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awritesthings1 · 4 months

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All The Things We Don't Say

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Female Reader

Summary: An anthology of your life with Tommy, from friends to strangers to lovers, and all the little moments in between.

Warnings: 18+, implied DV, substance abuse, childhood trauma, ptsd, overprotective tommy, swearing, brief smut, longfic oneshot, feminist themes (motherhood & being a wife in the 1920s).

ao3 link

Smash!

“Pick it up!”

Your daddy was a drunk. You remembered the fact since you could walk. He stayed home while the working men left for the factories, then disappeared in the late hours of the morning until his eventual return when the slam of the front door woke the household up. Mother used to hold you at night as she curled up in your bed. She was sick a lot. Always sniffing into the back of your neck when you were asleep. Sometimes the sleeve of your nightgown would get soaked while she muffled her hiccups.

She looked sad, too. In the morning, she kept the curtains drawn and stayed away from the outside world. She told you it was to keep nosey Mrs. Gretel away from her family affairs. But Mrs. Gretel had left Birmingham two months prior.

By seven years old, you were the 'man' of the house. You had gone to sleep one night, and when you awoke, your mother had vaporized into the air like a rabbit in a hat.

“She left because of you,” your father slurred at you.

You hated him.

She left behind her long-sleeve dresses, scarves, and wicker hats that covered nearly every inch of her skin. They were far too big for you then, but when your father came home at the end of the week with a stack of cash, you ran to your mother’s closet, which had remained untouched until then, to find only cobwebs. Gone. Every single one of her dresses. You looked out at the moon in those early hours of the morning and swore to it that when you were bigger, you would get him back so much worse.

And so you were left to clean up his smashed glass bottles and scrub the alcohol out of the gritty carpet. Your little hands struggled to pluck the glass from the floorboards. In a year’s time, they were covered in little scars.

On your tenth birthday, you decided you were grown enough to take matters into your own hands. When he was passed out on the floor from whatever he managed to fill his pipe with, you grabbed the small bottles he hid under a loose floorboard and poured them into the gutter at the back of your house.

You turned to run back to the door when the contents of the bottle were empty, but a ball almost tripped you over. You gripped your tattered skirt before you could lose your footing and snapped your head around with a fierce pout.

“That’s my ball,” pointed a young Thomas Shelby.

You put your small hands on your smaller hips. “You kicked it my way on purpose!”

You weren’t entirely sure, but you suspected it.

“Maybe I thought you were pretty,” he grinned.

You noticed his two front teeth were missing.

“Ewwww! I would never go out with you!” You squawked.

At ten years old, you knew better than that.

Seemingly unaffected by your distaste, he continued. “Do you live there?” He nodded to the house whose roof was falling apart.

“What’s it to you?” You frowned stubbornly, not wanting to admit that, yes, that was your house.

“The curtains are always drawn,” he answered, walking over to pick up his ball from your feet. He was the same height as you were at the time. “My brother Arthur said it’s haunted. He saw a ghost in the window once. He said it was a woman and that she starved to death.”

Your nose scrunched up. "Well, he’s a phony!”

You ran inside said house and slammed the door shut.

He kissed you down by the docks that winter. It was your first kiss, and a clumsy one at that, so you didn’t remember much of it.

By thirteen, you had given in and sold the rest of your mother’s belongings to support yourself. You hated yourself for it, and that nagging voice inside your head told you that you were no better than your father. Oh, and your father? Your father lost vision in his left eye from a bar fight. Too bad it wasn’t both.

Sometime later, a boy two years older than you saw your wandering hand in someone’s bag at the fair and threatened to teach you some manners ‘the hard way’. You bit anxiously on your nails and pleaded with him because he was bigger than most boys his age, when Tommy’s brother Arthur (who you’d seen hanging around the Garrison) came passing by and threatened to ‘toss him about’. The other boy, not all believing in Arthur’s temper, rushed forward, and the two ended up rolling in the dirt, but by then you were gone with a stolen pocket watch in your fist. Nearly two legs and an arm deep in poverty, some quick cash, or a hero complex? You’d take the penny.

At fourteen, a lady knocked on your door. It was a lady of the night who had come to inform your father that he had fathered a son with her. You were glad it was a boy. A girl wouldn’t have stood a chance in the slums of Birmingham. Life was hard, but Birmingham was harder. Your father had refused to listen to the young woman and shooed her off. You never saw her teary-eyed face again.

At fifteen, your father attempted to wash his hands of you by marrying you off to the highest bidder. There was no real auction, but just about anyone who suggested a handsome sum of money did the trick.

“His name is William,” you exhaled, kicking your legs over the edge of the dock.

Tommy laughed. “You won’t marry him.”

“What choice do I have, Tom?”

Your finances were getting tight, and the gloomy pressure to take up working at night like many young ladies was beginning to loom closer and closer. You hated being a woman. Boys would never have to worry about selling themselves to survive.

“I’ll put a gypsy curse on him,” he decided, squinting his eyes from the bright reflection dancing across the water.

You hit his shoulder.

“No, you won't, because then you’ll be cursing me.”

The severity of your situation began to dawn on Tommy. No amount of pestering Polly for change to spare would relieve you of your burden any longer.

“That’s it, then?” He gulped, shifting his glassy eyes to the harbor.

You sighed and followed his gaze.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad. I’ll never have to see dad again, and William promised to take care of me.”

Tommy scoffed.

You frowned at him. “What?”

He shook his head.

“What! Tom—”

“Don’t marry him.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, here we go, why?”

“You know why.”

You were engaged to William on the eve of your seventeenth birthday. He was a very proper man and never dared to go any further than hooking an arm around yours on formal occasions. You were never attracted to his thin mustache nor the thick lenses he wore. In fact, he was incredibly awkward at social occasions, always checking his pocket watch and avoiding eye contact with whichever circle he stood in.

Tommy began to fade out of your life around that time. Margaret—a lady who had taken you on to help with the sewing of her family’s tailoring business—told you that Tommy was spotted arm in arm with another girl that week. You expected to feel jealous, but you felt nothing. You knew love would never be your right. Love was for the more fortunate.

You spent that year learning how to be a wife. Surprisingly, it wasn’t too different from what you did as a child—cooking and cleaning up like you did when your father came home, that is. It was comforting to have a routine in place. It meant finality—no one walking in and out of your life as they pleased, and certainly no more growling stomachs. Perhaps being a wife was a skill your mother never learned. You were grateful for William’s mother, who seemed to be more than enthusiastic to show you the reigns.

After a year-long engagement, you caught your fiancé, William, locked in a compromising position with another man.

“Oh,” was all you got out before leaving his house.

You lacked the special ingredient that marriages needed: love.

You sat down at the fountain across the street. William and his lover’s silhouette were visible behind the blinds he had drawn on the second floor, which peered over the sidewalk. You watched their shadows fluster their feathers around the room like headless geese, and for a moment your head surfaced above water and laughter frothed out between your sealed lips. Perhaps Birmingham made you a little mad.

You didn’t go through with the marriage. You suspected William was relieved.

That week, your father left. You never knew whether he left on his own accord or just never made it home one night. Either way, you never really cared to find out.

With nothing left to lose, you knocked on the Shelby family’s door at Watery Lane. Finn appeared around the other side of the door a moment later.

“Is Tommy home?”

Finn nodded, spinning on his heel to alert his brother. When Tommy did appear, his shoulders were tensed. Disheveled hair never looked so stylish on him. When you saw his suspenders (which were hastily thrown on), you wanted to ask who he expected to be at the door that he planned to answer dressed in such fashion but then thought better of it. He peered down at you, then checked over his shoulder before ushering you inside and up to his bedroom.

“It’s… smaller than I thought,” you landed on, taking in his room.

After all these years, you had never stepped foot into the Shelby home. You weren’t the type of person to come door-knocking.

You turned around to face Tommy after hearing him click the lock on his door.

“Are you hurt?" were the first words he had spoken to you in a year.

“No.” You pressed your lips together, eyeing everything from the bed to the view out the window.

Silence followed closely after.

“Then why are you here?” Tommy sighed.

Your vision began to blur then. “I don’t know,” you said honestly, trying to stop your bottom lip from trembling.

Desperately, you pushed your hair back and straightened up, attempting to hold yourself together. You must have looked like a puppet being held together by a string, given how poor you looked.

Tommy’s boots pad across the wooden floor. “You love me?”

Did that word truly exist? How could you answer if you never knew what it meant to love?

You don’t meet his eyes. He licked his lips, pushing your head up to meet his with his thumb. His eyebrows rose expectantly.

“I don’t know what to do, Tom,” you breathed, avoiding his question. “I’m all alone now. No William, no father…”

His lips parted, and you watched with fascination as the cogs turned in his head. “Yes… that is a problem." His breath fanned over your face.

You gagged, a reaction you yourself had not expected, before rushing to his door, only to remember that, yes, he had locked it, before turning to the nearest silver bucket in the corner to empty your guts.

The first thing you heard when you caught your breath was, “are you pregnant?”

No, but when you stand so close to me and I can smell the cigarettes you smoke and your freshly washed skin, I can imagine a future where we are married, and I see your face growing more disappointed as we age together because you married a woman who never knew how to be a mother to your children nor a wife who knew to tend to you with affection by your bedside when you’re ill.

“No,” you choked, spitting out the vile taste in your mouth. “We never did anything.”

You wanted him to know that. You wanted him to think that you never let William touch you because you never loved him, not because William wasn’t interested in girls.

A moment later, Tommy sat beside you on the floor and quietly combed your hair away from your wobbling lips.

“So, if you’re not pregnant and you don’t love me, why are you here?”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. How were you supposed to answer that? After letting your guts loose in his room, you thought he would surely have booted you out the door.

A knock came on the door: “Tommy?”

“A minute, Finn!” Tommy growled at the door, refusing to back away from your trembling frame.

You were so hungry. Margaret had to cut back your hours ever since her husband fell ill. She spent more time by his bedside than keeping the store open, which meant you were making less than usual. The imminent closing of the store hung over your head like a taunting crow, gouging your insides like you were Prometheus. Birmingham your chains, a woman your fate, and the bird your punishment for thinking you deserved more.

“I should go.” You shivered at the draft inching towards your skin from the open window.

Tommy’s intense gaze stuttered, falling to your lap, where you picked at the dead skin around your nails. He cleared his throat, fishing out the key from his pocket. Although it was dull and muted from the years, it gleaned brightly in your eyes as if it were the reward you came for. Flushed, you grabbed it out of his hands without sparing a glance. Electricity sparked in those precious seconds, igniting a deadly fire in your belly.

“You’re cold." Tommy flinched at your touch.

You retreated as soon as the key slid into the hole and unlocked with a click. In your haste, you left the most valuable thing you owned there in his room.

Your heart.

The months went by, and summer arrived. The stories your mother told you left you expecting a bright gleam of air that would wash over the streets and paint each tree and every patch of grass a frighteningly bright green that would even encourage grumpy Mrs. Gretel to come out to preen her stubborn roses that would just not grow. Birmingham left less to be desired. The summer days never came, and that persisting bitter bog thickened, albeit with slightly less rain. There were gray clouds, smoke from the factories, and a shivering north westerly, which pushed said clouds at breakneck speed as if they had somewhere to be. You looked to the sky one day and said a prayer for blue breezes and sweltering sun, but the sky was empty.

Sometime later, men marched the streets armed with guns in their ‘dashing’ uniforms. A war, they said, a great one. Queues lined the street for the post offices and grocers. Rain rivaled the bustle of the city. What did it feel like to love someone so much as to stand in the pouring rain next to the gutter? You wanted that kind of love. Not the love you could only give yourself because even you didn’t want your own love.

One of the soldiers decorated in medals stood on a crate at the port, yelling something supposedly inspiring that captured the attention of many young men. The words honorable and patriotic were tossed in there like a delectable salad, enticing them in the way farmers held a carrot to a pig’s snout.

You pitied their mothers. Their daughters were married off, and then their sons were swooning over the idea of dying. Birmingham was filthy, rotting, and disgusting. You needed to leave.

You kissed Margaret goodbye on the cheek one Tuesday morning. Ever since your pockets turned out empty, you had been working as a bedside nurse for her ill-stricken husband. They were good to you, and they were probably the only people you could consider family.

She patted your cheek and said, "you're doing good to serve this country.”

You hadn’t had the heart to tell her you were leaving because the city was marring your flesh, so you slipped her the sugarcoated lie of wanting to join the war effort so that you might help others who were bedridden, just like her husband.

At the train station, you stood with your suitcases held tightly in both arms. You had to set one down to hold onto your hat as a train full of men waving their caps out the window pulled into the station. Some children weaved between the crowd, wagging a newspaper above their heads, hoping to make a quick penny. To your side, women wept for their brothers, husbands, and lovers.

“Who are you wishing off?” asked an elderly woman who was clutching her cane.

“Oh, I’m not. I’m boarding the next train.”

She laughed, and you wondered how old your mother would be now. Would she have grown wrinkles and settled into a deeper laugh like this woman?

“My dear, you have a bright imagination if you think they will let a woman on any of these trains.”

A sudden anger filled your blood. “Why not?”

“These men are heading straight for London, where they will be shipped away to France to fight,” the woman explained as if it were any other day.

“I’ll catch the next train then.”

She shook her head, and her frail hand curled tighter around her cane. “They’ve stopped the trains so they can transport soldiers to London.”

You frowned. “Then how will I leave Birmingham?”

You’ll never forget her dismissive laughter.

“My dear, you won’t.”

Men boarded the train, clapping each other on the back with a wink and a laugh. When a line of men on the platform thinned, the train whistled, and you looked over just in time to see Polly, Ada, and little Finn standing with their hands crossed over their hearts as they waved to the train.

No. It wasn’t possible.

But it was because you caught the gleam of the razors sewn into their peaky caps. Tommy, Arthur, and John all stood aboard the train, sticking their heads out and waving to Polly and Ada with a grin that wrung your stomach like a wet cloth.

Those countless daydreams you spun, the intricate webs you wove, began breaking down to thin fibers. In one pathway, you stayed there in his room and told him the truth you always denied yourself. You loved him. In another, you stood next to Polly, close to tears, as you begged him to come home safely. There was a resounding click in that moment as your breath stuttered. You had been the person who wiped away those futures, thinking it was nothing but an annoying spiderweb. Oh, how wrong you were!

“Tommy!” You left your suitcases behind and stepped around the old woman as you ducked under hugs and tearful goodbyes.

“Tommy!” You cried again with the gusto of someone who certainly shouldn’t be as concerned as they were considering you left him in his room that day.

Thankfully, his eyes eventually found yours as you pushed through the last line of people. You stood there and stomached all your regrets head-on. It was funny how, up until that moment, you managed to squash every seed of doubt. Why was it that you only realized what you had when it was slipping out of reach?

He never called your name back. He just stared at you blankly as the train pulled away, unlike you, who clung to the image of his frame even as the train disappeared from sight and the crowd began to disperse. You stood there unblinking, hoping to soak up the last of him before you forgot the intensity of his eyes or the humming rumble of his voice. Because the idea of something you held dearly becoming a memory meant that it could as easily be forgotten, and that terrified you. Your eyes were watering now, against your best wishes.

You overheard Polly ushering Finn and Ada off. Finn rushed home without protest, but Ada stopped in her tracks when she saw you hunched over your knees in tears. She smiled weakly before chasing Finn home. It was then that Polly’s shadow approached your huddled frame. She didn’t say anything, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if she expected you to stand and apologize for being such a mess. That’s when a penny clattered to the ground beside you. She squeezed your shoulder once before disappearing.

You kissed that penny as if Tommy would feel the power of it across the country, then ran back to Margaret’s, having forgotten your suitcases.

“Oh…” She exclaimed, slapping her tea towel on the counter when you walked into the kitchen. “You missed your train?”

Dread made your stomach tender and your breath short.

“I’m enrolling in the Red Cross.”

Throughout the war, you thought of Tommy every day until your stomach lurched. Would it have worked if you had stayed? Would you both have grown old together instead of subjecting yourself to the spray of dirt when a bomb went off nearby?

A day ago, your supply rations never came. It wasn’t like hunger was anything new, but when your mind was too focused on surviving the perilous weather, it was hard to save other lives. You made work with what little supplies you had left. The morphine went stint within hours of its arrival, and the cries of pained soldiers filled the medical tent all night. You did what you could, wiped sweat from their foreheads, and wrote letters to their mothers and lovers with what supplies you could scavenge. Some were written on cardboard from shell packaging, others on torn pages from the bibles they kept over their hearts. Pens were useless—the ink ran in the rain—so you scribbled everything down in pencil.

Before you left for France, you were warned of the bullets. No one ever warned you about the shrapnel, nor the bombs or grenades. They shattered soldiers’ bones beyond repair and left bodies unrecognizable. There wasn’t much you could do when most of their flesh was missing.

Keeping faith became an impossible task. Supplies were depleted, and nurses were dejected. Sally, who had been writing home for news of her brother, recently had her letters returned with the black stamp. Death—return to sender. She spent only an hour sitting on a trunk, letting her tears fall, before she got back to work. Grief privileged those with time, something no one could afford in these conditions.

Then it came—the day Arthur Shelby was carried in on a stretcher. You were making your rounds around the beds when a truckload of yelling men pooled through the entrance of the tent.

“Nurse!” They all yelled, some limping, others setting down stretchers of men on the dirt between the filled beds.

You and two other nurses dropped everything and ran over to attend to the wounded. They were all covered head to toe in dirt, groaning and clutching limbs that were twisted the wrong way. One in particular coughed and huffed while he fought against hands, which were fruitlessly pushing him back down on the stretcher.

“Let me go!” He yelled, wrestling against an older nurse.

“It’s alright, Mary. I’ll handle this one,” you patted her shoulder as you swapped places.

You dunked a washcloth into a bucket of water to wipe away the dirt in his eyes. “Calm down; you're safe here,” you said, starting your usual script of reassurances.

When the striking blue eyes squinted up at you, your blood ran cold. You froze before taking his head in both your hands, despite his protests. “Arthur? Arthur, it’s me!”

He loosened his grip on your wrist. “Huh?”

“It’s me! Where’s Tommy and John?”

He spat blood and gritted his teeth. “Fucking hell, where’s the whiskey?”

You laughed despite the smell of blood encompassing the tent. You quickly fetched the alcohol you had been using to clean wounds and pressed it to his lips. You weren’t sure if it was whiskey or not, but you reasoned he was in too much pain to be able to tell. He drank it with a groan of pleasure. You didn’t try to snatch the bottle away as he emptied it down his palette; you just sat and grinned at the way he suckled it like a newborn baby while you cleaned away his cuts.

“I’ve never been happier to see you, Arthur.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, his lips still wrapped around the bottle.

You tried to stay by his side for as long as you could before the second wave of patients came tumbling through the flaps of the tent. One of them lost their grip on the stretcher, and the patient went sliding into the dirt headfirst.

“Fuck!” They all swore, abandoning the stretcher to drag the limp man further into the makeshift hospital.

You rushed to help when a hand gripped the back of your neck. You yelped in pain as your hair got caught in a fingernail when they turned you to face them.

And there he was: Tommy Shelby, covered in a thick layer of dirt, heaving for air.

“Nurse! Nurse!” Voices cried for you, but between the ringing in your ears and the wrath in Tommy’s blue eyes, you were frozen in place.

“The fuck are you doing here, eh?” He yelled over the anguished men.

You suddenly felt stupid standing there in your Red Cross uniform.

“I was looking for you, I—”

His dirty hands cupped your cheeks—something you were painfully aware of from the uncomfortable itch from the mud on your flushed skin—and pulled your forehead to his.

“You think this is some fantasy?” He squinted. “You think there’s any fucking moonlight to kiss under here, eh?” He spat.

His eyes held that haunted look you had seen on many soldiers that passed through the medical tent. Your eyes watered. Perhaps it was from the humidity and dirt being kicked up as nurses and patients scuffled around, not because you could hardly recognize the man in front of you. The blood smeared above his eyebrow worried you, so you reasoned that he was mad because it had been leaking into his eyes. Dutifully, you reached to wipe it with the back of your hand. He grabbed your wrist harshly, bringing it down to your side. He was in shock; you scolded yourself.

“Where’s John and Arthur?” Tommy swallowed, flexing his hands.

You led him to Arthur, who had been left in his corner while the nurses attended to more serious cases. It hurt watching the brothers reunite after their ordeal, so you left them alone no matter how much you feared them being discharged before your return. After all, everything you ever wanted sat in that corner, but it would be selfish to coddle Tommy all to yourself. Still, you couldn’t help sparing a glance when you walked up and down the tent, attending to patients.

Later that night, he came to you under the candlelight of your tent. He cleared his throat upon entry. You were lying face-up on your cot when he cleared his throat and peeled back the entrance to enter. The candlelight painted the mountain peaks of his face in a dull amber and the valleys in a frightening shadow. You sat up, pulling the thick cover over your shift.

Tommy kneeled next to you, resting on the heels of his boots. He licked his chapped lips and itched his nose. “You don’t belong here.”

