#peaky Blinders angst

[mydear-corinthian]

Protection || Thomas Shelby x reader

Synopsis: You were protecting your son, Charlie when Billy Kimber's men ambushed your shared home. Pairing: Thomas Shelby x reader Warnings: ANGST w/ comfort, reader gets injured, gun violence, mentions of blood, swearing, Grace's being mentioned once - s2 spoiler Notes: Not proofread, grammatical errors, GIF is mine Click here to find the main masterlist. Click here to find the PEAKY BLINDERS masterlist.

As another regular evening took place, a sense of peace descended over Thomas Shelby and his wife's shared home. While Tommy was busy with his business and papers, you found yourself wandering the enormous area of the estate with your young son, Charlie.

Marriage with Tommy wasn't for the faint of heart. You were highly aware of the ongoing danger that accompanied his lifestyle, the circulating threats and enemies that followed your husband's every step. Despite the obvious risks your love for him remained strong. You treasured him not as an infamous gangster, but as the man who made you feel valued, protected, and appreciated.

There was nothing but silence in the huge home; you could hear the clock ticking and the curtains flapping as the breeze shook the cloth. It was a Saturday night, so the maids weren't working, leaving you and Charlie alone. Charlie's eyelids were going drowsy as you cuddled him, softly caressing his back and humming his favorite lullaby. Looking at the clock, you realized how late it was, and Tommy hadn't returned home yet.

You heard the main entrance door open with a loud bang. Although it seemed strange, you assumed Tommy was just returning from a stressful day at work. Charlie woke up from his sleep and let out a loud cry when you heard gunfires as you were ready to leave your shared room. You were so terrified that you thought your legs were paralyzed. Without wasting any time, you grabbed Charlie and put his little body against your shoulder, giving him a tight hug.

With Charlie in one hand, you dashed to the door, locked it almost instantly, and took out the Enfield No. 2 six-bullet handgun that your husband had given you as a birthday present from the nightstand's drawer. You grab the gun and duck into the shared bedroom's bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

The room was filled with the sound of the little Shelby's piercing cries, which seemed to come from every corner. You tried so hard to soothe him, cooing softly, but all it did was make his cries louder and more echoing through the walls. As you tried to calm him, your hands trembled with fear and your fingers stuttering, a sign of your growing terror running down your face. You felt powerless in the face of Charlie's constant tears, and you started to search for a way out of the mess.

You started nervously to pray while holding a child in your arms. Tears were beginning to fall from your eyes and the prayers were mumbling on your lips.

Charlie and you were found by whoever was in your shared room as you heard the door slam. Breathless, you lowered your son onto the empty, shallow bath tub behind you and spoke to him to stop crying. and that you will return quickly. When the toilet door opened, two armed men in a hideous black suit and a top hat appeared; they were Billy Kimber workers.

One of the armed men circled around you and exclaimed, "Aye look, it's Mrs. Shelby," as you aimed your handgun at him, your hands shaking with terror. You've never been skilled with a gun. Tommy giving you a gun like that surprised you. He would not stop stating, "You'll use that in the future."

and perhaps the future was today.

"Suprised a Shelby doesn't know how to use a gun. How about we gift Thomas Shelby the lifeless body of his dear wife?" the man laughed. You raised the gun without thinking, your hand steady from the rush of adrenaline pumping through you, and took aim at the man's skull. The bullet cracked sharply and shot out of the barrel, piercing the air and hitting its target with terrifying accuracy. With a bleak proof to your determination, fortune smiled on you as the bullet hit accurate, plunging into the man's forehead with fatal force and instantly taking his life.

Attempting to fire another shot to the other man, you missed.

Suddenly, you heard a bang go off but paid no mind. Attempting to shoot again, you finally succeded; three bullets all over the now lifeless man's torso. The sight of the lifeless bodies made you feel sick but you chose to ignore it as you dropped your used gun to go and grab Charlie and ask for help. You grabbed your son right away, immediately hugging him and kissed his little forehead.

Suddenly, you heard a familiar voice calling out your name; Tommy.

His voice reaching out for you made you sigh with relief. Your husband ran toward you as your legs found their way to the stairs to return to him. You embraced him, resting your head on his chest and taking in his manly scent as you exhaled. "Oh god, Tommy.."

She took Charlie out of your arms and gave you a minute to rest in Tommy's calming presence in Polly's comforting presence. Tommy's hand gently cradled the back of your head as you leaned into him, seeking solace from the chaos of the moment in his gentle, comforting touch. His voice, a comforting whisper that passed through the chaos, whispered, "You're safe now, love."

He felt a warm wetness on his dark blue vest, making him break the hug to see what it was.

Tommy's eyes widened in fear at what he saw, and he let out a gasp. Once an image of elegance, your immaculate white evening gown now had a scarlet stain of blood creeping across it, the color standing out against the fabric. The room seemed to spin in a dizzying twister, threatening to paralyze you as the color faded from your face, your face was pale and your vision seemed to spin like a twister.

"Did you get shot?" he worriedly asked. Confused by his question, you looked down at your stomach, seeing the color red slowly colonizing your white evening gown.

"I - I um.. Tommy, I feel dizzy.." your fragile legs gave up, his strong arms catched you almost immediately.

Your eyes were starting to drop, your body was slowly getting cold, your muscles giving up.

"T - Tommy, why is so cold..?"

Fuck, he mentally cursed at the sight that met his eyes. It was as if God had judged him once more. Grace - this seemed so familiar. His fingers were shaking with fear and worry, his eyes were beginning to water, and his heart had stopped.

"We need a medic!" Polly shouted.

He tries to calm himself down by caressing the strands of your hair before tucking it behind your ear. "Please, stay." he begged.

His frustration was boiling over and his impatience was burning in the way he spoke. He gave orders for the medics with a strong edge to his voice, desperation and anger infusing each word as he demanded their immediate presence.

"Tommy.." you softly called his name before darkness took you.

Your stomach hurt and your brain throbbed when you woke up. Beside you, you noticed your husband uncomfortably sleeping on the wooden chair. You noticed that the ash tray on the table stand next to you was filled with used cigarettes, indicating that you had been out for a while. You were trying to sit up and Tommy woke up to the sound of your pained moans. His bright blue eyes met yours. Eyebags developed under his eyes as a result of struggling to sleep due to the chance that you wouldn't wake up anymore.

"Easy, love." he said.

In an attempt to prevent him from harming you, he cradled your back so you could lie down peacefully once more—as though you were a piece of glass that would shatter the moment it was touched.

He deeply blames himself for what happened to you. If only he was there that night. If only he went home early, you and Charlie wouldn't be in this situation.

"Where's Charlie?" you asked right away, your eyes looking everywhere in the room to see if your child was there or not.

"He's with Aunt Pol, (y/n). He's safe with her, don't worry."

With both of his hands clasped around yours, he sobbed out loud in front of you, unable to stop himself from crying. He felt responsible, guilty, and like a terrible partner for failing to give you protection.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry.." he cried as he apologized, kissing your hands.

You smiled softly as you placed your right hand on his face for him to look at you.

"It's not your fault, Tommy. The good thing is that me and Charlie are safe." reassuring, you gave him a weak smile.

"I thought I lost you." he exhaled in exhaustion, standing up as he kissed your head.

"I would never leave you, Tommy."

"Please don't."

[obsessedwithhotmen]

⋆⁎✿ John ⇢ *- You And I -* ⇠ Shelby ✿⁎⋆

⇾ (Peaky Blinders) John Shelby x reader

⇾ Summary: you and John have only just started dating, although John has yet to tell you about his kids.

⇾ Warnings: slight angst, but a happy ending.

Before the handsome blonde had entered your life, you found it to be boring, having nothing to look forward to, just a miserable life with no sense of fun, but after meeting the man in question, he completely flipped your life around.

John made you feel alive, like you had a purpose to live again, and not to mention the adrenaline rush you got whenever you were out and about with him, knowing that no one would dare say anything or even look harshly in your direction, all because of the reputation of not only a Shelby man, but a Peaky blinder too.

You watched as he tapped impatiently against the bar, waiting for the both of your drinks to be poured. It was a Thursday night, but a night that the two of you would get drunk together nonetheless.

It was his decision to hang out tonight, and that always made you feel good about yourself, knowing that he was happy to be seen around with you on his side.

He returned back to your table, a scowl settled on his face after the unpleasant encounter with the barman. “I should’ve taken you to the Garrison, sorry love.” He said, placing down your drink in front of you.

“It’s fine, John. Nothing to worry about.” You brushed it off, waving him off as if to say that it was not a problem. “We won’t let him stop our night, eh?” You smiled up at him.

He slumped down in the seat across from you, a smirk gracing his lips whilst nodding his head. “Nothing could ruin my night, so long as I have you around.” He winked, smiling cheekily as he waited for your response.

You rolled your eyes, mentioning how cheesy he was as you took a sip of your, finally, correct drink. “Got anything planned for the weekend?” He asked.

You thought for a moment before shaking your head. “I’ve got work in the afternoon on Sunday, but aside from that, no.” You answered.

“That works out, my k- uhm. My schedule clear for the weekend. Stay the weekend at mine?” He appeared flustered as he started, before quickly returning back to his usual confident ways.

“Like I could ever say no to you.”

-

You walked out of the pub, smiling ear to ear as you and John swung eachothers hands back and forth, happily chatting away about anything that you could think of. “Sometimes I wish that I could spend every hour of everyday with you.” You sighed, thinking about how great live would be if that were the case.

He hummed, chuckling at your words. “Think you’d get sick of me quick.” He replied.

“Maybe…” you trailed off.

“You weren’t supposed to agree.” He disconnected your hands, placing his arm around your shoulder instead and holding you close.

You giggled at him.

Shortly, you arrived at his home, he entered in first. It was quiet at first, but the second you guys entered and closed the door, kids came running in shouting ‘daddy!’

You frowned, watching as they ran up to him and hugged him. There were four kids, evidently all being Johns, although you were unaware of him having any kids at all. This led you to believe that maybe John wasn’t being as honest as you thought, he never mentioned any kids so maybe he never mentioned any wife.

John glanced back at you, his facial expression showing concern and worry. “Why are you all here? You’re supposed to be with the nanny.” He asked his kids.

The oldest girl stepped forward. “She said that there was an emergency, so she had to bring us back home.” She answered, softly.

“Shit.” He cursed under his breath. “Alright, all of you into the living room. I’ll be down soon.” He ushered them all out and into the other room, before grabbing your wrist and guiding you upstairs.

He pulled you into a room, his bedroom if you had to guess. “You have kids.” You stated quietly, watching him throw his cap down onto the bed and run a hand through his hair.

“I do, I have those four.” He nodded his head.

“Why didn’t you tell me about them?” You asked him.

He sat down on the bed. “Because I thought that it would scare you away if you found out I had four kids, it did every other person.” He explained.

“So, were you planning on hiding them from me for the rest of this relationship then?” You replied.

“No, I don’t know. Look, I don’t know what the plan was. All I know, is that I fucking like you, alright. And I didn’t want anything to stand in between us.” He stood up, approaching you and grabbing your hands, holding them tightly in his own, “I’m sorry that I never said anything about them.”

“I don’t know the first thing about raising children, John.” You said, looking up at him with tired eyes.

“Neither did I, and to be frank, I still don’t.” He responded, “I’m still learning, I still make mistakes, but we can do that together now.” He added, “just you and I.”

“No… no other people?” You wondered.

He quickly shook his head, hands meeting your cheeks. “No, bloody hell, no. Like I said, just you and I.” He leaned in, placing his lips on yours and waited for a reaction.

He smiled into the kiss as you reciprocated it. “Their mother died after the youngest was born. I was still in the war when she passed. There hasn’t been anyone important to me since, but that’s changed now. I’ve got you.”

You couldn’t help but match his own smile. “Just you and I, then?”

“Just you and I.” He repeated.

“Daddy!”

“You and I, and the kids.”

[asmutwriter]

The Gangsta's Wife (Part 8)

DESCRIPTION: Whilst you're husband is away for business reasons you have an unexpected (and unwelcome) guest.

WORD COUNT: 2865

From Beginning / Previous / Next / Master List  

WARNINGS: pregnancy, knife, knife violence, injury, injury detail, fight, blood, Thomas calls reader 'love', drinking, drinking whilst pregnant (brief), swearing

DISCLAIMERS

This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

This story does not follow the timeline of the show

It had been a couple of weeks since that night. Your husband was near London on business matters. He'd recently purchased a race horse so he was minding that over the past few days. You were taking this time of bliss to have a small nap. Your fatigue having increased over the past few days. Knowing you had caught up on the housework you decided to allow yourself a restful afternoon. You were going to read however sleep soon had other ideas.

You jump awake as you hear a gentle knock on the front door. You let out a soft grumble as you wipe your eyes. Pushing yourself up. Your hand instinctively going to your belly as you walk over to the door. Unlocking it. Assuming it was one of your in-laws, or one of your sisters who'd forgotten their key. Possibly even your husband. Your wide smile to greet your guest being stunned as you see a man waiting outside.

"Mrs Shelby?". Your scan over their frame. The smile fading completely when you see the knife hidden in his coat. You go and shut the door on him. His hand coming out and stopping it. You turn quickly. Making your way upstairs. Just as the door swings open.

Someone grabbing the lower half of you leg. Tripping you. The air from your lungs being forced out. You turn your body. You bring your free leg up. Kicking him. He grabs at the flesh of your lower leg. Yanking you down a few stairs. Able to straddle you. You struggle as he grabs the knife out. Holding the knife up to go in for a swipe. Bringing your hands up as a means to protect yourself. One over your face, the other near your stomach.

It goes through your palm. You scream out as he removes the item. Going in for another swing. Bringing your knee up and kicking them in the crotch. He grunts out. Hand going to his injury. You clench your good hand. Bringing it back and hitting it into his face. Hearing his nose crunch under your fist. He fumbles on the stairs. Nearly falling down them. Him moving off from over you. You bring your foot up, placing it onto his chest as you shove him. Him falling down the length of the stairs. Giving you enough time to turn back around. Scrambling up the stairs as you regain your footing.

Pain going through your body as you get upstairs. Running to your bedroom and shutting the door. Holding your wounded hand by your torso. Heavy breathing as you run over to the window. Lifting the glass panel up. You weigh up the option of climbing out. But the fall being too high. Plus you weren't overly agile or slim in the best of times. Especially not with a 6 month pregnancy belly. You bite at your bottom lip as you go to plan B.

You look for a place to hide. Noticing small blood spots on the floor from your injury. You take your hand. Then rubbing it over the edge of the window frame. Biting your lip to dull any sounds of pain as silent tears stain your face. Hearing the bedroom door start to open. You drop to the floor. Hiding behind the full length mirror you have standing in the room.

The door opens. Seeing two feet walk into your room. You bite at your lips. Shutting your eyes, every ounce of you willing yourself to not make any noise. You hold your wounded hand near your chest. Your other hand coming up and covering your mouth as you become aware of how heavily you are breathing.

The attacker goes over to the window. Presumably looking out of it. You watch as he carefully and quietly wonders around the room. Obviously having the same thoughts of you of your practicality of getting out the small space in such a rush. You see him look under the bed. In the wardrobe. Then he comes over to the mirror. You stay as silent as you can. Practically holding your breath.

Watching as his feet walk out of the room. Hearing them make their way downstairs. You look at your hand. Trying not to gag as you see the wound. You go to the bottom of your skirt. Hand shaking as you tear the end of it. Using it as you wrap it around your injury. Gritting your teeth as you finish. Holding it close to you.

Resting against the wall as your eyes remain fixed on the door. You will yourself to not pass out. Trying to focus on something. Anything. You sit for what must've been a few hours. Waiting behind the mirror. Scared that if you move you'll pass out. Or get found. So you stay still. As much as you can given that your entire body is shaking. Tears still falling down your cheeks as you watch the doorway. You become alert again as you hear noise downstairs.

Looking around you for anything that could be used as a weapon. Biting your lip as you're met with nothing of use to you. Then an idea. You bring your good hand down. Taking off your high healed shoe. Unbuckling the straps of them both. Quietly resting one down onto the floor as you bring the other one up. Holding the top of it. Heal outwards. Gripping around the sole. You move out from behind the mirror. Over to the doorway. Just around the corner so you can remain hidden. Giving you the advantage. Your hand slowly bleeding onto your shirt as you keep it close to your chest. Holding the shoe up. Getting ready to attack.

Your whole body shaking as they cautiously step into the room. You bring the shoe up. Aiming for their head. They turn quickly. Grabbing your wrist to prevent you from harming them. Going to reach for his gun but stopping as he meets your eyes.

"Tommy" you say his name. A small sob coming out. Dropping the shoe you held as you wrap your arm around him. Your wounded hand still clutched to yourself. Fresh tears falling as you hide your head into his shoulder. His arms coming up and holding you. Your entire body shaking.

He unwraps his arms. Moving away slightly as he holds your face. "Florence are you hurt?". So much adrenaline coursing through your body that you forget to answer him. His eyes going to your injured hand. He goes to take it. But you keep it clutched to yourself. "Let me look". He takes your reluctant hand in his. Gently holding the wrist of it as he unwraps the cloth you used. You grip at your skirt. Looking away as you clench your teeth. Body still intensely shaking.

"You're ok love. I've got you" he gently moves you to sit on the bed. Shutting your eyes as you feel queasy. You're hand going to your stomach as you take in a few deep breaths. John and Esme coming up the stairs.

