Then why now?"

"Because I found out only recently that you like boys."

You frowned. "How did you find out?"

"I saw you with a man one night, in the alley behind the Garrison," he admitted.

"Oh... Right. So John didn't tell you."

"No, not a word. He would rather cut his own arm off than betray you."

"I know," you replied relaxing.

"But you thought he had told me."

"Maybe he had mentioned when he was drunk." You shrugged.

"I promise he didn't."

You nodded.

"I've had a crush on you for a while too," you said, still looking at him. You had long forgotten about the sunset. How could you look at something as trivial as the sun when you had Tommy Shelby right beside you?

"Yes?" he asked, hopeful.

You smiled and nodded. "It's impossible not falling for you."

He leaned closer but stopped a few inches away from your face. "I really want to kiss you right now."

"Fucking finally Tommy, dinner was getting cold," Polly's voice came from the kitchen as you followed him inside the house that night.

"What are you waiting for, then?" was all that came out of your lips before they met his.

"Sorry Pol," he replied taking little Finn in his arms and putting his cap on his youngest brother.

He reached for your hand with his free one after you had hung your coat. You took it, although nervously. He had assured you that his whole family knew about him and that they would accept you but after a lifetime of being careful about everything you did and said, you couldn't just stop.

Tommy kissed your temple, hoping that would help your nerves.

You smiled at him, then winked at Finn who grinned back.

Tommy led you to the kitchen. "We have a guest," he announced. Everyone turned to look at you, and your grip tightened on Tommy's hand. They all seemed surprised.

"But it's not S-" Arthur was cut off by John shoving his elbow into his brother's ribs.

That seemed enough to shake Polly out of her surprise. "Of course!" She hugged you smiling. "You're always welcome."

You felt your nervousness melt away and hugged her back. "Thanks, Pol."

She pulled back and turned to her nephew, pointing a finger at him. "If you hurt him, Thomas Shelby, I'll make you pay for it."

"What?! Why are you telling me?" he asked putting Finn down.

"Well, because he would never do anything bad," she replied without even thinking about it.

"Wait, aunt Pol. He is my best friend, I should be the one to give Tommy the talk."

Tommy shook his head. "This is absurd."

"Come on, I'm sure he is more than capable to look after himself."

You nodded quickly, agreeing with Ada.

"And I'm sure Tommy won't do anything he might regret unless he wants to have the whole family against him," she added crossing her arms and glaring at him.

You sighed and turned to look at Tommy. "Don't worry, I'll protect you from them."

Tags: @one-green-frog

[lucien-calore]

the way they hold hands??? the way john's hand is huge compared to hers?? the way he grips her hand so tightly??

also, when ada starts yelling at tommy (biggest verbal smackdown of 1919, by the way. ate her brother up and then came for seconds) and john lifts esme up while looking around with alert eyes, a hand on her stomach. yeah.

and when they call john and esme to dance and he says no...

and three seconds later:

dancing the night away fr.

best pb couple. argue with the wall.

[rysko]

Peaky Textposts!!!

Obligatory Kings of Spades section:

translation for the last one: "the greatest proof of the progress of Americanization is that i see ACAB signs around town, have we moved so far from our beautiful Polish language that people no longer write CHWDP? (polish acronym meaning 'fuck the police in the arse')"

[cosmic-crybaby]

Blue Skies- Tommy Shelby

Summary: Sparks fly when a self-sufficient, newly single mother meets the cold-hearted bachelor gangster of Birmingham. On their first outing, it was like everything in the world was asking for them to finally meet each other. But when fate intervenes, they soon find themselves suffering the reprocussions of their own decisions.

Rating: Mature, Minors DNI plz

Warnings: Warnings will be advised on each chapter. 

Story Playlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 

[call-sign-shark]

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

Summary:  Following your encounter with the Shelby family, you try to get accepted but you have no idea how. This is why Ada comes out with a good idea: organizing a tea party in the garden. You accept, hoping things will get better between you and Arthur's family... But it does not go as planned.

featuring John x Platonic!OCReader

Words: 4.3k

TW: Foul language but hey, that's about Peaky Blinders, witchcraft ??

Notes:

✞ This chapter is longer than what I attended to do, so unfortunately I could not follow the poll's result. Hence, here is a quieter chapter but nonetheless tinted with a bit of angst. Moreover, the three next chapters are going to be quite violent and intense so consider this the calm before the storm.

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

Afficher davantage

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“I don’t like the kids being around her.” 

“Come on Esme, she’s not going to eat ‘em eh.” Arthur brought the cup of tea to his mouth and drank it, its sweet flavor melting on his tongue.    It was a necessary and momentary relief, which kept him from yelling at his sister-in-law for what she had just said about his sweetheart. She had not stopped making snarky remarks from the day he introduced you to the family. Somehow, it was not about hatred or personal resentment, but rather about fear: she was sincerely scared of you.

After meeting the Shelbys for the first time, you were left utterly confused and did not know what to do. That was when Ada’s idea popped up. She had helped you organize a small tea party in the garden of the house Arthur had brought for you, in order to have a cozy family gathering.  Then, John grew fond of the idea. These two surely had adored you as soon as their eyes had fallen on your angelic face. Following the invitations you had sent, Esme and Polly agreed to come to the event even if they did not trust you. More superstitious than the rest of the family, they were genuinely anxious when you were nearby — but family was family, and they did it for Arthur. Concerning Michael and Finn, they were too busy playing tough boys in Small Heath to bother sipping on a cup of tea in a flower garden. And regarding Thomas… Of course, he would not come. His refusal had been quite obvious following your disastrous encounter with little King Shelby, even though he pretended to be far too busy with work to come. His manners were on point, at least when he was not insulting you and grabbing you by the throat. Admittedly, you had been disappointed in the boys’ lack of commitment but you did not let it show. People still came, you thought.

“What if she brings evil spirits upon them?” She insisted, her dark eyes staring at you as if you would kill her children if she dared to shift her eyes from you for one second. Annoyed with her disrespectful claim, Arthur rolled his eyes and exhaled loudly through his nose.

“Listen, girl,” He put back his cup on the table a bit more bluntly than he intended to, “if you keep saying dumb shits in my bloody house I’ll kick ya out. Heaven invited ya and y’all talk shit in her back tsk… Damn ungrateful women.”  

Esme opened her mouth to say something but she closed it straight away for Polly had rested her hand on her arm to keep her from doing so.   The last thing they needed was a quarrel. She finally sighed, admitting her defeat. Then, she went on observing you playing with her four children alongside her husband, John.