Your grip on the cover loosened. “Huh?”

Nothing prepared you for when he swung his brooding stare towards you. He exhaled loudly before running a hand over his face.

“You should have stayed in Birmingham.” He said it like a warning.

“And done what?”

Vulnerability never looked good on Tommy. His head hung and his fingers itched at the back of his head—a tick you used to love; now you weren’t so sure. Because your Tommy was never afraid, but this man in front of you was alarmingly tense despite the clear efforts to mask it.

What have they done to you, Tom?

Under the dim light of your tent, you barely recognized him. A stranger’s eyes were blown wide in a frightening state of shock, something most soldiers mirrored. War washed out the sweet blue pair you knew, refitting them for a steely weapon. You hated seeing him like this, so still, so unsteady, cocooned into the corner as if afraid to take up space.

You feared you looked no better. Having worked till the point of exhaustion, you usually found yourself awakening against a wooden crate or trunk to the cries of patients who demanded your attention despite your body not having the strength to stand. Today you had been lucky and found yourself crawling distance to your private tent when your knees started wobbling and your head lulling.

The wooden reinforcing of your private tent fought in vain to shelter your bodies from the elements; it still flapped and whipped about, sometimes rocking your cot. Yet Tommy remained still like those life-size stone statues you’d find outside an important building, brooding at the dirt and locked in an internal battle. You shifted to the edge of your makeshift bed and leaned close enough that you saw how the top buttons of his dirtied uniform were missing and most of his clothes were torn.

His arm, which was breaking out in goosebumps, lay heavily across his knee so that he could rest his forehead there limply. He looked in a bad enough condition that you feared the possibility of him succumbing to the wasteland threatening him outside your tent. You wrapped your arms around the scruff of his hair and pulled his face into your stomach, where he could hide from the terrible world. On instinct, his arms wound around your waist, and you felt his warm exhale against your skin through the thin fabric of your slip.

His tin water bottle clanged against the satchel he wore, which made you wonder if he had any time to rest at all if he still had all his equipment tied to his uniform.

“I didn’t…” His voice was muffled by your slip. He cleared his throat again, shaking his head.

When he dropped the thought, you spoke up. “Have you eaten?”

He slapped your thigh haphazardly. “No, do you have a cigarette?”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, instead gently pushing him away so you could kneel beneath your bed and fish a cigarette from your satchel. You pinched one from its tin case, then thought better of it and tossed it on Tommy’s lap. Gratefully, he collected one from the case and lit it with a nearby candle. You watched his chest rise and fall as he took an especially deep drag. His eyes shut as the nicotine rushed to his head.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he muttered under his breath.

“How are you here, Tommy? One of the night nurses should’ve been on watch.”

“Oh,” smoke puffed out of his mouth, and he raised his eyebrows, “there is.”

“Then how—”

“I had to see you.”

The butterflies in your stomach dove. The blue in his eyes appeared translucent as they hazed over like a ghost. His shoulders were slumped dejectedly, and he had a hand pushing through his greasy, unwashed hair to relieve his neck from the weight of his thoughts.

He pointed to you then, with the cigarette nursed between his fingers. “I need to know why you changed your mind.”

“About what, Thomas?”

His voice slurred and slipped into a deeper register from the lack of sleep. "Why you came back. Why you came to France.” Tommy shook his head lazily. “You expect me to believe you had a sudden change of heart? What? You a patriot now?” An amused exhale curled out while he took another drag. “Well I don’t believe it.”

You began shivering despite the way your body flushed.

“How’s Arthur?” You tried to avert the conversation.

“Bloody drunk off his ass.”

“And you?”

Tommy held your stare and swallowed dryly. “Trying.”

“You can go join him if you wish.”

He looked at the entrance of your tent as if he were weighing his options, then shook his head and took another drag before clearing his throat. “It’s different now.”

Naïvely, you sank to the ground beside him and rested a hand on his shoulder. “It doesn’t have to be.”

He sighed.

“I wish that were true.”

The next time you saw Tommy, you were working a shift at the hospital. After the war, you received a medal for your efforts, which easily got you a job in Birmingham. You pleaded with them to send you to any other hospital—London, Manchester, Liverpool—you didn’t care. Anywhere but Birmingham.

“You should be honored to work for me!” Exclaimed the head nurse at Birmingham Hospital, who didn’t seem too pleased with your distaste for the city.

You thought the job would be the final nail in the coffin, but you surprisingly got along well with the head nurse once you had put your animosity aside. So much so, she offered to lease you a room upstairs from hers.

Then came that dreaded night where you were finishing the filing of some documents when a patient was being rushed in. Your ears perked up, and you looked through the blinds of the office to see a man being rushed by. Something small and round had fallen off the stretcher while the nurses paid no attention, pushing him around the corner and down towards the operating theater. Curious, you exited the office.

And there on the ground was one of those peaky caps Tommy and his brothers used to wear. You knew this because you picked it up and nearly cut yourself on the blade that was sewn into the seam. You spent the next hour gnawing on your nails. Your imagination sparked ideas about the beaten man who was lying in an operating room two doors down in surgery. Was it Tommy? Arthur? John? The shadows under your eyes darkened at the thought. No, it was probably some other Peaky Blinder. The Shelby brothers were too careful. Still, you knocked over your coffee in a mad dash to the bathroom, where you heaved up your dinner.

You volunteered to stay until the morning, but the head nurse on duty for the night refused and sent you home. You didn’t sleep at all that night.

The next morning, you arrived early and made a beeline for the emergency ward. You grabbed the admission form and scanned the patient list. There were only two emergency patients who were listed under the final hour of your shift, a woman and a man, which made it easier to narrow it down to the man who was admitted at quarter to midnight in ward four, room seven.

When you peaked through the crack in the door, you knew you had been worried for a reason. Tommy lay under the covers, battered and bruised, with a swollen eye and a nasty scar where he had reportedly received surgery for trauma to the head.

You slipped inside quietly and closed the door. Tommy’s eyes were closed, and his mouth hung open, stealing miniscule amounts of air into his lungs. He looked as good as a ghost.

“Tommy…” You clutched his peaky cap (which you meant to return) between your fingers.

He didn’t move an inch, so you set the cap down by his bedside table, carefully watching the rise and fall of his chest.

What have they done to you, Tom?

On the second week, he woke up while you were cleaning the windowsill. He coughed, and you whipped around in shock.

“Nurse?” He asked hoarsely, blinking away the blinding light.

You rushed to his side, tears bursting like the fountain you passed on your way to work.

“Don’t move,” you urged when he tried to sit up.

“I have to get to London,” he slurred, only half awake.

You weren’t upset that he didn’t recognize you. You weren’t upset that he didn’t recognize you.

“Tommy… it’s me.”

He shrugged your hand off his shoulder with a hiss. “Fucking hell.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“Please don’t move; I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” You couldn’t hide the way your voice broke.

He looked up at you, then, through bloodshot blue eyes. You wished you knew what was going through his head. Happy or sad?

“Am I dead?”

“No,” you smiled weakly as a tear fell.

“Can I have a smoke then?”

“I don’t know how to love, Tommy!”

“Yeah? Yeah? That’s bullshit! Why do you keep coming back then?” He pinched your chin, glaring furiously into your eyes. “Eh?”

He stood so close that he blocked the light from the chandelier, which mournfully hung from the ceiling. You shivered in his shadow.

“I shouldn’t have come tonight.”

“But you did!” He accused, pointing in your face.

“It was a mista—”

“You fucking did!”

“Tommy!”

“I’ve had it! If you want to leave, then fucking leave; otherwise, don’t stand there all righteous waving empty threats over my head because I know you won’t leave.” He shook his head with a wild look in his eye. “No… You won’t leave. You won’t leave because you love me. You keep coming back,” he pointed matter-of-factly.

Tommy’s eyebrows danced between being terribly furrowed and alarmingly raised during his passionate monologue. It was rare for him to emit so much emotion these days. The war changed men, and Tommy was no exception. A chilling stillness framed his presence, which even you weren’t excused from. No more laughter, no more dreams of working with horses, because he was above all that now, wasn’t he? It was ambition that ground his teeth together and hollowed his eyes. Still, you couldn’t forget that the anger came from vulnerability, because it took a lot for someone to get under Thomas Shelby’s skin.

You moved to grab your purse, to make good on his word, but he halted your movement by grabbing your shoulders, roughly at first, before loosening his grip. You softened at his frantic demeanor. He was scared—oh, so afraid of you walking out that door again. But how could you ever explain it to him? You were never born for love. You would never know how to love him properly the way wives were supposed to because what you felt for Tommy was sickeningly deep. So much so that the mere impression of him sealed off your ribcage and ruined any chance of your heart beating for any other soul, so much so that you carried the weight of him in your bones because you could never shake him off.

When you looked back at life, all you saw was the absence of love. You used to imagine yourself growing up and falling in love with a handsome stranger, then getting married in a proper white dress to go live in your proper house. But when you looked in the mirror, you saw a ghost. The pathway of your life was laid out before your eyes once, and what you saw didn’t match the reflection. The man you were supposed to marry couldn’t even look at you, even if you cleaned and cleaned and cleaned until your fingerprints turned white and pasty.

Because what it all came down to was simple. You never got to become the person you envisioned. Instead, you were cursed to live as a blank slate and be consistently reminded of what you were supposed to be and of who you were: no one.

Tommy exhaled in a quick huff, pressing his forehead to yours so that he saw you clearer, without all the tension and bullshit in the way.

“Here it comes, Tommy.” You took a shaky breath. “I love you, but I could never be the perfect wife to you, and I would be a terrible mother.”

There, in all its ugly colors and shades, you hung yourself with the truth.

He shook his head as if he too couldn’t believe your words.

“Fuck’s sake! Forget about all that." His eyes watered out of frustration, but he was still puffing in anger. “I need you. You. Not some whore.”

You bit your lip to muffle the god-forsaken cry ready to erupt from the volcanoes you suddenly found roaring in your stomach. An earthquake overtook your hands the more you fought the inevitable eruption. You grabbed both his hands to stop yours from shaking.

“I have to be cursed; there’s no other way!”

“No!”

“My life slips through my fingers like grains of sand—”

“You’re not cursed!”

“And I can’t stop it, Tommy!”

“You’re not fucking cursed, and I’ll tell you why." Tommy cut you off. He leaned in, licking his lips, which had turned dry from all the shouting, and squeezed your hands. “Because my ancestors charmed dogs with their magic, they didn’t scare little girls with curses,” he paused. “But you… You waved a hand over my head, and now I’m no better than a dog.”

He closed the space between you, pressing his forehead against yours, and stroked both your cheeks, wiping at your tears. You held him there in a meek attempt at reciprocation.

You wished the world were ending so then you could grab Tommy’s hand and say, ‘I’m ready, Tom. The world is ending, so let’s kiss and love each other under the flames without any fear because the world is ending.’

But you were never good at expressing yourself with words, so you sealed it with a kiss, hoping he could taste the unspoken words on your lips the same way you tasted the tears. He responded in earnest, gripping you roughly by the scruff of your neck to seal the promise laden between your lips; no more running.

It was just your luck that you would bump into your ex-fiancé, William, while visiting a bar in London with Ada. You were buzzing from the warmth of three sweet liquors and whatever else Ada insisted you try, and everything was starting to seem a little funny by the time he approached you.

He engaged in pleasantries, swishing his wine around the glass and sniffing it occasionally, like many pompous older men tended to do. There was only so much smiling you could afford before you caught your reflection in the freshly wiped bar and realized how poorly your acting skills were. Ada was no help, muttering something about finding a phonebooth and then slipping into the belated and boozed crowd. It was then that the supposed nectar in your glass began to taste like the cleaning products—that nose-scrunching stench. Thankfully, William was too involved in some tangent to notice you muffle a gag into your palm.

The dazzling hum in your ears muffled out all his words. In your drunken state, William appeared to be more confident than what you remembered, but you were unable to decipher whether it was from a change of heart or if he was trying to fall back in your good graces. Otherwise, you were blinded by the roaring bustle of the bar and the delicious swell of music that seemed to reverberate across your being.

Growing a little bored with William’s story, your attention wandered over his shoulder, still being sure to nod every now and then as if you were deeply pondering his words. Not far away from his side, a man seemed to linger—a man who was careful not to reach your eye. You must have laughed a little harder than usual because William turned sharply to the man at his side, gave him a quick once-over, then returned his attention to you, but by then it was too late, and you knew exactly what William’s relationship was with this man and where William’s confidence had come from.

“You’ll make a fine wife and a finer mother someday,” William quickly added.

You cursed the witch inside you, who laughed from her stomach and used his shoulder to steady herself. Once upon a time, that was all you longed to hear, but now, with a half-spilt martini in hand, you couldn’t care less. Both of you had found happiness despite your unconventional circumstances, and there was no more to it. You could close that chapter without any loose threads.

A little drunk, you thanked him, disappeared, and never thought of him again.

“I can’t do it, Ada,” you stressed, beginning to feel uncomfortable with the baby in your arms.

Motherhood came rumbling into your life like a rusty engine spitting out oil. ‘Instinctual’, the mothers down the lane from Arrow House had said, ‘it’s like your body has been preparing for it your whole life.’ How awful, you thought, and by the time one of them finished speaking about their experience with their first, your nose was so scrunched in disgust that you would need an iron to flatten out the wrinkles. It wasn’t until now that you longed to be in their shoes, because nothing came naturally to you.

“He’ll latch eventually; he’s just a little fussy,” Ada reassured.

“Is it supposed to hurt?”

“It’s perfectly normal.”

Then, after an hour of rubbing your sons back on the verge of tears, he finally began feeding from you. Ada soothed your back the whole time and cooed softly to calm both you and your unruly boy. Sometimes she brought Karl. He would obediently sit on her lap, playing with his wooden horse, while your little Charles fussed.

One time in the early morning, when you were up attempting to feed Charles, Tommy rushed in alert with disheveled hair and sunken eyes.

“Sorry,” you mouthed, deflated your hardworking husband had been disturbed from his sleep.

He ran his hands over his face and sighed. You mistook his action for frustration and desperately tried to hush your baby. Tommy moved over to the rocking chair where you sat, trying to feed little Charles in your arms.

“Don’t be sorry,” he whispered into the crook of your neck. “How is he?”

You flushed under the moonlight, suddenly embarrassed that your husband had caught you in this vulnerable position with the top of your slip peeled down. Your exposed skin hissed when he pressed a kiss against your pulse.

“I don’t think he likes me very much.”

Tommy inhaled sharply against your neck before resting his chin on your shoulder to peer down at Charles. Charles had settled since Tommy walked into the room, acutely aware of his father as his little hands made a grabbing motion for him. Diligently, Tommy relieved your arms of Charles and cradled him close to his chest. Within minutes, the little baby was gurgling happily and blinking in a way that suggested sleep was on the horizon after all.

Your husband didn’t dare make any sudden noise as he gently set Charles in his cradle. Once he was surely asleep, Tommy guided you up from the rocking chair and into your shared bedroom.

“See?” you hissed, still maintaining a soft voice, “he only wants you.”

Tommy wouldn’t hear any of it, pulling you into his arms as he sat on the edge of the mattress. Your slip was still pooled around your hips, so he took the opportunity to plant a kiss above your breasts, where your heart was.

“He loves you,” he drawled in that husky voice of his. “I know he does because I do.”

Your head ached, but you couldn’t help the way your body reacted to his words and touch. Tommy’s wandering hands teased the silk fabric that clung to your hips as you felt his nose trail down to your breast, where he kissed one of your aching nipples delicately. Suddenly hot, you hummed in delight, the back of his shorn scalp pleasant beneath your nails. A grunt, bathed in that musk of his devours your senses. Inhaling sharply, he took the bud between his full lips, sucking, licking, and nibbling gently while his hands explored further down. Your head lulled back from the pleasure, gasping and withering under his skilled tongue.

The next thing you knew, Tommy was tugging the rest of your silk slip off and reminding you of just how much he loved you.

“Charles! Come here!” Tommy called.

Your little boy loved to play in the backyard of Arrow House. Much like his father, Charles adored horses. Big ones, small ones, black ones, white ones—but most of all, he favored his Shetland pony. Tommy had brought it for Charles before he could even walk. He said something about it being important for his son to be raised around horses from a young age. And while you didn’t necessarily disagree, it still stressed you out to hold your baby so close to such a large, muscular animal. You knew the Arabian breeds spooked easily, so you steered clear of them and were able to keep Tommy and Charles happy.

But now he had grown up so fast and was able to run around on his own two legs, climb trees, and bruise his knees on the way down. The sun beat lovingly on the apples of his cheeks as he dirtied his trousers, kneeling by the fence to feed his Shetland (affectionately named Biscuit) hand-picked grass through the gaps.

“Charles! We’re leaving!” You called when he ignored his father.

Stubbornly, Charles spun around to pout his lip and cross his arms. He glared at you as threateningly as a five-year-old could. You bit your lip to hide your smile because he really did look like a little Tommy with those big blue eyes. It would only be a matter of time before he perfected his father’s stare. With a sigh, you shifted your daughter into Tommy’s arms before approaching Charles, who was picking angrily at the grass.

You reached a hand out toward him, "let's go.”

“No!”

“All right,” you said decisively, spinning around, “Ruby will have all the fun then.”

“No!” cried your little boy.

You stuck a hand up in surrender and started walking back to Tommy. “No, it’s all right.”

“No, no no no!” Came his protest, chasing behind you as the gravel crunched beneath his boots.

You paid no attention to him, keeping your eyes trained ahead, silently relieved that your ploy worked. Tommy watched on in amusement while Ruby suckled on her thumb, curiously watching her brother storm closer.

“You hear that, Ruby? We’re going to spoil you,” a short smile played on Tommy’s face as he adjusted her so that she sat comfortably on his hip.

“And me!” Charles added and gave his best pout.

“No, Charles, you said you didn’t want to go,” you reminded him, raising your eyebrows.

“I do! I do!”

“Hmm,” you thought aloud, and held a finger to your chin while looking to the sky in exaggerated contemplation. “Very well, but only if you get in daddy’s car right this instant.”

He climbed into the backseat of the Bentley without further fuss.

When all the bags were neatly packed in the back for the day’s festivities, Tommy came around your side to sit Ruby on your lap. Quickly, he leaned in to kiss you and pinch your cheek, which swelled into a glowing grin.

He smiled back and whispered low enough for only you to hear, “got him wrapped around your finger, eh?”

You laughed. “Him and a few other Shelby’s I know of.”

The thundering sound of music could be heard from outside the theater on the corner of Old Pauls. Inside, patrons mused between champagne, dancing, and making a display of their wealth by bidding on little trinkets. It was one of the many charity galas Tommy had to attend because of his new move into politics. Usually, you enjoyed dressing for those sorts of things, but tonight you simply weren’t feeling up to it. Maybe it was the drape of your dress not sitting right or the new leather shoes that still needed breaking in.

Your shimmering smile faded into the crowd as you snuck through the back door in your satin bordeaux dress. Old Pauls sat perched above the cemetery it was named after. Conveniently across the street from the buzz of the theater, it was airily quiet and stuck out from the rest of industrial Birmingham. Your heels clacked across the pavement as you wandered up and down the garden, glimpsing at stone angels and silver plaques. All you had to light your path were the streetlights and the moon.

Your diamond wedding ring twinkled under the stars as you stopped to trace a name. It was the same as your mother's, but with a different last name. Still, you always wondered what happened to her. Had she gotten married to another man and taken his name? You expected to shiver at the idea, but you found that thinking of her no longer unnerved you. She packed up the title of mother when she left you all alone in that cramped house.

Light spilled out onto the pavement across the street when the entrance to the theater swung open. A few men flew down the steps and split off in different directions. Thinking it odd, you remained crouched until they disappeared around their respective corners. That’s when you saw Tommy exit through the same doors, throwing a cigarette and wiping at his brow while he looked up and down the street. Quickly, you stood and waved your arm to get his attention. When he noticed, he stormed down the steps and stalked across the street and through the gates of Old Pauls over to you.

“I needed some air,” you spoke up before he could get a word in.

His eyes wildly flickered back and forth from yours in a frenzy. Under the moonlight, they looked almost translucent, and, save for a ghost of blue, his pupils were wide.

“Why the bloody hell are you out here, eh?” He demanded, gently shaking your head between his hands for emphasis while his eyebrows rose expectantly.

“It’s quieter.”

When he tilted his head to the sky and exhaled, your stomach dropped at the sight of blood. Your ears, which had been tuning out the music, flinched when a shrill cry from a woman rang out the theater doors. The music was gone, now replaced with screams as all the patrons rushed out, tripping over each other like it were a race. You turned back to Tommy, now as worried as the others.

“What the hell happened? Are you hurt?” You urged, gripping his white collar, now red, to inspect where the blood was coming from.

“Not mine,” he cleared his throat, grabbing the hand on his collar to tug you down the street.

The frame of your world stretched a little wider, like light pouring in through open shutters. Car doors slammed, and drivers honked at the agitated crowd who ran this way and that across the road.