"Thomas?"

"She's been stabbed. She has a sewing kit somewhere in here" you hear them fumbling about. Unable to work out which one announces they've found it. Your husband sits next to you on the bed. Gripping your good hand with his. His arm going around to hold you close to him. You feel someone grabbing your arm. Holding it out. Opening your eyes you see John is sat beside you. Gripping your lower arm and wrist.

Esme using a match, putting the needle into it before placing it into a drink of you presume alcohol or water. You go to move away. Shaking your head as she kneels in front of you. Tommy and Johns grip tightening around you. "The wound needs stitches. Its going to hurt but I'll be quick, ok?".

She takes your hand. Starting to sew your hand up. You cry out. Tommy holding your good hand as you go to push her away. John holding your arm out so you can't retract it. Your husband shushing you comfortingly as you cry. His arms keeping your body pressed against his as both the Shelby men keep you still.

She kept her word. Although it seemed like hours, the procedure was done in less then a minute. Taking the glass she had used for the needle and pouring it over the wound. Causing you to cry out again. Scrunching your eyes shut as you grip the hand of your husband. Fresh tears falling down your cheeks as you feel John lets go of you. Thomas kisses your temple, stroking your hair.

"Well done love. It's over". Moving the hand from your hair. Feeling him move from behind you. Your body weight resting against him. Feeling something cold hit your lips. Jumping as you open your eyes. A whiskey bottle. "Drink. It'll help dull the pain". You shake your head.

"Liz. Mary..." you whsiper. Going to stand up, Thomas's arm still wrapped around you. Keeping you sat on the bed. Esme speaks next to you.

"Both safe and next door" you nod. Letting Thomas lift the bottle. Letting your drink a large quantity of it before removing it. Placing it back on the side. You breath heavily. Shutting your eyes again as you try and focus on your husband. His warmth. Scent.

"They got Arthur and Michael too" John says. Tommy nodding in response. "I thought you said that we were safe"

"I thought we were too..." he says. Voice quiet as he holds you close to him. Your eyes remaining shut as your breathing becomes steady. You hear commotion from downstairs. You flinch. Eyes widening as you go closer to your husband. Body must still be on high alert from the chaos as you back away slightly. Thomas grips your hand slightly tighter as you watch the doorway. John cautiously going and seeing what the noise was.

"They took my son" you hear Polly say as she storms into the room. The Shelby boys and Esme relaxing slightly. "Thomas they took my fucking son" she says again. "You promised that he'd be safe. You said-"

"Polly" he tries to calm her.

"No. They took Michael. They took my boy" she shakes her head. Obviously trying not to break down fully. "You need to get my son back. Thomas get my so-"

"Enough." He cuts her off. The tone sharp and precise. Sending chills down your spine. "Family meeting next door. Now. John get Finn" he nods. Going out, shortly followed by his wife. You see Polly's eyes frantic as they look at her nephew.

"Thomas" she says. Sternness in her voice that you can only put down as a Shelby tone.

"I said go next door. I will talk to you there" she clenches her jaw. Borderline stropping out the room as she leaves. Hearing her footsteps loud on the stairs. He moves from behind you. Kneeling in front of you as he rests a hand on your cheek. His other hand still holding onto yours.

"I'm sorry Mr Shelby... I tried keeping the baby safe..." you shut your eyes. Tears swelling in them again. He nods. Lips slightly parted as he watches you.

"I'm going to change your out of these clothes, ok?" he speaks softly to you. You nod your head. Feeling him start to undo the buttons of your shirt. You wince as he pulls the sleeve over your arm and hand. More ease on the other one, less injured one. Throwing your blood soaked garment onto the floor. You hear him stand up. Opening your eyes you watch as he gets a damp cloth. Coming over he cleans up some of the dried blood on your arm and torso.

Where you'd been holding it so tightly against yourself you'd managed to bleed through your shirt. Tossing the cloth aside he gently places a new shirt over your frame. He kneels in front of you. Holding your good hand. Watching his eyes scanning your features. As you look down at him.

"I'm going to call the midwife and get her to come and check you and the baby over. I can't see any wounds near the child but I think its best if we check, ey?" you nod. "I need to go next door and have this meeting. Find out exactly what happened and why" You shake your head.

"Please don't leave me..." a feeble whisper comes past your lips. He looks at you. Nodding slightly before standing. You keep your eyes on his as he pulls you up by your good hand. One arm holding your hand still as the other goes to the lower part of your back. Letting you gain your balance. Your body still shaking.

"I'm going to find the man that did this to you" he speaks in a low, hushed voice. "I'm going to make him pay. For harming you. For harming our child". You meet his eyes again. Cold. The stare making your breath hitch. You look downwards. Keeping a hold of his hand as he leads you next door. Sitting you down onto a chair before the family meeting ensues.

The midwife came round less then 24 hours later. Checking over you and the baby and confirming that you were both fine. Although your body had gone into shock it doesn't seem to have affected the pregnancy. Once Thomas had heard this news you didn't see him for a long time. Not that he'd left you unprotected. You made note of the various Blinders patrolling outside your house.

It was midday during the weekend. You were playing a game with your sisters when you hear the front door open. You turn quickly. Standing up - mind you a little wobbly - but quickly to see your husband walk into the living room.

Your eyes scanning over his features as you look at him. Lifting his head up to look at you. "I need you and your sisters to come with me"

"Why?"

"Go pack a bag each. I'll wait here" he says. Eyes drifting to your sisters who look at him then at you. "Go" he says. Sterner this time. Your sisters having better judgement then you stand up. Scurrying past you and Thomas. Hearing their footsteps on the wooden flooring upstairs. Your eyes dart between his two blue orbs. His stay steady and fixated on yours. "Go" he repeats. You shake your head

"I want you to answer my question"

"I'll answer your questions when we get in the car and start driving"

"No. No you can't do that. You can't just expect to leave us alone for days. With no contact. No say as to where you've gone. Then turn up expecting me to get into a car with you without asking any questions. No". Reaching up he takes his cap off. Your eyes glancing at the small piece of metal that glints in the light of the room. Watching as he puts it onto the cabinet near the door.

You try to read him. His posture. Placing his hands in front of him as his eyes become steady on yours once again. You keep your ground under his menacing stare. Making a point by folding your arms over your torso. Feeling your hands shaking as you clench them against you.

"I want answers". Your voice a whisper. He takes in a breath through his nose. Exhaling as he speaks.

"Did Detective Campbell try and fuck you?". The sudden question shocking you. Taking you a while to come up with a response.

"Excuse me?"

"Did he try and fuck you?". You flit your eyes between his.

"He may have... suggested such notions... But I refused him"

"You should've told me"

"I didn't see it being necessary"

"I'd like to know when my enemy tries to fuck my wife. I believe that is the reason he hired that man to attack you"

"Because I refused to have sex with him?".

"And to enforce his argument of how dangerous this life is. That this world is filled with blood and violence". You bring your hand to your stomach. Holding it, rubbing a thumb over the swell of your belly.

"Why do you want me to pack a bag?"

"I'm going to move you and your sisters to a safe house. One that only I and a handful of my most trusted men know about"

"How long will we be there for?"

"Until I have dealt with the current threat and it is safe for you to come back home"

"Who will be with us at the safe house?"

"It'll be you and your sisters. I'll have a man guarding the perimeter who will change periodically. Plus someone else to deliver you food. The midwife will see you when she is needed but she is to come alone and be searched every time she comes". Your hands rest under your stomach. Breaking eye contact with him as you look down. He stays quiet as you process his answers. Nodding slightly before looking back up at him. "Good. Go pack a bag"

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TAGS

@whorecrux-of-slytherin @kkrenae @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo

[notyour-valentine]

The Head of the Snake ~ Tommy Shelby x wife (Angst)

[Masterlist] [Taglist]

Summary: Tommy returns exhausted from a BUF event in the middle of the night, and all he wants is peace. But he finds anything but

Note: Written for @raincoffeeandfandoms and her 2.5k Celebration. For it I chose night and even tried to put a spin on your "Black and White" theme. I hope you enjoy!

All my writing is produced by an adult and created with an adult audience in mind (18/21+). You are responsible for your own media consumption. I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Wordcount: 1577 words

As soon as he heard the front door slam shut behind him, Tommy pressed the palms of his hands over his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. 

He was home. 

It was over, at least for tonight.  By now all the downstairs fires had died down, and only the lamps on the stairs remained. 

From the corridor came Frances. 

“Didn’t I tell you there was no need to wait up?”, he asked, his voice uncommonly soft.

Even though she had gone against his instructions, Thomas Shelby was beyond glad to see a familiar, friendly face. “It was no trouble, Mr. Shelby.”, she assured him as she slipped the thick tailored coat from his tense shoulders. 

Every inch of his body hurt, and that was saying nothing of his mind, and on nights like these the stairs seemed endless. 

“Mrs Shelby is still up as well, Sir.”, she told him, just as he reached the halfway point, under the portrait of Monaghan Boy. 

Once upon a time, when the world was both smaller and simpler, that horse and it’s success had meant everything to him, and the money they had made with him, his victories, and finally losses, had paved the way for the rise of Shelby Company ltd. 

And the road that led him here. Right here. To tonight. 

Often, he wondered where he had gone wrong. If there had been a split in the road he had not taken, a corner he hadn’t turned, a bridge he hadn’t considered crossing, or if he had crossed one too many, leapt too high, ventured to far. 

Monaghan Boy did not have the answer, and he wouldn’t dare ask Frances the question and so he rallied himself once more and leaned his weight on the banister on the way up. 

Never had he felt so old before. 

When he looked down the corridor he could see the doors to the children’s rooms already shut. 

Of course. They were fast asleep, as they should, and although he felt a burning tightness in his chest that only the sight of his children could ease. 

He needed a reminder what he was doing all this for, not just against, needed to hear the soft sounds of their breaths, feel the smoothness of their cheeks, and the softness of their hair. 

But it was too late for that, he would only ever wake them. 

So he turned the other way and approached his bedchamber. 

To his surprise, Frances hadn’t been wrong. His wife was still up, still waiting for him. 

She was sitting on the windowsill, in her white nightgown and robe that seemed ever paler compared to the pitch black night sky. The only speck of colour, it seemed, was the glow of her cigarette. 

“I’m home.”, he announced, as if she could somehow have missed the arrival of his car on the driveway below, or the sound of the door opening and closing in his wake. 

The only response was the crackling of the cigarette’s paper being burned with another inhale. 

So it would be another one of these nights, Tommy thought bitterly, but he didn’t have the fight in him and so he only began to undress as quickly and efficiently as he could, placing first his jacket, then his vest over the back of his dressing table chair. 

Every single movement, no matter how small, reminded him of the exhaustion he felt body and soul, the kind no sleep - only peace could solve. 

He tore his cufflinks out of his shirt, their clattering on the shiny wood making his head throb so much he barely missed the sound of her voice. 

“We didn’t wait up for you tonight.”

Her voice was soft, calm, without any trace of emotion, only the slight rasp due to the cigarette and the lat ehour. 

“Well I didn’t ask you to.”

Tommy knew he would be late. He was nearly always late. 

“We wouldn’t have done if you did.”, she replied, just as cooly as she had spoken previously. 

Now that caught his attention. 

His arm resting on the back of the chair, he turned to look at her, seeing only a quarter of her face in the reflection of the window. 

It was as if she couldn’t even look at him, as if merely meeting his gaze would stain her. 

“So you really did it?”, she asked, tapping the ash away. 

“By ‘it’ you mean following the plan I agreed on with Churchill, then yes. I did it.”, he spat. 

He never should have told her, never would have told her if he hadn’t hoped that doing so would make her help him. 

He never expected her to turn her back on him and his cause, not after everything, not after Polly, but she had made no attempt to hide it then, nor did it now as she scoffed and shook her head. 

“I remember everyone telling me again and again about how much you are like a horse, but Tommy, you really are a horse.”

“What?”, he asked. 

“You are a horse.”

With that, she snuffed out her cigarette and got up, her open robe flapping behind her from the swiftness of her movement as she grabbed his face between two hands. 

“Like a racehorse with the blinkers on only you put them there yourself.”

Her fingers found his temples, limiting his eyesight to replicate the blinkers. 

“Racing ahead, blindly, stupidly, unable to see the truth of the realisation.”

He moved his head to rid himself of her touch, so warm, so smooth, but right now he could barely stomach her presence. 

“They put the blinkers on so that the horse doesn’t startle and injure itself and others.”, he scoffed, turning his back on her. 

“And why does the horse startle, Tommy?”, she asked calmly. “Because it’s not made to race. It’s forced to.”

He glared at her, his lips parted and his icy blue eyes piercing. 

“No one forces me to do anything.”, he snarled. 

It was too late and he was too tired for this. He just wanted to close his eyes and not think, not hear, not sense. 

“So you’re doing this because you want to?”

Tommy knows she is asking about Mosley. About the BUF and about the event he had attended tonight, where he had introduced the man. 

“I do it because it allows me to get close to him, to gain his trust and gather insight so Churchill can bring them down.”

She snorted once more and shook her head. 

“Take your fuckling blinkers off, Tommy.”,  she snarled. “Take them off and see what you are doing.”

“The right fucking thing for once!”, he spat right back at her. 

“No, you’re not!”

Her voice was dangerously low, and she showed not the slightest sign of folding as Tommy stepped closer to her. 

Of all people, he needed her to understand, to believe him. How many times had he tried to explain it to her and every single time she had refused to believe him. 

Why was she being so fucking difficult?

“Love-”, he tried once more. 

“No!”, she commanded. “No, Tommy. Think, for once about what you’re doing. Not what you or Churchill or anyone are planning to do, or going to do, but what you are actually doing.”

His law muscles tightened as he stared at her, this woman who had loved him fiercely and consistently, even when he had proved himself unworthy of it time and time again. 

She had been with him, had supported and shielded him in her own way, protected him from his family, from his nightmares and on some nights even from himself. 

And when he looked at her with this fierce determination in her eyes, a sharp terrifying fear took hold inside him, but he had no time to either reassure himself or ask, as she continued - relentless, just like the rest of them. 

“You are out there, on a stage with him, with them. You just gave him something money can’t buy. Legitimacy in this city, the city you call yours.”

“It’s all part of-”

“The plan. I know.”, she said, waving it off before he could even begin. “But what if you do manage to bring down Mosley, or even all of the BUF? They will still have thousands of member and sympathisers, and thousands in this city alone, thanks to you.”

Tommy felt his blood run cold. 

“Little boys are running around all over Birmingham, playing Peaky Blinders with caps and knives just like their big hero Tommy Shelby. And now their big hero Tommy Shelby is standing shoulder to shoulder with fascists that tell people to throw rocks at their neighbours for all sorts of reasons. Tell me, Tommy, what will the little boys do? What will their fathers do who are employed by the thousands in your factories and docs and companies?”

He inhaled sharply, but that wasn’t deemed a suitable reply and so she shook her head and turned. 

“I’m sleeping in the nursery tonight.”, she said, reaching for her blanket. 

That made rage bubble up inside him. She was his wife, she was supposed to support him, not stab him in the back. 

“You kill a snake by cutting off it’s head!”, he told her harshly just as she was at the door. 

She turned slowly, glaring at him. 

“And what good will that do if its venom is already spread?"

~

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed and as always I'd love to hear your thoughts!

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Tommy

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[prettypeppermint]

swan song.

for t. shelby. a continuation of 'the gift of silence. (how sweet the sound)'

Sacrifice was your greatest gift. It clung to your name like a drawn bowstring, pregnant with prospective yet surmounting to nothing. You gave to your family until their deaths pried your outstretched palms away; you gave to your future self through tired feet and hard-earned sweat. Now, you've given to Thomas Shelby. Your very own love language.

You would give just about anything to take it all back.

He was kissing you--tasting you. He was asking for more and more of you every day through his longing gaze and patient fingers. You hated making him wait for something unattainable.

He wanted you a certain way--pliant, moldable. Soft.

He wanted you only to take from you. He wanted to collect you piece by piece.

A giver and a God.

"Tell me," he muttered into your mouth, tasting the way your thoughts grew sour on your lips. He read you in a way not kindled through love but through years of hardened business.

You pulled away half-heartedly. Your mind wrapped around him and you needed air.

"Say you love me," you ordered, staring into the core of his glacier-capped irises. There was no hope--no apprehension. You've digested every unspoken word already. You knew.

He peered down at you through his heavy line of lashes. "What--are my acts of service not enough?" he said lowly, an air of an insatiated euphemism in his voice.

A swell.

A silence.

An atonement.

"I love you." His finger traced a lock of hair into the canyon of your ear.

"I don't believe you."

A scoff seared through his teeth--a breath through the cornice of his lips.

"I've been thinking recently. During the day; during the night"--you began walking aimlessly around his office, fingering book spines and swiping the dust off of ledges--"during that ungodly hour before work. And thank God I have, because now I know you've been lying to me."

Thomas analyzed you--dissected every syllable. He listened.

"When you look into my eyes, I see nothing but her in yours."

It always goes back to Grace.

The lack of pain in your voice irked him on a deep, almost irrational level.

"At first I was hurt--confused. But now"--you circled back to him--"now, I feel nothing. I am nothing." You waited for him to interject despite knowing he never would. Sometimes, you were too painfully clear of his character; of just how much control he had over you; of how many ways he could hurt you while protecting you--love you while losing you.