“At least she’s not filling your mind with stupid Christian things. “ Polly said, stirring her tea with a little silver spoon. She was observing the liquid with great attention, looking for any sign of poison or suspicious ingredient. Somehow, she feared you had served her some kind of magical potion.  Witnessing this circus of a conversation, Ada closed her book and frowned.

“This is ridiculous. You should stop judging her because of stupid rumors. She’s no witch… 

 Heaven is a delightful woman, clever and polite. Far away from that bitch Linda.” She paused to look at each of the faces around the table, “And if she is, well… She might as well fly on a broom and turn people into frogs I would not mind. I’ve never seen Arthur that happy before, and that’s all that matters.” She argued, her voice filled with determination and her tone highlighted with her natural fury. The Shelby sister sure was a wild and entitled woman.

“Thanks, Ada,” Arthur looked at her with sincere gratitude. He was starting to get tired of the two women’s nonsense and constant judgmental behavior toward his lover. His steel blue eyes abandoned his guests and fell on your graceful body — not interested in anyone but you. Bewitched by the sight, Arthur’s traits relaxed as he observed you running behind Katie in an attempt to catch her, with your dolly face enlightened with a smile so beaming even the sun was green with envy. His heartbeat quickened in his ribcage as seconds passed — the more he stared at you, the more the world around him vanished: you had the gift of making him forget everything. Your wild ivory mane floated at the wind’s discretion, along with the overhanging fabric of the Greek-inspired white dress you were wearing. How he loved to see you covered with the beautiful dresses, fur coats, and jewels he kept buying for you — nothing was too precious nor expensive for his angel. 

“You can’t catch me, Heaven!”

“You think so, Katie? I’m coming for you!”

Esme and John’s children had adored you from the minute you met. They seemed to have adopted you into the family, judging by their blooming smiles and their joyful laughter each time you would catch them in your arms. A sudden comforting wave of warmth overcame Arthur’s heart. Seeing you playing with kids definitely did something to him. He tried not to let it show, for you were younger than him and he did not want to put any pressure on your shoulders, but he had always wanted a family. For years he had seen his siblings being blessed with the joy of love and children, to the point he had wondered if his time would come or if he was deemed to live off prostitutes, drugs, and bland momentarily reliefs. Yet the more he watched you with children, the less he could keep domestic thoughts from flooding his brain. How deeply he wanted to put a ring around your finger to make you officially his, and fill your belly with a child. His child. But the truth was he still doubted you truly wanted him, his insecurities whispering to his ear that you’ll wake up one day and see the monster he was. He already could barely believe you wanted to see him every day. Let alone the surprise of you agreeing to live with him, by his side.

“Shit Arthur, it’s getting serious.” Ada teased, smiling behind her cup of tea at his brother’s blissed out expression, “She did cast a spell on you.”  

“Oh fook off, Ada. Don’t say that, Polly and Esme are going to believe it.”  And he was right, for the two women were now watching Ada with pure terror on their faces, which only made her burst into laughter. 

John grabbed you by the wrist, gently forcing you to stop running. You turned around and pout, visibly unhappy of your poor performance.

“Gotcha, little Angel,” He said, one brow raised and his beautiful lips stretching in a wide, cunning smile from which a toothpick was hanging, “Following the rules, you’re excluded from the game.“  

“That’s unfair. You cannot hide in a bush and bounce on me, John. This is cheating.” You retorted, pretending to be outraged, but the smirk etched on the corner of your charming lips left no doubt about your amusement. 

“I’m a Shelby. Of course I cheat.” 

“That’s such a lame excuse,” You said, your sentence punctuated by a  thunder of complaints that rose when the kids noticed you had stopped chasing them. All the four Shelby children wished was to keep playing with you, but John wanted to take advantage of this moment to enjoy your company without the protective presence of Arthur towering over him, “And I think the whole team disagrees with your decision.” You added, shrugging, with a false innocent expression on your face, which gave you a bratty look more than anything else. Gosh, John thought, you were a hell of a woman… 

“Oi herd, why don’t you play together for a while so that Dad and Heaven can talk eh?” 

Another wave of protest, but the focus of the little crowd was soon diverted by a small white bird that had just landed on the handmade birdhouse near them. The children decided they did not want to play Tag Your It anymore, but rather chose to observe the bird from the closest spot as possible. So was kids’ ability to focus, as flickering and ephemeral as a moth. John freed your wrist as they moved away and winked at you. Then, he pulled a  silvery cigarette case out of his pants pocket. He gave you one and proceeded to light it up politely. You leaned over his hands until the tip of your cigarette brushed the flame  — John’s sky-blue eyes looked at you during the whole moment, his iris shining with a playful gleam. To be honest, he was probably the nicest Shelby of the family, Arthur not included. At least, he was always absolutely caring for you and would never forget to pull you in a bear hug each time you met. Hugs so tight, so comfy that you could almost feel the shattered piece of your heart brought back together. John Shelby had spent countless hours helping you move to your new house, refusing to let you carry heavy furniture and stuff. More than being helpful, he fancied the moments you both spent together. That was why he would sometimes keep you company and teach you some tricks with his personal deck of cards when Arthur was busy working for their boss-brother. In exchange, you would mend his torn shirts after a fight and offer him shelter whenever he and Esme had a heated argument.

“How’s going with Arthur?” He asked, his tongue playing with his toothpick. You let out a cloud of smoke from your juicy lips.

“This is going so well, I can’t believe it. Your brother is so soft, so caring… He’s an Angel.”

“Soft? Caring? Are we really talking about Arthur?” He chuckled, “I mean he used to throw Michael out of the window when he was just a kid.”

“Well, you were there to catch him though. Pretty sure no one did when Arthur would throw you out of that same window. You must have hit your head against the concrete more than once.”  You raised a brow, your teeth digging into your cigarette as your smirk widened. Blown away by your quick wit, John shook his head.

“What the hell, I don’t know why Arthur calls you angel. You’re a fucking devil,” He said to tease you. Yet the soft traits of his baby face turned into a more serious expression, “So yer really happy with him?  I’m asking because he loves you so much that he would not stand losing you. Hell, he talks about you every fucking minute!” 