“Where’s the fucking ambulance?” Shouted a man who took no care to avoid bumping into you.

You stumbled back, your hand slipping from Tommy’s on impact. Rage flickered across his features briefly, having noticed the man push through you, but he reconnected your hands and continued walking fast. When he reached the Bentley, he urged you inside, holding your hand the whole way until you were seated in the passenger seat.

“What the hell happened, Tommy?” You repeated as he slid into the driver’s seat.

“Someone got shot.”

Your eyes widened. “Are Polly and—”

“They’re fine.”

You sank back into your seat as the engine roared to life. Peaky Blinder’s followed the frenzied crowd, moving together like a pack of wolves onto the streets. They only parted to let Tommy’s Bentley through. Out the window, people were fighting and throwing fists as they all tried to escape the mayhem.

“Why aren’t they letting people through?” You asked after witnessing a Peaky Blinder block the road and refuse to let a car pass.

“Doesn’t matter.”

He never told you anything when it came to business. And although you suspected this was much more than the doing of the Shelby brothers, Tommy’s face never betrayed him. Simply put, if he didn’t want you to know, you wouldn’t.

“Would anyone want to follow us?”

“No.” He exhaled deeply, cleared his throat, and then reached to give your thigh a squeeze.

You knew it was a lie when his eyebrows rose. He only did that when he was worried. Your tongue remained pressed to the back of your teeth the entire ride home.

The howl of the wind whistled down into the valley of the gypsy camp Tommy had brought you and the children to.

“Pack your things,” he had said one night after storming through the front door of Arrow House, “we’re going on a trip.”

Charles and Ruby cheered, but you suspected something sinister beneath his intentions.

So, there you were, picking at the grass by your feet while you perched on the bottom step of the gypsy wagon Tommy parked beneath a tree for shade. He kept quiet for most of the ride, absorbed in leading the horse around loose gravel and stones, or rather, he led you to believe he was lost in concentration. Because, when it came down to it, you knew Tommy better than to assume nothing was wrong.

The past week, he had been acting different, jumpy even. He ran into the nursery during the early hours of the morning on edge, as if expecting something to be amiss. You tried interrogating him, but he brushed it off, insisting things were fine. Fine—you began detesting that word. Fine this, fine that, but if things were really fine, then why was he on edge?

Then came the bloodshot eyes and the slamming of his desk drawer when you entered the office. Only this time he couldn’t deny the unmistakable jingle of a bullet, which rattled in the wooden compartment like some sort of airy death chime.

A black hand. One for each Shelby. And since you were now one too, that meant neither you nor the children were subjected to any special treatment. A week, he said, a week for his family to clear up the business while he stayed here watching over you like a shepherd to his flock.

And watched he did, standing next to where you sat, he found peace observing Charles and Ruby as they chased each other around the overgrown field. There he remained for an hour or so, frighteningly still, the only motion being his sharp jaw chewing on a mint leaf, somewhat reminiscent of the soldier in your tent all those years ago. Next to him, tied to the tree, the black steed filled the silence with snorts and grazed favorably on the loose roots and grass patches.

“Ruby was crying this morning. She’s scared, Tom." You sighed.

Tommy hadn’t been there when you woke up that morning in the caravan. He returned shortly after, ominous as ever, just as Ruby had begun to settle.

He tossed the stalk of his mint leaf into the grass and offered you his hand. You looked up at him in question for a moment, slightly suspicious of his intentions. Nevertheless, you slid your hand into his, and he stood you up, sat down on the higher step, and pulled you between his legs to sit on the lower step. He hugged you from behind as he slouched to rest his head on your shoulder, then exhaled deeply.

“We will be home soon,” he whispered in your ear, brushing your knuckles tenderly.

“For how long? Until we get another bullet in the post?”

Tommy’s throbbing forehead found solace in the warmth of your neck.

“You’ve never been one to run,” you continued, “what’s bothering you? We took a vow that we would share everything.”

He nuzzled his nose deeper into your pulse.

Frustrated, you tried to get up, but he held you firmly against his chest.

“Italians.”

“Italians?”

“Italians sent the black hands.”

You waited in silence for more information, but more did not come.

“Speak to me, Thomas.”

“I don’t want you any more involved than you are.”

“They’ve sent death knocking on our door; how more involved could I be?”

Tommy moved methodically, licking his lips and clearing his throat. He squinted his eyes up at the glaring sun.

“It’s nothing you should be concerned about. I’ll keep us safe.”

“Nothing I should be concerned over, Thomas? Just how many people are we at war with?”

He didn’t answer, so you turned your head away from him. Charles and Ruby had since settled by a patch of flowers. Charles was crouched over, helping his sister gather all the yellow flowers for her yellow dress.

The tension broke the surface then.

“Why are you still fighting, Tom? Is this,” you nod to your children and breathe in the fresh air, “not enough?”

You pictured Arrow House and its lavish garden, one to compete with all the wealthy families down the lane. You thought of Arthur, John, Polly, Ada, and all his family that lived to see his success. Everything, from the thoroughbreds in the stable to the fancy cars. The money itself was a testimony to his drive. What more could the gangster of Birmingham want when he already had everything?

You had gone and worked yourself up now because the world seemed blurrier than before.

Tommy, still on his guard, guided your chin to your shoulder so he could kiss the tears away. “It is enough.”

“Then make it enough. You’re respectable now, so stop the fighting.” Your voice broke at the end.

He hung his forehead on your shoulder. Like a flower sheltered away from the sun, Tommy wilted when he was away from his business. Usually, you were a strong enough light to keep him going, but whatever business he had gotten himself into was poisoning him, and ever the addicted flower, he kept running out to the fields, continuing to drink in the sunlight until it was too much and turned his leaves brow. Because business was what occupied his mind day and night, he was unable to turn the cogs of the engine off and let the air out of the tires.

A hand brushes your hair away to kiss the spot beneath your ear, airing out the destructive thoughts.

God, you loved him anyway. An overpowering feeling that ruled over calculating minds like Tommy’s and faint hearts like yours. You were no better than him—both addicted to a little sunlight.

The framed photographs on the wall shook as your third-eldest slammed the door to her room closed.

“I hate you!” She cried from the other side.

Your husband, Tommy, sighed to the ceiling, then stalked past you to his study, no longer interested in anything your daughter had to say. They had been at it for the last ten minutes arguing over some boy she was seeing, and your ears were just about ringing having witnessed it from the sidelines. You were left there in the hallway, an unwilling participant in the unspoken feud between father and daughter, and you understood that whoever you went to console would take it that you were siding with them, even though you just wanted to keep your family together.

Going to your daughter was the instinctive answer, but you knew she needed time to cool off. Tommy was the only reasonable choice.

You knocked on the door to his office before letting yourself in.

“Come to lick my wounds, eh?” He mused while smoking a cigarette.

Your lips wormed into a thin line. “This needs to stop, Tom.”

“Yeah,” he said, tapping the ash into his tray, “it will fucking stop.” He points with his cigarette, “I’ll make it fucking stop.”

You sighed. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

The chair screeched as he stood. “I’m her father, and if I say she can’t see that boy, she can’t. It’s only a childish fling; she’ll get over it.”

He poured a whiskey and downed it by the time you walked around his desk so that you were face-to-face with him.

“They’re in love, Tommy.”

“Yeah?” He scoffed. “Well, that can be undone.”

You held his glare, a challenge lighting in your own. “So easily, you think?”

He paused mid-drag, catching onto the underlying meaning in your words. “No,” he said, setting the cigarette down in the ash tray and grabbing your shoulders. “Don’t act like that.”

“Act like what?”

“Like you’re threatening our love over some fucking boy that’s charmed our daughter. They’re too young.”

“He’s sweet.”

“Oh, sweet and nice, I’m sure. But he’ll have no place in this house.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because I fucking said so!” He spat.

“Don’t yell at me.”

“Or what? You’ll leave me?” He huffed in amusement. “You won't; you love me too much.”

“You’re so certain?”

He paused for a moment and stared at you as if he couldn’t believe what you had said.

“Yeah, because we still fuck like two people who love each other, eh? And you’ve not told me no before, so if the day comes and your body no longer wants mine, then I’ll be worried. But until then, don’t test me with empty threats." His face hardened.

He knew you like the back of his hand. All bark, no bite. You loved him inexplicably, even after all these years, gray hairs and all. His face, body, and soul nourished you until you were satiated and full. And even if his eyebrows furrowed at times, you were willing to bet that it was for aesthetic, a shapely shadow gathered over the years from being the stoic leader the Peaky Blinders and Shelby family needed. How could you fault him for it?

Because, at the end of the day, you were a team. Even if he played the role of an overprotective father a bit too convincingly, he only ever wanted what was good for your daughter. Everything he worked for, ultimately, was for his family. A family man. And that came with its virtues and vices because, despite what Tommy thought, he wasn’t perfect; no one was.

Shrinking under his hands, you breathed a sigh and appeased him. “End this feud, Tom. Find peace with her. I don’t care what you do, but by the end of it, I expect to be able to sit down at the dinner table without having to beg my husband and daughter to look up from their plates.” You stroked his hands, which held your shoulders, and finally blinked up at him.

A haze of softness swept across his glare and melted the glaciers to a thin sheen of blue. The seams of exhaustion frayed one by one through his muscles. He nodded, licked his lips, and leaned down for a kiss of absolution. Not entirely prepared to surrender, you tilted your head so that he found the corner of your mouth instead.

“It will be done, love.” He brushed the apples of your cheeks tenderly. “And by tonight,” his voice lowered, “I promise you’ll forget all about it.”

Only then did you accept his kiss, eager to put the grievance to rest. Tommy, on the other hand, had other plans and stepped forward so that you were pinned between his desk and hips. He quickly began to gather your skirts above your waist, but you pulled away just as fast at the hiss of air against your exposed skin. An unsolicited gasp escaped his mouth when your knee brushed him there, and you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, looking deep into his eyes.

“Promise me you won’t break her heart. She might not be old enough now, but I don’t want you to put her off love forever,” you caressed his jaw.

“No,” he agreed, breathier than usual, flexing the hands that were still caught up in the fabric of your skirt.

“And our Daisy may never say it, but I know she loves you dearly. So please, Tom, be gentle with her. I don’t want her to grow up despising you. Tell her you love her, kiss her forehead, hug her.”

He deflated, and you watched him swallow his pride. Cogs turned against the sweltering lust, threatening to deplete the clever thoughts in that powerful head of his in favor of your careful touch. Please, please, please, you begged without uttering a word; agree with me on this, Tom.

Tommy leaned back down to rest his forehead on yours; his face gave nothing away. You were sure he had found something to say, which would make you feel like a fool for asking. However, when you embraced those faint subtleties of emotion flickering across his face like candlelight, so miniscule you might blink and miss it, you found nothing of the sort to suggest any hostile nature. Because Tommy loved you.

“I will.”

A/N: Tried doing a long one shot, what does everyone think? Yay or nay? Comment to be added to the tag list!

Taglist: @maliceofwonderland , @fairytale07 , @goblinjnr , @ilovepeoplesdads , @multidimensionalslut

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your-nanas-house · 2 months

Note

more dark!tommy smut!!!! 🥹❤️🙏

Yup! Wasn't so sure if you wanted the same trope as the previous fics I wrote so I tried something else. 🥰

His fookin' wife

◇ Pairing: Dark!Tommy Shelby X wife!reader

◇ Warnings: heavy DUBCON, angst, Tommy being mean and a man of that period, MISOGYNY, arranged marriage, curses and violence, age gap (both off age).

◇ Summary: Tommy reminds his wife of her place.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Honestly... I hate the way I'm writing so I will apologise for my writing as well. Hope you enjoy 🙇🏼‍♀️.

All his thoughts came to an end as soon as she almost reached the front door.

His big calloused hands moved on their own grabbing quickly but firmly her waist from behind, so to pull her body back and grip her thighs tighly.

A deep inhale followed his actions, making the younger woman shiver as his warm breath brushed teasingly the shell of her ear.

Different emotions kept swirling inside of Tommy, his breath became heavier as his low and seductive voice interrupted the silence in the entrance to their house. Their... since it was hers as well, as soon as he put a ring around her finger three years ago, because of an arranged marriage.

The man could feel his wife's body tensing at his touch, but it just sent a shiver down his spine. His primal instincts kicking in fast, getting into him like a bullet.

"W-What are you doing?" Y/n's weak and panicked voice asked in a whisper, making a small smirk appear on his handsome face. His tongue dared out to wet his lips before he could place them on her neck, feeling her quick pulse against them.

"What do you think I'm doing?" He purred out, inhaling her scent before continuing to speak... his voice way lower and predatory than before. "I'm not going to let you leave the house until I'm finished with you, love—"

" —Or would you rather just leave and go and talk to those Italian lads again?" He mocked, anger and jealousy clear in his tone while his grip tightened at the mere movement of hers... causing the young woman to get even more scared of what was happening.

The prospect of being intimate with her arranged husband sounded... weird to her; he never acted like that with her, just once when he was drunk. Besides that night, their honeymoon of years before had been pretty much cold and calculated, he simply prepared her before stealing her virginity with a harsh thrust and little conversation.

No love or emotions besides lust present in that moment of their life.

The panic and fear made her try to escape his grip, just wanting to leave the house already to mind her own business and not discover this more carnal side of her man. A bad idea since Tommy reacted quickly, now holding her closer against his chest, his hips pressing harder against the soft curves of her covered ass while his cock reacted positively at the situation.

"Oh no, you're not getting away that easily... There's no escaping me, darling. I'm going to keep you right here with me so there's no point in trying to free yourself." His low and threatening voice informed her before continuing after a soft growl caused by the wiggling of her body.

"I'm not going to let you leave unless I say so, and I'm going to keep you here all for myself, as your husband.... as your man."

It has been too long since he had been with his Y/n like that, and the fact that she was fighting him caused him to crave her even more. Her teasing and panicked movements were driving him crazy with lust, the way her curves kept pressing back against his front... brushing his now rock-hard cock just made the blue eyed man want to slam her against the nearest surface and take her like he was craving since a while.

Y/n was sweating cold, her heart beating crazily as her mind raced with lots of different thoughts... her body jolted again at his touch and he pressed her harshly against the cold front door of their house.

A breathy groan left the dark haired man's body as he pinned her against the wood, his hips now grinding against her ass... as his left hand held tightly her wrists together so that his free one could raise up the fabric of the dress she was wearing.

"Fucking hell, luv" Tommy cursed at the view of her exposed lower half, his hand colliding with her right ass cheek, making her whimper at the stingy sensation and whine when he knealed harshly her reddening skin.

"Missed your damn body" he added with a breathless growl, position his bulge between her legs as he pulled roughly her underwear up and leave place to his boner to rub on her butt, nudging her sacrum with each movement.

Y/n's body kept hitting softly the door as Tommy made her move with his tempo, his breath getting heavier and faster just like his thrusts.

His free hand, which had reached for her chest without success, moved now down her spine till his fingers could start to undo his belt and pants... sending a shock of fear in the young woman's body.

At the sound of the belt hitting the floor, her eyes widen and her feet moved on its own, stepping on Tommy's and catching him off guard for a couple of seconds. Allowing her to try to run away, heading quickly upstairs as he just watched her with a predatory smirk on his face... his hand picking up the belt from the ground before he rushed behind her.

"It's useless, I told you already... such a-fiesty-little-wife" Tommy spat with gritted teeth as his hand grabbed a firm hold on her ankle before pulling and making her fall down the stairs so that his body could be pin hers easily.

His broad chest now pressing against her small back as his hand pulled her hair so that her face was tilted towards him

"Don't you wanna be a good wife for your husband, luv?" The older man purred against her jaw, leaving wet kisses as his other hand traveled between her breasts to undo her dress and let easier access to her chest.

"I think we need to revise your duties as a wife and... as a woman.... my woman" Tommy spat out, before pressing her head against the moquette of the stairs, unbothered by the discomfort he was causing her by holding the soft skin of her cheek against that material.

His hold on her hair got tighter as his other hand traveled down, between her legs... moving skillfully aside her panties before thrusting one finger in while he circled roughly her clit.

His eyes closed and he groaned softly at the small thrusts of her hips cause by the jolts of pleasure he was giving her. All rubbing against his aching cock so well.

As Thomas opened his mouth again his tone was more dominating and demanding even if it was breathless

"Just like that... fuck" he cursed softly, opening his pants quickly to pull out his lenght and start grinding roughly against her lower back... his fingers still working their magic.

Y/n's whimpers and muffled cries didn't stopped his monologue after he started it. Telling her what she should have known already... how it was her duty as a wife to stay home, to keep the house in order for her husband. To listen to her husband and to be faithful to him. To support him in his business and to satisfy his needs whenever he wanted... since he was her husband.

Each point of the list was followed by a thrust of his hips and a soft groans of pleasure.

"You need to keep the home clean, to cook meals, and being faithful to your husband... you fookin'— need to look presentable and appealing at all times, making sure to be feminine and seductive for your husband whenever he wants it. Fookin' need to make sure the children are always kept up and taken care of, and you need to take— care of your husband's emotional needs as well" he continued, his groans interrupting his monologue a couple of time as he slowly approached his peak.

His cremaster muscle contracted and his jaw clenched as a soft hiss escaped his lips... his grip tightened around her hip and on her hair, making her scalp burn. Till a couple of thrusts later when he came with a low groan of her name... his cum landing on her precious dress and bare ass.

Y/n's body kept trembling due to the pleasure and the little act he was playing, teasing her cunt since he started to speak to make her desperate and needy for him.

"Understood, love?" Tommy's sweet tone, boomed in her empty head as tears kept wetting her cheeks. A soft yelp escaping her mouth when his hand slapped her pussy, hitting her clit harshly to make her squirt on him and the fabric of the moquette.

The young woman was breathing heavily, a soft sob interrupted the silence followed by a playful slap on her cheek as she kept nodding at what he asked her.

"That's a good woman, eh" Thomas hummed in a mocking tone, before getting carefully up... his icy stare remaining on her as he pumped his softening cock a couple of times

"Now up, on your feet" his business voice kicked in, more authoritarian and dominant than before. His heart was beating fast and his lust was growing even more as the time passed.

Y/n did as he said, forcing herself up on trembling legs; the shock of intense pleasure still making her head feel light and relaxed but exhausted.

As the soft, low voice of her husband smoothed her... his tender praises working as soft caresses after a harsh slap.

"That's a good little wife" he hummed out again, leading her to their bedroom as his lips kept brushing against the side of her bare neck.

"Get undressed for your husband, love" Tommy demanded, stroking her hip as he took care of his own clothes. His eyes never leaving her body as she did what he asked her, looking at him still scared but eager to feel such a surprising sensation again.

The older man's big hands pushed her softly down on the bed by the shoulders, before letting them travel softly up to her face... cupping her cheeks to make her look directly in his eyes "That's way better, isn't it, love?" He asked in a whisper, leaning down to kiss her and let her desire win over her negative thoughts.

A deep sigh left her mouth as a ticklish sensation formed on her skin while Tommy's hand traveled and explored it just like his lips. Resting tenderly against her sternum to place a hard kiss on it... a kiss that started the path of more kisses around her chest and ended with his lips wrapped around her erect nipple.

His calloused hands spread carefully his wife's bare legs, allowing him to move between them with ease while his warm tongue swirled and his lips sucked sensually, moving away with a soft pop.

"Been dying to feel your pretty warm mouth around my cock, honey" he murmured softly, brushing his nose against her jugular up to her face

"Or to feel your hands... breasts.... ass... squeezing me till I'm satisfied—" he continued, stopping just to let a throaty groan leave his body as his tip got squeezed by Y/n's cunt.

Her eyes closed quickly at the feeling of his thick lenght forcing itself inside of her tight pussy... causing a burning sensation that was eased down by the quick movements of Tommy's fingers on her clit

"Fuckk... darlin', if you keep squeezing me like this it won't last long" he murmured through a hiss, snapping his hips forward so that his cock was now fully swallowed by her pussy which held him like a vice.

Her juices started to wet his thighs shamefully as he pressed himself as close as possible to feel the bulge caused by his cock in her lower belly.

"You fookin' loving it, eh?" Tommy asked teasingly, sloppy kissing her lips as she tried to say 'yes' after a choked moan.

And it was true, she was loving it... her body was loving it.

When her husband started to move inside of her, she felt tears gathering in her eyes at the contrast of his firm and quick but still sensual thrusts and his tender, loving kisses.

It was different from the quick fuck on the stairs or the cold sex they had during the honeymoon, he wanted to show her and make her take the right choice... either be fucked like a useless whore or like his wife.

The message was clear and his demeanour was really fucking with her mind just like his body was doing to hers.

She was his wife... his wife.

He kept repeating it as he slowly reached his peak again, his firm but loving grip forced her to look him in the eyes as her back arched and a silent moan left her body. Her toes curled against the cold sheet of their bed, making her realize how warm her body actually was at that moment.