"Then I realized: I'd rather be yours than nothing. Isn't it sad--a lass like me? Maybe I should first learn how it feels to be my own--to know every crease of my skin and grow comfortable in my flesh how you've grown so comfortable in mine."

The man you loved, whom you had sacrificed for one final time.

Your muscles yearned to reunite with him, but you held your arms to your sides in protest. "Thomas Shelby, you love me how a man should, but not how a woman should feel loved."

And now you'll spend the rest of your life chasing a notion--a concept--made only somewhat tangible by a man who could give you no more than all of him. Now you'll lose yourself searching for someone to search for you. Now you'll see him in all the men who fail in forgivable ways and love kindly.

A piece of him you will keep; a piece of you he will throw away. Until the next.

"You love me," he states, seemingly unphased. "And I love you."

"You don't know what love is, Thomas. How could you, when you've never loved anyone more than they've loved you?

"That's the ultimate testament of the caliber of a man's heart. It was never me, Thomas. It's her name you whisper in your sleep. Hear it. Accept it. Remember my voice saying it. Cling to it for the rest of your goddamn life so you never tell another woman you love her again."

For the first time, he noticed, you sounded defeated.

For the first time, he saw the vices of Birmingham shade your rural clarity.

Your voice sounded different without the usual fight in it; it revealed the exhaustion you forced down with cigarettes every morning and night. Suddenly the violet shadows under your eyes introduced themselves. Suddenly you looked 5 kilograms emaciated.

It was then that you became another woman in Thomas Shelby's life. You were no longer of the Kilkee coast or the sweetened countryside. You were ruined, and now you were just like the rest.

No girl who ever got tangled up in Shelby business ever makes it to London.

A swell.

A silence.

An empty impenitence.

"Goodbye, Thomas."

While he waited for you to fight for him, you once more decided to give.

Twice more, he took from you.

You wanted to feel his warmth against your lips once more. You had suddenly wished you'd savored your last kiss. "I hate what you've made me," you whispered.

He hated how the words sounded--how they tainted your tongue.

"You hate what you've become for me," he corrected.

You gave him a lonely, far-off stare, as if you were looking straight through him. He knew he had lost you.

You ignored his previous remark: "I hate how you made me think it was safe to fall in love with you."

You hadn't realized your eyes had welled up with an undeniable glaze until you felt a drop of glass wetness fall from your cheek. "I hate how you've turned me into another one of your women."

When Thomas didn't move, or walk closer to you, or even soften at your unraveling, you felt sour all over. Suddenly, you wanted it to hurt.

"No one has ever loved me in my entire life," you said to yourself, almost inaudibly. It sounded so ridiculously girlish and naive, unlike anything he had ever heard you say before.

A swell.

A painful one in the grit of your heart.

You felt heavy as you slowly turned and left his office.

†

He found you passed out in the chapel, your chest sprawled across the altar, your palms still clasped together in weak prayer. A mistiness clung to your eyelashes. He was once again reminded how much he loved how you looked in your sleep: like a soft lull of the shore had washed over you and cured a light peace into your soul.

He stood over you, counting your breaths and watching your lungs expand with life just to expel it. You smelled of ash and rosaries and beeswax. A tear rolled over the apples of your cheek and onto the peak of your nose.

"Silly girl," he rasped lowly before sitting on the floor and pulling your limp form into the cradle of his chest. His palm met the crown of your head to pull you further into his weight, his other hand hooking around the lonely bend of your waist. He felt his shirt seep with moisture, and he knew you were awake.

"She was a piece of my past I can't go back to take away," he said, his chin resting atop your head, voice bitter yet smooth like coffee on a good day, "But if any part of her had led me to you, I wouldn't go back to change a moment of it even if I could."

Your shoulders shuddered silently, and your sobs permeated directly through his chest and into his heart. He always knew just what to say, to the point it scared you.

"Give it time," said Thomas, petting your head in rhythm with your heart, "Give it time."

While you gave, he invested. He invested in all the times you've chipped away at yourself for him, and he kept them in his heart until the next time he would use them--like a business transaction.

But could you blame him for loving you how he knows best?

To understand his love was more than enough. Yet, your consistent upturned and empty palms rendered you greedy.

He collects your wet cheeks between his hands and brings you to look up at him. In his eyes, you saw the end of a road.

Was this all there was? Maybe so.

"Let's get married. Right here, right now"--he swiped his thumb across the slick of your undereye--"That way you'll be mine to keep. No more goodbyes."

You felt the Lord's eyes on your kneeling form. An odd feeling of shame and acceptance washed over you and clogged your chest.

It was then that you knew: loving Thomas Shelby was never going to be beautiful. It wasn't simple or painless or any of the things love should be. And it would never be the same kind of love that it was yesterday.

But what could you do? What could you do if you loved him nonetheless?

If you would always be loved how broken women are loved?

x.

[geekwritersworld]

Little Artist -Part 2

Part 1

Pairing: Peaky blinders x siblingreader (more inclusion of Tommy for now)

Warnings: none

Summary: was a request, as stated in the previous part.

a/n: So, I decided to make a series of this cause I feel like the first part had series potential. Secondly, this part is quite short but it's vital to the third part. Also i am aware that the request is for a sister reader but i did try to be as inclusive as i could. Let me know what you think :)

Feedback is appreciated

The air chilled your fingers as you walked out of the university clutching your bag.

Somehow Tommy managed to listen to you for once, you thought.

Tommy refused, at first, to let you travel back to small heath from London on your own, he insisted on sending Isaiah to pick you up.

It wouldn't come as a surprise if Isaiah was somewhere around right now following you to make sure you were safe. If anything it would be a surprise if he wasn't following you right now.

You weren't fully attending university yet seeing as you still had a month of school left. However, during the days you were free you decided to get acquainted with the university and the city you'd be calling home for a while.

Once you'd gotten used to the idea of you moving to London for university, you couldn't ignore the little ball of excitement slowly growing in your chest.

It was such a freeing yet terrifying thought. You were afraid of moving away from your family, from the safety of your home, yet you were excited at the numerous opportunities that would open up for you in university.

Turning the corner of the building, focusing on your footsteps and keeping your head down because of the wind, the extra set of footsteps went unnoticed, the noise of the footsteps masked by the wind and the chatter of the rest of the students that had walked out of the university.

Having only been around in the university for less than 2 weeks, you didn't know anyone, but truth be told, you didn't exactly put any effort into making any friends or talking to anyone either.

There was something that made you feel out of place, you couldn't put your finger on it.

But you tried not to focus on it, instead you sped up your pace; pushing past a crowd of students.

Sitting down on your seat on the train, you couldn't help but wonder about the professor that had introduced himself today. There was something odd about him, the whole time for the first 45 minutes he glanced at you every few minutes. But you shrugged it off, you didn't want to believe that there was anything wrong with the university you'd wanted to go to for so long.

You jolted awake at the sound of the whistle and quickly realized you'd fallen asleep and had arrived at Birmingham, so you grabbed your things and stepped off the train, standing there for a second, you spotted a man standing by the pillar, his head down, cigarette hanging from his lips.

"Tommy" you gave a small smile " Not even surprised" you adjusted your bag looking at him.

Walking ahead a few steps in front of him, you felt the weight of your bag shifting, turning around you saw Tommy motioning you to shrug your bag off, so he could carry it.

You let him hold your bag, and then paused for a second before continuing. You wondered whether you should talk to Tommy about the professor, but then you realized Tommy in true Shelby fashion would probably exaggerate the whole thing.

Tommy noticed but let it go, he decided if it needed to be brought up he would, later on.

Aunt Pol greeted you with a smile, hugging you and ushering you indoors for a cup of tea.

"How's the University treating you?" she set her tea cup down and looked at you. "and i don't mean just study wise, you know that" she said before you could answer.

Giving a small smile you responded with "it's alright, it's only just begun so 'm not really expecting much"

Pol gave a small smile of acknowledgement, but didn't say anything further. Really, she just wanted to make sure you were alright, she was sure it couldn't be easy having to go through the new phase alone, she also knew you were like Tommy in more ways she'd like, meaning you wouldn't necessarily tell them if there's something bothering you. Most likely in true Shelby fashion, you'd either ignore it till it went away or you'd try and deal with it yourself.

Since it was still early in the day, Pol had to leave and head back to the betting shop while you decided to stay home and read. It was only around four in the afternoon, the trip to london and back had exhausted you, so you opted to stay home and rest.

Heating up the rest of the tea Polly had left in the kettle, you settled on the couch.

A little distance away, at the noisy betting shop, Tommy was hunched over the paperwork he'd acquired for the day. Unable to focus after rereading the same line twice, Tommy cursed, slamming the pen down and putting out the cigarette.

He straightened up and leaned his head back in his chair.

It had been a month since his last confrontation with the inspector, since his Aunt shot the inspector at the races. It unnerved your older brother to let you go unprotected around on your own considering there was always someone or the other threatening him or his family.

Tommy and Arthur once snorted at the fact that Polly had shot Campbell in time for you to be safe to leave for University safely without Campbell having the opportunity to threaten you.

Arthur had suggested that he could- on some days accompany you to London, and then was a little offended when you retorted that you'd rather your professors didn't disappear one after the other and surface at a lake blinded.

Of course he had Isaiah trailing after you, and he knew that you were aware of it as well, but there were of course certain points when you were alone.

His instincts told him something was very wrong. Ada had only the other day made a joke about how the current lack of threats and bloodshed was unnerving.

Little did she know her older brother wasn't joking.

Getting up from his seat he poured himself some whiskey and downed it one gulp, then he stepped out of his office, paying no attention to everyone in the betting shop quieting down at his presence, and strode right out of the shop.

He spotted Isaiah and Finn having a smoke down the street and he strode towards them.

"Finn" Tommy said in a tone that almost seemed like his younger brother had the most boring name known to him.

Looking up, both Finn and Isaiah straightened, knowing Tommy meant business.

"I need you to find Grace"

Turning around and heading back into the betting shop, Tommy pushed open the door and walked back into his office and shut the door.

That night, when Tommy returned he saw everyone gathered around the dining table, eating and talking, everyone except you.

You were nowhere to be seen.

"Where's y/n?" Tommy asked, putting away his hat.

Finn looked up at him "Asleep on the sofa"

"she looked so worn down this afternoon, decided to let her sleep" Polly put down her cup "wake her up will you, she's got to eat atleast"

Turning around to walk down the hallway into the living room, Tommy saw your sleeping figure on the sofa and moved to you.

calling your name he nudged you awake, he didn't expect you to startle awake before he even got close to you.

Standing there, while you snapped your head to look at him, he raised a brow. "You wake like that normally eh?"

Rolling your eyes, you rubbed your eyes and got off the sofa, walking past your brother.

When you entered the dining room after freshening up you were glad that they acknowledged you but didn't ask much about your day as you were in no mood to talk. Not to mention the fact that you had spotted someone watching the house was definitely not making it any better.

You hadn't even noticed at first, but when you'd walked closer to the window to open it you'd noticed a male figure too far to catch his face but close enough to know he was watching the house, at first you assumed it was one of the blinders and went and sat back on the sofa, but realized the hat was different. Not to mention had there been a blinder watching the house, Aunt Pol would have told you before she left that afternoon.

You had wondered how you'd bring it up with your family, but before you could think of a way, you'd fallen asleep. The exhaustion of the last few days had caught up and hit you hard, that not even this could keep you awake.

When Tommy had called your name to wake you, you had woken up scared for a second that the man watching the house had got in. And once you realized it was Tommy, you knew you wouldn't have to wait long to bring it up with Tommy because you were sure he'd talk to you about it before you went to bed.

And after dinner that was precisely what had happened.

Heading up the stairs to your room, the door remained open, you knew Tommy would bound up the stairs after you in a few seconds.

And he did, right on time a few seconds later.

"I presume you know why I'm here" Tommy sat down on your bed. You rolled your eyes but smiled a little at his antics.

sometimes you felt as though the Tommy before the war was still around in the little things such as this. In the sarcastic way he occasionally spoke to you with, just as he often did before the war. The only difference being, at that time it ended with him smiling and laughing at your frustration while you would playfully smack him, now, however- he would sit there expressionless while you would crack a small smile at the tiny glimpse of the boy your brother once used to be.

Folding away your clothes, you said "which one would like to hear first?"

"whichever one that made you pause at the station"

Continuing to shuffle about your room, organizing things, you got to the point " well, I've got this professor, he's strange, I'm not sure how but I've caught him staring at me quite a few times, not in a perverted way, i don't think" you shrugged "just in a way like- he knows something about me that I don't sort of way you know" Tommy's eyes narrowed.

"and then last few days on my way back, been feeling like I'm being followed, I don't think it's Isaiah since I know he's there, but like its someone else but it's probably just Isaiah and-" you paused to turn and look at your brother "have you had a blinder watching the house today?"

Tommy sat up straight and looked at you carefully "no"

Shoulders slumping, you sighed "well in that case someone's watching the house. Don't know who though"

"can you describe him?" Tommy asked.

"not really, he was a bit far off, but I think he wore a coat"

anything else?" Tommy pressed.

"I think, I could be wrong" you said " but I think he had a stick- a walking stick I mean"

[soleilceirinen]

The older I get | Shelby family x sister!Reader Modern AU

Summary: after being away for years, you must return to Small Heath to face the loss of a beloved one. But, will you be able to forgive the past and leave it behind? A/N: English is not my first language, sorry in advance if something makes no sense. Warning: death of a family member, angst. Words: 3.1k

Peaky Blinders Masterlist

"Y/N? Honey, are you still there?" Lizzie's soft voice echoed through the phone. 

"Yes, thanks for calling," you said, fighting back the urge to cry. "Hey, why hasn't he called me?" 

Lizzie sighed tiredly. "He's busy with work. Besides, he wanted someone else to tell you in case you didn't take it well." 

"How the hell am I supposed to take this?" You asked with anger filling your veins. It wasn't Lizzie's fault and it wasn't fair to take out your frustration on her but you couldn't help it.

"I know," she conceded, "but you know your brother, he's having a hard time. Everyone's having a hard time."

Despite the lump in your throat, you nodded. Of course you understood but that didn't make you feel any better. Your Aunt Polly had just died and you had to find out through your brother's ex-wife. 

"Thank you for taking the time to call me, see you tomorrow, well in a few hours," you hung up the phone and threw it hard against the mattress, it bounced several times before falling to the floor. The noise that the device made when it hit the ground resonated like an explosion in the silence of the night. 

The tears you had been holding back rolled freely down your cheeks. You fell down on the bed, burying your face in the pillow and letting out a choked sob. 

It was too late to go to Birmingham, or too early, depending on how you looked at it. In a few hours you would take the first train so you could attend the funeral. You weren't sure what scared you more, facing the reality that Polly was gone or being in the same room with all your siblings again after seven years apart.

-

Since you couldn't fall asleep in the remaining hours until dawn, you packed some clothes and personal items, not many because you didn't plan to stay in Birmingham for too long, and tidied up your room. Cleaning would keep your mind busy. 

The train ride was a fucking nightmare. Despite it being so early, your car was full of people, people with children who couldn't stop screaming and running between the seats. Wasn't anyone capable of teaching their children some manners? The boy right behind you had been kicking the back of your seat for more than twenty minutes, the damn thing. 

Taking a deep breath, you rested your head on the window as you watched the landscape and tried not to think. The soft rattle of the train rocked you as if trying to comfort you. However, it was not that simple. Memories of your childhood in Small Heath flooded your mind, some of them good, some others the kind you would have liked to banish from your memory. The kind of ones that made you take the decision to put some distance between you and your family in the first place.

Finn and you, as twins, were the youngest with a considerable age difference compared to the rest of your siblings. Due to family problems, your parents had always been absent from your life, so your Aunt Poll practically raised you as her own. Polly was the closest thing you had ever had to a mother figure. 

Your childhood and adolescence weren’t easy. Deep down you felt bad for thinking like that, you knew that your older brothers had had it worse while your father still lived with them, but still. As a teenager nothing seemed fair.

It was all screams and arguments, a house immersed in violence. Aunt Polly began to drink more and more, Arthur only thinking of his drugs or who knows what, which caused more fights. When the shouting started you used to run to your room and close the door, getting  into bed, covering your head with a blanket and listening to music at full volume until your ears hurt.

And then you prayed just as Polly had taught you. You prayed that you would fall asleep and wake up with another family, a normal family where no one screamed or came back in the middle of the night beaten up and  covered in blood.

You wiped away the tears falling down your cheeks with the back of your hand as you noticed a little girl staring at you. 

"Why are you crying?" she asked in a squeaky childish voice.

Before you had time to make up any excuse a man who must have been her father spoke out loud, clearly making fun of you.

"She broke up with her boyfriend, right, pretty face?"

The look you gave him could rival Tommy's. No one would hesitate to say that you were a Shelby. Slowly, his smile faded from his  face and he looked away embarrassed, grabbing the girl by the arm to make her return to her seat. 

-

When you finally got off the train, your eyes were swollen and your nose was red from crying. You took a couple steps through the station and then stopped. Who were you looking for? You didn't even know if anyone was going to pick you up. 

“Y/N!”

Turning around, you looked everywhere trying to find who was calling you. They could be calling someone else but the voice was too familiar to be a mistake. And then you saw him, a few metres from the entrance, greeting you with his arm and a huge smile. 

"Hello, Isaiah," you said with a small voice. He wrapped his strong arms around you in a tight hug and you buried your face in his chest, a position similar to the one you two shared the last time you said goodbye. 

"How are you?" He asked when you stepped away but he immediately rolled his eyes. "Sorry, that was a stupid question." 