“Does he?” You said with a softer note in your voice before glancing at Arthur. Your aquamarine eyes met his, for he had not stopped staring at you. Blood rushed to your cheeks, “I’m truly blessed, John. Arthur is — he is unique you know? I can’t find words powerful enough in any language to describe my feelings for him. But trust me, I am a lucky woman. “  

Domestic life with Arthur Shelby had a surprising taste of blissful paradise. Obviously, it had its ups and downs, for the path to healing was always a long and somehow troubled one, but you knew what you were stepping into the first time you met — his face was splattered with blood after all. You had been aware of the scorching fits of rage and his past troubles with addictions right from the start. He also told you about the nightmares that would wake him up at night, screaming and panting, and that time he cheated on Linda and cried doing so. Yet, he had promised you to do his best to tame his demons — and when he said “best” he did not lie. Whether covered in blood or not, he often came home right after work, wanting to spend his time with you rather than doing anything else. When he did not it was simply because he was drinking with his brothers. And even wasted, at the edge of the abyss he was so familiar with, he never touched another woman — No matter John’s behaviors and Tommy’s pressure. How could he when the fairest creature of this bloody world was waiting for him at home? Moreover, sex with you outperformed everything he had experienced before. Arthur knew that having you by his side was a miracle, and he was determined not to sabotage it. Because you were everything he needed to survive, and what he had craved all his bastard’s life. Sometimes he would wake up at night, afraid you had been just a dream, and when he would realize you really existed he would pull you in his arms and watch you sleep peacefully, his fingers caressing your porcelain skin until he dozed off. Yes, Arthur Shelby was the most loving and loyal man you ever had. 

Maybe that was what made the moments he snapped even more terrifying. But you weren’t scared, for Arthur never laid a finger on you and would never do it. In fact, he was never mad at you, but rather at himself. Or at the rest of the world. But not you — how could he? 

He was simply terrified of hurting you. Sometimes he touched you so lightly, afraid to break you… And when his spirits heated and he squeezed you a bit too fiercely, all you had to do was gently remind him to relax and his embrace would loosen.

“But tell me John. Are you really interested in Arthur’s well-being or is it because you’d miss me if I leave?”  You joked, taking another puff of your cigarette and shifting your gaze to him. You expected a roast in return but all he gave you was a strange silence. Your smile slowly faded away at his pensive face, the oceans in his eyes lost in thought.

“Yeah,” He said, a bit embarrassed. John swallowed, then, after a brief moment of hesitation, he gently pressed one of his big soft hands on your shoulder in a tender sign of affection, “I’d miss you. I really like you Heaven.  You’re good for Arthur. You know when he goes back home after work it’s because he really wants to. Because he misses you so deeply he physically aches. Plus, I really love spending time with you,” He rubbed his nose with the back of his free hand in a nervous reflex, his handsome eyes fleeing yours,  “And I’m deeply sorry for my wife’s behavior.” 

“Ah,” You waved the topic off, “That’s okay,” 

“ Oi! That makes more room for me eh!” He blurted out, an irritating yet adorable playful grin plastered on his face. 

“Oh Gosh, what an idiot you are!” You slapped him behind the head, which made him laugh even more, “you have such a punchable face!” 

“That’s what my brothers always say, little angel. Find a better roast next time.”

“What do we always say, dumbass?” A hoarse voice asked. Two strong and large hands grabbed you by the waist. Arthur had left the women, who had a heated discussion about politics, for he grew already frustrated not to be with you. His familiar perfume made all your muscles relax as if your instinct linked his presence with undeniable safety — which was the case. To be true, Arthur was not only loving, he was clingy. Adorably clingy. From the day you met  — to probably the day death do you part— he constantly felt a deep-rooted need to touch you. On the one hand, he wanted your attention, on the other, he could not get enough of your affection.  You let out a soft and amused snort, and you raised one arm to slip your hand in his hair. You almost hear him purr at your touch, his lips against your ear.

“His face is punchable, don’t you think so?”

“Fook yes, it is! It really is.” 

“Two against me?! Now who’s the one cheat—“   John could not finish his sentence for he was cut off by the children’s screams.  The three of you rushed to the small pack as one to check what had just happened. 

When you reached their level, you saw all the children encircling something, their heads down and their eyes looking at one specific spot somewhere in the grass. 

“The hell’s wrong with ya kiddos? Ain’t no reason to scream like that!” Arthur complained, his gravel voice tainted with fading worries now that he realized all the kids were safe and sound. 

“The bird! It’s the bird, uncle Arthur!” Cried a little boy.

“Dad, dad! What’s wrong with the bird?” Katie asked. 

When you came closer, you realized that the children were circling the same bird that had landed on the birdhouse fifteen minutes ago. The poor creature was laying in a bed of green grass, as petrified as a statue. Its small beady eyes were glassy, utterly lifeless. It did not take more than one second for you to understand that it was probably dead.

“That bird’s bloody dead.” Arthur stated. Maybe tactfulness was not his best quality. 

“What?! Is it?!” The children spoke as one. A  terrified expression veiled their round faces at their uncle’s harsh words. 

“Good job Arthur.” John replied, visibly annoyed by the situation.

A soft breeze made the bird’s pale feathers dance in front of your eyes. How come this creature, which was joyfully whistling not so long ago, had stopped living all of sudden? The futility of life would never cease to amaze you… The fact remains that you had to do something, whether it was for John’s children or for the animal itself. Without the slightest word, you kneeled in the grass. Its comforting caress on your skin sent a shiver down your spine and reminded you how you loved taking naps in the forest when you were a kid, back in France. You forced your mind to focus on your task and finally cupped the bird’s body in your cold hands.

“Don’t touch it, love.” Arthur told you. The gravel in his voice was coated with softness and care: he did not want you to catch a disease or something.

“It’s alright.” You answered, absentminded, before standing up on your feet. Your brows slightly furrowed as you observed the dead creature in your hands. There was something about dead birds — something in the way their small black eyes were always wide open as if they had frozen at the sight of Death’s face right before it struck them with its lethal kiss. 

Arthur, as well as the rest of the Shelby family, looked at you in confusion. They did not comprehend what you wanted to do with the corpse. You took a quick glance at John’s children and offered them a soft smile, then you looked back at the bird, “You know,” you started, your voice sweet and enchanting, “my mom used to tell me that some birds only have one love during their life,” Your words stirred up curiosity among the young ones, whose faces turned from fear to vivid interest, “they can die from a broken heart. Just like some humans.”

“This is sad. I don’t want the bird to have a broken heart.” One little boy with feckless said.