"Fookin' hell, cream around my cock, love" Tommy ordered, lost in pleasure... snapping his hips forward a couple of times before going for a deeper one and stop right there.

His sharp jaw dropping as a moan left his mouth, his seed shot inside of her cunt as curses and praises joined the moment. She could feel it and she was sure that it would have caused consequences as well as a drastic change in their life.

Y/n Shelby... was Tommy's wife.

Only his, his damn property and.. woman. Not anyone else's and he had just proved his point.

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queenshelby · 7 days

Text

Sweet Possession (Part 1)

Pairing: Very Dark! Thomas Shelby (32) x Innocent! Reader (19)

Warning: Age Gap, Smut

It was about four months ago when you met him, this blue-eyed stranger who would change your life forever. It was as if you had stepped into the unknown, shedding your old, familiar skin. He made your head spin with his charm and allure for the unknown.

When you talked to him for the very first time, it was as if you had known each other for years. He listened to you, and you felt as though he truly understood who you were and what you needed in life.

Despite being over 12 years older than you , Thomas Shelby made you feel safe and wanted, desired and accepted. You never felt such a connection to someone who had such an intense personality as Thomas and, most importantly for all, he showed you respect.

Thomas (or Tommy as you called him) was a wealthy business man from Birmingham and whilst you did not know much about his business activities, you knew that he was responsible for import and export of goods such Tabacco and cars.

With both of your parents not having survived the sinking of the Titanic, you had no one but yourself to stand up for and take care of yourself until Tommy came into your life.

He took you in and took care of you a few months ago, admiring your inner strength and determination to overcome all the challenges that life had thrown at you ever since you had turned 16, which was almost three years before you met him, your soon to be husband.

You were 19 years old when you met the 32-year-old in a pub named the Garrison shortly after you had started working there behind the bar. That night, Tommy had saved you from some unwanted attention from some other patrons and as you sat together that night, your connection was undeniable, palpable. Every guess or gut feeling you had ever had about your future guesses or dreams was confirmed in an instant. This was the moment that would change it all.

Fast-forward a bit and soon you found yourself living in Tommy's mansion, which you had yet to fully discover. The mansion was home to your own magnificent bedroom, Surreal wallpapers, wax-leafed walls, brass fixtures, and white porcelain handles.

It was surreal coming from almost living on the street to this and when Tommy asked you to marry him a few weeks ago, you accepted blindly only thinking of the safety and love he gave you.

The wedding ceremony itself was small, with only some of his family in attendance. You were his second wife; his first wife having died four years ago and this was something that did not bother you. You accepted him with all as his baggage, just as he accepted you.

***

Having respected your wishes not to engage in any sexual activities before marriage, you two waited for the big night, anticipating the pleasure of having each other's bodies.

Tommy had told you through the weeks leading up to your wedding day that he would be gentle, as he assumed you were still a virgin and had no experience with men. He also told you that he would teach you everything there was to know about sex, which was a prospect that excited you.

You knew that being abstinent for more than four months, must have been difficult for a man his age, and you couldn't help but admire him for his respect towards you and your decision to wait until your wedding night.

Unlike many other men, he said that he had no interest in the services of prostitutes and you believed him. He showed you that intimacy was not just about sex but more about the emotional connection between two people. But as each day passed, the tension between you two grew stronger and stronger.

The big night finally arrived. You had taken a bath, washing your whole body using a lavender-scented soap and then slid your body gently into a silky nightgown that you had bought in an expensive store downtown especially for you wedding night. As you looked at the mirror, you could not help but feel a bit nervous.

Tommy knocked gently on your door and after a short moment, he opened it up.

As you stood there in your nightgown, he couldn't help but stare. His eyes wandered over every bit of your body, and you could see the hunger in his eyes from a mile away.

Approaching you, he gently took your hand and drew you closer to him. His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a tight embrace. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, making your core tighten.

"You are beautiful, Love," Thomas whispered in your ear, brushing a loose tendril of hair from your face, his breath warm against your skin.

He then took hold of your left hand again and tenderly kissed your wedding ring – a token of your eternal love. Your heart raced and your nerves tingled at his tender display of affection. Your cheeks felt flushed and the room seemed to be spinning as the moment you'd been waiting for your entire life was finally about to happen.

Your hands felt clammy and you were struggling to find the words to respond to the man you'd married.

"Tommy," you gasped. "I want you," you stammered, looking up into his sharp, handsome face.

He caught your gaze with a knowing smile. "Good, because I want you too," Thomas said, with his eyes blazing and expectant.

As you looked into his eyes, you felt yourself being swept away on a tide of anticipation and desire.

Thomas stood in front of you, his fingers tracing the outline of your delicate collarbone.

He leaned in to softly kiss your quivering lips. His tongue danced upon yours for a mere moment before he pulled away. Slowly, he unbuttoned your night dress and let it fall gently to the floor, revealing your perky, young breasts to the cool air of the bedroom.

He took a moment to admire your inexperienced and vulnerable beauty before he began to trail kisses down your neck, across your chest, and onto your sensitive nipples.

"Oh God," you gasped, your hands clenching in his thick, dark hair as he teased you with his mouth.

"You like that, do you?" Thomas whispered, a wicked grin on his face.

The heat between your thighs became unbearable. You wanted him to do more, to touch you there, to do away with the last scraps of clothing that separated you from the man you married.

"Why don't you lie down for me, Love?" Thomas suggested, as he began to remove his own clothes.

You nodded eagerly, unable to find your voice in the intensity of the moment. Your breath hitched as you watched him undress. His muscled chest and chiseled abdomen were revealed to you as he shed his shirt, and your mouth went dry as he removed his trousers to stand proudly before you.

You laid back against the plush, velvet pillows, feeling self-conscious about your own nakedness in front of such a strong, confident man.

You noticed that his member stood tall and rigid, ready to claim you as his.

"Stop looking at my cock and lay back, Sweetheart," Thomas chuckled, sensing your discomfort. "I promise I won't hurt you," he then reassured you and you swallowed hard, nodding in compliance as you scooted further up on the bed.

Thomas followed, crawling up the bed with a seductive grace. He settled between your thighs and you trembled with anticipation.

"Open for me," Thomas whispered, his fingers lightly tracing your slick folds.

You whimpered at the sensation of his touch, your body tensing as he explored you intimately. Slowly, you obeyed his demand and allowed your legs to fall open. You felt exposed and vulnerable, but also safe in Thomas' arms, which held you with a protectiveness you needed in this new and uncertain moment.

"Good girl," Thomas praised, his fingers circling your clit with a tantalizing slowness. "You are already so nice and wet for me, eh?" Thomas whispered, a suggestive smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You nodded, biting your lower lip as Thomas began to circle your clit with his thumb, all the while keeping his fingers buried inside of you.

"You are so beautiful Y/N. I am a lucky man," Thomas murmured, sensing your pleasure at his touch.

You nodded again, too caught up in the euphoria of the moment to find your voice.

Thomas began to thrust his fingers back and forth, his thumb continuing to rub your clit in slow, steady circles.

You threw your head back and moaned, your hips moving with a mind of their own. The pleasure was overwhelming, and you could feel yourself getting close to the edge.

"Let go for me, Love," Thomas whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "Let yourself go. I promise you'll enjoy it."

With those words, something inside of you snapped. You closed your eyes and let the waves of pleasure wash over you, your body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm.

"That's it," Thomas murmured, his voice full of satisfaction. "That's my good girl. You're so beautiful when you cum, sweetheart," Thomas said, his voice thick with lust as he brushed a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead.

You smiled weakly, still catching your breath after the powerful release you had just experienced. You had never felt anything like that before and you couldn't believe how intensely Thomas had been able to make you feel.

"I love you Tommy ," you whispered, half-ashamed of the needy tone in your voice.

Thomas kissed you softly, his lips tasting of salt and lust. "I love you too, my wife," he said, before his hand started to wander down your body again.

His fingers found your wetness once more and he stroked you gently before, finally, climbing on top of you.

"I'm going to fuck you now, Love," Thomas whispered, his breath hot against your cheek as he teased your entrance with his tip.

"Please be gentle , Tommy," you pleaded, feeling overwhelmed by the sheer size and intensity of Thomas' manhood.

He nodded, his eyes blazing with desire. "Of course, Sweetheart. I'll be as gentle as I can," he said and, with that, he slowly began to push himself inside of you.

You gasped at the initial pain and pressure of his penetration, clutching onto the sheets as he filled you up completely.

Thomas paused for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size.

"Are you alright, Love?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

You nodded, biting your lower lip as you tried to relax and accommodate his girth.

"Yes, I'm okay," you assured him, and Thomas began to thrust in and out of you with slow, deliberate movements.

At first, it felt foreign and slightly painful, but as Thomas' rhythm gradually picked up speed, your discomfort gave way to a growing sense of pleasure and desire.

"You feel so good, Sweetheart," Thomas groaned, as he plunged deeper and deeper inside of you.

Your legs wrapped around Thomas' waist, drawing him closer still, as you moaned and writhed beneath him.

You had never experienced such intense pleasure before, and you could feel yourself edging closer and closer to the precipice of climax.

You clung to Thomas, your fingernails digging into the taut muscles of his back as you moaned and gasped beneath him.

"Oh, God, Tommy," you panted, your hips bucking to meet his thrusts. "I think I'm going to cum again."

Thomas' eyes blazed with a fierce hunger as he drove himself deeper inside of you, your bodies slapping together in a primal dance.

"That's right, Love. Cum for me," Thomas growled, his voice low and husky.

"I want to feel you tighten around me, Love. I want to hear you scream my name while I make you come."

With those filthy words, Thomas thrust deeper and harder into you, sending wave after wave of pulsating pleasure surging through your body.

"Yes, Tommy! Yes!" you screamed, your voice mingling with his deep, guttural grunts.

"Fuck, you feel so tight and warm. So fucking good," Thomas groaned, sweat dripping from his brow as he plunged into your depths again and again.

"Don't cum inside me ," you gasped, suddenly remembering a crucial detail as you had previously discussed that you were not yet ready to have children with him.

"I won't," Thomas groaned. "But I need to feel you a little longer. You just feel too good around my cock, Love," Thomas pleaded as he continued to drive himself in and out of you with wild, untamed passion.

You could feel another orgasm building within you, and you knew it would be powerful. You wanted to hold off for as long as possible, wanting to savor every exquisite sensation that Thomas was eliciting from your hyper-sensitive body.

But your pleasure took over and you succumbed to the tidal wave of ecstasy that washed over you. You screamed his name as you squeezed your thighs around his flexing hips.

"Good girl," Thomas panted in your ear, swirling his hips as he forced yet another powerful orgasm from your aching flesh. "So good. So, so fucking good."

You arched your back and collapsed against the bed, trembling beneath him as pain, pleasure, shame and wonderment coursed through your veins like liquid fire.

"Fuck, I am going to cum," Thomas groaned, the thickness of his cock throbbing within you before pulling out quickly and spraying sticky streaks of semen over your stomach, breasts, and bedsheets.

Both of you were breathing heavily as the room filled with the scent of your mutual pleasure, stocks damp with your fluids and mixed with the evidence of his release on your skin.

Neither of you spoke for a few moments, enjoying the quiet moment of contentment that came on the heels of such intense satisfaction.

Thomas broke the silence, removing evidence of his release from your body, as one would clean a precious piece of artwork after its masterpiece was finished.

"Did I hurt you, Love?" Thomas asked, his eyes softening as they met yours.

"No, I-I wanted that," you admitted, your body still shivering from the intense pleasure. "It was perfect," you told him, and he smiled, leaning down to kiss you softly, recalling how long he wanted to do this.

Unbeknownst to you, he had been wanting you for many years and now, finally, you were his. His wife. His possession. His triumph.

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x you #peaky blinders #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #tommy shelby au #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfiction #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine

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evita-shelby · 8 months

Text

Happy wife, Happy life

Or Tommy gets drunk and assumes his wife is someone else so he sleeps on the floor instead

For @runnning-outof-time with the prompt 34) “I didn’t get your name.”

Gif by @cillianparadise

The sight of Tommy, this new Tommy who is always in control at all times, drunk as hell and stumbling into the bedroom, is a sight for sore eyes.

It is the old him, the one who laughed and loved horses and had ambition but not the sort to get you murdered by the Crown's most evil men.

“Did you have fun tonight, love?” You ask as your husband of four years stripped down to join you in bed.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I am sure you’re a catch, but I got a wife.” He answers, perfectly serious too and lies down on the floor after taking his pillow with him.

You can’t help but laugh and tease him. Not like he’ll remember this tomorrow.

“Oh, so you’d rather sleep on the floor instead of your bed, Mr. Shelby?” you ask letting you arm hang over the edge of the bed and just low enough to bop his nose.

He hates it, and rolls his eyes at your immaturity.

“Yeah, happy wife happy life.” Tommy responds as if it made all the sense in the world.

Good boy, you say and he thanks you for the praise and rejects your advances while he’s at it.

“What if I told you your wife was in bed and can’t sleep without you with her?” you ask while you lightly pester him in ways only you did.

“Mhm, she’d shoot me if she caught me in bed with another woman, especially you.” He turned on his side and you paused as you raked your fingers through his mop of dark hair.

You.

Was there another tramp trying to woo him away from you?

You knew from the beginning that every woman here would sign off on their firstborn to be in his bed, and sell their soul to the devil to be in your shoes.

You were jealous, so much so that when he left for France you told him he could fuck a whore so long as you got to fuck a fella in return.

Your threat saved him from a bout of gonorrhea which Barney got from a whore who gave it to every man in the battalion save for Tommy.

“She doesn’t have to know,” you say keeping up the act so you know which woman you have to scare away from your fucking husband.

Couldn’t these ladies see the wedding band in his finger?

“She will, you aren’t exactly doing yourself any favors working in the pub, Miss. Miss?” Tommy faltered forgetting the name of the mousy barmaid. Looked like Jane Seymour , with that holier-than-thou face that got Anne Boleyn short of a head. “Sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

“Grace. Grace Burgess.” You filled in the blanks and knew you’d make the blonde bitch leave Birmingham and scurry the fuck back to Belfast or your name isn’t Y/N Shelby.

Part 2

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x fem!reader #tommy shelby x wife!reader #thomas shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x oc #peaky blinders fanfiction #k's 3.5k celebration

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mayfieldss · 2 months

Text

Your needs, my needs - Thomas Shelby

Summary: after a particularly rough day, tommy needs you more than ever.

Warnings: mentions of blood and slightly suggestive content.

The day was coming to a close when Thomas finally found enough peace to walk home. The light from the sky was falling slowly from view, and the gravel beneath his feet held no comfort to any of the steps he took, but he traveled on nonetheless, back home to you.

He was desperate for it, your touch. After the day he'd had, he craved it like a drowning man prays for oxygen, and he pushes himself through your front door with such a force you'd thought a gunshot had been fired.

"Y/N!" Tommy calls, his voice echoing in the empty stairwell. He's about to make his way up said stairs, when you appear, a look of concern upon your face.

"Tommy? What's happened?" You take each step quickly, stumbling down the last few in your rush, but Tommy is there and ready to steady you. The instant his hands meet your body, he can feel each nerve in his muscles loosening. As if his hold on you releases their hold on him.

"It's good to see you." Tommy mutters, eyes raking over your features, fingers digging into your sides soft enough for you to be comfortable, but strong enough for him to know you're really there.

"Thomas, your bleeding." Your hand comes up to his forehead, the cut there leaking red slowly, though Tommy doesn't care. How can he when your eyes are on him in such an affectionate way, as though he isn't the monster he's painted himself to be? You make him feel like maybe his pain is just that. Paint, that he can wash away, and as it runs down the drain, maybe then he will be good enough for you.

He brings one hand up to the back of your neck, thumb grazing over your earlobe as he feels a shiver run through you.

"Tommy, you're hurt. You're not thinking straight." You're being stern with him, but your touch says otherwise, and you both know it.

"I'm thinking perfectly well, sweetheart." He's never kissed you before, never touched you in the way he is now, but he's thought about it long and hard for months, wondering when his resolve would fade. Perhaps today is that day because his eyes can't help but flicker downward to your lips. Yours do the same to his.

"You're an anchor," Tommy moves closer as you lean into the touch of his hand on your cheek. "And I'm a fucking shipwreck."

"I didn't think Thomas Shelby was a man that could be tied down. He's always on the move, isn't he?" You're whispering, breath fanning over him, and you can feel his hand on your hip slide round to the small of your back, begging you closer, hoping you'll take the steps.

"Perhaps some things can change."

You don't believe him in the slightest. Tommy can't be still. He can't simply love you in the way you could him if given the chance. And he might try, but his efforts end up wasted, washed away by the fact business is the forefront of his mind.

"You don't want to change, Tommy. That's the last thing you want."

"I think I can be the judge of what it is that I want." He's feeling dizzy, his body swaying briefly without his permission, and you pull back from him when you notice it.

"You need to sit." Tommy doesn't have a choice in the matter because you've taken him by the hand and are leading him to the living room. You'd decorated it nicely, wooden furniture and a quilt covered sofa that you force him to sit upon.

"Rest, Tommy." You say when he tries to coax you back toward him. He can still hear the ringing in his ears from the gunfire earlier that day, the wet thunk of his fists on bloodied flesh.

"Dont need rest, love." He's pushed himself up from the sofa, closing the gap between you. His chest rises and falls opposite to your own, and his hands have found your hips once more. "I know what I need. I think we both do."

"What you want and what you need are very different things, Tommy. You need to rest." You tell him again, though he's being more distracting now. His lips have come down to leave a kiss below your ear, his voice gravelly and quiet

"Right now, I just need you fucking close to me." He takes a few steps back, allowing himself to fall into the sofa, and with his hands on your hips he guides you into his lap.

You allow it and stare at him from the new position, concern crossing your features. Concern not for Tommy now, but for whether you'll be able to stop thinking about him if you give in. You'd thought about it nearly as much as Tommy, but you held more restraint than the peaky blinder that now had a hand running through your hair.

"Tommy—" you don't know what else to say, stopping to think about it. Not that it's easy to think with his lips on your neck.

"If you want me to go, say it. But I've had a rough fucking week, and something tells me you have too." His eyes seem a harsher blue than before, they glow in the low light of the room, and you can't deny yourself of this. At least not now.

So you kiss him, and allow his hands to roam. You let yours do the same, tugging at his coat, his vest, his shirt. And Tommy loves every minute of it. It's like the snow the boys are so addicted to, seeping into his bloodstream, and he's high on energy again, even after the long day. He was right, you were the cure he needed to empty his mind, to bring him back to the present. The waiting game he'd played with you for so long, has melted away, and with every lingering touch Tommy knows his place is here. Until the next fight he has, the next pile of business he's forced to battle his way through, he can tangle himself up in you, and allow himself the affection he so rarely receives.

AN: I didn't know where this fic was going, so i ended it here. No plot, just vibes. Slut era.

PEAKY BLINDERS TAGLIST:

GENERAL TAGLIST: @candywh0r3 @caplanreadss @hiya-itsamber @s00buwu

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yellowpsyduck · 3 months

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𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮?

𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐘/𝐍 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

Tommy Shelby x Shelby!Reader Warnings: Incestuous, blowjob, period typical sexism

1913

"What will you be wearing, Ada?” asked the younger Shelby twin as she stood in her lace chemise and bloomers, scanning through her wooden almirah for the right dress.

“I’m not quite sure yet. Maybe I’ll just stick with the yellow voire.” Ada replied as she held up the dress in front of the floor length mirror. “What do you think, Y/N? Does it scream ‘sultry and sophisticated’ or is it more so ‘fuck me like a whore’.”

“Well, you can wear your knitted cape over it, to ward off unwanted suitors, then remove it when you find someone you want to fuck.” The sisters laughed as they continued prepping for the upcoming party; it wasn’t a party per se, just a little get together with people from school.

“Is this okay?” asked Y/N as she settled on wearing a scarlet organdie dress that Tommy had bought her for her birthday. “It’s perfect Y/N. I reckon Matthew Barnaby won’t be able to take his eyes off of you in that dress, really brings out your complexion, it does.”

“Matthew can bugger off to Timbuktu, for all I care. That boy’s getting on my nerves.” she expressed, clearly exasperated with the situation regarding the boy who had been hopelessly pining after her for months. It wasn’t that the Barnaby boy was unattractive, it was more so the opposite, with his caramel eyes and boyish grin, he was quite popular amongst the female population of Small Heath.

And that also included her best friend, Dorothy Smith, and Y/N wouldn’t dare upset her friend by fraternising with him, by virtue of female friendships and their unspoken rules.

“Matthew who?” came the sudden voice from the wooden doorway, startling the pair.

“Jesus, Tommy, don’t you ever knock?” Ada reprimanded, evidently annoyed by her elder brother’s disregard for privacy, as the younger of the two quickly threw a robe over herself.

“What’s this talk of boys and going out, eh?” Tommy asked as he stood leaning against the door frame, with his hands in his trouser pockets, sending his sisters a questioning glare.