"It's okay, I'm fine. What about you?"

He shrugged. "Great, given the circumstances. I have the privilege of picking up and bringing home the princess of Small Heath," he joked, winking playfully. 

You hit him on the arm, of course not hurting him. You followed him only to stop next to the car, he took your bag and put it in the trunk. Once inside, Isaiah pulled out and placed his cell phone on your thigh. "You can choose the music."

The ride was quiet, both of you listening to your favourite songs and humming or making up the lyrics from time to time, like when you were teenagers and ran away from home along with Finn. 

"Why did you come to pick me up at the train station?" 

Isaiah glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, not really taking his eyes off the road and remained silent for a few seconds. "Why, am I not enough for you?" he joked, in an attempt to light up the mood. 

"I won’t hit you because you're driving" you murmured, he laughed softly. "My brothers, why have none of them come? I know Ada was busy with the kids, she texted but they haven’t even talked to me.”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I don't know. You should talk to them about that. You've been away for many years, they've changed." 

You nodded silently. It had started to rain. "Sure. Thanks for coming to pick me up, Isaiah." 

He squeezed your leg. "You know I'll always be there for you."

-

The rain was now pouring fiercely as a reflection of your current mood. 

Everything in the house screamed Polly, every corner reminded you of your childhood. It would always keep fascinating you how a simple scent could bring you back in time so easily. Blinking rapidly, you tried to clear your cloudy sight. Ada stepped in front of you, hugging you and murmuring comforting words in your ear and you leaned into her. You had missed her so much in the past few years. 

As a little girl you felt devotion towards your only sister. You wanted to spend time with her, sometimes you stole her make up and she ended up mad at you because of it. The rest of the time she just pushed you away, not wanting to babysit you. Back then you thought it was unfair but now you understand, Ada was a teenager and she wanted to go out with her friends and her boyfriend, not staying at home with two little kids. 

However, as you got older, it was more and more common for your sister to call to include you in her life. 

"Will you stay with me and the children? Hey, Y/N. Are you listening to me?"

You looked at her worried face and nodded. “Yeah, thanks Ada. I don’t want to spend more time here than necessary.”

Ada rubbed your arm as she gave you a sympathetic look. “I know, dear. Have you seen the others? Or Polly?”

Your heart jumped against your ribs with fury. “No, not yet.”

“Y/N!” Arthur called out, striding towards your direction. He stopped a step away from you, undecided whether to give you a hug or not. He looked thinner than you remembered. Actually, he looked older. You were the one who stepped forward and hugged his slender body. He reciprocated right away, burying his face in your hair and sobbing. 

“It’s okay, Arthur” you whispered against his chest. 

Taking a step back, you stared at him once again, mentally thanking that he wasn’t the one picking you up from the train station. He was a total mess. 

Somehow, seeing your older brother like that sent a pang of guilt directed to your guts. Arthur used to be energetic, fierce and chaotic, but this man in front of you was nothing like that. He seemed like he needed a warm blanket and a cup of tea, and maybe sleeping for a couple days without worries. 

“Arthur, why don’t we go and talk to Lizzie?” suggested Ada, linking her arm with his and pulling him away. He smiled at you with his blue eyes filled with tears and reached to grab your hand but Ada didn’t let him do it. “Let's give Y/N some space, alright?”

You had been holding your breath without realising it. As soon as they left you alone you let out the air, feeling your lungs deflate. Throughout the house you could hear children screaming while playing, unaware of the sadness that filled the air. They were your nephews and nieces. Mostly John’s kids. You wondered if he was a good father now. When you were ten years old he used to make you watch horror movies such as The Exorcist or It, and then he laughed when you cried terrified at night. 

The lump in your throat became more noticeable, you needed to get out of there.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Finn and Isaiah talking quietly to Michael and a blonde girl you didn't know. Avoiding crossing glances with them, you headed to the kitchen looking for the door that led to the backyard. If you did, you would have to stop and talk to them, exactly what you didn't want to do at that moment.

You weren’t expecting to see Polly’s coffin in one of the rooms so you turned your face away when you walked by its door, almost running until you reached the knob of the door that led to the backyard and turned it, opening the door and stepping outside. The chill wind helped to cool down your feverish cheeks. 

After closing the door behind you, you leaned against the cold wall, eyes closed, trying to calm yourself down. 

I'm sorry I didn't come sooner, you thought, placing a hand over your heart. I'm sorry for not saying goodbye to you, Aunt Polly, for not taking time to tell you how much I loved you. I was angry with all of you. I'm sorry, I promise to think of you and to not forget your name. Polly. Elizabeth Gray. 

Letting out a choked sob, you opened your eyes. You didn't know if Polly was able to hear you, wherever she was now, but you sincerely hoped that your message would reach her somehow. 

Someone clearing their throat made you jump. To your right, leaning against the wall just like you was Tommy, taking long drags on a cigarette, as if his intention was to suck the life out of it. "Damn Tommy, you scared the hell out of me! What are you doing here?" you yelled at him, brushing your hair out of your face and furiously wiping away your tears.

He shrugged and let out a puff of smoke. “Same as you.”

His voice was deep and hoarse, like if he had been crying. He used to be really close to Polly and now that you thought about it, it made sense. Just like Arthur, his appearance surprised you. 

In your memories Tommy was a young man with his freckles and blue eyes, the dark hair slightly curled at the ends when he let it grow and an encouraging smile that he only reserved for you and your siblings. That was the brother who taught you how to ride a bike and how to swim in the canal, how to take care of horses during the summer breaks and the one who used to tell you stories with funny voices whenever you couldn’t sleep at night. 

There was almost nothing of that brother in the man in front of you. Tommy was old. It had been around seven years since you moved away to go to university but time had hit him hard. He was in his forties now and his hair was turning grey in some parts, the wrinkles much more noticeable as well as the deep dark circles under his eyes. 

He threw the remainder of the cigarette on the floor and looked at you thoroughly, as if he were analysing you from head to toe. A mix of emotions crossed his face but you weren’t sure to be interpreting them correctly, such as a slight panic, a bit of sadness and finally something similar to approval. 

“You look good,” he stated, “how is school? Everything alright?”

Your eyes filled with tears once more but this time you didn't hold them back. All the rage that had been growing inside of you since Lizzie called you a few hours earlier came out freely. “I’m not in school anymore Tommy, I’m a PhD student and I’m writing my fucking thesis so don’t talk to me as if I were a stupid child.”

He seemed taken aback by your sudden anger. “It wasn’t my intention to make you feel like that” he apologised before clearing his throat, raising an eyebrow, “but if you haven’t noticed, you’ll always be a kid to me.”

Tommy didn’t let you say anything back, continuing with his speech. He wasn’t looking at you, instead, he stared at some point far away in the distance.

“When you were born I was the first to hold you in my arms. You were so tiny, I could carry your little body with both my hands. Finn started gaining weight so damn fast but you didn’t and we thought you’d never make it” he pursed his lips as you listened in silence, although you had heard him telling you this story many times when you were younger. “Every hour we had to feed you a bottle of formula and it was no bigger than my finger” he pointed his index finger in front of you as a measurement. “It seemed like a toy. But it worked, just look at you now.”

He turned to you and wiped your tears with his callous hands. 

"Tommy, why didn't you tell me Polly was so sick?" you asked quietly, grabbing his wrists.

"You knew she was sick."

"Yes, but not enough to..." To die, you wanted to say, but the words got caught at your throat. 

Your brother sighed and when he looked at you again, he seemed more tired than ever. 

"I didn't want to worry you unnecessarily. You have your life far from here, you yourself wanted it that way. Your priority is your studies, let me finish," he said, pointing a finger at you authoritatively. "What happened to Poll was so sudden, none of us expected this to happen and it has been a hard blow for everyone." 

“I didn’t say goodbye to her,” you muttered. 

Tommy held you against his body, hugging you tightly. “Me neither.”

You looked up at him, scrutinising his face. The rim of his eyes was red and his bottom lip trembled a little despite his attempt to hide it. He seemed somehow fragile. 

“Oh, Tommy,” you whispered, throwing your arms around his neck and letting him bury his face on your shoulder. You felt the wetness of his tears as you caressed the back of his head. “Next time something like this happens, let me know. Call me and I’ll come. I’m not a kid anymore, I’m part of this family too and I can help. You don’t have to go through stuff on your own. Alright?”

As he nodded slightly with his face still pressed against your shoulder you felt the sudden realisation that you had been mistaken most of your life. All you wanted to do was run away from your family in order to be happier, thinking that they wouldn’t need you after living through your whole childhood feeling like a burden, like someone whom they had to take care of.

For years you had hated them because it seemed that they enjoyed being miserable day and night, continuously fighting with each other… you never stopped to think about the reasons behind all those arguments or their actions. But you were older now and life had taught you that we are all humans and we all make mistakes. 

Now everything was different. For once you were the strong one, able to stand by their side to support them. This bunch of sad and broken people were your family and they needed you just as much as you needed them. 

Sometimes it was better to put some distance in order to see things from a different perspective, to heal, you realised as you held the shadow of the man who used to be like a hero to you during your childhood. At the end of the day you would always come back to the place where you belonged. The only thing you regretted was not figuring it out sooner.

[lavender-romancer]

Crosses on my body

Part Two  Tommy Shelby x Reader 

You were a nun in Dublin but when you decided to take action against those in powerful positions in the church you had to escape. When you turn up in Birmingham and begin a relationship with Tommy Shelby will he be able to protect you from your past? 

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

previous part

"Jesus, our Lord. If you're there…why do you hide from me?" You knelt beside your bed with your hands clasped together. "Grant that I never lose sight of the ugliness of sin, the glory of Christ, the beauty of holiness, or the wonder of grace. Help me to seek you every morning with heart, soul, mind, and strength. In Jesus' name. Amen." 

As you climbed into bed you thought over your evenings with Tommy. You had been to the church every evening together for 7 days now. Each time you either taught him how to pray or you would kiss him to see if you would be smited. The more Tommy told you about himself the more you became convinced he was consumed by evil. But evil you could save him from. Tommy said that you had been sent to save him, but you had to find salvation for yourself first. 

You were walking down to the crypt of a church, you assumed this was a dream but they often felt so real it was hard to know. The air was crisp against your skin, making your hair stick up. When you reached the bottom of the stairs you saw some of your sisters. 

"Sister Marianne! It's so good to see you," you exclaimed and she turned around with a horrified look. 

"What did you do!" She screamed. 

"I didn't do anything!" You took a step back and she moved towards you, eyes turning black as she threw you against the wall. Her face twisting into a horrifying amalgamation of darkness and blood. 

"What have you done!" Her voice boomed.

You were suddenly surrounded by a circle of your sisters from Dublin, they were chanting something with their heads bowed moving around you. As you stepped back trying to get away from them you tripped over and saw Father Thomas' bleeding body, his neck slashed. Lying in a pool of his own blood you started screaming and crawled backwards but the faceless nuns pushed you towards him. 

"You thought you could escape didn't you!" He screamed before getting on top of you and choking you. "You have sinned! Repent or you shall suffer in the bowels of hell!"

You could feel the life draining out of you, your eyes fluttering shut, his eyes were crying blood and he had this smile. This bone chilling coolness about this smile that made you terrified to keep your eyes open. No matter how much you struggled you were held down, he was too overpowering- you couldn't fight it. 

Waking up with a scream you began sobbing uncontrollably, holding and rocking yourself back and forth. 

"Lord God, I pray for your protection as I begin this day. You are my hiding place, and under Your wings I can always find refuge. Protect me from trouble wherever I go, and keep evil far from me. Amen." You recited the prayer that you had had to use so many times back in Dublin. So many times having asked the Lord for protection and so many times your prayers had not been fulfilled. How were you to trust in the Lord when he couldn't even protect you in your dreams? But it was all you had. Catholicism had been in your world since you could remember so even if it was all placebo or you were seeing things that weren't there, you needed faith. You had no one else who would care for you the same way, not anymore anyways. Anyone back in Dublin willing to help you was long gone by this time. 

"Do you feel it coming back yet?" Tommy asked as you knelt in front of Mother Mary praying your rosary. "The faith I mean. Or is your crisis over,? 

"I had a nightmare. Last night…about my old life. It looks like God won't even protect me from that regardless of all my confession work. I don't know what to think anymore, but I can't let go." You looked up at Thomas siting on the pew and sighed, still clutching your rosary you stood up and sat next to him. 

"What was the nightmare about?" 

"Things you won't understand, but mostly demon, devil based horror. I feel like something is following me around at all times. Some kind of being with a nefarious purpose." You started biting the skin around your thumbnail. 

"I'm sure I would understand." Tommy said quietly.

"There's things I can't quite trust you with yet. In time I'm sure I will. But revealing my deepest secrets to you would not be wise." You made the sign of the cross with your crucifix and ended your prayer with a few minutes of meditation. 

"You can trust me," Tommy said later when he was walking you back to your lodgings.

"How do I know that?" You asked with your arms crossed. 

"Because I can also reveal a secret to you, I've probably got the longest list in Birmingham. Mutually assured destruction is the best start to companionship." Tommy blew out a cloud of smoke that you watched rise up into the air, dissolved into the night sky. "My mother used to tell me smoke made the stars, possibly to explain why my father smoked the amount he did." 

"Is that your secret?" You asked. 

"Nah, just a story. My secrets are more sinister than that, I know you're hiding something but I can't imagine it's sinister in nature." Tommy seemed to underestimate you entirely which made it all the more entertaining that you held the cards in the conversation.

"I think you think too little of me and my past." You smiled at him.

"Perhaps. But I've known women like you, shrouded in secrecy that I can't quite seem to figure out until it's too late for me." He stopped and leant against a brick wall, looking you up and down with a gaze that penetrated into your mind. 

"Is that what your wife was like?" You weren't sure if the question was too personal for him to answer. 

"She was deception based from the start, but one way or another we fell for each other." Tommy looked glassy eyed, you couldn't picture this being the type of man who would cry but honesty would catch anyone off guard. 

"I'm sure I'll reveal my secrets to you, someday. But not now." You carried on walking past Tommy and he ran his tongue across his bottom lip before walking after you. 

"But truth will set you free, as you've probably said before to some lost soul" Tommy joked and you smiled. 

"That's true. But some secrets can put you in harm's way and…I don't trust anyone truly. Life's safer that way." Your expression was subtly sad but Tommy noticed. 

"I only trust my family and even then there's some exceptions. Having no allies isn't the way to go." Tommy stopped and he stood closer to you. 

"Are you proposing an allyship?" You whispered looking up into his eyes. 

"Perhaps. You light my cigarette, I'll light yours and so on."  Tommy held out a cigarette and placed it between your lips, a confusing look on his face before he used his hand to shield the air and lit it.  

"That's sounding horrendously suggestive, Mr Shelby." You breathed smoke up into the air, still uncertain on what the lack of distance between the two of you meant. 

"Does the suggestiveness scare you?' Tommy asked in a low raspy voice. 

"You don't know anything about my inclination for suggestiveness." You smiled and turned on your heel. "I'll see you tomorrow, Thomas." 

Tommy watched as you faded into the darkness, just as secretively as you had arrived. 

The following morning you woke to an insistent knocking at your front door, it woke you up with a start (memories flooding back of the early mornings at the convent). You approached the door cautiously, holding a knife out in front of you.

"Who's there?" you called out.

"It's your landlady," the slightly familiar voice called. "I'm sorry miss, there's a woman here insistent on seeing you." It felt like the blood had drained from your face at the possibility of it being someone from Dublin.

"W-what does she want? What does it entail?" your voice was panicked and stuttering.

"Have I done wrong, miss? She said you would know her, a Theresa O'Sullivan." The landlady's words echoed in your mind and your eyes began to water, you put down the knife and unlocked the door.

"I'm sorry," You told her. "I was anxious about who the visitor was but you can send her up." You smiled at her and she nodded.

The following knock at your door was timid, so as to not disturb but alert you of their presence. You almost jumped up as your eyes began to water before flinging open the door and enveloping her in a hug.

"Theresa!" you laughed as she held you close.

"It's been so long my dear friend," She said close to your ear.

"How have you been? How's life out of the community, whereabouts are you these days?" You asked as you sat down with her and a pot of tea.

"I'm in the south at the moment, I'm married now and we run a church community now," she paused. "I heard noises. The community is small but we have connections in Ireland so... there are little bubbles of noise every now and then." she paused in a seemingly uncomfortable way.

"I mean, I can assume what they said but what did you hear?" You asked timidly.

"That there was a murder," she paused and looked down at her hands which began to shake. "And... and that there were things that were stolen I'm not sure what. But then I heard whispers about you and I knew I had to find you."

"And you think it's me?" you asked.

"I know you had ideas, I haven't told anyone if you're worried about that I just needed to know you were safe." She reached out and touched your hands. "Y/n, are you safe."

"As safe as you can be after you've done what I have. Tell me about everything, please. Take my mind off it." you squeezed her hands with a smile.

"I have a husband, I met him about three years after leaving Ireland and we've been blessed with three children so far. It's a quiet village with a town hall and a church, not much else, I can see you've taken well to a busy city though." She smiled and you nodded.

"I needed a change, anyway I could so I found a job first and this was the easiest one with the least questions involved. I'm so glad you're safe, I never heard from you and I was so worried." You reached forward and touched her face "But you're here and you're alive."

"We both made it out, remember that. We're both safer now. Don't look back, don't look away just move forward and escape as far as you can." Her eyes began to water. "Because if they come for you, you're dead and no one can protect you or save you from them."