“It’s true. That’s a sad fact. But … If you give it a bit of love and a lot of hope…” Pausing your sentence, you closed your eyes for one short moment and exhaled loudly. Doing so, you raised your arms with closed hands facing the clear blue sky, “Maybe you can repair what has been broken.”  And as you concluded, your sweet words and soft voice hypnotizing your audience, you opened your hands:  against all odds and natural laws, the white bird twitched and, all of sudden, flew away in panic as the witching hour struck. White feathers lazily spin to the ground, carried away by the wind and the melody of flapping wings. A peaceful grin grazed your full lips at such a magnificent sound, “See?” You finally said, reopening your Bambi lashes and turning towards the mesmerized kids that were now cheering. However, that dazzling smile of yours quickly faded away at the sight of Esme, Polly, and Ada’s bewildered faces — they had witnessed everything.

“What the bloody hell was that?” John’s voice was merely a whisper. You had resurrected a damn bird. In front of them. No trick, no ruse. You had brought a fucking bird back to fucking life.

You looked at Arthur with a tint of anxiety in your eyes, not understanding if you did something wrong, but all he did was stare at the bird’s silhouette up in the sky with his cold blue eyes.

“Fookin’ hell…” 

He could not believe it either.

When Esme had grabbed her children, panic on her face, and left the house slamming the car’s door, you had felt utterly disappointed in yourself.  Here we go, you thought, they are all going to hate me. And Arthur’s going to leave. You thought, still standing in the alley with your eyes fixed upon the horizon where she had disappeared. The horror with which she had looked at you was haunting you — were you that monstrous? You blinked and remembered you were not alone. John, Ada, Polly, and Arthur were still there, probably ready to flee too. Your heart ached at the thought, to the point you did not dare move for fear of facing them.

“Angel.” Arthur’s voice called with such a soft and delicate tone no one would have recognized it. You finally turned around slowly, jaw clenched and eyes looking at your feet.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Arthur.” That was all you could say, apologies falling from your quivering lips each time you would part then to speak. 

“Hey. Stop that.” He said, a bit more strictly,  yet he gently cupped your face with his two rough hands at the same time. The sensation of his warm skin against yours managed to bring back peace in your tormented soul.

“Don’t mind her — Yer fucking perfect. Yes, you are, and I don’t want ya to think you’re not.” 

“I should not have done that. Maybe that wasn’t what you thought, maybe the bird was just playing dead and…”  

“I love ya and I’m not gonna leave if that’s what yer scared of. That’s okay, love.” He said, pressing his forehead against yours in that so specific habit of his, “Just don't cry please, I hate to see you cry.” Lavishing you with sweetness, Arthur left little reassuring pecks on your lips for it was the only thing he could do to keep the tears away from your eyes.

How much he hated to see you in pain.  It made him want to bend the skies and raise hell. Made him want to destroy everything that had hurt you. 

Fortunately for him, your hard heart did not let you shred a single tear. You felt wounded and frustrated, simple as that.

“Don’t worry, Mon amour.” You finally say, taking a deep breath.  You were about to give him a little smile, eyes lost in Arthur’s blue iris when Polly literally pushed him away from you with quite a surprising strength. She had snatched your man from your arms with such fierceness that you stood still, eyes wide open, unable to move.

“HELL, POL’! BLOODY FOOKIN’ FAMILY!” Now he was yelling — roaring like a wounded and enraged lion. 

“Shut up Arthur!” She snapped back without looking at him, before grabbing your shoulders with her two frail hands. You were once again astounded by her strength now that she was holding you firmly. 

At such a sight, Arthur’s protective instincts kicked in. He was about to place himself in front of you to face Polly Gray, within an inch of tackling his own Aunt, when John and Ada grasped each one of his arms to hold him back. 

“You have brought it to life, haven’t you?” She questioned, her brows slightly furrowed and her brown eyes trying to probe the meanders of your soul. It was more than enough for you, who came to the edge of your patience. You exhaled slowly and swallowed.

“Why do you want to know? Gonna hang me high? Gonna burn me?!” 

“DON’T TOUCH HER!” Arthur roared in the background.

“You did it!” She blurted out.

You did not reply, rather leaving her to draw her own conclusions.

“You did it.” She repeated with a surprisingly softer voice. 

And everything changed. 

Her face. The spark in her eyes. Her whole attitude. Polly’s hands loosened their grip but remain on your shoulders. The coldness of her face melted in a brief proud smile, whose rarity rendered it even more inestimable. Polly’s mouth opened to say something but it took a little while, for she was still trying to find the right words. And when she did, she said something to you in Romani. Something you could not understand, even though the tone of this unknown language sounded beautifully in your ears. The meaning behind her words remained a mystery — all you knew was that what she said had surprised Arthur and John, who were both now looking at their Aunt with lips slightly opened. Confused, your gaze shifted to Ada — and contrary to her brothers, a magnificent smile was adorning her face.

Polly gave your shoulders a last gentle squeeze before releasing you from her embrace and pointing Arthur out.

“You better keep this one.” She simply stated, then she headed back to the garden. 

You blinked, still utterly confused by Polly’s behavior, “what did she say?” You turned to the three Shelby siblings but especially asked Arthur. However, he struggled to produce a proper answer. He opened his mouth but Ada cut him off right before he could speak.

“Miracle.” She stated.

“She said you’re a miracle.” 

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

Each chapter of this series can be read as stand-alones but I advise you to read everything if you want a better understanding of details.

Tagging those who might be interested: @areyenotfondofmelobster @meowtastick @babayaga67 @sired-to-hybrid @shelbyssins (tagging u honey because it’s bby Arthur)

[mrsalwayswrite]

My Guiding Lights (Tommy Shelby x reader)

Summary: Tommy does not handle being out of control well, it claws at him like street cats, fighting and biting until he cannot handle it anymore. So when you are giving birth to his first child, he takes matters into his own hands.

This is my contribution to @emilyhufflepufftlk 300 followers celebration! Congrats again!

My prompt was: the one with the birth

Quick disclaimer: I am not an expert in birthing practices during the 1920s nor am I Romani. For this story I did some research on both topics but not extensive, so please forgive me if I get anything inaccurate or misrepresent the Romani practices. I know I took some liberties because of what we have seen in the show.

Warnings: reader giving birth (if you haven't picked that up by now), mild language, brief mention of past violence, Tommy's mind and control freak tendencies.