“It’s none of your bloody business, is what it is.” Ada retorted as she walked out of the room, wanting nothing but to escape her brother’s questioning, leaving her younger twin to fend for herself.

“It’s just a small get together, Tommy, with people from school.” Y/N answered sweetly. She’d always been the kinder of the two, “We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Where’s this gonna be held?”

Y/N wasn’t sure she should answer this. She knew her brother would’ve given her hell if he’d known of the location.

“Y/N darling, I asked you a question." his voice resounded in her ears as he held her chin up to meet his icy gaze.

“By the Cut.” came the meek reply. “Now Tommy before you say anything, please just consider the fact that you never let Ada and I go anywhere. Be it Boris’ birthday last week or Janey’s the month before, or any party, in fact. So please, let us go just this once.” she pleaded with her eyes watering and her lips in a beautiful pout.

“Y/N, you know I’m just trying to keep the both of you safe.” he whispered as he looked into her clear eyes. “Who knows what’s to happen when the men see how devastatingly beautiful you are, eh?”

“But Tommy, the rest of you go out whenever you want and do whatever you please. It's not fair for Ada and I.” she argued, not willing to let go of her grievance.

“It’s because Arthur, John and I know how to hold a gun.”

“Well, Ada chases rats with a revolver, does she not.” came her quick retort, eliciting a chuckle from her brother.

“Rats. Ada chases rats. That’s very different from firing it at a man.” Tommy reasoned with her.

“What if I do something for you?” she asked him, almost purring into his ears.

“Like what, my sweet girl?”

“Like this.” She traced her fingers along his crotch through the fabric of his trousers, looking at him so very innocently. “And this.” she whispered as she undid his leather belt, and pulled his trousers down, hearing the metallic clang as it hit the ground.

“You’re sailing perilously close to the wind, my dear.” He breathed raspily, as he looked down at her kneeling figure. He, however, gave no indication of stopping her as she pulled out his cock and stroked it gently, staring into his eyes, as she did so.

His cock was growing in her hand, giving away his arousal, as it hardened and throbbed with her touch. Y/N would never tire of seeing Tommy’s red cock, it was a beast each time she laid her eyes on his sinful member, and she knew just how to knead it and suck it, to make him succumb to her wishes.

‘Men think with their cocks’ her Aunt Polly had told her once and young Y/N Shelby had etched that saying into her mind, who would’ve known that she’d ever use it against her own brother.

Her actions were sinfully graceful as she stroked his length with her soft hands. She glanced at him naughtily and placed a sweet kiss to his reddish tip and dragged her tongue through the length of his cock, she continued all the way to his balls, cupping them and placing sloppy kisses, prompting soft groans from his mouth.

She spit on his cock, lubricating him as she continued pumping him. The door to the bedroom was wide open and the pair didn’t make an effort to obstruct prying eyes from peering into their lascivious act.

Ada had made a show of closing the door to the house rather resoundingly, hence, she wasn’t to be worried about. Finn would be at school, while Arthur and John were God knows where with God knows who and Polly wouldn’t be back until teatime.

Tommy knew the little girl was only sucking him off so that he’d grant her wish of going out with her friends, but God, did she look good doing it. His fingers tightened around her brown curls as he beckoned her to take his cock in her mouth, and she gladly obliged. Her plump red lips parted and wrapped around his thick, dark cock, earning a satisfactory hum from the man above. She sucked him as best as she could, taking him in with great difficulty, his girth simply too wide for her narrow mouth. Her eyes started watering as he bucked his hips into her mouth, his fingers gripped her soft hair as he set his pace. Y/N made a conscious effort to hold back a gag as Tommy continued his hasty thrusts, clearly lost in the pleasure of his sister's warm and soft mouth.

His sister, his darling sister! God, did she look like a vision.

Kneeling in front of him, with his dick in her mouth, dewy eyed and ruddy cheeked. She was perfect; utterly and devastatingly perfect.

His thrusts got faster as his balls slapped against her chin, she was such a good girl, suppressing her gags as he choked her with his relentless assault of her throat.

He was close, he could feel it. Just a little more.

“You’re doing so good for me, my sweet girl.” he moaned through stifled groans. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

With a final thrust, he spilled his seed inside her mouth as it dripped down into her cleavage, spoiling her chemise which she so adored.

“Tommy, look what you’ve done, now I’ve got to wash it again.” she grumbled through muffled sounds and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

Y/N didn’t wait for her brother to gain his composure and sauntered into the lavatory; she didn’t have the time to boil water for a proper bath, hence, she soaked a towel and resigned to rubbing her body clean. It was in times like these that she quite envied Dorothy, for her father was the District Magistrate and they could afford plumbing facilities in their mansion, which meant that they’d have hot water at will, unlike the Shelby’s who weren’t the most well off financially.

She wrapped a spare towel over her body as she made her way to the twin’s shared bedroom to find Tommy leaning against the window with a cigarette between his lips.

“Close the curtains, will you?” she asked him as she dropped the towel to the floor and rummaged through her drawers for her inner garments. Tommy did as asked as he took another puff of the cigarette, his eyes raking over her nude body as he watched her shimmy into a blue chemise with matching bloomers. Her movements were unhurried as she sat on the bed and pulled up the stockings.

Tommy had always enjoyed watching her dress, the way the material of the stockings would dig slightly into her plump thighs, or how divine her legs looked in the garters and she’d always let him tie the corset lace. He'd done it enough times to know just the tightness that she preferred.

“I’m planning on wearing this.” she announced as she held up the scarlet dress, knowing fully well that he wasn’t going to deny her a night out now.

“Just be back before dinner and make sure your sister doesn’t make a drunken fool out of herself.” he replied as he placed a soft kiss on her shoulder.

“Will you also be going out?” she asked absentmindedly as she tried on the dress, twirling contentedly in front of the mirror.

“I might.” The girl quirked an eyebrow at this, “To meet Greta Jurossi, I presume.”

Tommy hadn’t known that his sister would be privy to his and Greta’s discretions. “And whatever gave you that idea, my sweet girl?”

“Kitty’s been spewing tales of you and her sister. The whole of Birmingham must’ve heard of it by now, heaven knows that girl can’t keep her mouth shut to save her life.” she answered nonchalantly and opened the window, spotting her sister playing hopscotch with the younger girls. “Ada!” she yelled at her twin, motioning her to come up to the house.

Tommy took that as his cue to exit and he made his way to the door, “And Tommy, thank you so much.” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around his torso.

He placed a kiss on her forehead and left without a word.

“Well, did he actually agree?” squealed Ada as she darted into the room, “Of course he did.” Y/N assured her.

“Well, fuck me, how on earth did you persuade him?” she asked as she hurriedly combed her hair, not wanting to be late for the event.

“It didn’t take much honestly, and I’ve got a sweet mouth, you know.” Ada nodded, obviously not understanding the innuendo behind her sister’s words.

And she never would, for that was to remain a secret between Tommy and Y/N.

#peaky blinders smut #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x y/n #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x y/n #ada shelby

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lis-likes-fics · 5 months

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At the End of the Day

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x wife!Reader Word Count: 4k words Kink: Cockwarming Warnings: NSFW, smut, arguing, unprotected sex, fingering, desk sex, creampie, swearing... A/N: Nothing much to say for this one. Hope you enjoy and thank you! <3

He’s stuck behind his desk. Again. He’s got his pen in hand and a multitude of papers sprawled out on his desk as he works and works and works.

He’s been like this all week, buried under paperwork as you handle the children and the maids and the rest of the family. When he isn’t behind his desk, he’s out on business with Polly or his brothers or at a social event with you for the same business as Polly and his brothers. You could properly count on two hands the number of minutes he’s spent with the children or with you collectively.

You miss him. The kids miss him. You hate that he has to work so much.

“Tommy,” you whisper from the doorway of his office, knocking on the heavy door quietly as you look at him.

He hums deeply but doesn’t look up. Stuck in his work, he takes a drink from his glass and keeps his pen moving. His cigarette is still smoking in the ashtray set to the side, not quite finished yet. You sigh, saying his name again. Not so sweetly this time. “Thomas.”

He sighs and looks up, but his pen is still set firmly between his fingers. “Yes, dear?” he responds. He’s exhausted, you can tell, but he’s good at pretending he isn’t. You’re just better at knowing that he is. You stay by the door, looking at him as your eyes dart down to his pen. He looks down at it and sighs.

Tommy sets down his pen, a peace offering. He gestures toward you. “Come. Come in.”

You step forward, taking your time in coming into his office as you close the door gently behind you. You approach his desk, and he watches you walk toward him and come to a stop. You lean on the dark wood, your fingers pressing into it as you look at him.

“The children miss you,” you speak gently.

He hums, picking up his pen again. “I’ll tuck them in tonight.”

“Too late. They’re already in bed.” You sigh when he begins writing, rolling your eyes.

“Well,” he mutters, “that’s that, isn’t it?”

You clench your jaw, your eyes fluttering at the audacity of his words. You hum, watching as he writes, the sound of pen scratching paper filling the room as he gets back to work. He hadn’t even lasted a minute. You should know, you counted. He made it thirty-eight seconds between putting down his pen and letting it touch his hand once more.

“When I tucked in August tonight–” you snatch the pen forcefully out of his hand, ignoring the way he sighs as you slap it down onto the desk and look at him. It takes him a moment to look you in the eyes so you would continue, “–he asked if he’d done something wrong. He asked me if Daddy still loves him and his sister.”

In his eyes, you can see the regret beginning to blossom there. But as quickly as it comes, he’s masked once again in exhaustion and duty. “I–”

“I’m not finished,” you interrupt. He glances away but immediately looks back at you, knowing you won’t speak unless he’s looking in your eyes. “Delia wants to know why Daddy doesn’t brush her hair after she wakes up anymore. She said she’s scared that you got tired of her.”

That hurts him even more. His jaw twitches as he processes. “My–”

“I am still not finished.”

He sighs. With a shrug, he says, “We’ve only got two children.”

You close your eyes, clenching your jaw once more to show your frustration. He doesn’t speak again, allowing you the floor. “And you’ve got one wife who wants to know why you’re letting business come before family. Family above all else, that’s what it is. That’s what the whole fucking family is about, Tommy.”

He waits a moment to know if you’ll speak again, not wanting to interrupt you and feed your anger. He speaks slowly, “I’ll take the children into town tomorrow. We’ll spend time together.”

“And then you’ll go back to work.”

“I work for them, for you,” he says, his voice raising a bit. “I do all of this to keep you all safe and happy.”

You sigh, chuckling lightly as you shake your head. “Tommy, the kids are happier when they get to see their father. Spending time with them for a single day and disappearing for another month isn’t going to make them fucking happy!”

He doesn’t want to fight with you. He understands what you’re saying, and he’s frustrated that his efforts are not being understood, but he doesn’t want to fight. He looks at you, and he can see that you’re just as tired as him. He sighs, backing down before you both end up in a screaming match. Screaming at each other won’t fix anything.

He rubs his eyes and picks up his glass, taking a sip from it and setting it down gently in hopes of easing his nerves. He looks at you, staying quiet for a long time. You take his silence for what it is, a moment to breathe. So you take a breath and lift your hand, removing the crushing weight of your palm from his pen. He doesn’t look at it.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I’ll spend more time with the kids. They shouldn’t be missing their father.”

You sigh, looking around the room in an effort to level your voice. “It’s not just them who’s missing you, Tom.” You look back at him. “We don’t even sleep in the same room anymore. You’re always down here on this fucking couch or back in Small Heath on ‘business’. I can’t remember the last time you held me, the last time you touched me.”

He sighs. You watch his shoulders fall. “Come here,” he bids softly.

You shake your head, removing your hands from his desk and taking a step back. “No.”

“Come here,” he says again, not as softly.

You blink away from him, a heavy sigh leaving you as you make yourself move. You walk toward him, rounding the desk to his side. He reaches a hand out to your side. You begin to jerk away from him, but he’s not having it. He pulls you in, both hands on your hips as he turns his chair to face you.

Tommy looks up at you, resting his chin on your belly as his thumbs caress your sides. It feels good. Really good, you almost melt into his touch. But you don’t want to give him the satisfaction as you place your hands over his and pretend like you’re trying to push him away. He’s unconvinced, but he plays along.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. Two sorries in one night…you must have won the lottery. “I know you don’t want to hear me say it…but I have a little more work to finish tonight–” you go to push him off with a scoff, but he holds you tightly and raises his voice a bit above your frustration, “–and then I will tend to your needs. I promise you.”

“Tommy–”

“I promise,” he insists.

You look at him, wanting to be angry but finding yourself helpless at the sight of his normally cold eyes staring up at you with more warmth than anyone else—besides his children—would ever receive. You sigh heavily, rubbing your temples and refusing to look at him as you speak. “Fine.”

He actually smiles, breathing a gentle laugh. “As a matter of fact,” one of his hands slides down your side and ducks underneath your nightgown, “I can do two things at once.”

He pushes your panties to the side with his fingers and presses his thumb to your clit. Your hips jerk away from him at the sudden touch and you speak, annoyed that your voice comes out as a whisper. “Tommy.”

“Shh,” he kisses your belly over your gown. “Let me take care of you.”

He slides his fingers over your folds, swiping back and forth along the length of them before slipping between them. Your eyes flutter at the feeling, leaning into his touch a little more as his thumb continues to tease you. You set your hands on his shoulders, holding yourself steady as he watches you react to him.

You moan slightly when his finger pushes inside of you, parting your lips to delve deeper. He works it into you as the arousal begins to seep. “Good girl,” he bids, feeling you begin to slick up for him, just enough for him to add a second finger inside you. You grip his shoulders a little tighter.

He pumps them slowly, massaging inside you as you begin to move your hips to the rhythm. You’re becoming faster than you would have liked, enjoying his touch too much after being without it for too long. “Tommy,” you whisper, a little whinier now that he’s got you worked up. He can see your nipples poking through your gown now.

“Just like that, come on,” he whispers. “Get nice and wet for me.”

His voice washes over you like velvet. You find yourself succumbing to him. You lean against him, into his touch, accepting his truce. His thumb massages your clit some more, making sure you’re nice and ready for him as he feels his cock stiffening in his pants.

After a moment, he pulls his fingers out of you. You grunt, your frustration returning at the loss of stimulation. You open your eyes and look at him again. You huff. “If you want me calm, this isn’t the way to do it.”

He chuckles, reaching a hand toward his belt as he begins to undo it. He just tells you to hush (in a kinder way) and pulls his cock out as he fixes his seat. You consider for a moment before relenting. You bring one leg over him, hovering over his lap in a straddle. You watch him as you grab his cock and line it up with your pussy, slowly sinking down on him and closing your eyes at the pleasant stretch. You moan gently. He breathes a little heavier, his hands on your waist tightening as you take him deeper and deeper.

When you’re sitting in his lap, you both let out a relieved sigh as you rest your forehead on his shoulder. You stifle a moan and begin to grind your hips, but he quickly stops you with his hands gripping your waist. You huff, but it comes out as a whine. “What?”

“I still have to work, darling.” “You can work later,” you argue.

He chuckles breathily. “Yes, but I’ll be able to pay more attention to you if this gets done first.” He raises his hands to your face, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks. “You’ve just got to sit there and be still. I’ll take good care of you.”

You try not to pout. It would be too bratty, and you need him to take you seriously. But you do pout, and he does think you’re bratty, and he takes you seriously anyway. “How long is this going to take?”

He glances at the papers on his desk and considers for a moment. “Ten minutes.”

You roll your eyes and groan. “Hurry up.”

He kisses your jaw and retrieves his pen, tapping your bottom and telling you to be a good girl while he works. You sit and wait, keeping yourself still with more trouble than you think it's worth as the stagnant stretch of his cock feeds your hunger and refuses to quench it.

He braces his hand on your back as he works. You rest your head in the crook of his shoulder, your fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his neck.

When you grind your hips absent-mindedly, searching for some friction, he lightly smacks you with a low grunt. “Stop moving.” You hum lightly, refusing to apologize but choosing to listen.

He's so warm, and he fills you so well. The urge to roll your hips once more fills your thighs, but you remain as still as you can, little moans and whimpers in his ear acting as your only act of defiance. He was thick, sitting so deep inside you as you clenched to feel him pulse.

It's been too long. You don't know how much time has passed, but you're reaching your limit as your desire for him after being neglected for too long grew to unthinkable depths. He's right here. You might as well take what you can.

“How long has it been?” you complain, pulling away to look at his face.

He doesn't look at you, but you can see the slight turn of the corner of his lips as he replies. “Nearly finished.”

“How much is nearly?” you question, raising a brow at him.

He turns his eyes on you. “Nearly.”

But you're sick of waiting. You need something, anything, right here and now before you keel over dead. You roll your eyes, “That's enough for me.”

You roll your hips atop his lap, moaning deeply in your throat at the pleasure that blossoms at the feeling. He grunts, holding your hip tighter and gripping the pen as though it were a lifeline.

“Love, I–”

Your words lift from a moan as you shake your head. “No,” you take his pen once more and toss it across the room, “I'm more important than whatever it is you're working on. Otherwise you would have sent me away the moment you could.” You take his face in your hands and pull him close to yours, your lips just barely touching, your voice low and frustrated. “It's my turn.”

He stares at you, awaiting your next move in silence. But you don't move, against your greater impulses, you sit still and stare back.

His lips crash against yours, a bruising kiss that begs your attention just as much as yours begs his. You moan into his mouth as his hands tighten around your hip and hold the base of your head.

He grunts into you, enjoying the taste of your lips as he guides your hips, grinding you down on top of him as he devours you.

The pleasure is quick to overtake you, sinking into every limb and flicking at every nerve. You're dripping onto his lap as you lift yourself up on shaky legs. The puddle of slick you've created just from sitting there for who-knows-how-long would be embarrassing if you hadn't been in this position so many times, being filled up by Tommy's cock.

You lift yourself until the tip of him is embedded inside you, the flex of your thighs making you tighter as you do. When you drop back down it forces rough moans from both of you as you grip onto one another for dear life.

You do it again, setting a rhythm as the electric feeling of the thrusts spreads through you. The sound of your thighs smacking into his lap fills the room with the steady pace, creating a sinful beat for your love to keep time with.

And the bliss of finally being tended to is good, but it isn't enough. You need more.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bury your face in his neck, moaning meekly and rolling your hips. “Tommy,” you whimper, your voice a gentle plea, a helpless whisper, an innocent manipulation. “Tommy, I need you.”

He tries not to shudder at the way you sound, pleading in his ear. He holds you tighter.

“What do you need, darling?” His voice is rough and full of breath, eager to smell your perfume and taste the liquor on your lips.

“More,” you hum, followed by another whimper only half-real as you grind yourself once more. “I need more.”

He knows what you're doing. He knows all your tricks, all the little ways you get him to do exactly what you want. He knows the voice you use, the breaths you take, the way your eyes focus on him, the way you hold him just a little differently. He knows everything.

But at the end of the day, he is just a man who loves his wife. A man who would do anything to see her happy.

He strokes a hand down the back of your hair, his parted lips passing shallow breaths. Nevertheless, he pulls you from his shoulder. “I'm not giving you anything until you say ‘please’.”

You lick your bottom lip between your teeth, stifling a moan as you decide whether or not you'll obey. But you do. With your palms at the sides of his neck, you speak. “Please, Tommy,” you beg softly. “Please give me more.”

He considers you, stalling just to make you squirm before picking you up and putting you on the desk, ignoring the pages and pages he lays you on. They're mostly done. He'll finish them eventually and let them go to whoever it needs to go to, still smelling of sex and the perfume you wear if it must. He doesn't care, he just needs you.

He holds you by the back of your legs, kissing the side of your knee as he stares at you the whole time. You watch him fondly, your breath shallow in your chest. He slips his hands down your thighs to hold your hips, lining himself back up with you and sinking inside once again.

Your eyes close and you purse your lips, a moan slipping through at the feeling. He presses himself inside you, rubbing against that deep part of you that makes your eyes roll. “Mm, Tommy.”

He sighs deeply, pulling out and pushes back in to set a steady pace. He starts with long, slow strokes that eventually build into a slew of quick, rough thrusts. You moan as you lay your head back against the desk, closing your eyes and trying to stay quiet as you gripped the desk behind your head. Your limbs tingle with the feeling of the pleasure spreading throughout your system. You clench around his cock and bury your face in your arms. You wrap your legs around his waist and bite your lower lip with the smallest grunts.

“Come on, love,” he rasps, his hair disheveled and his breath rough with exertion and desire. “You wanted this, don’t hide from me.” He reaches one hand out to gather your wrists in his palm. “Moan for me, darling. Look at me.”

You bring your attention to his face, your lashes fluttering with each little thrust inside your quivering pussy. You release your bottom lip from your teeth, setting free more whimpers and whines as your back rubs against the wood of his desk, the rock of his hips having you bouncing atop it.

He looks pretty. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide with lust as he gazes upon your body. For a moment, he wonders if he should take off your gown to see your naked body beneath him. But if he has to pull out of you before he’s finished, heads will roll. “Is this what you want? Eh?” he wonders aloud, letting go of your wrists to place your legs over his shoulders. You reach forward just enough to grab his waist, holding him close as the pleasure builds to wavering heights in both of you.