"What do you mean?" your heartbeat began picking up.

"They came for me when I was in Liverpool, I had no one and nothing. No one helped me because I didn't know who to trust but then I revealed too much at confession and they came for me." she paused, her breath faltering and hitching.

"Theresa, what happened?" You said sternly gripping her hand.

"They did this," She pulled up her dress and showed a deep scar on her right leg then pulled up her shirt and showed a long scar from the top of her ribcage diagonally down towards her navel. It was dark and twisted near the bottom.

"Who?" Your hands began to shake as Theresa pulled down her shirt.

"Father Thomas' messengers, they assumed I'd escaped revealing their secrets but I just wanted to escape so they tortured me before I escaped once more," She smiled. "I'm glad you killed the bastard when you had the chance."

"What they did to you... should I be running further?" you asked, feeling your throat tighten.

"There's nowhere you can run that's far enough to outrun them. We are some of the only survivors of their horrific system and I hope you tear it all down." She reached over and hugged you tighter than before.

"We are united, you and I. In sickness and in health like a fucking marriage alright. I will make sure everyone knows what we witnessed and they won't escape it. None of them." You held her by the shoulders and smiled through your tears.

"Say a prayer with me, for strength." Theresa smiled at you and you both began in silent prayer to save each other from your past and your enemies.

next part Peaky blinders taglist: @queenofkings1212 @severewobblerlightdragon @cl5369 @fairypitou @stressedandbandobessed7771 @shadow-of-wonder @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns @curled-hair-red-lips @lucystivinsky1315

[dreamerschroniclesofstories]

masterlist:

started: 27/11/23

last updated: 22/04/24

total works: 4

PEAKY BLINDERS:

IMAGINES:

Tommy:

Goodbye, Tommy Shelby PT2

Crawl home to her

REQUESTS

Secretary ( Tommy x reader)

Maid ( Tommy x reader)

Sickly ( Tommy x Sister!reader)

SERIES

Shelby family:

Clementina: PT1 , PT2 , PT3 , PT4

[mydear-corinthian]

Bait || Shelby family x reader

Synopsis: Reader went out partying and the Shelby family's enemy attacked her. Pairing: Shelby family x sister! reader Warnings: ANGST w/ comfort, reader gets injured badly, mentions of blood, stabbing, and violence, swearing Notes: rushed :C, gif is mine Click here to find the MAIN Masterlist Click here to find the PEAKY BLINDERS Masterlist

It was just a usual night in Small Heath. Due to the boredom, you decided to go outside and maybe have a little fun.

You dressed up. A long gold dress decorated your body. A feathered hat decorated your head. And a few pearl jewelry shined your neck, arms, and ears. Grabbing your gold colour purse, you exited your room, spiraling down the wooden stairs of your family's house.

As you went down, Polly saw you. "Where you going, love?" she asked, smiling.

Grabbing a cigarette stick, you placed it on your lips, leaning to Polly as your aunt was also about to light her long black stick of the cancerous stick. "Party, Aunt Pol. I'm getting bored staying in this house," you replied, your cigarette finally lit.

The matriarch of the family took a puff of her cigarette, her serious eyes locked on yours. 

"Where? Who's going with you?" Polly asked.

"Oh, Aunt Pol.., I'll be fine. It's just 2 streets away from here. I'll be home at 2 am."

"Take care and enjoy love," she smiled, opening the door of the house's entrance, allowing you to exit the house.

<>

The only real issue was that you were wearing heels on the short walk from the house to the party location. Warm lights and vehicles adorned the spacious mansion. The estate was packed with elegantly dressed people in suits. You headed straight to the mansion's bar as soon as you got there and ordered a drink for yourself. Your heels reverberated against the bar's porcelain tiles. Men made up the majority of the crowd, and they were all too busy chatting, drinking, and trying to find women to satisfy their lusts.

"Whiskey, please," you ordered. You sat down just in front of the barman, glancing at everyone while waiting for your drink.

There were a few faces, you knew them because of your brother, Tommy and some were rich clients from the betting shop.

Finally, the barman gently placed a glass of whiskey in front of you. "Your drink, Madam."

You thanked him, picked up the glass, and sipped, letting the alcohol wash over your mouth. After placing a couple more drink orders, you made your way to the dance floor and started to dance energetically to the loud music being played. You moved your hips in time with the song's tune. You're waving your arms in the air. As you danced with the women, the dance floor was filled with a chorus of woos and laughs. Drinks were chugged into your system in tremendous amounts.

<>

You excused yourself and your new friends to go the restroom after a few hours of nonstop drinking and dancing. You were relieved that after eating at your place for a few hours, despite having numerous drinks, you were sober. You reapplied your clothing and your cherry lipstick as you straightened your hair in front of the big mirror. It's almost two, you realize as you glance at your pocket watch. Because you're the kind of person who takes responsibility seriously, is mature, and always arrives on time, Polly wasn't concerned about you going out late to party. After gathering your belongings, you put them back into your golden handbag and head out of the bathroom.

Finally saying goodbye to your new girlfriends, your heels found their way to the mansion's exit. Since you were sober already, you decided to take a walk back home.

As you walk through the dark streets of Birmingham, you cannot help but feel uneasy. You felt like you weren't alone at all. You felt that someone or somebody was following you.

And you were right.

Reaching for your pocket gun, you tried to protect yourself from the person who was following you by looking over your shoulder. You were too late, though. You were forcefully grabbed by two men, one of whom disarmed your gun. You were trapped against the wall by two rough pairs of arms, your head hitting the rocky concrete. Particularly on your stomach, you felt something cold and sharp graze your flesh, and the pain eventually got intolerable.

"What the fuck do you want!" you panted weakly, feeling a warm liquid drip on the side of your stomach.

"Just.. sending a message to your git brother," the low Irish accent sent shivers down your spine.

Campbell.

On the other hand, Polly was at the dining table, a cigarette in her hand as she watched the clock tick.

It was already past 2 and she started to get worried. You always come home on time - not even a minute late.

Polly hurriedly went to the telephone and dialed Tommy's number, her fingers shivering.

"Hello?"

"Tommy,"

"Pol? Why are you calling at this hour?"

"I-it's (y/n). She's not home yet and I'm starting to get worried. Oh God, Tommy. What if something happened to her?" Polly stammered, holding the telephone pole tightly.

"Not at home? I'll call John and Arthur." Tommy replied before ending the call.

<>

You tried to move and get out from their touch but due to the injury that you had, you were getting weaker.

"Tell your fucking boss to fuck off!" you hollered, heaving due to the pain down your stomach.

Punches rained down on you so hard you were gasping for air and screaming in pain as two strong fists crashed into your stomach and chest. Every blow sent waves of pain through your body, causing your legs to buckle and your breath to come in short, frantic gasps. Every strike was brutal, breaking your will and power in the process.

During the cruel assault, a fresh, burning pain suddenly appeared in your abdomen. Compared to previous experiences, this feeling was sharper and stronger. Frightened, you looked down to see the sparkle of a blade pressing against your body again. The man with the knife was cautious, taking his time as he carved the initials "C.C" into your flesh. The letters were an endless source of pain and abuse burned into your mind.

Dizziness was starting to get worse and worse but you paid no mind as you built up all of your strength to get up and grab your gun that was thrown on the cold hard bricks of the dark alley. Your cold fingertips pulled the trigger, emptying the bullet chamber by shooting them non-stop.

Two bodies were now on the cold floor, both lifeless, and their blood pooling out of their bodies, mixing with the hard concrete.

"You don't fuck with the Peaky Blinders."

Taking a deep breath at what happened, you stood up but moaned in pain after you felt the cuts and bruises all over your body. Looking down at your stomach, your dress was slit and filled with your blood.

"Jesus Christ," you muttered. Leaving your bag alone and limply walked back to the house.

Every step was a painful fight and the walk seemed to go on forever. Your back was laden with weight, and the pressure turned your spine into a throbbing rod of agony. Your single shoe scraped the uneven sidewalk, causing sharp pains to shoot through your leg with each step. As you struggled to remain straight the world around you became hazy and wobbly, and your vision became less sharp at the edges. You could feel consciousness sliding away, hovering on the edge of darkness, and every breath was a strained gasp. If you returned home without passing out, you were quite lucky.

Thankfully, you did.

Your bloodied palm opened the silver-colored knob, twisting it, and opened the door with all of your might.

There Polly was, looking at you with widened eyes. She ran towards you immediately, checking up on you.

"Dear God (y/n)! What happened to you?!"

Your body became weak due to a lack of strength in your muscles. You had a really pale face. Your dress was stained and damaged by your blood, and your hair is disheveled. Your aunt's voice fades more and further, the walls in your head beginning to swirl. After that, all you could see was darkness.

Polly caught you before your head contact with the wooden floor. Your arm limped on her touch.

The whole Shelby family including Michael, arrived at the doorstep, looking at the scene in front of them with their eyes locked and widened.

"Help me out here!"

As Polly commanded, everyone went inside. Tommy, John, and Arthur carried you gently before placing you on the dinner table that was filled with glasses and plates. Tommy removed the items on the table before Arthur placed you there. Michael and Ada quickly grabbed the first aid kit that was inside the kitchen room's wooden cabinet.

When Polly teared up your dress, she gasped.

"C.C.. Fucking Campbell," Polly's voice hissed, seeing the carved initials on your stomach, bleeding harshly.

Your breaths started to get faint and weaker, your body started to get cold.

"Stay with me, (y/n)," Ada whispered between sobs as she watched Polly do something with your wounds and help her aunt hand out the supplies that she needed.

"Fuck.. Fuck!" Tommy shouted, walking in circles as he rubbed his temples harshly.

"Arthur, John, Finn, Michael, find Campbell immediately!" he ordered.

"Bring me back his fucking head."

Michael and the brothers moved quickly, their actions a blur of rage and anger. They took immediate action after realizing this. With a mixture of terror and determination, their hands trembled as they took out their firearms from their pockets. The icy steel of the weapons was comforting, a guarantee of justice for the wrongs done.

They left the home without saying anything, the wooden door slamming shut behind them with a loud crash. They were barely aware of the sharp, biting night air. Their only thought was to locate the person who was responsible for this. 

"She isn't even part of this fucking shit and yet she was targeted,"

Polly's eyes shot daggers with Tommy's blue orbs while her hands focused on healing up the wounds all over your stomach.

"You better fucking catch him, Tommy."

As soon as Polly's done patching you up, she stormed out in front of her nephew, disappointed at him.

"I'll look out for (y/n). You heard Aunt Pol, catch that bastard," Ada said, fixing up the used cotton and alcohol before throwing it out.

Tommy sighed as he exited the house. Looking for the man who did this to you.

<>

You woke up with the sunlight beaming on you. Looking at your surroundings, you noticed where you were right away.

Slowly, you tried getting up but your body fell again, moaning in pain.

"Easy, (y/n). Don't move, your wounds are still fresh," Ada said, slowly guiding your back to allow you to lie down comfortably.

"A-Ada, I was so scared... I didn't know what was going on.."

Your eyes were starting to get wet until tears were dropping down your cheeks as you recalled what happened last night.

You were so traumatized. You didn't want to remember again. 

And that time, you knew that remembering is a curse.

"You're safe now, love. We're here now," Polly said, her arms locked with yours, giving you a comforting smile.

The door opened, and your brothers were there.

They immediately greeted you and asked how you were.

"God, love. I'm sorry that happened to you," your oldest brother, Arthur, said, gently combing your hair with his rough fingertips.

"It's okay, Arthur. I'm fine now,"

"We got him already," Finn remarked.

The gang leader showed up, his coat hanging on the chair. His footsteps echoed in the room as he approached you, placing his palms on your head.

"How are you now?" he asked, sighing.

"Fucking scared, Tom. I nearly died! This is fucked up."

"I know, (y/n). I know."

Polly stood up in the middle of the small argument, shutting the both of you. Her fists curl up like a ball, her brows knit together.

"Let her rest first, Tom. She had enough already," she said.

"I'm sorry," he apologized softly before exiting the house.

Tommy felt simply anger and guilt. Even though his sister isn't involved in the business, she was the one targeted. She's currently in there getting better from the physical and emotional trauma she recently went through.

"You're safe now, love." Polly gave you a comforting smile before asking the other Shelby siblings for breakfast. 

"Thank you, Aunt Pol."

[mlmxreader]

He's Still Haunting Me | Alfie Solomons x m!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ "I can take on anything, everything"+"Don't tell me you love me"

[Can this one also be angst? Idk if you want to put it in war time. Maybe Alfie reminiscing on a love he lost in the trenches??] ❞

: ̗̀➛ Goliath stumbles upon some old photographs in his uncle's attic, and has some questions about the man in them.

: ̗̀➛ War, blood and gore, death, trauma, grief

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

It had been years since Alfie had even seen your face; the photographs taken years ago were now collecting dust in the attic. He never thought that his nephew, Goliath, would find them; let alone throw them onto his desk and stare at his uncle with a morose, remorseful gaze.

Goliath was a good man, although his youth made him naive as to what had happened during the war; Alfie never liked to talk about it much with family, but he knew he couldn't excuse himself from it as he picked up one of the photographs with a trembling hand. He sniffled, shaking his head.

"Where'd you find these?"

"Your attic," Goliath replied, "who is he?"

Alfie sighed, dropping the photograph and running his hand down his face; already his vision was going blurry, and words seemed to fail as he struggled to regain his words properly enough to speak.

"He was the only fuckin' one who did me any good."

"Who is he?" Goliath pressed. "A friend?"

"Bit more 'an that," Alfie chuckled bitterly, sniffling as he cleared his throat and picked the photograph back up. "Remember how your mum always said that you was meant to have two uncles?"

The nephew nodded.

"He was meant to be the other one," Alfie whispered, "my mum... my mum loved him to bits..."

"Gran knew?" Goliath whispered.

Alfie nodded. "So did your mum... they knew what we was... didn't mind unlike some cunts..."

"Alfie..." Goliath frowned, furrowing his brows.

"It's alright, boy-o," Alfie held up his hand for a moment as he coughed, shaking his head. "He were my left hand, look. My fuckin' Lieutenant... went to war the very fuckin' second he found out I got conscripted... wouldn't fuckin' let me to without him... he were gonna be my husband... anywhere I went, he was fuckin' adamant he had to go, too... always fuckin' hauntin' me, that beautiful bastard."

Goliath stood up, gathering the photographs in his shaking, large hands. "I'm sorry for upsettin' you, Uncle, I just thought-"

"Sit down!" Alfie snapped, waiting for his nephew to obey before he continued, "you ought to fuckin' know about him, anyway. I was a selfish cunt for not tellin' you - that was always his thing, y'know."

"What was?"

"We was there when you was born," Alfie chuckled. "He held you when your mum slept and I... I always knew he'd have been a good dad - had the temper for it better than I ever fuckin' will."

"Mum never mentioned him."

"No," he sighed. "No one would... it still hurts..."

Alfie could still picture it even now, the sounds of the shells and the grenades roaring and spitting out flames; the feeling of the deep and wet mud vibrating and wobbling with the rumble of tanks. He could remember the white flash as Fokker DR.1 planes hunted down Airco DH.9s.

He could remember how he held you against his chest with his lips pressed to your forehead; able to feel your limp hand against his forearm. He was on his knees, eyes wide and wild and full of unshed tears; one hand cradled the side of your head, the other at your middle.

From the waist down, you were on your side, your free hand pressed against the ground as you struggled to keep yourself upright. You weren't even looking at him, the unwounded side of your head pressed against his chest while the blood on the other side seeped through his fingers.

Alfie knew.

He had killed you the second that he had allowed you to go to war with him. He had killed you, and all of his woe and his remorse could never be washed away.

He killed you.

His eyes, he could never close them the same way again; staring into nothing as he realised that he had become a monster. He had become evil; his brows were slightly scrunched together as if he were about to howl with loud sobs.

His mouth was agape as he kept rocking back and forth with your corpse, muttering under his breath.

"I can take on anything, everything, but I need you with me," he would say. "Please. Please. Don't tell me you love me, don't say anything, just don't leave me. Don't fucking leave me."

"Alfie?" Goliath cleared his throat as he swallowed thickly. "You good?"

Alfie shook his head. "I killed him."

"No."

"I let him go to the trenches," Alfie confessed, "if I'd have told him to stay with Gran and your mum... he would still be here... you'd know your other uncle..."

"How was you to know?"

"He was the smart one," Alfie huffed. "He'd have known... you would'a fuckin' loved him, can tell you that... he loved goin' up fuckin' mountains... never was a better lieutenant. Never was a better man..."

Goliath reached over as he frowned, holding his uncle's hand. "He's still here, y'know. He ain't left you."

Alfie laughed softly. "No, he ain't. He's fuckin' hauntin' me - why'd you think I'm always gettin' fuckin' daffodils in me garden? It's him! He's hauntin' me!"

Goliath laughed for a moment. "What if we puts up a memorial for him? Y'know, just for you, Mum and Gran?"

"He would've hated that," Alfie pointed out. "He never wanted nothin' more than to get me home... he didn't even see fuckin' armistice."

Goliath swallowed thickly as he let go of his uncle's hand and leaned back in his seat. "I... I'm sorry, Alfie... he meant a lot to you... and I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Alfie shook his head as he wiped the tears from his eyes. "Now, g'wan. Go put they back... we'll talk more about it later, yeah? I'll tell... I'll tell you all the things that my Lieutenant would've shot me for fuckin' sayin'."