Words: 4700

Tommy paced the snug of the Garrison, the few paces it consisted of. His feet guided him as his thoughts twisted and tumbled over one another. His strongest asset under attack. Stinging wasps infiltrated his mind. Fears plagued him. Stinging. Tormenting. Worry echoed with each footstep. 

Back and forth. 

Back and forth he paced. 

He should have been utilizing these past few hours properly. The power-hungry businessman within him demanded it. Making plans for further expansion into and around London. Listening to the whispers of gossip and the hidden morsels of truth in them. Anything. Even cracking a few heads and bloodying his suit because someone looked at him wrong. Anything other than this useless pacing. 

But the concern and fear kept an ever tightening chokehold around his throat, refusing to relent. So he paced. 

Back and forth. 

Back and forth. 

By the time he was done, there would certainly be a permanent groove embedded the wood floor. 

Never more had he felt a predator trapped in a cage. Staring through the bars, eyeing those who stared warily at him, waiting….just waiting to sink his teeth into someone and shred them, just to momentarily sate the burning fear that choked him. 

He stopped his pacing to throw back another glass of whiskey before resuming his relentless pacing. His suit jacket had been discarded within the first hour of his arrival at the Garrison. His sleeves were now rolled up, the top two buttons undone on his dress shirt. His hair most likely looked a mess with how often he had run his fingers through the dark strands. He knew this was a side of him rarely seen by the population of Birmingham. Thankfully so. For when Harry opened the door into the snug, to bring in their newest bottle of whiskey, he had physically recoiled when meeting Tommy's icy eyes. The gangster wondered how much of the manic consuming his mind bled through into his gaze, making him seem more crazed predator than human. 

And so he paced.

Back and forth. 

Back and forth. 

"Tommy, sit down." Arthur chuckled, throwing his cards down on the table. A groan left his lips when he realized that he lost another hand in the poker game Tommy was supposed to be playing with his brothers to distract him. Instead he was pacing. 

Tommy ignored his older brother. His feet never stopped. 

"C'mon, Tom." John smirked as he pulled the winnings closer to him. "You know Pol's takin' care of her. Esme's there too. She'll be fine."

"Not wot you was saying when your first was born, eh?" Arthur pointed out, swirling the amber liquid in his glass before draining it. "Puking behind the Garrison, you were. Drinking like a fish then to puke it all up from nerves. Me and Tommy almost put you outta your misery, knock you out cold. Fuck. Was planning on it when Ada came running' and screaming' about the baby being' born. Then you could barely walk back to Watery Lane, reeking of whiskey and vomit. If Martha wasn't holding a baby in her arms, she'd probably have hit you with her favorite pan. Yeah, that bloody heavy one too."

The corners of Tommy's mouth tilted upward as Arthur spoke, taking a moment to reminisce. He remembered Ada and Finn's births as a child himself. He could remember finally being allowed to return home after hours of being forced to stay outside while his mother screamed and cried with bringing new life into this unforgiving world. Yet with John's first, he had been a man and had a better understanding of what was going on. Of how precarious and difficult giving birth could be for both the woman and child. How there was no guarantee that both would survive. That a new life could just as easily rip away the one guiding it into the world. And all the blood and screams….

With that thought in mind, Tommy started pacing and chain smoking again. Fears renewed and clawed at him until he wanted to smash his head against the wall to just make it stop. 

Right away this morning, before the sun even graced the sky and he opened his eyes, he knew something was wrong. 

Tommy always woke up before his wife, usually before any other Shelby member since he was a child. There was something about waking up before the rest of the world, in taking those minutes of silence and peace to allow his mind to fully awaken and his body to restart. To just be….until he put on the suit and firmly tightened the stoic mask he wore and became what he needed to be. 

Once he met you, the love of his life, and convinced you to start regularly sleeping in his bed, he was now not as quick to rise and greet the sun. He would be awake, but instead of crawling out of bed like before, with a cigarette in hand and searching for a glass of whiskey to toss back, he would linger. His hand might trace lightly over your exposed skin or listen to your breathing there in the morning gray. His thoughts would writhe and twist like normal, scheming and planning before he had even rubbed the sleep from his eyes. But with you in bed next to him, he remained just a little while longer, soaking up the peace he only found with you nearby. His wife. The one who truly saw past his mask and drew out the hidden, compassionate side of him he had thought long dead and buried. 

So when he woke up this morning, finding himself alone in the bed, only the first rays of sunlight hinted in the sky….he knew something was wrong. 

Dressed only in a pair of knickers, Tommy rushed downstairs to find you washing the dishes you had been too tired to finish last night. Your nightgown hung loosely over your frame, but clung jealously tight against your swollen belly. As he opened his mouth to ask what you were doing, you froze, hand gripping the edge of the sink with an intense look of concentration. After two deep breaths, your eyes focused back as if waking from an uncomfortable daydream. It was then you noticed him. A beguiling smile lit up your face as you spoke softly. 

"We're having a baby today."

And his whole world imploded. 

Apparently, your contractions had started the hour prior and because of them you could not sleep. So instead of waking Tommy, which he was quite unhappy about and made sure you understood, you had snuck downstairs to do some chores while you waited for your contractions to progress. He logically knew it took hours until it was time for the baby's arrival, especially with the first. It did not mean he liked the idea of you suffering alone, even if you assured him you were fine. 

Eventually Polly arrived, took one look at you and stated, "I had a feeling when I woke up it'd be today." Then she eyed Tommy in his undressed state, since he refused to leave his wife alone, and forcibly commanded that he get dressed and get to the betting shop. This was women's business now. 

Yet while at the betting shop, he could not think. Worries gnawed away at his mind like filthy rats. Panic and despair whispered their half-truths into his ears. In his distressed state, all he could do was stare at the green doors. Knowing on the other side was his beautiful wife in labor with their first child. A baby they were both thrilled to have. Now anxiety reminded him what you must endure to bring his child into the world, to place it in his arms. And how easily he could lose both you and the already beloved baby. 

Only after two hours of being open, Arthur and John shut down the shop for the day and dragged his arse to the Garrison. They kept Scudboat and Lovelock back to maintain presence at the betting shop and announce that it was a Birmingham holiday. 

Hours late here he was. Still pacing. That ever tightening chokehold of fear made it hard to breathe. The heavy stone of anxiety threatened to cave in his chest. There had been no word of how you were doing. Or how the babe was. So his mind conjured nightmares to fill in the void of information. He wondered if the combination of terrifying thoughts and excessive whiskey would send him puking his guts out behind the Garrison. Now he felt a stab of regret for teasing John so ruthlessly after his own turbulent experience. 