He presses his thumb to your clit, pulsing and in need of stimulation. “You needed me to fuck you nice and rough? Make it all up to you, eh?”

You nod sloppily, not paying too much attention to what he says as the pleasure gets closer and closer to that so desperately needed release. Your thighs tremble, the delicious shocks of desire bringing them to life as he continues to fuck into you.

“Tommy,” you gasp, dropping into a moan at the end of his name. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“You are, eh?” he teases, rubbing your clit just a little faster. “Have you said ‘please’?”

You mewl, helpless as you obey simply for your own satisfaction. He’s got you laying on his desk with his cock shoved in your cunt, and you’re moaning for him like the whores he used to fuck, but you’re still mad at him, even if you still love him with everything you’ve got.

“Please,” you moan. “Please let me cum, Tom.”

He grunts as he accepts, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he keeps on. “Alright,” he says. “Go on, love.”

The pleasure rises within you until you can’t hold it in anymore. With a thrust of his hips and a flick of his thumb, you fall apart as you close your eyes and lay your head back, your lips parting with a loud moan to let his name slip from your lips like honey. Your thighs tremble, your pussy flutters around him and pushes him over the edge.

A rough groan, bordering on a growl, erupts from his throat as he shoves his cock as deep inside you as he’ll go, grinding his hips to bury himself there. “Fuck,” he curses, your name rumbling in his chest. He spills inside you, rolling his hips into you as he does to fill you up with his warm spend. Your body tenses as you accept him, your lungs full of breath as your whimpers bleed into each little sigh until you feel the pleasure beginning to wane in the tingling of your toes.

He leans forward, towering over your body as his hips continue to thrust into you, his lips finding the junction of your neck and shoulders to taste your skin against his tongue. His kisses embed themselves in the fabric of your skin until they reach your lips, eager to slot into their natural place and become whole once more. The sounds he muffles into your mouth borders on a moan as his eager thrusts slow against the sensitivity of your pussy still coming down from your high.

You both linger there moments after you’ve returned to the earth through obligation. When you’ve come to yourself enough, wrap your arms around his neck and let out a long sigh, releasing the deep breath you’d taken moments before.

“Fuck,” you curse on a sigh, carding your fingers through his hair.

Tommy pulls his face from the crook of your neck and kisses you again, long and slow and almost possessive. He leans back to see your face, bringing his fingers up to brush them over your forehead, looking fondly into your eyes and searching your face for all of his favorite little features.

He sighs. “I don’t say it enough,” he says, his voice low and gentle and sincere. You stare back at him, stroking your knuckles along his jaw. “I love you, wife.” Your noses bump. You breathe each other’s air.

You breathe a little laugh, humming lightly. “No, you don’t say it enough.” You close the gap to kiss him again, a quicker kiss. “I’ll make sure you do.” You don’t return it, but he can see it in your eyes that you do, you do love him. He can see in your eyes just how much you can’t measure it. You don’t have to say it. He knows.

He taps your side, breaking away from you as he pulls out with a small sigh. He takes your hand and helps you to sit up. As you do, you take hold of his shirt and bring him close to your face. He thinks you’ll kiss him again.

“And, Thomas,” you smile a little, but he can see the threat lingering on your lips before they speak it, “if those words come out of my children’s mouths one more time, I’ll cut your cock off and feed it to you.”

Part of him wants to believe it’s just a threat—you love him (and his cock) too much. The other part knows it isn’t. You love your children more.

He smiles at you, nodding. He laughs as he says, “I love you, woman.”

You sigh on a hum, taking in the sight of his pretty face. “Hm… I know.”

Cillian Murphy taglist: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @goblinjnr @kmc1989 @shelbyism @weepingwitchofthewest @cl-0-vr @thoticious @sinarainbows @the-nerdy-goddess @urmomsgirlfriend1 Tag yourself here...

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brummiereader · 6 months

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PREVIOUS PART

Hopelessly Devoted (PART SEVEN/ FINAL CHAPTER)

Summary: After Tommy's apology you find yourself back at Watery Lane with the intention to thank him for the flowers he had left you when the eldest Shelby brother unintentionally breaks a tender moment in a bid to help reunite you both, doing more harm than good. Will you and Tommy finally rekindle your strained relationship or is all hope lost?

Warnings: Language, angst, fluff, smut (Minors DNI)

Authors note: In this final chapter there is a small cameo from a four legged darling dear to my heart. My dog. A few weeks ago my sweet boy passed away at the old age of thirteen. This way my way of saying goodbye to him through the words of our dear ol' Arthur.

Walking down Watery Lane a feeling of hesitancy overcame you. You never thought you'd step back onto this street, not after you and its most infamous resident who just so happened to be the man you had been hopelessly devoted to for the past five years had a blazing row in front of everyone in the very same spot only a few weeks ago. But here you were, and as you eyed up the betting shop in the distance a ball of nerves started to bounce unforgivably around in the pit of your stomach making you feel less than confident about your descion to turn onto the notorious road. You couldn't quite pinpoint why you felt so anxious, you was supposed to be hating the man who had broken your heart more times than you cared to admit. But since that day when he had unexpectedly turned up at your front door, since he had willingly admitted to his wrongdoings, since he had left the posy of flowers on your bedsit stairs that were sitting in a vase on your kitchen table resembling a rather miserable bunch of weeds than the sweet handpicked arrangement of foliage he had left for you, something had changed. You had desperately kept the small bouquet alive for as long as you could, afraid that the sentimental gesture and the meaning behind it would die along with them. Was it a fluke? Did Tommy mean every word he had said? You thought to yourself as you approached the door with the intention to thank him for the flowers and the phone call he had placed to the manager at the Post Office in regard to the job interview he had for all intents and purposes, sabotaged. Admittedly, after everything he had done and put you through he didn't deserve a thank you let alone one in person. But in a turn of events and unexpected forgiveness on your part your anger towards him suddenly didn't hold weight any more. You found yourself wanting to see him, wanting to be near him as if the past five years hadn't happen, as if this was the very moment you had been desperately holding out for.

" Is Tommy about?" You asked as you walked into the busy betting shop. Monaghan boy was set to race later that day and half of Small Heath had scrambled into the small converted terrace house eager to place their bets on what was set to be the biggest race of the month, one Tommy had undoubtedly fixed in his favour of course. With no answer and not one single Shelby in sight you headed behind the curtains and made your way up the old rickety staircase. It had been so long since you had ventured up to the second floor of Watery Lane. But even now you still remembered where and where not to step on the creaking wooden steps from the countless times Tommy had sneaked you up to his room to spend the night. And just as you did all those years ago you found yourself biting your bottom lip in anticipation that at any moment Polly would shout down from the top of the stairs at Tommy to stop corrupting any innocence you had left, the memory of the days when your biggest worry was not getting caught making your stomach fill with a youthful fluttering of butterflies you never thought you'd experience again. " Tommy?" you called out as you stood in the hallway when you turned your head to the sound of his bedroom door opening.

"Hey" he said putting his head through his white under shirt, pulling his suspenders over his shoulders as he walked out into the landing. It was nine in the morning. Tommy was known to get up at the crack of dawn, had he just woken up? "Had a lie in" he said, surprised by his own omission as he reached for his back pocket for a cigarette. " First time in years" he added placing it between his lips as he lit a match. First time in five years to be exact or to be even more accurate, the third time since he had turned up at your place. Tommy had, for the first time in years slept the whole night through. His worn body aching for the extra time he had let himself have, for the time you had let his restless thoughts unburden themselves of the regret and guilt he had been carrying around for the past five years. Shaking the flame from the small stick of aspen he looked over at you, a faint smile playing on the edge of his lips at your flustered face. Flustered was an understatement, you looked like a dear caught in headlights. Not only was you mentally unprepared to see him half naked after all these years, you couldn't remember the last time you saw him so...relaxed. You had become so accustomed to his usual tightly wound up demeanour that he had unexpectedly caught you off guard making you loose track of what you had planned to say.

" Is everything alrig..."

" I wanted to say thank you" you blurted out cutting him off as Tommy furrowed his brow in surprise.

" Thank you? For what?" he said stepping closer as your eyes briefly darted up to meet his before returning to look at the floorboards beneath you. You felt like a teenager again, and like any teenager standing in front of whom they believed to be the love of their life, the nerves currently coursing through your body seemed to have stopped any previous ability you had to talk let alone think. You had become a fumbling mess, and it hadn't gone unnoticed.

" Y/N?" Tommy said as he ducked his head down trying to catch your line of sight when you failed to elaborate.

" For the post office job" you replied as he looked down at you watching him roll his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger.

" You would have had that job if it wasn't for me" he acknowledged, exhaling a cloud of smoke up to the ceiling.

" And for the flowers" you said finally making eye contact as you lifted your head.

"Flowers..." Tommy replied, suddenly remembering the small bouquet he had thrown in a panic after seeing, was it Harry or Henry? God, the date was such a bore you still wondered if the whole evening had be a figment of your imagination.

" Oh fuck..Tommy they weren't for me were they? I just thought with the note, with the .." you trailed off into a incoherent mumbling of words you and nobody else could understand as you covered your eyes and turned for the stairs. Your humiliation never ceasing to make itself known by your increasingly reddened cheeks.

" Y/N wait" Tommy said grabbing your arm stopping you and your attempts to flee the awkward situation." Of course they were for you" he smiled as his hand rubbed up and down your arm in a bid to reassure you. "What other woman in Small Heath let alone the whole country likes a bouquet with only three flowers eh? " he chuckled trying to ease the pressure that had suddenly encapsulated you both.

" I do" you said as you looked up into his crystal blue eyes, finding yourself slowly getting lost in his gaze.

" You do" he smiled closing the gap between you both as his thumb came up and tenderly brushed along your check. " I should have given them to you in person" he said as he cupped your face, your fingers finding their way up his chest, turning one of the buttons on his cotton shirt as you looked up at him through your lashes. Apprehensively leaning into you, Tommy's lips ghosted over yours, his thumb still stroking gently against you skin as you both waited for the other to make the next move when a heavy footed second Shelby came stomping up the stairs breaking the long awaited moment between you both.

" Right. I've bloody had enough of this I have" Arthur said as he stormed up the stairs, throwing open the closet door next to you, pushing you both inside and locking it before either of you had the opportunity to react." 'Bout time you both sorted out..." Arthur said as he waved his hand in front of the door, his face scrunched up in deep concentration as he tried to look for the missing word. "... well, whatever this is" he finished as he nodded his head, satisfied with his spontaneous plan of action, one he would later learn did more harm than good.

" Arthur open the fucking door! " Tommy shouted as he rattled the handle, the distant sound of his brother whistling merrily as he made his way down the stairs only infuriating his efforts.

" Did you set this up? " you snapped stood back as you shook your head, a scowl settling on your face as the tender moment you had both shared mere minutes ago started to fade into what was set to be another match of bickering. This is definitely something those two little shits would have conjured up. You thought to yourself as you glared at the only other person in the cramped space, all your anger now directly aimed at him.

" Me?" Tommy scoffed as he reached into his back pocket pulling out his pack of cigarettes only to find he had already smoked the last one. " Only that daft bastard downstairs could have thought of doing something like this" he huffed throwing the empty carton on the floor as he leaned against the door.

" Well.." you said motioning behind him.

"Well what?"

" Aren't you going to get us out of here?" You replied moving him out the way as you gestured at the lock when a small laugh caught in his throat.

" I've gone legitimate darling" Tommy said as you crossed your arms furrowing your brows. " My lock picking days are over" he reiterated as he leaned back against the door giving into the situation he's idiot brother had put you both in. There was no way of getting out of this, not unless you had a spare key hidden in that ample cleavage of yours that was now pressing against his chest. Tommy thought to himself as the temptation to look down was almost too much for him to refuse.

" Pull the over one Tommy" you frowned rolling your eyes at his chilled state. Anyone would think he was happy about this, and to some degree he was.

" So what do we now?" you said as you moved back the few centimetres between you and the metal shelving behind you, shifting your arms back and forth in attempts to put some space between you both.

" Well, I'm guessing we wait" he said as his eyes darted around the dark room that looked suspiciously like the one you had both found yourselves in ten years ago.

" Fuck sake" you mumbled under your breath as you looked up at him, still convinced this was his doing. "You're suffocating me, move back" you sighed blowing the lone strained of hair in front of your face away from your eyes as Tommy let out a loud huff in response, silently cursing his brother for managing to ruin the very moment he had been envisioning for the past five years, and your lesser than pissed off mood with him.

" Tighter squeeze than it was ten years ago" he said as he cleared his throat, a cocky smirk playing on the corner of his mouth.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" you asked, daring him to say what you already knew he meant as you crossed your arms in front of you, forming or rather forcing a barrier between you both as Tommy grunted at the sudden impact, your own subdued by the cushioning of your assets. The very same assets Tommy wished he had never mentioned now your elbows were digging into his chest.

" I'm only teasing Y/N" he surrendered, a sudden sense of seriousness over coming him after seeing the frustration rising in your face at the unexpected predicament. In any other circumstance he would have been more than happy to be stuck in a closet with you again. But the scowl on your face said enough for him to not worsen the situation with any more jokes. Instead he attempted to change the mood with a different subject of conversation and break the awkward silence that had descended on you both. " Your mum keeping well?"

" My mum?" You laughed, surprised be the very question you thought you'd never hear leave his lips considering their mutual despise for one another. " Well thanks to you she had a visit from Father Wells"

"From St Mary's ?"

" Yeh. Oh, didn't you know? She's been named the wicked witch of Small Heath" you said as Tommy furrowed his brow in confusion. " You told Finn she was a witch. Finn told every living person he could find, which caused a small gathering of panicked old ladies to demand Father Wells pay her a visit and cleanse her mind, body and soul of evil" you said as Tommy let out a scoff of a laugh at the idea his tall tale had caused quite the commotion with the senior citizens of Small Heath. "Anyway" you said letting your own amusement slip in the form of a small giggle as you looked around the room, a sight Tommy never got tired of seeing, his fingers itching to trace the curve of your smile, desperately wanting to repeat the broken moment you had shared.

" Have a look in there for something, to pick the lock with " Tommy said clearing his throat as he nodded towards the small box precariously sitting on another large stack of cardboard boxes in attempts to snap him out of his day dream your small giggle had let him wander in to. Manoeuvring your arm between the tight squeeze of your bodies pressed together you looked through the small box pulling out a book on the poet " Sir Edmund Spence" as you turned to face Tommy with a look of confusion on your face at the strangest discovery you had ever made in the Shelby home.

" Arthur reads, apparently" Tommy said, as you turned your head back to the box of items, a smile on you lips at your endearing affection for the eldest Shelby and his ever growing list of new hobbies when you leaned forward and a sharp tug on the back of your head had your wincing in pain.

"Great... My hairs stuck" you whined reaching behind your head trying to loosen your locks from the metal shelving pushing into your back. " Tommy! My hairs stuck!" You reiterated, when he didn't automatically jump to your add.

" Bloody hell. Stay still" Tommy said as he reached behind you pressing his chest into your face.

" You're squishing me " you said looking up at him as his eyes stayed fixed on the task entrusted to him. With his attention else where you took the opportunity to take in every small detail of his face you had been missing for the past five years. Each freckle you used to spend countless hours counting when he'd sleep, his long lashes every girl south of Sparkhill envied, his plump lips that..."Ouch" you shrieked when he pulled harder than expected on your recently coiffed locks.

"Do you want my help?" He replied cocking a brow as he continued to unhook your hair from the shelf you had managed to get it knotted in.

"Just pull it out" you huffed wriggling in place.

" Fuck sake Y/N, I would if I could but it's stuck. If you'd stop bloody moving I'd be able to slide it out"

" Tommy..." you whined getting progressively inpatient as he loomed over you, increasing the already stifling heat your two bodies had managed to create in the small cramped space.

" Keep that whining up and you'll attract the rats"

" What rats?!" You yelped as your eyes darted around the room when Tommy finally unhooked your hair and sent you a wink, your face quickly dropping from a panicked wide-eyed stare into a small smile. Thank god you fell for that one, Tommy thought to himself. Watery Lane had become a new home to half the rats of Small Heath no thanks to Finn and his adamant goal on training them to do tricks for the small rodent circus he envisioned them performing in, much to Polly's dismay.

" Thanks" you said smoothing down your hair as Tommy moved his hand around from behind your head, his fingers lingering on the side of your cheek as he brushed the few whispers of hairs away from your face.

"Y/N..." He sighed cupping your cheeks in both his hands as you stood there patiently waiting, expecting him to pick up where things had ended out in the hallway. Had he lost his nerve? What was it about closets that always had this man lost for words? Either way you was not going to wait any longer to find out.

" Fuck it" you said pressing your lips to his as Tommy instantly dropped his hands to your hips pulling you closer into his hold.

" I've missed you" Tommy mumbled between breaths not wanting to part with the embrace any more than essentially necessary, the intensity of the moment catapulting you both back ten years as if you was kissing for the very first time. And just like all those many moons ago the years of suppressed need and desperation for eachother was making itself known quickly, very quickly.

" Tommy please..." You breathed heavily against his mouth as you pulled his suspenders down his arms, both lost in the moment of finally feeling each other, holding each other. As you both fumbled to undo his suit trousers a strained gasp left Tommy's throat when you slid your hand down into his briefs, the sudden feeling of your fingers wrapped around his hard length causing Tommy to stumble forward as his hand reached behind you grabbing the shelf to steady himself from the intense feeling of your touch.

" Fuck...I can't wait any longer" Tommy moaned as he reached under your dress moving your underwear to the side, his fingers ghosting over your wetness as he teased the entrance, making your head spin with desperation to feel him inside of you. Quickly pushing his trousers down, Tommy hitched up your dress as you wrapped your arms around his neck, his darkened stare filled with lust and need catching your eye as you hooked your finger into his briefs and pulled them down.

" Tommy, I..I need you..." You trailed off at the feeling of him grinding his length slowly through your wet folds as he looked down at the very sight he had spent nights fantasising about, trying with all his will power to not cum right then and there. It had been too long, too fucking long since he had last felt you.

" Fuck sweetheart" Tommy moaned, spreading your legs further apart with his knee as he lined himself up and push the head of his length inside of you." Holy...shit, you feel just as I remembered." Tommy breathed out as he pressed his forehead against yours. "Been thinking about this every night for five years" he groaned against your lips, his eyes squeezing shut as he pushed even further when his words suddenly snapped you out of the intensity of the moment.

" Wait stop, stop!" you said pushing him out of you as Tommy groaned at the loss of your heat around him, inches from being fully bottomed out.

" What...what's wrong?" Tommy breathed heavily as he looked at you pushing your dress down.

" This was a mistake." You said straightening out your clothes as his words ringed in your ears. He'd been thinking about this every night, even when he was with her, Grace. He had been wanting you every night but went to her instead. You wasn't naive enough to think that they had never had sex, but you suddenly felt sick at the mere thought of it.

" A mistake? Y/N, talk to me, what's going on?" He said pulling his trousers up as he stood behind you confused as to what he had did, what he had said.

" Every night you thought about me, every fucking night!" you cried as you slammed on the door. " Arthur open this fucking door!"

" Of course I did. What the fucks wrong with that? Didn't you think about me ?" He said trying to turn you around to face him.

" I did but not with someone else laying beside me Tommy!" You cried as you pushed his hands of you. "Did you fuck her thinking of me?" You sobbed disgusted by your own question, one some might be happy to hear that even whilst he was with another woman his thoughts were with you. But it seemed to have the opposite effect on you, you was revolted by the image of you on his mind as he fucked another woman, the same woman that had done nothing but belittle and humiliate you. Was you being irrational, were things moving to fast? Or were you trying to find a reason, any reason to halt your fragile relationship from rekindling, afraid the past would repeat itself?

"Jesus Christ" Tommy huffed as he pinched his brow at the sudden change in mood.

"Well?"

" Of course I fucking didn't! She meant nothing to me, I regretted it the momen..

" Only after then " you said cutting him off not wanting to hear anything he had to say about his time with her.

" You're twisting things" when had he become so bad at formulating the right words. He was beginning to think it was a skill he had perfected only for you.

" Arthur!" You banged loudly on the door, desperate to be the furthest you possibly could from the very man you had dropped everything to go and see that day.

"What in seven hell was that?" Polly said as she walked into the living room pulling the pin out of her hat as she placed her bag down onto the coffee table.

" Y/N and Tommy are working through their... differences" Arthur replied sat in an arm chair with the mornings paper on his lap.

" Oh Arthur what did you do? Actually don't tell me, I already know. You locked them in the bloody cupboard didn't you?" Polly replied as she looked up at the ceiling, your banging on the door rattling the paper thin walls.

" It's for their own good"

" Arthur, did it ever enter your new founded brilliant mind that they were actually on the right path? Tommy had apologise to her you berk! "

"How was I supposed to bloody know, I've been in London haven't I. I can't keep up, their spats change with the bloody wind! Arthur huffed throwing the Birmingham Gazette on the table in front of him.