Goliath smiled as he gathered up the photographs. He still couldn't quite believe that no one had told him about his uncle by marriage before, but he could understand why; Alfie was haunted by the war more than anyone else in the family, it made sense he didn't want to speak about losing the man he loved to it.

[asmutwriter]

The Gangsta's Wife (Part 10)

DESCRIPTION: You decide its time to show off your new found home that your husband had bought with a big, celebratory party.

A/N - This part was about 2K words shorter. But then I made the smut part way more graphic and slightly longer. I hope you enjoy

WORD COUNT: 5401

From Beginning / Previous / Next / Master List  

WARNINGS: smoking, swearing, talk of a breakup, guns, smut, hair pulling, oral (m receiving), praise, spit, mild masochism (both m and f), pet names (sir, love), possession kink, pussy slapping, fingering, mild orgasm denial, sub reader, dom Tommy, creampie, unprotected sex, teasing, dacryphillia

DISCLAIMERS

This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

This story does not follow the timeline of the show

You'd spent a month or so in your new house. Although your husband had bought this house as a family home for the three of you, it somehow always had your sisters or his brothers round. Today was no exception. Your sisters are here at lunch time. Sat around the table as you cooed Charlie.

Tommy walking into the room to join you. Nodding slightly at his in laws before looking at you. A smile coming over his lips at seeing you and his child. His happy expression doesn't last long though. Shifting slightly as the three of you go quiet at his presence.

"What is it?" he looks at the three of you. You point at your sisters.

"They are the ones with the idea. Ask them" he looks at them. Mary nudging Liz as he gives his in-laws a quizzical look. His smile having faded but a touch of amusement in his blue eyes remains.

"Ask him" she whispers to her sister.

"Ask me what?" Liz fiddles with her hands as she speaks.

"When are you having a party here?"

"A party?"

"The only people that have seen this house is us and your family. Why have such a grand house if you aren't showing it off?"

"We asked Flo" Mary speaks up, helping her sisters case. "But she said she needed to pass it by you first Mr Shelby". He smiles at the notion. Turning to look at you. Taking out a cigarette as he speaks.

"Your thoughts?". Placing the item in his mouth before lighting it. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth. Letting it go before speaking.

"I agree with my sisters. I love this house. And I'm not ashamed to want to show it off" he nods. Removing the stick from his mouth with his thumb and middle finger.

"When shall we have it then ey?"

"Next Saturday" Mary says, drawing his eyes back to her. "It gives us enough time to send letters out. But not so far in the future that people will forget. We can then prepare catering and anything else we need for a party. If anyone needs to stay the night before or after then they can do so as that day accepts those type of arrangements." He nods again. Using the hand, the one holding the cigarette in, to exaggerate his speech.

"Flo, I will give you a list of names I'd like you to invite on my behalf. Other then that, feel free to invite whoever you want" he smiles. Placing it back into his mouth before turning. Walking out the room.

-

Your new maid helps you get dressed. Ready for the day of the party. Placing a beautiful silver necklace around your neck. You place two earrings into your lobes. Taking a minute to admire your wedding ring before adding a couple more to your fingers.. You stand up. Looking at yourself in the floor length mirror in your bedroom.

"You look beautiful Mrs Shelby" your maid says.

"Thank you Betty" you stroke down your dress. You turn to face her. Smiling. "You should borrow one of my dresses. Come to the party tonight"

"Oh now Mrs Shelby. I couldn't do that. It wouldn't be proper".

"If you change your mind and fancy an hour or so away from everything then you know where my dresses are. You're welcome to wear one of them tonight if you'd like". A knock at the door before it opens. Thomas walking inside holding Charlie. You go over. Seeing your son looking teary. "Oh no what happened?" you go over. A hand going to his cheek.

"He was crawling and fell down mid crawl. I did comfort him but I think he wanted his mothers love"

"Oh my poor baby" you gently take him. Kissing his head as you stroke his hair. He hides into you. Hearing a very sad sniff coming from him. Thomas places a soothing hand onto his back. Rubbing it gently. You start to hear the chatter of voices downstairs. Mary runs up. Pushing open the door as she runs in.

"People are here! Come on!" she smiles. Coming over and grabbing at your hand.

"I'll be down in a second" she nods. Grinning from ear to ear before skipping out the room. Betty comes over. Holding her hands out.

"Allow me Mrs Shelby". You kiss your child's temple. Passing Charlie over to her. Linking an arm with your husband. Him looking at you before you both head downstairs. Betty following shortly behind. Minding your son during the night.

You and Tommy go different ways. Socialising with different people throughout the night. You meet Vanessa. Linking an arm with her as you catch up with your gossip.

"I don't believe it" a voice interrupts your conversation. One that sounds very familiar. Turning you see Miss Finnley. A woman long forgotten in your past. Vanessa leans close to you as the woman makes her way over. Whispering into your ear.

"You invited your exes mum?"

"No. Not purposefully anyway" she comes over. Eyes scanning over your body as she places her hands in front of her. Delicately placed one over the other.

"Florence Hastings. How did a woman like you get into a party like this?".

"You know, you haven't changed a bit since I last saw you". You try not to laugh at the obvious disgust in her eyes. Like your some sort of scum of the earth.

"Who did you steal this dress from then, hmm?"

"I bought this dress. With my husbands money"

"What a poor man. Being married to a woman like you. How did you drag him into marrying you then?" you half smile.

"I've got a great set of tits and a rocking ass" her eyes widen. A look of shock on her face, jaw dropping. You smile at her. Linking an arm with Vanessa "I hope you have a good rest of the evening". You turn again. Walking away from her.

"You know something" Vanessa says as you go to the food table "I think you've gotten more ballsy since being married to that Shelby fella" you chuckle slightly. Grabbing a cupcake.

"I have to be quick witted in his family. They'd eat me alive otherwise" she laughs as you eat the cake. Betty comes over to you. A very tired looking Charlie in her arms. You smile sweetly at him as you stroke his hair.

"Someone is sleepy so we thought we'd come and say goodnight before heading to bed". You smile. Kissing your child's head.

"Goodnight my sweet boy. I love you" you kiss his head again. Stroking his hair as you watch her go over to Tommy. Him giving the boy the same treatment you did. An admiring smile coming over your face as you watch. Betty taking your son to bed.

Vanessa watches you. A knowing look in her eye. You tun back to her. Your smile changing as you look at her. "What's his name?"

"Charlie. His names Charlie"

"Wasn't that your dads name?" you nod. Your smile saddening slightly as you pick up another cake. "Its a lovely name. Your father would've been proud of the woman you've become". You nod again. Taking a bite of your food. Some other people come over. Chatting with you as you stay around the food table for the evening.

You hear a familiar voice again. "This is her Mr Shelby". You turn. Seeing Miss Finnley with your husband. His eyes meet yours, a look of confusion and amusement in his eyes. "This is the girl who used vile language in front of myself and your guests". You look down. Biting at the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing. "Honestly. Some people have no manners. I demand that you make her leave at once"

"Mrs-"

"I think it'd be best for you and the other guests to not have such a disgusting girl here at your grand party. Goodness knows who she stole the dress from"

"Mrs Dickinson" he manages to cut her off. You look puzzled at the name but try not to let it show on your face. "I see that you've met my wife ". She looks at him. Blinking a few times.

"I- your-" she stutters for words.

"Please get back to the party. Enjoy the food and drink that my lovely wife has prepared for you". He smiles at her. An extremely amused look on his face as he looks at you. You smile at him as he turns. Going back to the social group he was with. She turns to you. More disgust on her face as she eyes you up and down.

Giving a soft 'hmmp' she turns. Her nose sticking upwards as she practically storms out. You turn back to Vanessa. "That actually happened..." Grabbing a few grapes. Popping them in your mouth as she lets out a low laugh.

"You said that your husband made a list of guests to invite?" you nod. "Was the name Mrs Dickinson on this list?". You think for a moment. Recalling the name as you nod. "Well that'd be it. She must've remarried. Changed her name. Meaning that she is no longer Miss Finnley, instead is Mrs Dickinson"

"I feel sorry for the poor sod that married her" she laughs. A low snort coming out, causing her to laugh more. You smile. Offering her some sweet treats as you both continue chatting. Vanessa sticking by your side the rest of the night.

During the early hours of the morning the party disbands. Your guests depart. Either going to the rooms you've provided for them. Or taking various cars and carriages home. You retire to your room. Soon followed by your husband. You sit at the edge of the bed. Taking off your shoes as he goes over to the vanity unit. Lighting up a cigarette. Sitting on the arm chair. You pick up your shoes. Placing them neatly away.

Your husband draws a drag. Placing his hand down, resting on the arm of the chair as he exhales the smoke. Putting his head back as he looks at the ceiling. You look at him as your hands go up to your ears. Taking out the earrings from them. You go over to the vanity unit. Placing the jewelry onto the side. His head remains back. Not paying you any mind.

You put your hands around your back. Unbuttoning your dress as you walk over to the bed. Bringing it down your body, stepping out of it. Leaving you in your bra, underwear, and stockings. Folding the dress over your arm as you go over to the wardrobe. Taking out a hanger and placing it onto it. Stroking down the material before placing it inside the wardrobe.

"I liked that dress you were wearing" Thomas says. You look at him. His eyes now on you.

"Thank you. I made it whilst I was at the safe house. Edward got me the material". You admire the fabric one more time before shutting the door. He places the cigarette back into his mouth. Inhaling before removing the stick.

"Come here". You turn and walk over to him. Him snubbing out his smoke before you make it to him. He takes your hand. Admiring the rings on your fingers.

"These are new"

"I spent a long time in that house... so when I got out I went a bit overboard with buying things". He lets out an amused scoff. His thumb running along the jewels as he looks at them.

"A beautiful woman deserves beautiful items such as these". You smile.

"Mr Shelby, you flatter me" he looks at you. Eyes warm and inviting. Your joyous smile softening as you look at him. You bend down. Kneeling between his legs. His hand remaining on yours. Stroking over your fingers as you keep eye contact. Your other hand coming to his leg. Your finger dancing on his thigh.

"What did you say to Mrs Dickinson?"

"Oh no. You don't need to know that" you drop his gaze. Tilting your head to the side.

"Do you know her?". You nod slightly. Knowing the silence holds questions he wont ask you, but requires an answer for. You take in a breath. Looking at his leg as you continue to circle his thigh.

"I used to date her son" your voice small. Feeling his eyes on you. "We had plans to elope. Run to Scotland and get married. But his mother found out. Told him that if he married me she wouldn't give him any of her fortune". You still your hand. Taking in a breath. "He chose money. Money over love. I waited for him at the train station for 3 hours. Longest three hours of my fucking life". You remove your hand from his leg. Turning away from him as you wipe a tear that threatens to fall down your face. "Jesus fuck" you say.

He gently takes you chin. Leaning forward. Making you look at him. His grip soft as he meets your eyes. "Fuck them both, ey? Fuck 'em". You take in a breath through your nose. A slow breath as he watches your eyes. His face about a foot away from yours.

"Miss Finnl- Mrs Dickinson asked how I had managed to get married. So... I... told her that it was because of my... tits and ass". His face cracks. A smile coming over his lips and going through his cheeks to his eyes. Admiration in his gaze. His hand moving slightly. Brushing his thumb over your lips as he lets out a soft laugh.

"You always amaze me Mrs Shelby". Your eyes darting between his. Piercing blue orbs stay fixed onto yours. You move timidly. Placing your hands onto his knees you kneel up slightly. His eyes remaining on yours as you search his. Closing the gap between you. Your lips pressing onto his. His hand remains on your chin as you kiss him. You move away slightly. Noses brushing as you look at him. Pressing your lips together before speaking.

"You know..." you tilt your head slightly. Gently brushing your lips over his. "I don't have any duties tonight...". You run your hands up his thighs. Gripping near the top of them. "Betty is looking after Charles... My sisters are likely tired from the party... as are all of our guests. They'll probably sleep through tonight". You bring your hand up. Fingers lightly tracing his groin. Your lips finding his again. Kissing him as you rest your palm onto him. Softly pushing down. Palming him through his trousers. A soft grunt escaping his lips. Passed into yours as you continue kissing. His hand moving from your chin to the back of your head. Gripping your hair.

He pulls you away, hand knotted into your curls as he meets your eyes. "That pretty little mouth of yours seems to get you in trouble" he taunts. "Lets see if you can use it for more... practical uses, ey?". You bite your bottom lip. Him removing your hand with his free one as he keeps eye contact with you. His eyes filling with lust as he takes himself out of his trousers.

His cock half hard from your palming. He pushes you down. Hand still firmly holding you as he brings you closer to him. Your hands gong to his thighs as you look up at him. Mouth in line with his length. He takes himself in his hand. Gently putting the tip to your mouth. Going soft on the grip of your hair. "Open". You oblige. Sticking your tongue out as he pushes himself into your mouth. His cock growing increasingly hard by the second, soon becoming fully erect.

His hand tightens. Feeling him pull at the roots. You let out a soft whine. The action causing him to push you down onto him. Feeling him intrude your throat. You try your best not to gag as he fills you. Shutting your eyes as your nose hits his pelvic bone. He lets out a hiss before he releases you. You cough, a trail of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. Taking in some deep breaths before he brings you to his length again. Welcoming him in as he proceeds to bob your head up and down. Feeling it hitting the back of your throat with each thrust.

Your hands grip his thighs. Nails digging into the trousered flesh. "Good girl" he coos. The praise going straight to your wetting core. You rub your thighs together. Wanting some sort of friction. He pushes your down again. Relaxing your throat as he enters you. Hollowing out your cheeks as you run your tongue under him. A low grunt escaping his lips. Forcing you down more. You feel tears come to your eyes at the intrusion. Struggling for breath as you hum around him.

"Fuck" he mutters. Somehow managing to push you further down. You shut your eyes. Hands clenching to fists. Feeling the tears fall down your cheeks. He keeps you there. A deep hum coming from his throat as he deprives you of oxygen. You lightly tap his leg once you need air. Pulling you from him. You breath deeply. Chest rising heavily. Trying your best not to cough. Spit falling from your lips as you look at him. His eyes watching yours. The sharp blue cutting into you. He removes his hand from your hair. Tilting his head as he watches you. Eagerly waiting for his next words.

"Stand" he demands. You get up. Pushing yourself up on his legs. Standing in front of him as he watches you. He traces his finger over the waistband of your underwear. "Take them off". You hook your finger into them. Pushing them down, stepping out of them. His hand comes up. Barely touching you.

"Hmm" he hums. Finger going between your slit. You catch your breath. A whine coming out. "Have you been touching yourself?". Your breathing becomes deeper. Quicker. Distracted by his finger dancing on your clit that you forget to answer him. He retracts his hand. Causing you to whine out. Looking down at him. "Have you touched yourself since I last fucked you?". You feel your cheeks redden slightly at the question. Shaking your head. A soft 'no' coming from your lips. He brings his hand back up. Running over your folds before pushing a finger into you easily. A broken moan leaves your lips at the sudden intrusion. Fluttering your eyes.

"Poor thing. Completely touch starved". He rolls it inside of you. Your hand goes forward. Resting on his shoulder as you steady yourself. The other coming up. Cupping and squeezing at your still clothed breast. Eyes shutting fully as you lull your head to the side.

"Please...". You beg. Not even sure what your asking for. He lets out an almost sadistic chuckle before removing his finger as quickly as he entered. Your eyes open again. A look of desperation on your face. "No. Please". You bring your hand to his other shoulder. Running them up his neck as you shuffle closer to him. Eyes darting over his face as he looks up at you.

"Tell me what you want, love". You whine. Rubbing your thighs together. His eyes glance down. A smile coming over his lips as he looks back up at you.

"I-I want to feel good. Please make me feel good". He pulls his trouser down slightly. Letting his cock out more. Taking your hips in his hands. Pulling you onto his lap. Your hands falling back onto his shoulders.

He lifts your hips. You hovering above him as he takes hold of his cock. Lining it up with you as you lower yourself. Slowly. Feeling your heart beat fast with every inch he fills you up. You wrap an arm around his neck. The other going to his cheek as you kiss him. His arms wrapping around you as he fills you completely.

Your hand goes to his torso. Gently gripping at the fabric of his layers. His hands snake up the length of your back. Going to your bra and discarding it onto the floor. His hands coming to the front. Gently running over your breasts. You pull at his top layers.

"Off. Please Tommy" he looks at you. "Please". He moves. Removing his blazer and waistcoat. He loosens his tie. Pulling it over his head. Your hands go to the buttons of his shirt as he places his tie around your neck. Tightening it as you undo the last button. He strips himself of it. Tossing it onto the floor. Letting the length of his tie fall between your breasts.

You brace your hands onto his shoulders again. Your body flush against his as you start to grind against him. His cock molding inside of you. Hitting all of those delicious spots. You dig your nails into his skin. Whimpers and moans escaping your lips as you grind against him. His hands tracing your spine. Lightly dragging his blunt nails over your skin. The dull pain causing you to tighten around him.

"Fuck" he mutters. Arms going around you as he stands. Your legs going around his waist. Wrapping your arms around his neck as he walks to the bed. Lying you down as he comes on top of you. Kissing your neck before sitting up. Still firmly inside of you as he grips your hips. Not hesitating as he begins to piston his hips into yours.

"Shit" Your hand coming down. Grabbing at his holding you still. He takes yours. Letting you grip onto his fingers as an unholy groan scratches through your throat. Feeling your high getting so close to you. "Please. Please Tommy".