"Tommy," John murmured again, an undertone of understanding in his voice. He met his older brother's eyes, compassion shining as he spoke words of reassurance. "She'll be fine. She's strong. Pol won't let anything 'appen."

Tommy nodded silently, letting his brother's words flow over him like a cool breeze. 

"Think the babe will look like Tommy?" Arthur asked, rearranging the cards in his hand. Clearly attempting to break the tense air stifling the snug. 

"I fooking hope not. Poor child will be teased if he's that ugly."

Tommy lightly smacked the back of John's head, even as John just smirked and swatted him back. For a moment, the despair lightened like the sun breaking through storm clouds. 

Arthur laughed loudly. "Yeah, probably best the babe takes after y/n. A beauty she is. Poor girl can't go anywhere without men just staring at 'er."

"That's me wife you're talking about." Tommy growled but without any sort of heat behind his words.

"And the perfect wife for you!" Arthur raised his glass in a toast before tossing it back. John quickly followed suit. 

Tommy made a mental note to ask about who has been staring at his wife. Then he started pacing again. 

Back and forth. 

Back and forth. 

Finally, the storm swirling in his chest reached its peak, battering against his resolve until it lay decimated like a ship against the merciless rocks. He had to do something. Anything. If he continued pacing, drowning himself in whiskey and cigarettes, he was going to lose what last pieces of sanity he still maintained. 

No one wanted to see the consequences of that. 

Without a word, he grabbed his suit jacket and yanked it on. Even before his arms were fully in the sleeves, he had thrown open the door to the snug and raced out like the devil was on his heels. From behind, he could hear Arthur and John calling out to him but he kept moving. His fears, his sudden terror, growled at his heels like vicious wolves. His need to know, to see his wife, propelled him onward. 

Tommy was a man who had always liked to be in control. Who held all of the cards and could play them as he pleased. Who was three steps ahead of everyone else. It was not arrogance when he could confidently say he was the most intelligent man in Birmingham. Ever since he was a child, he had always been more clever and smarter than his peers. When others could only see a straight line, he saw multiple, twisting lines that got him farther and with more resources than that single straight line everyone else saw. 

Beyond that, he needed that control as much as the air he breathed. For without it, he felt like a rowboat lost at sea, tossed about by waves and praying it would not capsize. Bad things usually happened when Tommy was not in control.

But in this situation….he had none. There was nothing he could do. There was no one he could pay for the right information. No way to be ahead of the game. He had no control over childbirth. Over the pain his wife would endure. No control if everything went to hell. There was not a goddamn thing his hands or his mind could do to solve it. 

And that very simple fact terrified him down to his core. 

Without a care, he threw open the front door to 6 Watery Lane and stalked in like a predator on the loose. 

Almost immediately, Esme popped around the corner from the parlor. Shock initially crossed her face before morphing into confused annoyance. She crossed her arms over her chest, dark eyes narrowed at him. "You can't be 'ere."

"It's me own home."

"You can't be here!" Esme practically snarled. "You'll bring bad spirits with you!"

Tommy approached his sister-in-law, his movements smooth, not giving away the way he felt his bones vibrating with agitation and concern. He stopped just in front of her, towering over her smaller form, his voice cold and clipped when he directed his question to her. "Where is she?" 

Before Esme could respond, Polly stood behind her, an almost matching scowl on her face. 

"You shouldn't be here, Thomas. This is women's business. You'll make the birthing further unclean if you come in."

"And bring bad spirits with you." Esme mumbled, still glaring though. 

Tommy raised his eyes to the ceiling for a moment, willing himself to take a deep breath and not yell at the women in his family. He knew they still clung to many of the Romani beliefs and superstitions. Something he had never truly believed himself. All those notions about luck and bad spirits and fate….as a young boy he had disregarded it and continued to ignore them for the most part. The only thing he did believe in was curses. 

When he no longer felt the urge to rampage through his own house, looking for his own wife, who was going to give birth to his own child, he lowered his eyes back to the women folk. Slowly he enunciated his next words, allowing his frustration to bleed over every syllable and hopefully make them realize how serious he was. "Where. Is. My. Wife?"

"Tommy, you can't–" Polly stopped and looked back into the parlor room, clearly listening. With a grumble, she rolled her eyes and stepped to the side just enough to indicate her begrudging willingness for Tommy to enter. "She's asking for you."

With a nod at his aunt, he crossed into the parlor room, unsure exactly what he was stepping into but knowing he needed to be here. For both himself and you. 

What he saw both made his heart race and blood turn to ice. There you stood in front of the fireplace, still dressed in the loose nightgown. The firelight danced across you, highlighting your swollen belly and the sweat on your brow. Your hands tightly gripped the back of a wooden chair, your eyes pinched shut and a pained grimace on your face. 

"She's close. Won't be much longer now." Polly softly said, shifting to stand by Tommy's side. 

He nodded mutely at the same time your eyes slowly opened and turned to him. A stab to the gut, a bullet to the shoulder, anything would have been less painful. For it was the pain still obvious in your eyes and in every bead of sweat dotting your skin, that hurt to bear witness to. The worst was the small, shaky smile you gave him, the reassurance he needed when it should be the other way around. 

"Tommy…." You barely mouthed before pinching your eyes shut again and your lips pulled back in the grimace as the next wave of contractions slammed into your body. 

Immediately, Tommy moved. He shucked his suit jacket off, tossing it carelessly onto the couch. In the next step, he moved behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders. "What can I do, darling? Please tell me I can help."

With the short reprieve between contractions, you leaned back, resting your head on his chest. "I'm fine."

He snorted. "You're in labor." His hand absent-mindedly ran along your side and towards your back. "How can I help?"

A soft sigh escaped you. "Right there. My lower back."

His hand returned to rubbing soothing circles and applying pressure against your lower back. In the next moment, you were leaning forward, gripping the chair with a death-like hold. 

He turned his focus onto his aunt, a new layer of fear and worry dripped into his blood like poison. "Shouldn't she be….screaming?"

"Some women handle pain, even labor pains, differently." Polly stared thoughtfully at you, someone the matriarch had stated was family even before you married Tommy. "You remember when she fell and got that gash on her arm. It bleed so much, I worried she'd pass out, but the whole time she never cried. Even when I stitched her up. Brave, foolish girl."