" Jesus Christ, why do I live in a house of bloody halfwits?" Polly said shaking her head as she clutched the cross around her neck." Give me the key else we'll be calling the undertakers within the next ten minutes"

" Tom would never hurt her"

" It's not Tommy I'm worried about" she said as she hurried up the stairs holding the bottom of her dress.

" Y/N would you calm down" Tommy pleaded as you continued to hysterically pound at the door when the lock turned on the opposite side and you pushed it open, running past Polly and down the stairs out onto Watery Lane.

" What did you do now?" Polly said quirking a brow as she stood in front of the door with her arms crossed.

" At this point, breathed" Tommy huffed as leaned against the shelving in the small closet looking up at the ceiling as he finally puzzled everything together, the sudden realisation as to what his words may have meant to you, words he would have reacted as equally as angry to if he had been on the receiving end of them. It had been a one time thing, a drunken mistake he had regretted instantly. Not that his confession would ease the disgust you now felt for him. Even though you weren't together at the time, he had in that very moment when he sat at the end of the bed felt like he had cheated on you. Betrayed every declaration of love he had ever made to you, leaving him feeling physically sick with guilt as he bolted away and out the presence of the very woman he had just been intimate with.

" Penny for your thoughts?" Arthur said as he turned the corner onto the back alley of your flats a few days later.

" You don't want to hear my thoughts Arthur, and they're definitely not worth a penny" you replied sitting on the brick wall along the path, biting into an apple as you watched your freshly hanged laundry dry. Riveting.

" Why are they naughty? " he grinned as you scooted over to make room for him to sit down.

" No, murderous"

" These murderous thoughts wouldn't happen to be about a beloved brother of mine would they?" He laughed taking the apple from you as you rested your hands on the brick wall, swaying your feet back and forth as Arthur took an abnormally large bite from the last of your lunch leaving nothing left for you." Go on, tell old Arthur all about it" he said mouth half full as you scrunched your brow in amazement watching him eat down to the very core.

" Tommy's been looking for me and I've been avoiding him" you replied tucking your hair behind your ear as you looked down at the ends of your shoes.

" And why's that ay?" He asked already knowing your likely response.

" Because what's the point Arthur? We're never going to get back to how we were, back to being madly in love. Too much has happened. He did too much" you said turning your head sniffing back your tears.

" Are you pulling my leg? Back to being madly in love...you are madly in love! " Arthur chuckled as you snapped your head to him.

" I'm not joking Arthur, there's nothing left to fix" you pouted as you blinked away your tears, refusing to admit to yourself that the love you had for him was as strong as it was back then. Albeit an angrier close to committing murder kind of love.

" Ay, come on you" he sighed putting his arm around your shoulder as he watched your white linen table cloth blow in the gentle afternoon breeze. " Never seen two people in love as much you both. Even after five years of putting all us through the ringer with his bullshit Tommy never went a day without mentioning you Y/N, even if half the time it was him whinging about how you broke his poor old bloody heart first" Arthur said rolling his eyes at the very words you were convinced Tommy never went a day without letting you hear.

" Well I'm glad I wasn't the only one that had to hear that for all those years " you sniffed as a small laugh escaped your lips.

" He loves you Y/N. He's just been shit at showing it" he said as you looked up at him smiling back to you. "Please, put us out of our misery ay. I don't think I can do another five bloody years of this" he said as he squeezed you into his side rubbing your arm up and down like he was trying to start a fire with his bare hands. It was blunt, but it was to the point. Making more sense to you than the countless hours you had spent mulling in self-doubt and pity. Arthur was right could you go through another five years of this?

" Ello mate, where you been then? Out chasing rabbits old boy" Arthur said, both of you welcoming the change from the heavy conversation you'd just had as he dropped his hand down to a black and white dog slowly approaching him, his muzzle greyed by the years he had gracefully earned. " Begging now are we?" Arthur added as the four legged animal sat down in front of him, lifting his muddy paw whilst he eyed up the apple core in Arthur's hand. " Ere, you scruffy mutt" Arthur chuckled as he threw it to him, the dogs aged reflects seemingly unaffected when it came to all things edible. " Gone on, I'll see ya later" Arthur said nodding to the empty path as the dog trotted off, content with his late super firmly grasped within his mouth.

" New friend ?" You asked as you watched Arthur smooth down his stache, a smile poking through the whispers of hair.

" Gave him some leftovers few weeks back, now he won't leave me alone. Gangly looking thing ain't he? All legs and big ears" Arthur said as he watched the dog make his way down the alleyway, the sun setting down at the end of the cobbled path reflecting off the small puddles his four legged friend tip toed nimbly around.

" Bit like you then. No wonder you get along" you laughed as you looked up at the blue skies, nearly two months worth of rain finally easing up.

" Cheeky mare" Arthur said nudging his shoulder with yours as he rolled his eyes.

" How old is he?"

" Well I've counted the spots on his back, but he looks like he's been dipped in paint so I don't know"

" Arthur, he's not a ladybird"

" You're too easy Y/n " Arthur chuckled, thinking he had fooled you with his joke you was sure he had been waiting to make the moment he had conjured it up. "Nah, he's alright. He's a good boy" Arthur sniffed looking down to the end of the path as the dog stood there patiently waiting. " It's alright boy, you can go" Arthur called out with a quick nod of his head, reassuring his furred companion he'd see him again soon as he watched him walk over the small hill into the sunset disappearing from sight. " Right. Come on you. No more faffing about, let's go have a cuppa while we wait for Tommy ay? " Arthur said jumping off the wall putting his hand out for you to take as you both made your way through the alleyway, hopping over the puddles as you both giggled like two children making their way home before dark, the welcome heat of the fading sun beaming on your faces.

All day, all bloody day he'd been looking for you. Tommy thought to himself as he walked past the Garrison, the smell of beer and liquor tempting him to drown in his sorrows and abandoned any hope of finding you.

" Still breaking my Y/N's heart" he heard a voice call out on the opposite side of the street as he turned the corner onto Watery Lane, the same voice he'd been intentionally avoiding at all costs for going on five years.

" Don't you have a broom to catch?" Tommy replied as he slowed his pace, keeping a safe distance between him and the fire breathing dragon you just so happened to call mum.

" Trouble, I've been saying it for years " your mum scowled as Tommy eyed up the tea towel sat on top of her weeks shopping in the woven basket resting on her forearm, knowing his turn to feel the back of it was long overdue.

" I hope your dealings with the devil don't run in the family, because I plan on marrying your daughter and I don't fancy having to deal with her temper when it's a full moon and you lot come alive. Tommy said with a chuckle as your mother's eyes widened at the sheer cheek of the boy she'd been trying to keep you away from for as long as she could remember, for when you were together you were an unstoppable force she had no hope of winning. " Ta ra!" Tommy waved above his head as he opened the door to Watery Lane leaving your mum standing there, damning the day you and him had met.

"Two peas in a bloody pod" she huffed as she marched off down the street a small smile making itself known as she looked up at the sky. "Isn't that right my love..."

"Ay up" Arthur said over his tea cup as Tommy came stomping through the front door of Watery Lane, hair disheveled a look of shear frustration on his face as you looked up from your lap.

" Been giving me the runaround all day eh?" Tommy said as he threw his cap on the table, brushing his hand threw his hair with the other.

" I don't know what you're talking about" you replied complacently as you leaned back into the plush armchair whilst Arthur stood in the corner, a smirk on his lips as he watched the drama about to unfold over the warm cup of tea in his hands.

" Right. Enough" Tommy said pointing his finger at you as he marched over. " Stand up, come on, up" he said pulling you to your feet by your arms. " I'm sorry alright, I'm fucking sorry. For all of it" he said cupping your cheeks in his hands as he dipped his head down to look directly into your eyes. " Just one more chance ey? God knows I'm a miserable bastard without you..."

" Ain't that the bloody truth" Arthur interrupted rolling his eyes as he poured two fingers of whisky into his drink.

"... sweetheart, please" he said rubbing his thumb across you chin as he leaned in and rested his forehead on yours. " I can't do this without you Y/N " he said quietly squeezing his eyes shut as he waited for a response, feeling like it was the longest wait of his life than the few seconds it actually took for you to respond.

" One more chance " you replied as Tommy's eyes flew open.

" Yeh?"

" Yeh" you smiled as Tommy crashed his lips onto yours holding you tightly in his arms.

" 'Bout bloody time" Arthur cheered raising his tea that contained more whisky than it did anything else into the air.

" I love you Y/N Y/L/N"

" I love you Thomas Shelby" you said wrapping your legs around his waist as he lifted you up into his body, lips intertwined in an unstoppable embrace.

" Right, I'm off out then" Arthur said raising his brows as he downed his drink as quick as humanly possible " Make sure you turn that gramophone on ay, nobody wants to hear five bleeding years of making up" Arthur chuckled as he scrambled for his coat and hat heading for the door having already seen enough of your and Tommy's passionate display of reconciliation. Together at last. All it took was five years and some wise words from a gangly Shelby who had made it his life mission to not only never let your smile fade but to bring you and his baby brother back together, even if it did mean locking you in a closet.

" Tommy" you said, your head resting against his bare chest and his lazily stroked up and down your back.

" Mmm?" He hummed, his eyes shut, a content smile on his face as sleep beckoned him. He wasn't a young adult anymore, five years of making up had exhausted him. He was convinced he had beat an all time world record in the past twenty-four hours something he was now secretly proud off, maybe his greatest accomplishment yet. At Least now he could say his little white lie ten years ago had been achievable.

" What do you think we'll be doing ten years from now?" You said as Tommy opened his eyes turning his head to you.

" How did I know you was gonna ask me that ey" Tommy replied, brushing his nose with yours as he cupped the side of your face.

" Tommy.."

" The same thing sweetheart, cross my heart and all that" he said feeling his eyes get heavy with sleep again.

"I'm serious Tommy"

" So am I. No more looking back eh? Only looking beside me, you next to me holding my hand like it should've always been. I promise you that" he said pecking his lips to yours as he brought you further into his body, not only promising to you but himself to never let the past repeat itself. Thomas Michael Shelby, the man who had enough stubbornness to endure five years worth of self-inflicted heartache finally felt at peace, the one person he had dreamt to hold in his arms again now permanently by his side. He may not have shown it how he'd intended to do to, but he had always, and would always be, hopelessly devoted to you.

The End.

There we are everyone, we've come to the end of the story for Y/N and Tommy. As always, I want to thank you all for the love you have shown this series. I know I say it all the time but you have blown me away with your incredible support, I appreciate it more than you can imagine. I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments on the ending of this rollercoaster of a story. Thank you to each and every one of you, my lovely readers.

Brummie xxx

Tag list: @cosniffee @jonsncws @powellssaturn @jessimay89 @bruher @riseandreigns4u @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @chimchimjiminie16 @gaslysainz @calicoootalks (unable to tag) @weaponizedvirtue @vlryexsworld (unable to tag) @shittyprofilebutfuckit @peakyswritings @kammsinn @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @cherryslyce @esquivelbianca @taliawz (unable to tag) @answer-the-sirens @dielgonacoffee @cicilysgrace @nadloves @beeposstuff @fanatics30 @httyd-marauders @yeppaweshallsee (unable to tag) @ja-4-leyvam (unable to tag) @xmariakx @slighltyaboveaverageiq (unable to tag) @fairypitou @youngbananamilkshake @call-sign-shark @peakyltd @jeysbae @muhahaha303 @mornixgstar18 @adaydreamaway08 @atomicsaladapricotcreator (unable to tag) @1lellykins @duckybird101 @warrior-of-justice @amberpanda99 @mrstargayen09 @synx-h (unable to tag) @gypsy-girl-08 @in0320 @sherbitdibdab @vizzzashley @cinematicdilfs (unable to tag) @twlegit @strangeobsessed @vizzzashley

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby smut #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine

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fallatyourfeet · 5 months

Text

Empty Promises (Tommy X Wife Reader) One-shot

Summary: Tommy can be a cruel man sometimes, but YN still loves him.

Word count: 746

Warnings: Nothing really.

A/N: This is my first fic in a long long time. It's short but hopefully sweet.

Please feel free to send me a message/comment/ask, I would love to know what you think.

If you like this, please feel free to visit my blog and take a look around! You can find my masterlist in my bio.

“Tommy, you promised”. Standing at the empty desk of his Arrow House study, you held the telephone receiver to your ear staring at your reflection in the window. It was so dark outside that the pane of glass worked perfectly as a mirror. You looked good. Really good. Beautiful even. Exhaling silently, your eyes dropped to the rug beneath your favourite pair of heels. It felt like forever since you had a reason to put on a beautiful dress and powder your nose. And after countless empty promises from Tommy to get home early and take you out, you thought that tonight he was finally going to come through. No less than an hour ago he called to say he was a minute from leaving the office, and now… well, he was still in that very same office telling you that something had come up and not to expect him home before midnight.

The familiar click of Tommy’s tongue travelled down the telephone line to your ear, “I’m sorry YN, I need to close this deal tonight. It shouldn’t be taking this long… but there was a problem with the contract… it’s getting amended right now.”

Frustrated, you shook your head as if he was standing right in front of you, sure he could hear the shortness in your voice, but you were unable to bite your tongue. “Jees Tommy, I’m all dressed up with nowhere to go… Why couldn’t you let me know an hour ago?” Giving him no chance to reply, you huffed, throwing a hand in the direction of the sitting room, “And what about Polly… she’s already here to mind the kids.”

Clearing his throat, you could swear Tommy’s voice just broke a little. Was he amused by your frustration? “Don’t worry about Polly, she’ll use any excuse to see the children… she won’t care.”

Letting slip an annoyed grumble, you sank into the chair beside you. Staring into the darkness outside your frustration began to fade as disappointment took hold, your grumble finishing with a defeated sigh, “I just wish… I wish… I don’t even know anymore… I miss you, Tommy. I just want you to myself… for one night.” That was the moment you noticed headlights turn in at the top of the driveway. Sitting upright, you focused on the car, but it wasn’t familiar. “Who’s that. Tommy, were you expecting anyone tonight?”

Tommy asked, “What about two nights, eh?”

Confused, you stood up and walked around the desk to the window, scrutinising the car as it made its way up the driveway, “What do you mean?... Are you expecting someone?”

“What about two nights,” Tommy repeated.

The car rolled to a stop out the front of the house, leaving you even more confused. It was a brand-new Rolls-Royce limousine, complete with its very own chauffeur. Suspicion crept upon your voice as you spoke, “What are you talking about, Tommy. What do you mean, two nights?”

A soft chuckle sounded from the other end of the telephone, his voice now clearly amused, “What I mean is, no business, no races, no horses… nothing. Just you and me for the whole weekend to do whatever the hell we want.”

You fell silent a moment, unsure what was happening. This was completely uncharted waters; Tommy had never done anything like this before. You could hardly string a sentence together, “What? Whatever do you… I don’t… What’s going on?”

Mumbling something about you being adorable when you're frustrated and confused, Tommy chuckled again, before elaborating. “See that man out the window, that’s George, your chauffeur. He’s going to collect a suitcase in the foyer that Polly has packed for you and bring you to me.” Giving you a moment to collect your thoughts, he waited before clearing his throat, “So why don’t you go upstairs and kiss the children goodnight for me and tell them we’ll be home in a couple of days.”

Shaking your head, you couldn’t contain the joy in your voice, “You’re such an ass, Tommy. Why couldn’t you just tell me, instead of torturing me like that?”

Tommy laughed audibly, “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you hurry up and get your own ass down here and you can punish me in any way you want.”

With a devilish voice, you sighed, “Oh Tommy, my love. Don’t you worry about that… I’ve got the whole car ride there to decide… and believe me, I already have a few ideas.”

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby imagines #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby x reader

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princessofmarvel · 7 months

Text

Runaway

summary | thomas has made a deal with a man to help his business. thomas’s only condition? to marry the man's daughter. except she doesn’t want to marry him.

pairing | thomas shelby x fem!reader

word count | 1.98k

genre | fluff with some angst?

requested? | yes! i had so much fun writing this! especially since i have never written anything like this before! thank you so much for requesting! please let me know if you like it!

warnings! | arranged marriage? darkish thomas? (not really, i’m just not great at writing dark characters sometimes, lol) not proof read yet!

author’s note! | hey everyone! this main character was written with poc in mind, i have tried my best, but since i am not a person of color please let me know if there is anything i can change to make it better! i hope you enjoy your request! please know that if you have requested something, i promise that i will get to it soon! And as always, I do I have really bad OCD that causes me to write in some random capitalization, and punctuation, But I think that we don't have to worry about that in this fic lol. And let me know if there are any mistakes, but please be kind!

Thomas knew what was happening today, hell his whole family knew. His future bride was coming to birmingham. He struck up a good deal with her father about helping her fathers business about a week ago, then he saw a photo of the man's daughter. The only condition Thomas made? To marry his daughter. Once they agreed, the man said he needed a week to get his family there. By the time they got there, Thomas had already got everything set up to make damn sure the man would be successful in birmingham. Which included a few fights, but Thomas would do it all over again if it meant he could have her.

They weren’t to meet until the wedding, something her father insisted on. So Thomas stood in a room of the church getting ready, when his brother John busted in.

“They can’t find her Tommy” was all John said as he huffed as if he was out of breath.

Thomas’s mind began to race. What did he mean they couldn’t find her? Has something happened? Had one of his enemies found out about today and took her?

“She was getting ready, and asked for a moment to herself, when her mother came back in to check on her, she was gone.” John added as he leaned on the closest chair.

Thomas stood and took in his brother's words for a moment before he left the room. His future wife was out in Birmingham in her pretty white dress, with no protection and no one was doing anything about it. Her family may not know this city, but Thomas did. He knew what could happen to her if she stayed out there too long. This won’t be an issue when they’re married, and she has his last name. She could kill someone and get away with it then, but right now no one in Birmingham knows who she is. All they know is that she is a pretty girl in a white wedding dress, and the thought of what could happen to her made him sick.

Thomas looked everywhere he could think his fiance would be. He couldn’t find her anywhere, the only place he hadn’t checked was the Garrison.

He walked in to see his bride to be, standing behind the bar making herself what looked like her fourth drink. He walked in slowly, making sure not to scare her.

“(Y/n)?” He asked as he walked up to the bar. She looked up at him as she continued to make her drink. “I’m Thomas Shelby, your future-”

“I know who you are.” She said, cutting him off.

“Well, we're supposed to be getting married right now.” He said matter of factly. “So what are you doing here?”

“I’m not marrying you, thought you would have figured that out by now.” She said as she took a sip of her drink.

Thomas looked at her, making sure to not show how shocked he was that she was speaking to him that way.

“And, why not?” He asked her, now intrigued.

“I don’t want to, I don't know you.” She said as she finished her drink.

Thomas moved to be behind the bar where she was. He took her drink from her hand and placed it on the bar.

“(Y/n)” He said as he towered over her. “Your father has already given me your hand.”

“I know, I don’t care.” She said as she grabbed her drink back from Thomas.

Thomas just took a moment and stared at the girl as she took her drink back. It was the first time he truly got to look at her. He got to take in the color of her eyes, and the curl of her hair, she truly was beautiful.

“Why exactly are you so against marrying me?” He asked as he stared at her.

“I want to be my own person, not defined by my father or my husband.” She said not missing a beat.

“I think I can help with that.” Thomas said, starting to get closer to the girl. “I have a certain reputation, if you’re married to me, you’ll be untouchable.”

“That's still me being defined by my husband.” She said, cutting him off with a small eye roll.

Thomas took the drink from her and set it back down, but this time, she didn’t turn away from him, she just stared up at him, waiting for him to continue.

“As I was saying, you would be untouchable, and if you wanted a role in peaky blinder business, you wouldn’t just be “Thomas Shelby's wife”. You would be “(Y/n) Shelby, most feared woman in Birmingham”. You have an opportunity here, the choice is yours.” Thomas said, staring her in the eyes. Normally he would never offer this to someone he just met. But there was something about (Y/n), just the look in her eyes, the way she wasn’t scared of him, how she held herself, how she looked at him with the same amount of intensity he looked a her with, how she didn’t care she was defying the most feared man in birmingham. "Don't let your pride get in the way of a smart decision."

Thomas watches the girl stare at the wall for a moment, him taking in her side profile. Until she finally looked up at him.

"I won't be reduced to just your little wife?" She asked with a small glimmer of hope in her eyes.

"I'll let you take care of anyone who says you are" He said with a serious look on his face.

The girl gave him a small smile, it was obvious that no one had ever believed in her the way Thomas was right now, that they all thought of her as some weak little girl and nothing more.

"Fine, I'll marry you" She said as she looked up at him with a small smile.

Thomas wrapped her arm in his and led her out of the Garrison. He held the bottom of her white dress up away from the dirt as he walked them back to the church.

“You know, you’re not supposed to see the bride before the wedding.” She said to him with a small laugh. “It’s bad luck.”