"Cum on my cock". You cover your mouth. Muffling your moan as you scream out. Your hole spasming around him as he slows his movements. Helping you ride out your high. Your breathing laboured as you drop your hand. Fingers still tightened around his. His hips still slow against yours. Eyes fluttering from the feeling. His free hand grabbing the tie around your neck. Pulling you up so your face is inches away from his. One hand resting on his chest. The other holding his wrist.

"I forgot how good you feel" he says. A whisper as he keeps you close to him. His hips still slowly moving in and out of you. "So fucking good". You tighten around him. Causing him to smile. "You like praise ey? Like being a good girl for me? Letting me fuck this needy cunt of yours" he pulls out of you. You whine at the lack of contact. His hand still gripping the tie around your neck as he kneels in front of you. Free hand coming up. Your hole slightly agape from his member as he dips his finger into you. His eyes look up at you.

"Such a pretty little thing" he lightly taps you clit with his fingers. Gently slapping it. You flinch at each hit. Over sensitive due to your recent orgasm. Both hands going down to try and stop his torment. He drops the tie. Taking your hands in one of his. Holding them to your stomach. "This is mine" he plays with your clit. Your hips stutter at his touch. "I get to do what I want with it. Understood?". You nod slightly. A shiver going down your spine at both his touch and his words. He drops your hands as he stands up. Pulling his trousers down fully. Stepping out. Leaving him naked before you. He takes the tie again. Pulling you towards him as your lips meet.

He pushes back into you. You moan against his lips. Him gripping the tie as he plunges in and out of you. You grip his neck as he fucks you. Screwing your eyes shut. Nails digging into his skin as you mold your lips to his. Muffling the noises you make as he comes closer to his high. Bringing you along with him. He grunts against your lips. Pulling away as he pushes his hips into you. Feeling him cum deep inside of you. You let out a satisfied moan. Your toes curling. Letting your own orgasm wash over you.

Leaning forward and kissing his shoulder as he gently rocks against you. Pushing his cum into you. The sound of both of your juices mixing filling your ears. He pulls out of you. Kneeling before you like a man in prayer. His arms wrapping around you. Resting where your hips meet you ass. His head resting against your stomach as you wrap your arms around his head. Holding him close to you as you shut your eyes. Playing with the long hair atop his head.

"We should get some sleep..." you whisper. He doesn't say anything. Unsure if he heard you or not. "Mr Shelby?". He moves away. Thumbs rubbing your skin.

"Back to formalities already, ey?". You feel your cheeks redden. "You can drop the nicety"

"I-"

"Unless you get off on only saying my name when we fuck". Your cheeks redden more.

"That's not... That's not what that is Mr Shelby..."

"Then call me Thomas. We are married and you did carry my child"

"Mr-" he doesn't say anything. Instead, he watches you with those damn eyes. "Thomas". He smiles.

"Good girl". He stands. Grabbing his underwear and placing them on himself. He grabs his shirt. Bringing it over to you, his arm outstretched with the fabric in his hand. You take it from him. Putting it on your torso.

"Thank you" you say softly. He goes to his blazer. Taking out two cigarettes and a lighter. Rolling one over his lips before keeping it in place. Handing you the other one. You take it. Placing it in your mouth as he lights the end for you before lighting his own. He goes to the top of your bed. Getting under the covers.

You stand up. Undoing the tie around your neck as you place it onto the vanity unit. Folding it neatly. Tommy's eyes on your thighs. You wearing his white shirt, plus the stockings still on your legs. You were an extraordinary sight. You go to the edge of the bed. Sitting onto it, placing the smoke into your mouth. Taking off your stockings and throwing them onto one of the various piles of clothes on the floor. Swiveling around so you can put your bare legs underneath the warm blanket. Taking one last inhale before putting it out in the ashtray by your bed.

You wake up early the next morning. You see Tomas still sleeping in the bed next to you. Usually he was up early working so this was a surprise. You stretch. Sitting up you look at the clock on the wall. 5:30. You let out a deep sigh. No wonder the rest of the house was quiet. You scratch the back of your head. Wincing slightly as you feel the nights events effect your body. Rubbing your forehead with your palm. You scan the bedroom. Seeing your clothes dotted around the room.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed. Doing up the buttons of the shirt you're wearing before bending down. Picking up the various clothes items. Sorting through as you determine them to be clean and dirty. Thomas's jacket being clean, you sling it over the back of the chair. Hearing a 'thump' you jump slightly. Eyes darting to what made the noise. Your blood goes cold. You must've knocked his gun from the side, or it might've been in his jacket and it fell out.

Regardless. The weapon is now sitting on the floor. You kneel beside it. This item being the last thing so many men saw before they died. Your hand shakes slightly. You clench them before you trace over the weapon. Admiring the dangerous beauty. Fingers gently touching over the length of it before you get the nerve to pick it up. Laying it in both your palms as your eyes dance over it.

"I'd be careful with that" you turn your head. Thomas was sat up, watching you. His back resting against the bed rest.

"I was just- It must've fallen whilst I was tidying our clothes" you motion at the chairdrobe now in the room. He looks at it, then back at you. His eyes focusing on the weapon as you haphazardly stand. Placing it back onto the side. "Its a beautiful pistol". You look back at him. An amused look on is face. "What?"

"Revolver. Not pistol". You pause for a moment. Your brow furrowing before speaking again.

"What's the difference?" you say. An almost embarrassed whisper as he laughs. He gets out of bed. Walking over to you. You continue to look at him. Watching as he stands a foot away from you. Reaching behind you, taking the gun from the table. He holds it. His eyes on yours as he brings the weapon up. You look at it. Body stiff as he speaks.

"A revolver has a revolving chamber. A pistol has a stationary chamber". You nod slightly. Wide eyes still on the weapon. "Look at me Florence". You tilt your head up. Meeting his gaze. Unable to get how he can be so calm whilst holding such a deadly object. A slight fear in your eyes as he brings the gun down. His free hand coming up. Gently running over your cheek bone. "I'm not going to hurt you love". You nod. Timidly at first but growing stronger as your voice comes out quietly in the room.

"I know. I know". He moves his hand from your face. Holding it out, palm upwards.

"Give me your hand". You hesitate before you bring a hand up. Placing it in his. He notices you shaking "Trust me". He speaks as he turns your hand. Palm facing upwards. Bringing the gun back up. Your eyes flashing down. Placing the gun into it. Wrapping the digits around the grip. You go to protest but he interrupts you. "The more you get to know a weapon the less intimidating it can seem". Nodding slightly as your eyes stay fixed on the firearm. "Hold it here. Pull back this to cock it. Aim at whatever you want to shoot. Then pull the trigger" his fingers pointing at the different aspects.

"How do they not scare you?". Your voice quiet. If he wasn't as close as he was he likely wouldn't have heard you. He takes in a breath through his nose.

"I've been around them to long for them to scare me as they scare you". You force your eyes away from the weapon, looking at him. Blue orbs glance up into yours. "Getting better already with them". You give him a curious look. "You can actually look at me whilst there is a gun in your hand". A small smile comes over his lips. "A few months ago you wouldn't even be in the same room as a gun, let alone be holding it". You let out a small scoff. Nodding as you let him take the weapon from your hands.

"You're right. You're completely right, Mr Shelby". His face shifts. His smile growing as he appears charmed by your words. "What?" you speak softly. Placing it onto the counter behind you. He comes back in front of you. Eyes looking between yours as he has a soft yet loud smirk on his face.

"Were you so cock drunk last night that you forgot what I said?". Your face burns up at the comment. Your mind trying to remember quickly.

"I-" His smile grows. His eyes narrow marginally as he continues to tease you. "Or is it some sort of turn on - saying my name only during sex?"

"Its- its not like that. I-" you stutter. Cheeks a burning red as he smiles at you.

"Its alright love. Either way, I understand". He moves away from you. Grabbing out a clean shirt from the chest of drawers. "Get dressed. We have guests to entertain this morning". Taken aback by his words you let out a little nod. You start to disrobe and get dressed too.

Previous / Next

TAGS

@whorecrux-of-slytherin @kkrenae @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @frozenhuntress67

[notyour-valentine]

Life is a Cabaret ~ Tommy Shelby x Reader (Angst)

[Masterlist] [Taglist]

Summary: Tommy has an iron-clad arrangement with a performer, one of his own making

Note: Written for @cillmequick and her 6 months anniversary celebration I hope you enjoy!

All my writing is produced by an adult and created with an adult audience in mind (18/21+). You are responsible for your own media consumption. I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Wordcount: 1549 words

It was a curious mix of people he watched squeeze themselves into the ranks time and time again, night after night. 

Some were dressed to the nines, with evening pearls and dinner jackets, giddy at the thought of seeing the show they had heard or read so much about. 

Undoubtedly some had even come all the distance word of this show had travelled. He heard Americans, and French people, Italians, even those Romanians he could only pick out because of the people he had encountered in his travelling youth. 

There were those that were here for the show, those who had read about it in the papers or heard about it from their friends and family, those that chose to add this to their list of London experiences, and those that came only for this, for her. 

But no matter from where they had come, they came. 

He recognised a few of her regulars, some old men with their purses as thick as their necks, leering and lusting, others younger, more naive, those boys too young to see war or imagine love. 

One of them thought himself an artist, and brought his pencil and sketches to each evening. Tommy couldn’t help scoffing at the folly of this boy. 

Since by now he had seen the show a hundred times, and knew every key, every movement, and every costume change, he sometimes let his eyes drift, not because he was bored or uninterested no.

Tearing his gaze away gave him the proof he needed that he was still his own master, that he was still the one in control of his body if not his mind. 

And he had to be in control. Of this and of everything. 

If he lost it for but a moment, everything he had built for himself and his family would come crashing down like a house of cards. 

And he couldn’t allow that, even if some times, some nights, all Tommy wanted was to let go. 

As always, he left before the finale, not wanting to listen to the cheers and cries, to watch her bow and blow kisses towards the crowd as they threw flowers and compliments at her. 

By now he knew the way to her dressing room with ease. 

It was another world compared to the perfectly set stage, with every pin, every sparkly stone, every hair in place. 

Here, behind the curtain, everything was different. Her robe was draped over the chair close to the fireplace for warmth, her slippers were scattered instead of neatly placed together. The blanket on her chaise longue resembled more a mountain scape than the calming plains of the sea and the pillow was anything but fluffed. 

A book was laying atop, turned upside down with some pages caught in the swift motion. 

Poetry, Tommy realised as he lifted it up, smoothing the creases with his thumb before picking up a peacock feather he found laying on the floor next to a discarded fan and placing it between the pages as marker. 

He found her cigarette lighter on the mayhem that was her dressing table. 

That was a whole other realm of chaos. 

Her powederbox was unscrewed, with the brush laying next to it, spilling its lingering content on a once white glove. 

The darkened pencil she applied on her lashes had found his place next to the still open bright red lipstick. 

There was a pair of earrings there, hiding between the make up, and a comb, a few hairs still in it, not her hair, but one of the wigs she wore on stage. 

As he fumbled for her cigarette lighter, he heard a crunch under his foot and when he looked down he saw the sorry ending of one of the many fake pearls she used to adorn her costumes. 

While it made a mark on the ground, he was sure it wouldn’t be missed. 

Tommy slipped out of his suit jacket and placed it over her robe, before setting down and inhaling deeply. 

Someone had sent her roses. Someone always sent her roses. 

They were as red as her lipstick, with thick petals and healthy stems. He knew quality when he saw it and it was obvious to him that they hadn’ t spared expenses on that. 

His attempts to find a card were futile, and left a bitter taste in his mouth that not even his cigarette could quench. What a shame, he’d have loved to know. 

Instead, he was left to wonder as the sound of applause reached him even here, and like any bothersome noise Tommy had ever been forced to here, it didn’t seem to end. 

The impatience made his skin itch as his chest tightened. Ever a man of impatience, this was the worst case of waiting he had to suffer. 

Finally, after an eternity in purgatory, he could hear movement in the adjourned room and before long the door opened.

She had rid herself of the gigantic construction she wore on her back for the finale, leaving her in the pearl covered corset and the silk that caressed her bare legs. 

There was some powder she applied all over that made her skin shine. 

“You.”, she said as greeting, neither surprised nor shocked to see him there. 

“Me.”, Tommy answered. 

She hummed and closed the door behind her. 

“Well if you’re here you can make yourself useful.”, she said, sitting down in front of him, showing her back. 

It was only fair, Tommy thought, to let her wait too before he began to undo the laces that held her costume in place. 

The proximity allowed him to smell the scent of her perfume. It wasn’t the expensive one from Paris he had bought her a while back but rather the one she had always worn. 

Instead, he asked after the flowers. 

“An admirer?”, he wanted to know as he had loosened the laces enough for her to do the rest herself. 

“Maybe. Do you care?”

She got up and slipped out of the costume, standing in front of him in a whole lot of little more than nothing as she placed it neatly on a hanger before reaching for her robe. 

The truth was, Tommy had no right to care. With the forming of this agreement he had denied any possible ground to care. And now, when he had her like this, beyond the stage, beyond the performance, he wondered if he hadn’t made a horrible mistake. 

She only ever turned to him once to make him light her cigarette, during her whole time of undressing. 

Pin by pin her cascade of hair fell down each strand uncurling itself just slightly to frame her face and caress her neck and back. 

This was a side of her the audience didn’t get to see, or at least he hoped he wouldn’t. 

Per their agreement, they weren’t exclusive, although Tommy hadn’t looked at any woman twice since. The fact that she may not do the same sickened him, but he had no leg to stand on and so he didn’t bring it up for fear she could break it off. 

Bit by bit the performer disappeared, revealing the person. Or at least the closest thing to that Tommy would ever see. 

But despite the fading makeup and the undone hair, she was even more enchanting to him now than she was on stage. This was the version of her he longed for when he was back in his office, or in his bed  back in Birmingham, this version, the scent of her perfume, the feeling of her warmth and the memory of her kisses. They lingered longer than smoke, than anything. Somehow they had burned themselves into his memory, cursing him to replay it over and over as if it was the last gramophone disk on this earth. 

Her proximity came with the cost of her distance, her touch at the price of others feeling it too, her presence with the toll of having others enjoying and admiring her as much as he did. 

This was a curse of his own making, a punishment he had sentenced himself too and more than once Tommy wished he could have voiced the turmoil in his heart and mind, the storm that only ceased in her presence, but he couldn’t dare. 

Instead, he put out his cigarette and pushed himself into a stand. 

His arms wrapped themselves around her middle as he drew her close, nuzzling the crook of her neck. She let him, smirking to the reflection of them both. 

Sometimes he wondered how things would be if they could be different, if he hadn’t at first considered her nothing but a shiny trophy, a passtime, an artist he could book to add to his performance of an a settled businessman, a member of the Upper Classes, adding shine, intrigue and prestige to him. 

But instead, he had forged this arrangement he now found himself chained by. 

Sometimes he wondered if  he was any different than the men who clapped oand cheered for her, who bought her roses and drew her likeness. And sometimes, when he was all alone at night, he missed her warmth, her touch, her everything - and he feared he had made himself just as replaceable. 

~

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed and as always I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Taglist

Overall

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @chlorrox @watercolorskyy @books-livre @quarterpastmidnight  @lilyevanswhore  @polishcrazyone  @zablife  @just-a-harmless-patato  @stevie75 @flyingjosephine-blog @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @babayaga67 @butterfly-skinnylegend @shelbydelrey @mrkdvidal1989 @raincoffeeandfandoms @midnightmagpiemama @adaydreamaway08 @trixie23

Tommy

@knowledgefulbutterfly @babayaga67 @signorellisantichrist @lespendy @geeksareunique @look-at-the-soul @lothbrokcore @rangerelik @elenavampire21 @evanore @dandelionprints

[prettypeppermint]

the gift of silence (how sweet the sound).

for t. shelby. a continuation of 'amazing grace.'

You weren't speaking to him. And it was slowly driving him up the wall.

Not that you were normally a chatterbox in the face of Thomas Shelby; you rarely spoke to him unless you needed something. You were always more of a looker; your eyes bore into his from across the room whenever you overheard something you shouldn't have; you studied his slight quirks and subtle movements and stared blankly at his handwriting when verifying papers; you looked when nobody else did. In a sea full of heads, your eyes were always turned against the tide--snowy sea glass amongst pebbles in a blinding summer's ocean. He noticed your gaze when you thought no one did.

Sometimes, wisdom lies in silence rather than words. You knew that above all others.

Come to think of it, that night was the most you had ever talked to him directly since he'd known you. It was the most candid he’d ever experienced you. And he was frightfully prepared.

It wasn't the fact you weren’t talking that bothered him--more so the absence of your voice--something he never thought to irk him until he realized just how much he wanted you to spare him a whisper. He wanted to see you all worked up the way women get sometimes; he wanted to watch you unravel. But you were always so tightly bound.

It's been days since he kissed you--touched you. Thomas was a man of self-control, and he knew it was both the first and the last time he'd ever be selfish with you again. He didn’t know it, but he yearned to wade a bit longer in the satisfaction of knowing you were at least a bit frazzled by him. But you seemed as much out of place as snow in December.

He didn't like how you were added to his long list of tasks and responsibilities. He didn't like how you weighed down his shoulders.

Even with all the help you gave around these parts, you were always just a burden to his mind--the way you smelled of a place far away, the coyly cold shoulders you gave and the moles on your hips. He didn’t like it one bit.