Tommy bit the inside of his cheek as the memory swept over him. It was before your relationship became concrete, when the two of you were just friends but he wanted so much more. The story you had shared was that you tripped and fell. Later, he learned the whole truth from one of the Peaky boys. That a drunkard had knocked you down and spat on you because in his intoxicated state, he confused you for his wife who was  coming to retrieve him from the bar. The next day Tommy and his brothers paid the man a visit, educating him on what happens to those who hurt persons under the protection of the Peaky Blinders. 

"I need to check her." Polly said, drawing Tommy out of his memories and back into reality. 

Once the contraction ended, Tommy stepped back to roll up the sleeves of his shirt again while Polly checked your dialation. 

The matriarch smiled up at you. "You're just about there. You're doing so good, love."

You nodded, already leaning forward with the next onslaught of pain. 

"Tommy shouldn't be 'ere, s'not right." Esme said, taking a random scarf laying around and sliding her fingers through, making sure there were no knots. 

Tommy glared at her, his voice ice cold. "I'm not leaving me wife while she's in pain."

With a huff, Esme got up, muttering under her breath continuously as she stomped over and rummaged through her bag. 

Tommy swung his gaze back to his aunt. "Don't force me to leave. Please." He whispered. Even to his own ears, he sounded like a little boy. A vulnerability that had been shattered under the impact of his father's fists and the realization that the world did not care for lowlife scum like him and his family. But for this….for you, he would beg to not leave your side. 

Polly hesitated but something in his gaze, in his words, made her inhale sharply and nod. Perhaps she caught a glimpse of that long lost boy she had watched vanish before her eyes. "Alright, Tom, but when it's time, you do what I say. No questions asked."

"Yes, boss." 

She rolled her eyes, even as the corners of her lips tilted up. "I'll get the hot water and cloths ready."

As Polly headed towards the kitchen, Tommy returned to his spot behind his wife, rubbing your lower back and whispering encouragement. He knew enough from helping horses that nature would take its course and all one could do was wait. 

Esme came to his side, holding a comb. "Let me brush her hair, can't have any knots. It'll help bring luck."

For the next several minutes, Tommy and Esme worked on you. His fears continued to fester. It was obvious each contraction seemed to worsen. The few times a whimper escaped your lips, he pressed his face against your head, wishing he could take away your pain. He would give anything to alleviate your pain, to take it upon himself. But he could not. So he did what he could to help, even if he felt useless. Which irked him. Made his skin crawl at his own uselessness. Those stinging thoughts in his mind transformed into vultures, circling, circling, waiting to feast on his decaying sanity. 

What chewed away most at his confidence was how unresponsive you became as labor continued. He could still hear your breathing, could feel your heartbeat. But when Esme directed a question at you, it took several tries of your name before you responded. 

He could not help but wonder if your continued silence was better or worse than screaming. 

After some time, you stiffened. Your head shot up to where Polly had been standing, watching you with a hawk-like precision. 

"I pushed….I–I didn't mean to. It just happened–"

"Good girl, it's alright. That just means it's time." His aunt said calmly, then directed the others like the general she was. "Tommy, help her around. Sit down in that chair, I want her squatting in front of you. You'll support her. Esme, prepare the cloths." 

Tommy helped his wife quickly as his aunt directed. He sat down and spread his legs wide for you to squat between, facing outward. Pain seemed etched onto your beautiful face, your breathing shallow. Sweat coated your body. As soon as you were in position, you grabbed his hands, your arms over his thighs. He clutched your hands in return, hoping it brought you some idea of relief. 

Polly knelt in front of you. "Alright, love, push when your body tells you too."

Time was irrelevant as you worked and fought to bring your child into the world. Your grip on his hands was borderline crushing but he never thought to complain or try and pull away. He continued to whisper, his lips against your temple, tasting your sweat, embracing what pain he could, to try and take it from you. 

"I can't, Polly." You whimpered out after some time. The first words you had spoken since Tommy walked in a couple of hours ago. "I can't….I'm so tired."

His heart shattered like a glass window listening to you. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He wished he could offer you some comfort, some relief, but this was your battle, and he was stuck on the sidelines. 

Polly's dark, knowing, eyes met yours. "Yes, you can. I promise. I can feel the head. You're almost there, love. A couple more pushes then you can meet your baby. Think about that. You can meet your babe in a few minutes. Don't give up."

You nodded before giving a grunt with the next contraction. 

"One more! The head almost came out!"  

Tommy pressed his lips to his wife's ear. "Let's meet our child, eh? My strong wife. Let's see our baby."

He wondered if you heard his words, if that was the encouragement you needed. For in the next instant, you let out a pained cry as your body shuddered. 

"Yes! One more! I've got the head!" Polly said, with her hands underneath your sweat-soaked nightgown. 

"Hear that? One more, my sweet darling. One more." Tommy crooned.

Then he heard it. The squelch. The flush. The sound of life entering the world. 

Immediately, you sagged in his arms, all energy drained, like a puppet with its strings cut. He grabbed a hold and fell with you to the ground, cradling you in his lap. Blood stained your dress and legs, soaking into his clothes but he did not even notice. His sole focus was on the rapid breathing of his wife, your eyes closed and lips pressed together. 

"Oh love, he's beautiful." Polly cooed as she cradled the bloody bundle in her arms. She used a different cloth to wipe away his face and head, a beaming smile on her face.

At her words, Tommy felt his heart miss a beat. A son. He had a son. 

"Open your eyes, love. Meet your son." Polly carefully knelt down, holding the baby. She placed the newborn on your chest. 

Even as shivers rocked through your body in response to the trauma it just experienced, your hands reflexively stilled as they cradled the newborn against you. 

"We need something of Tommy's to wrap him in!" Esme cried. 

"Me coat." He mumbled, eyes locked onto his son. Yet relief waited at the threshold, not quite ready to enter in and erase the fears and worries Tommy still harbored. 

Esme grabbed the coat, bringing it over and gently laying it over the baby and his wife's bloody, sweaty body. 

While you gazed lovingly down at the baby you had brought into the world, Tommy watched his aunt and Esme turn your body carefully and reach back under your nightgown. After several long moments, the faintest hint of concern slid off Polly's face. 

She glanced up at him, most likely feeling his gaze locked on her. "The afterbirth is out and her bleeding is already slowing down. She'll be alright, Tom. I promise."

And with that simple, reassuring promise, the foul air that filled his lungs with fear was knocked away with a swift kick. Relief finally crossed the threshold and anchored itself into his mind. His arms tightened around his still trembling wife. The emotional turmoil he had warred with throughout the day seeped out, leaving him emotionally exhausted. Yet through it all, he had never felt more alive. More hopeful. 

His focus dropped down to the baby on your chest, his little mouth opening and closing slowly and his tiny fingers twitching. A sense of awe and wonder crawled up his spine to twist around his heart. You, his beautiful wife, had given him a child. A single tear escaped his watery eyes and dropped into your hair but neither of you seemed to notice, too absorbed in the miracle you had created together. 

"You did it." He croaked out. "We've a son. Our son." 

"Our baby." You murmured.

As if hearing your words, the newborn opened his eyes….and Tommy thought he could drown into the vast blue of them. For they were his eyes staring back at him. 

At that moment, he knew he would do anything for his son. He thought he knew love when he gave his heart to you, when he allowed himself to be completely vulnerable with you in ways he had never been with anyone else. But this….staring into his son's eyes. It was a far different feeling than he expected. For you, his wife, he would sell his soul to the devil without a second thought to take care of you. But for his son, for this new babe in your arms that with a single look shook the foundations of his world, he would storm the gates of hell and rip the devil's heart out himself if anyone dared harm his child. 

"I love you." Tommy whispered as overwhelming emotions welled up in his chest, clinging to his throat, and threatening to escape in sobs of sheer relief and devotion. Instead he placed a kiss to your temple and ran a single finger over the top of his son's head. 

"I love you too, Tommy." You glanced up at him, from where you reclined against his chest, before turning back to your baby. "And we love you. Mummy and daddy love you so much."

Tommy stared down at his family, the love of his life and his newest reason to be better, to do better. His heart stretched and strained, trying desperately to fit the love overfilling it, just trying to accommodate it all somehow. 

As he continued to gaze down at his son while Polly helped you to try and feed him, he knew one thing for certain. What ruthlessness people thought he harbored was nothing compared to what would be unleashed if anyone dared to touch his family. A peaked cap or a bullet to the brain would be the least of their concerns. He would overthrow governments to keep his family safe. He would break countries to keep his family protected. Nothing was outside of the realm of possibility he would do. For as his love grew to encompass his new son, his need to see him and you safe mirrored it. Whatever it would take. He would see it done. 

For his wife and now his son were his guiding lights and he refused to allow anyone to put them out. 

Tag List:

Peaky Blinders- @slytherinicequeen @geekandbooknerd @lilyrachelcassidy @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @minxsblog

(lemme know if you wanna be added or deleted from the tag list)

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲'𝐬 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

a/n: trigger warnings for drugs, mental illness, smoking. The show is pretty dark so the themes are hard to ignore

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ    

ESFP

Hufflepuff

Chaotic Neutral

Leo Sun, Pisces Moon, Aries Rising

SFW🌿

・ Arthur would do well with a partner that is gentle and kind. Someone who doesn’t tell him to ‘man up and soldier on.’ 

・Because of his PTSD, and the impact it has on him in his everyday life. Tommy, who he goes to for support, is very rough with him. With mental illness, forcing yourself to ‘toughen up’ rarely helps. So Tommy’s advice falls short most of the time. 

・As his significant other, you are tender with him. Knowing mental illness yourself (maybe you have your own battles with it, or a family/friend has and you’ve helped them etc,) you aren’t the person to shut down his feelings. 

・You listen. You’re open, warm, and gentle.  

・In front of the fireplace, you settle him down. Taking his mind out of the battle and focusing it on something in the here and now. 

・Tracing all of his freckles; it makes him shiver 

・Arthur’s pet names for you are ‘love,’ ‘sweetheart,’ ‘beautiful,’ ‘gorgeous.’

・Lighting each other’s cigars

・At first he didn’t want you near the business, he saw what it does to him and was scared that you would get hurt. But you have smarts and talents that Tommy sometimes needs. 

・Telling you about his childhood. About the shenanigans, he and his brothers would get up to. 

・You guys would definitely drink together, getting tipsy in your townhouse. Giggling on the floor while Arthur imitates Tommy 

・You know about him and snow. Somedays you partake in it yourself. But because of your emotional support with his PTSD and other grievances - he doesn’t use it that much

・Proudly tells people that he’s going to marry you soon. 

・He has a lot of energy, kind of like a golden retriever. And so you bought a puppy that he could chase around. 

・He loves making cups of tea for you, but usually spills the hot water on himself and you can hear him swearing from the kitchen

・Arthur tries his best to be romantic, but he’s really grateful for everything you do

・Being really good friends with Ada. You have similar opinions and love literature. I can see you working together on something 

・You don’t really like Tommy. You respect him, but you don’t necessarily like him. 

・John is always fun to be around

・And you absolutely adore Esme

・Polly is very intimidating but she knew you’d be a great match for Arthur so she thinks of you as family

Relationship Tropes: 

 ‘I Don’t Deserve You’ + ‘I Love You No Matter What’

Looks Tough, Is A Softie + Looks Like A Softie, Is Tough

‘I May Look Like The Boss, But I’m Not’ (Arthur) + ‘I’m The Motherf*cking Boss’ (You)

NSFW🔞minors dni!

・ 50% dom 50% sub

・ He would like you to take control; show that you desire him and want him. Arthur would love you to push him down on the bed, and strip him naked

・He loves it when you bite on his earlobe and yank 

・Arthur definitely has a mummy kink 

・And I think Arthur would think that sex should be serious. But because of your personality and how you’ve opened his mind, sex becomes something more fun and pleasurable. Rather than critical. 

・Likes it when you wear nothing but his tie... it drives him wild

・Arthur likes to smell you - your hair, your neck. He leaves bites along your collarbone 

・Oh and he is loud. With moaning, groaning and yelling your name. He doesn’t care who hears - just as long as they don’t see. 

・He likes others to know you’re his, and he’ll leave hickeys on your neck. But you usually cover it with makeup or a scarf. 

・He loves bathing together; getting in a hot bath and washing each other’s bodies. It usually leads to sex, or just cockwarming

・And he loves cockwarming ... 

   “Can we do the thing where I-”

“Yes love,” and you move your panties to the side while he pushes his cock inside you. 

・He loves head. It’s what he thinks about most of the day. 

・Arthur will try and reciprocate but he would need a lot of practice. But he’s willing to learn.