Because now he was the one staring at the back of your neck, at the way your ringlets bounced in a manner almost comical against your serious face. Everything about you seemed to be a paradoxical phenomenon: your coquettish features that rarely spared a smile for anyone, your soft eyes that revealed hardened thoughts, your bouncy curls and the ribbons that sometimes adorned your braids and the lacy little ensembles that complimented your loveliness.

You were so ironically unapproachable. You never missed the quips and spare jokes about it: that people could sense your presence because the room gets cold, that a smile would sit prettier on your mouth than all those cigarettes.

You appeared unperturbed by the smog-capped skylines and rubble-ruined streets of Birmingham; all the sins of the city never wore wrinkles between your brows or sowed smoky wisps along your hairline. It was almost as if you were preserved in that eternal Kilkee ruralness--as if you brought a piece of the Irish coast with you to this Godless city. Farmer's daughter. Fisherman's treasure. You were outlasting and evermore. You were something of the sea.

"I said I needed fifty hand-copies of last month's inventory on my desk by this morning," Thomas breathed matter-of-factly, leaning against the door frame as you indulged in your morning smoke, an old whiskey in his hand. He liked the way your bare shoulders looked as they reflected the breaking dawn--the way the sun collected in your collarbones and made your hair shiny.

It was his turn to stand at the doorway. It was his turn to bear his weight at the threshold.

"I put them on your desk two mornings ago," you responded, matter-of-fact, “Perhaps you forgot to look under your arse, Mr. Shelby.”

Where along the line had he become Mr. Shelby?When did plain, old Thomas leave your vocabulary? He liked it when you called him that--just Thomas.

You never intended to sound so coy all the time. Aunt Pol like to say you were just a pretty girl with a sharp tongue and a sharper mind--sometimes to your own doom.

At that, Thomas tossed a hefty stack of unsorted paperwork on the coffee table you were sat at. He watched as your rosy elbows wobbled under the wood and ash flitted from your slim cigarette.

"You forgot these, Ms. l/n." he rasped blankly, trying to see through to your eyes from the back of your head.

Without looking at him or the papers, you stood up and took your time neatening them up before heaving the stack into your arms. As you passed by his figure in the doorway, you discarded your cigarette in his whiskey glass.

He was left staring blankly at the empty scene before him--one that was once fulfilled with your presence--a sense of longing boiling up in his core. It was out of character to be so subconsciously infatuated with the idea of getting a rise out of you. It was almost ridiculous.

Mr. Shelby seemed to be a master at pushing good things--good women--away.

"A bit harsh on the girl, don’t you think?" Aunt Pol piped knowingly from behind him, emerging from her watchful shadows once you had retreated to Thomas's office.

"No different than I've always been," he said, eyes still trained on the spot at the chair that was once yours.

"Don't take women for the fool that you are, Tommy. I see the way you've been eyeing her--picking her apart. I'll have you fucking another whore before you sink your claws into another girl with a bright path ahead of her."

"Her path ends here, Pol. No girl who ever got tangled up in Shelby business ever makes it to London."

Aunt Pol glared at his nape before leaving him there, sinking in his own wallows.

~~~

"Where're my copies?"

"I threw 'em out."

A moment of silence pulsated through his blood and rose to his brain. He had found you sitting and smoking in your usual spot, merely thirty minutes after his most recent orders. He slowly walked up to your lax frame, still dawned in your silky, lacy little thing of a nightgown.

"I trust that you know those were Mr. Kimber's papers, Ms. l/n," he rumbled lowly--dangerously, "Papers I won't think twice about having you dig through the trash for on the street in nothing but your slip."

"You've done worse," you responded calmly, taking another draw of your cigarette. Recently, you've been blowing through more than your daily 6, and he never failed to notice the little things.

He stepped even closer, his hands buried adamantly in his pockets so they wouldn't reach out for you. Why was loving Grace so easy, and loving you felt like a sour seed in his stomach? As if it would burrow holes in his organs and infect his blood until you did something about it?

"You're gonna get me those papers or I'll have you thrown out to the streets after happy hour."

With that, you stood abruptly from your chair and walked with brisk strides toward the wastepaper bin at the leg of the center table. You plunged your hand into it and pulled from the depths of millions of cigarette butts Thomas's precious Kimber papers. You slapped them on the table riddled with ash and peanut shells and flipped through each page for him, fully filled out and stamped with fresh ink.

Then you climbed atop the table, standing precariously on the splintering wood in your dainty, red dance heels so you could have the upper hand for once.

"You don't get to disrespect me because of your fragile, faulty, little boy of a heart. You don't get to disrespect me because I have an ounce of self-preservation in the face of a man with the power you have. And you don't get to disrespect me, because I am y/n l/n, and I don't work for men who lead with the brain in their cocks." It came out eerily steady, unlike any rage he'd ever been at the receiving end of before.

It was like a flash of soundless lightning; you were gone as soon as it happened, having stepped down from the table to retreat to your sun-spotted, smoke-stained corner. And he was left with the storm that came afterward, soaked in an alien feeling that hadn't made itself quite known to his heart yet.

But much like how most things rear their ugly heads at night--drunkards emerging from their taverns and whores from their brothels--Thomas Shelby's ugly little things were no exception.

Night changes a man; it shrouds him in regret and urges forced down throughout the day and lust unravished.

Night made Thomas hungry.

And so he found himself watching over your sleeping form folded at the waist and draped across the table you've been sitting at the entire day, where you've done nothing but stare out the window and let the smoke abuse your lungs. Your cigarette, now a measly stub, was still haphazardly pinched between your tired fingers. He found that smoking didn't suit you--it tainted your rosy face that otherwise emulated an ethereal countryside purity. The Irish foreshore was still fresh on your cheeks.

In sleep, you reverted to the girl you were born as: simple and lovely and kind as a bird.

He felt the sour seed growing.

He slipped his hand around your wrist and maneuvered your body onto his back with ease before carrying you to his room where he set you down on his sheets. His hand instinctively reached for the pipe on the nightstand, but it trembled before tightening into a fist that fell limply at his side.

What he hadn’t known was that you both experienced night terrors, but as he lay awake on the floor next to his bed with your writhing and moaning frame, it became abundantly clear.

He wondered what was haunting your conscience and digging its way into your sleep. Maybe you've been through a few wars of your own. None that men would know, anyway.

As his mind continued shifting and shuffling, he felt a warmth press into his back; you had stepped off the bed and laid down on the cool, dry planks next to him--back to back and facing away from each other. He could feel your silk stick to your sweat. Time froze, and within that time, so did the nightmares.

Seconds drawled into minutes before it all became a blur as shadows morphed into stories on the moonlit wallpaper. It stretched and stretched.

"Do you want to know what I dream of at night?" you slurred, breaking the industrial silence. Your voice was thick with an unrestful break from the world.

When Thomas didn't respond, you continued: "I dream of my home in Ireland: its salty mist and green softness all around. I'm standing there, on a plain, looking out over the ocean. I'm smiling. And each time the tide hits the rocks and recedes back into its basin, I see something emerge from the salt onto the rocks. They're people--bodies--their skin so bloated and fermented from the salt I can't even recognize them, but it feels like I should. Like I know them. And I'm stuck on this plain, trying to make out the faces of my mother and sisters and brother as they keep piling up. Over and over and over. I can't stop it. Because the tide always ebbs. It gets closer and louder, and I'm still smiling. And I pray I wake up before it gets to me and I'm the one on the rocks, rotting and unrecognizable. And I feel awful for it."

Another silence spanned, and Thomas realized he was foolish to ever wish it away. Because silence was how you both communicated. Silence was the language only the two of you were fluent in. Silence bridged the gap that words created. Silence was what he wished for when he heard the shovels chipping at the wall night after night.

"Thomas, you love me." It was a mere whisper, as if you too were scared of ending the silence--the gift of time.

"I love you," echoed Thomas. It was so low and so guttural, as if sprouting from that very sour seed that--within the span of the night--had grown into something pulpy and bittersweet instead.

With that, you both dozed off. And Thomas woke up without the sound of the shovels.

x.

[gxdsfavgal]

Brotherly

Pairings: Shelby Brothers x reader

Warnings: based on season 5, no canon events, there's no violence in this only bc idk how to write that properly

Request: I would love something with Finn and his brothers like Finn gets hurt and they all get protective ( John still alive ) thank you xx

A/N: ahhh first time writing Peaky Blinders!! this is around 1.4k words

-

-

We weren’t doing anything, just leaned up against a brick wall talking it up. Just Finn, Isaiah, and I. Normal things that we do when we’re not doing shit for Tommy.

That’s when it hit. Brick flying everywhere, dust sticking to our hair and skin. Ours ears ringing. The bright cloudy sky immediately turning dark as my body collapsed.

I look up from the ground where I laid, the building we were leaning against was blown up. My lungs burned as I got up to my hands and knees, my body tingling. I blinked my eyes up at the bright sky.

“Get up! Get up!” I heard muffled.

“Get up!” Isaiah yelled as he pulled me up by my arms, dragging me to the other side of the road.

He sat me down on the floor, holding my shoulders trying to see if I was injured.

"Does anything hurt?" he asked, but my ears were still ringing.

Isaiah did a quick scan of my body, checking my back, my arms, my legs, and more. My mind was running 1000 miles per second, until it wasn't. I had quickly snapped out of it as I was replaying the scene in my mind.

“Where’s Finn?” I was able to say with a coarse throat.

“I-I don’t know.” he looked back at the scene trying to scan the area.

“Did you look for him, Isaiah?” I look up at his face, seeing that he was also covered in stone. He has a gash on his forehead and chin, bleeding down his neck.

“Shit, you’re hurt.” I stood up from the ground, starting to assess his injuries.

“It’s just cuts.” He lowered my hands away from his face. “I don’t know where Finn is.”

Concern was flowing out of him through his tense shoulders and watery eyes.

“Fuck. Okay, go to Tommy. Come back.” I moved past him to look through the rubble as he ran to get Tommy.

“Finn!” I yelled out, standing at the edge of the broken bricks.

I scan the area to see if I can see him. Nothing. Nothing but bricks and wood.

I began to think that he’s dead, wondering what the fuck i’m going to tell the Shelby’s. Started to think about the hell that will be raised if Finn is not found alive.

“There’s a body here!” a elder lady yelled frantically, her weak hands trembled as she began to pull away bricks.

I quickly ran towards her and began pulling the bricks off, revealing a unconscious Finn. His body limp as I couldn’t tell if his chest rose and fell.

“Water! I need water and a towel!”

The lady immediately ran into her home to grab the things I need: water, towels, and vodka. I didn’t even have to ask.

The other civilians watching from afar, gossiping and pointing.

"What the fuck are you all looking at? None of you fucking helped!" I screamed out as I was revealing more and more of his body with each brick taken away.

She handed me the water and towel. I poured the water over him to clean his face, not wanting him to inhale more dust.

I noticed a deep cut on the side of his head, which can even mean brain damage. At this point, I won’t know until he wakes up.

“Where the fuck is he?” I heard a familiar voice yell out into the streets.

“Tommy!” I yelled over my shoulder as I continued to clean up his younger brother.

Tommy, Arthur, and John jogged up towards me with Isaiah following behind.

“Everyone back to your homes!” Arthur advised, everyone obeying quickly.

The streets were quiet with the civilians watching through their windows.

“Fuck, Finn.” Tommy crouched down near me as he rubbed his own face.

"What happened?" Tommy's nose flared.

“I- I don’t know what happened. We didn't do anything." My hands were shaking as I was tending to his younger brother.

Tommy's face was emotionless, it sent more chills around my body. I didn't know what he was thinking about, what he was going to do.

"W- We were just talking a-and then I woke up on the street. Right Isaiah?” I looked up at him as he shared the same hectic look as me.

“You two are fine. Make sure Finn is too.” John spoke up as the two older brothers began to assess the scene.

“Okay, I have to pour Vodka to prevent the wounds from contracting infection.” my face winced at the thought of the feeling.

Isaiah held Finn’s shoulders as I began to pour the alcohol onto the large gash on his head.

A loud and excruciating scream ripped out of Finn’s throat. His body jumping off the ground, legs flying up in the air but thankfully Isaiah held him down.

The brothers quickly ran over from the sound of the scream. Tommy’s face showed how he wanted to calculate and execute this as safely as possible.

“Take him to your house.” Tommy ordered.

“My house?” I yelled out in confusion.

“Your house. Let’s go!” The two other brothers carried Finn to the back of their car with me tending to him while Tommy ordered Isaiah and the others.

The drive was fast, soon enough we were rushing into my family’s kitchen and swiping cups off of our dining table.

“What in God’s name?” my mother yelled as she ran down the stairs from all the ruckus.

“Finn is hurt.” I reassured her.

She immediately grabbed her medical bag from the counter, opening it up to reveal all her tools.

Finn was groaning on the table as she examined his cuts, the adrenaline getting to him.

His eyes blown wide and shaky, his hands trembling.

“You’re in good hands.” I cooed as I cleaned his wounds better for my mother.

“Who did this?” Tommy asked as he leaned against the counter, smoking.

“I don’t know, but I think you guys do.” I looked at him as I crossed my arms.

He silently nodded his head, knowing who he’s pissed off recently.

"The fucking Billy Boys." Arthur mumbled.

"We'll get them for you Finn!" John yelled with a cheer and a smile. "We'll fucking get them!"

Arthur and John is already following behind Tommy as he stormed back into their car, handgun and steering wheel both gripped in his hand.

I didn't know where they were going, but I knew that at least one man was going to die. God knows that it wasn't any of the Shelby boys. Polly made sure God was on her side.

Finn seemed like he was going into shock with the way his jaw clenched and his eyes shaky. I'm holding him down as my mother picks away debris from the open flesh on his head.

"Are you hurt?" My mother whispered as she kept a steady hand.

"I don't think so." I said but got a stern look from her. "No. No, I'm not hurt."

She quickly nodded and went back to tending to Finn.

"You shouldn't h- you shouldn't have been there." Finn was able to speak out through his clenched teeth.

"I'm a Peaky Blinder." I shook my head side to side as I threaded the needle for my mother.

She scoffed from the side. We all knew that's how my father died, being a Blinder. She didn't want me to follow behind him.

"This is going to hurt." she told Finn as she waved the needle in front of his eyes.

I grabbed a kitchen rag and stuffed it between his jaws, hooping that it will muffle his screams.

My mom and I nodded to each other as I held Finns arms down.

The sharp metal pierced his skin over and over, his groans and screams barely muffled by the piece of cloth I lended.

It was quickly over. We splashed some vodka on it and even gave the bottle to Finn so he can nurse it. We bandaged him up and check for any other injuries on him.

Finn rested on the couch, his body tired from the amount of adrenaline that rushed through him.

While my mother and I was cleaning up, the Shelby brothers strutted through our front door.

There the three were, covered in blood but none of them hurt. It truly was a miracle every time.

"He's all patched up." My mother spoke up, eyeing the floor and her furniture to see if they've made any stains.

"Thank you." Tommy reached into his pocket, taking out a large wad of cash and handing it to me.

"Oh no, I cannot accept." I pushed his hand away.

"You put Finn first even when you were in the accident too." he held out the money again.

"For God's sake." My mother walked her way over in front of me. "I accept."

She took the money with a smile and went back to cleaning.

"What'd you all do?" Finn groaned out as he slowly walked from the living room to the kitchen where we all stood.

"Left a little message for Jimmy McCavern." Arthur chuckled out as he held out a bullet to Finn.

Finn was too weak to grab it, so he nodded for me to get it for him. I spun the bullet in my palm, examining each and every crevice.

"McCavern." I whispered out as my thumb slid over the engraving.

"Do I get the shot?" Finns eyes shot up to Tommy.

Tommy silently nodded with the side of his mouth slightly curled up.

"You get to shoot him in between his fucking eyes." John said nonchalantly.

[justlulu]

ARE YOU GONNA THROW THAT OUT??

I thank @zablife for tagging me and giving me the chance to post this because I seriously doubt this will ever come out.

I have MANY drafts left there to rot, so I’ll make a small list of my faves here.

Luca marries a very young Shelby sister (yes, I know it’s not original and yes, I have an age gap kink) to put an end to the vendetta. His family can’t stand the fact he’s brought a filthy gipsy girl home, he deserves better. Between the hate from his family and the nostalgia for her own, she has to learn how to live her new life. (Multi chapter-Angst and fluff, some violence, and a lot of race discrimination.)

Matteo accidentally catches feelings for his partner in crime, Frederico. (Meaning he accidentally surprises him going at it with another man and he accidentally gets hard from it). He gets scared, angry and confused, so He tries to convince himself it disgusts him, but his heart and his body lead him a different path. (One shot-Smut and fluff, there’s some homophobia throughout the story, it’s basically Matteo’s journey through his newfound homosexuality.)

Matteo sells Luca to the Blinders but it doesn’t end well for him. Luca survives, and he wants to show Matteo how much his betrayal made him suffer. He wants him dead but he can’t find the courage to kill the man he secretly loves. (Drabble-Angst, violence mixed with sex although it doesn’t go as far as r*pe.)

Luca and Matteo have a clandestine relationship, well, not a serious relationship, it’s more like Matteo whores himself for his boss and has some fun making him loose his temper. (Smut.)

They sound the same, I know, but they go different directions when examined in detail. You can ask anything about your favorite to get more information on the plot, I’d love to talk about them!🥰💕