“I won’t let anything ruin this marriage, trust me.” He said as he opened the church door for her and let her walk in first. Thomas watched as her family whisked her away, knowing that this girl was truly something he had never expected her to be, and he loved it.

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awritesthings1 · 1 month

Text

Good Taste

Pairing: Tommy Shelby / Wife reader

Summary: You get made fun of for wearing your sapphire necklace to the foundation dinner. Tommy always finds a way to make things better.

Warnings: swearing, implied smut.

ao3 link

“She was making fun of me!”

“Yeah? And when has that ever bothered you before, my darling?”

“Since all the bloody country wives started debating whether my jewelry was in fashion or not, Tommy,” you huffed at your husband, who was having no luck pinching away the creases between his eyebrows.

Tommy sighed deeply, not really bothered to continue the conversation but irked because the wives down the lane had gotten under your skin, and if you were unhappy, then he was unhappy. He fueled his throbbing head with a cigarette, chain-smoking them back-to-back while he hunched over on the settee.

You were sitting at the vanity, fingers tangled hopelessly at the stubborn latch of your necklace that just wouldn’t let, when you saw how Tommy was beginning to fold in on himself. Guilt consumed you immediately. It wasn’t that you actually cared all that much about what people said, but when you were around Tommy, your guard slipped, and all the things that made you tick during the day would come cluttering out of your mouth like an unwanted clash of symbols and noise. Tommy would sit there and listen, hum, nod, and completely detach himself from the world.

You ran each other around like clockwork. He leaned back, you forward. Lust swelled in his eyes, concern in yours, a tug at your hip, and a gasp from your throat. You smiled sympathetically, apologetically. He kept quiet, forgivingly holding your gaze, until a defeated sigh broke the tension, and you both understood how silly the whole ordeal was. Here was Thomas Shelby, a man of great power, slumped against the settee, utterly exhausted.

“Darling, this is fucking Birmingham. Good taste is for people that can’t afford sapphires.”

That brought a smirk to your lips.

“Oh?” You muse, watching him through your vanity mirror.

Tommy huffs, but it’s more out of amusement than agitation. The cigarette between his lips twitches as a smile graces his face. He hums in affirmation.

You give up on trying to unlatch the sapphire necklace around your neck. You’re far too distracted by the way Tommy leans back on the settee like he knows it’s his damn right, spreading his legs, chain-smoking cigarettes, and blowing the smoke towards the ceiling. He’s completely in the wrong if he thinks you are going to keep your hands tangled up in a necklace when they would be much more useful somewhere else…

When your chair screeches against the wood as you push it back to stand, his head snaps to attention. He has a faraway look to his eye, haunted even, but he swallows when you sink to your knees between his legs, and something else begins to swell other than his pupils.

You run your hands up his knees to his thighs and back again.

“I know it’s stupid. They just get under my skin sometimes,” you resign.

He clears his throat and reaches past your head to set his cigarette on the ash tray. He stays there, bent forward, a breath apart, and begins caressing your face with the back of his fingers. A faint smile softens his features and warms his skin.

You laugh because it really is ridiculous. For marrying someone who spends most of their life buried in their head, you sure have picked up on his tendencies.

“Do you think I’m becoming obsessed?”

He doesn’t even try to hide his amusement. “No.”

You were; he was just treading carefully. Because while he wandered off to speak to god knows who at the foundation dinner, your feathers were being ruffled by stuck-up old women who were too busy being stuck up to notice their husbands’ lingering eyes. However, being able to defend your vanity was another thing compared to dealing with Shelby Company Limited business. And if it came to surviving passive aggressive remarks from old women or being led into another room to talk with Mr. Thomas Shelby, head of the Peaky Blinders, you would sneer rudely at Margaret any day.

You voice the thought at Tommy, “I take it your night wasn’t as successful as mine?”

He exhales and raises his eyebrows playfully, more or less confirming your suspicions.

“And should I ask you about it like a good wife?”

He hums, “no.”

He’s so entranced in running his fingers up and down your jaw, around your chin, and thumbing your lips that you’ll just have to forgive him later.

You pull a face. You’re not mad at him. Far from it. Those fingers of his dancing across your face are your weakness.

“You’re not listening to me.” You lean in closer.

“Yes, I am,” he smiles.

You try to pull back in faux skepticism, but with his hand holding your face so close to his,

“Where are you going, eh?” Tommy leans forward to steal a kiss, and he feels your laughter against his lips, a pleasant sensation.

“Oh, Mr. Shelby,” you jest.

Together, you fall back onto the settee with you astride his lap. Your hair falls over his face like a curtain, keeping him safe from the outside world. He doesn’t want to move; no, he will stay here for the next couple of months, transfixed inside this moment. The gun tucked away in the holster beneath his arm feels less heavy, and the clock ticking above his head slows. He can breathe. He can gingerly stroke your jaw with his thumb in the way you adore. So he does, and the shuttering thoughts that occupy so much of his head stutter in fear because they know they come second to you.

Then there’s that pretty sapphire necklace hanging from your neck. The one that got you both in this position in the first place. Those fucking people, eh? Those fucking people with their fancy palaces and prim and proper manners judging you, his wife, refusing you, his wife? That got him going.

You can tell he is in his head by the way his eyes linger on your sapphire necklace. He looks irked.

“What’s wrong, Tommy?”

He shakes his head lazily.

“Speak to me, love,” you insist.

Fuck em. Fuck the bastards that made his wife feel unworthy. They wouldn’t know taste if it hit them like a fucking train. He won’t let them bring her down.

Tommy clears his throat. “I’m sorry for being in my head, Mrs. Shelby.”

His apology is soothed into your skin with a gentle brush of his thumb at the end of your chin. He tilts it down to lay a kiss on the corner of your mouth. He always knows how to make you smile.

You press more of your weight into him and deepen the kiss, to which he grunts. It stirs a honey warmth in your stomach.

As for Tommy, the need to be closer to you is suffocating; he’d rather just lock you both in this room and throw away the key. He’d rather the stifling walls close in on you both until he can’t even open his lungs, and even then, it wouldn’t be enough. He needs to be in your skin, in your thoughts, but most importantly, right now, in your underwear.

It’s your goddamn nails clawing at his scalp that do it for him. It winds him up like a fucking pocket watch, boils his blood like good whiskey, and fuels the fires.

He urges your name in warning because he’s so strung up he might just rip the seams of your pretty dress, and you make the mistake of swallowing his plea with a huff and a tangle of tongues.

“The necklace, Thomas,” you gasp.

It would really be a pity if he accidentally broke it in the rush to remove your dress. It slows him down momentarily removing it, and his fingers can’t quite function being away from your skin but he knows ever since he gifted it to you, there’s been nothing you loved more. When the latch finally unclasps, he parts from your lips to gently lower it to the coffee table where it remains unscathed for the rest of the night. The same couldn’t be said about your dress.

Taglist: (i was drunk when I posted this so I forgot to add it lol).

@maliceofwonderland @fairytale07 @goblinjnr @ilovepeoplesdads @multidimensionalslut @blogforficslol @elenavampire21

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your-nanas-house · 4 months

Note

I have an idea for a smutty dark/Dom Tommy fic if you're open to writing it! I'm not sure on a plot but involing him wearing and keeping on his leather gloves, thank you in advance!!!

Yessssss, love it. Thank you so much! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Not a virgin anymore

(credits to the owner of the gif)

◇ Pairing: Dark!Tommy Shelby X Finn's girlfriend!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, age gap (both off age), fingering, dry humping, mean Tommy

◇ Summary: Tommy checks if Finn's girl is as pure as he claims.

◇ Note: Sorry if it took me so long. A huge thank you to @mrkdvidal1989 that helped me so much, you helped me so much with my mood and the writing of this. Thank you 😭 Also It's pretty much a collab.

“I think I wanna marry her” Finn informed his brothers without being able to hold back a bright grin, his eyes scanning them as he waited for a reply, any advice or.. a comment of any kind at least.

He knew that he was quite young to think about marriage, since he hit adulthood just two years before, but the emotions he felt for this young woman were true.

As no one opened their mouths to say something, just continuing to glance at each other, Finn spoke up again ”I fookin’ love her” his mood still so eager and happy.. like a puppy in love.

Still nothing, everyone was mostly waiting for Thomas to say something, but the older man kept staring blankly at his younger brother, seated on his armchair.. legs open and arms resting there, supporting his head and cigarette as if he was lost in thoughts.

“Nothing to say?” Finn asked, getting impatient, his eyes glancing between the older ones, Tommy and Arthur.

As the youngest brother got clearly frustrated, Arthur cleared his throat.

“Hmm… you fookin’ know her for how long, eh? Nearly six months?” he reminded his brother, mocking him before being interrupted quickly

“SO? When John married he didn’t even know Esme’s damn name!” Finn quickly pointed out, already getting riled up by the situation.

Fin always did that. Hating how his brothers treated him because of the age difference, completely oblivious to the fact that he… was acting very childish too often for Tommy to see him as an equal to John or Arthur.

His poorly thought-out decisions and lack of discipline when it came to listening to orders of his older brothers were playing a huge part in how Thomas viewed him.

”Have you thought about the responsibilities that come with becoming a Shelby, Fin? Have you already introduced them to your chosen one? Risk Our ways and how we deal with things?.. Have you thought about that? Huh?” He pressed, leaning forward as his patience ran short with how snappy Fin was. Lack of respect was just another thing he despised in his younger brother.

”I-I…” The young man stammered out, looking for any line to defend himself.. unsuccessfully, making Thomas scoff while putting out his cigarette into an ashtray.

”What’s her name again?...” He rasped out, his now free hand tapping impatiently against the fabric of the armchair, his cold gaze piercing his brother's face without a hint of any positive emotions.

“Y/n..Y/n Y/l/n” Finn replied in a murmur, his older brother’s comments affecting him more than he wished they would.

The name kept repeating in Thomas’ head, before a cocky amused smirk cracked his serious expression.

“Now I get why yer want to marry her” he chuckled bitterly leaning forward, face to face with Finn.

“She’s as good as her mother, eh?” he asked mockingly, pouring himself a glass of whiskey “You don’t marry whores, you just tame them, Finn. Am I right?” he asked his other two brothers with amusement in his voice, not really expecting an answer.

His mischievous mood changed quickly as Finn suddenly got up from his seat.

“She’s not!.. She’s not like her mother.. She's a good girl, goes to church, helps around and works in the local bakery." The youngest Peaky Blinder informed them, narrowing his eyes at Tommy’s reaction. Watching with a clenched jaw as the older man hummed mockingly, gulping fast down the strong drink before he spoke again, not changing his attitude.

“A good girl, huh… I bet”, making the other laugh at Finn as well.

“It’s true! You… I’ll make you fookin’ meet her”

It took him just a couple of days to organise a meeting between them, inviting them all to her house. It was a pretty cosy, little, modest house settled in Small Heath. Nothing fancy but it was visible that the people living there were doing their very best to keep it nice.

The male part of the family of Shelby's stood on the porch on the agreed day and time.

Their expensive suits looking odd contrasting with the domestic and homey look of the building and little wooden decorations standing in the garden.

Finn was smiling, standing at the forefront of the group while Arthur and John kept joking back and forth, in front of Tommy, whose face remained serious and uninterested as he waited.

After knocking on the door, they didn't have to wait long before an old woman, probably in her 60s, appeared in the doorway. A friendly smile lingering on her wrinkled face that looked great accompanied by the dark pink dress she wore.

”Good morning, Mister” She spoke up seeing Finn, earning a polite smile from him. They clearly had met each other previously, so she wasn't very alarmed by the sight of four men in suits standing at the door. “Good morning, nana” Finn greeted, removing his hat for respect, cleaning his shoes before entering the familiar house, heading directly towards the living room.

John was the next to enter the house, along with Arthur, a smirk still on his face due to the jokes they were sharing previously

“Good morning, na— Mrs. Y/l/n” he corrected himself quickly as Arthur slapped the back of his head “Be fookin’ polite” he murmured under his breath, smiling at the older woman before kissing her hand as he bowed his head slightly “Good morning, ma’am, thank you for inviting us into your house” he stated, winking before following the direction Finn took, not noticing the weird side eye Tommy gave him as he cleaned his soles before walking in as well with the same unbothered expression.

”Mornin’” Thomas nodded, keeping his cap on. After all he didn't come here for a tea, he had his own purpose.

Purpose of proving Finn how wrong he was when it comes to little Y/n.

The older woman’s eyes widened as she felt the weird, intimidating aura surrounding the middle brother. Mumbling her greeting, she quickly disappeared into the kitchen, chatting with Arthur and John as she put the kettle on the stove.

As Finn tried to head towards the same direction, Tommy's calloused hand grabbed his shoulder roughly. Turning him to face him, he leaned to his level. The serious and business expression on his face.

”I’m going to have a chat with your little fiancé, eh? You stay there and entertain the old woman and your brothers while I check if she is who you say she is.” he stated harshly in a fierce voice, his eyes glancing at the older woman and back at him before messing up his hair as if he was still a child.

Ignoring completely the worried expression on his face, because Thomas was aware that Finn knew better than to ask questions.

The younger brother stood still for a moment before nodding with a resigned expression, turning around and slowly walking away towards the kitchen. Practically leaving his girlfriend in the lion's mouth.

It was Tommy’s first time in that house so he didn’t really know where to go, luckily for him Y/n’s soft voice led him to what it looked like a small studio. A pretty dark room, with only one window which was close, it was decorated with lots of books and a wooden desk where the young woman was standing behind, holding an old phone, busy talking with someone.

”Yes, aunty. I'll let her know” she replied with a smile, despite the fact that the person on the other side of the phone couldn't see it, her hand busy playing with the tiny golden chain with a cross. Her eyes moving from the spot she was staring at to move closer to the desk “I have to leave you now, we were supposed to have guests today.. I think they are here already” she informed her, glancing towards the door, getting startled by Tommy’s figure standing there as if he owned the place.

He didn’t say anything to interrupt her call, his gloved hands just woven together in front of him, his head tilted to the side as he watched the girl.

“I love you too, auntie. Bye” she murmured, hanging up the call to give Tommy’s her complete attention

“Mr Shelby— Welcome, I didn’t hear you come in…” she started, eyeing him suspiciously, her innocent girl facade. staring back at him.

“Nana doesn’t like when people wear caps inside of her house… it’s a way to show respect” she pointed out, already a bit annoyed by his attitude. Thomas chuckled hearing her words, as he adjusted the peaky cap on his head.

”Nana didn't offer me a cup of tea, which isn't really polite either, eh?” He spoke up with a hint of mockery before entering her room and closing the door behind, making sure to lock it.

“She’s probably still preparing it, we have fresh baked cookies, though.” Y/n pointed out as her expression softened. Her demeanour changed as she tried to keep her temper down. It should have been a calm day but a lot of things that set her off happened, so she wasn’t in the right state of mind to deal with Tommy fucking Shelby.

Be proper, Y/n thought just like she was always told. Plastering a small smile on her face, her eyes moving from Thomas’ face to the door and back. “They are in the living room, sir,”

Tommy chuckled at her words, walking slowly further into her room, looking around with a grin as he hummed.

“That's one way to decorate a girl's room, eh?” He scoffed, eyeing her suggestively, touching the colourful figurines standing on shelves. ”Definitely furnished to be a whore's own.” he casually pointed out, checking the books casually. “Guess they paid your mom good enough, huh? Family business it is, sweetheart?” the older man moved his gaze towards her standing form, smirking amused at her blank stare.

“Pardon?” she stuttered out through her utter shock, her head tilting to the side.“You here to disrespect a dead woman, Mr Shelby? If so.. You can fucking leave!” she spat out angrily, staring blankly at him for a couple of minutes before sighing and looking away, playing nervously with her cross while she headed to the door.

“My condolences… I’m here because of the sick idea you put in my little brother’s head” Tommy spoke in an emotionless tone, reaching for a pack of cigarettes in his pocket.. Lighting one without even asking for approval.

“Finn talked about you quite a lot lately, speaking about how pure, innocent, religious… and a good girl you are. You got him quite smitten, eh?” Thomas pointed out after inhaling deeply, his hand rubbing his chin “Well… what I was wondering about was how much of this is actually true.” He murmured, meeting her gaze with a smirk as he moved closer, hand reaching for her chin. “How much of a little saint you actually are, eh? Sweetheart.” he added, blowing out the smoke in her face, his fingers digging painfully into her skin as she looked into his empty, blue eyes.

Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed at his harsh tone, her eyes narrowing as her mouth remained shut. Struggling in his grip, she tried to free herself, unsuccessfully.

She was losing her patience quite quickly and it wasn't something that happened frequently… but there she was, angrily standing in front of what was the most feared man of Birmingham.

“I am.. I'm.. intact, if that's your concern, Mr. Shelby” She informed him in a sarcastically pleasant tone, a hint of harsh arrogance clear as day, caused by how annoyed she was by the conversation they were having.

Her small hands curling into fists, squeezing tightly when Tommy just nodded almost mockingly, his icy stare moving across her body slowly, carefully measuring each part of her body. Not worried about gentlemanly manners, Thomas stared, as if he was checking her out.

“Sure” he simply said, the tone of his voice intact, but the look in his blue eyes wasn't trying to hide how little he believed her. Putting out his cigarette, he threw it on the floor while keeping eye contact, showing disrespect to her words and the place she lived. Simply because he could.

Y/n gasped at his behaviour, quickly moving towards his silhouette as she pushed her finger against his chest, threatening.

“I fucking am, fucking check if you don’t believe me.” she whispered yelled, staring in his eyes boldly as he looked down at her, not a single emotion visible on his face. Almost like he was a statue carved from stone.

Tommy’s eyebrows raised slightly, his cold stare piercing her own, before lowering down to her chest which kept heaving with her deep breaths, caused purely by the anger she felt.

His hand moved to the edge of her dress, grabbing onto the fabric as he tried to raise it up, making Y/n realise his intention quickly and act impulsively… her hand made an impact with his cheek suddenly, throwing his face to the side slightly. Only after a second she realised what she's done, eyes widening in fear at the sight of his skin turning red.

The loud noise echoing in the room, as Tommy’s, now, dark gaze met her fearful eyes. Not a word was exchanged as his hands grabbed her roughly when she tried to escape from him, manhandling her smaller body harshly against the wooden surface of the desk. One hand kept her body flat against it, pressing painfully on the centre of her back, while his other gloved hand pulled up her dress.. revealing her white panties to him.

A hum of approval escaped his lips as he kneaded her flesh, ignoring her whimpers and pleads to stop. The view in front of him, so strangely innocent and pure, made his cock hardening in his pants, in a quite painful way.

Lowering his icy eyes with his hand he moved her thighs apart, rubbing slowly two thick fingers against her clothed folds.

”Look at that, already wet” he cooed mockingly as he moved his fingers, spreading her wetness by using the fabric of her panties.

His left hand digging in the flesh of her covered back, to hold her down and to keep his urges under control. It took much more self-control than he thought it would, not expecting that a girl that pretty would take interest in his inexperienced little brother.

Her eyes were tightly shut, forcing her mouth to stay closed, to make sure she wasn't making any noises. Her mind was a mess as his hands travelled down her heat, touching the places that nobody else ever saw.

As soon as his thumb pressed on her clit, her hips involuntarily jerked forward as she bit her bottom lip, trying to muffle the sigh that so desperately tried to escape her lips.

”So needy, eh? What would your grandma think?” Thomas chuckled, feeling how her body tensed, her hands trying to reach him, and push him off, unsuccessfully.

The young woman was so focused on trying to make him stop that she didn’t notice the moment when he pulled her panties to the side, allowing the cold breeze of the room to hit her wet bare pussy.

“No, please– sir!” she yelled in a moment of panic, Tommy’s free hand quickly covering her mouth as he toyed with her folds, opening her so that he could take a look that sent shivers down his spine. That sure was a pretty pussy, he thought while daring to move his index finger to her entrance.

Her sweet nectar wetting his gloved hand, making it even more noticeable “Look at you, sweetheart” he cooed mockingly again, as his finger pushed slightly deeper, in need to find out the truth.

Angling it slightly to the side, with a tip of his digit he could feel the thin barrier that was in the way of her tight tunnel.

Shaking his head, he leaned towards her, his wet lips brushing against the shell of her ear.

”So innocent, aren't you? Such a small, untouched cunt.” He breathed out, the urge to fuck her becoming increasingly stronger.

Letting out a breath, he pressed his index finger inside without even warning her… just grunting quietly into her ear, as she bit down his hand because of the pain.

So tight and warm, he thought. Tommy could feel how wet she was as he moved his gloved finger against her walls, biting on his bottom lip as he kept going further.

By the way she was moving it looked like it hurt her, as if she was feeling the burning sensation. One felt by a pure woman when her cherry was about to be popped.

“I guess you were right, honey” Tommy hummed, now circling her clit with her gloved hand, his middle finger helping his index one to feel her hymen before pressing against it harshly. Leather covering his hands caused his fingers to appear even thicker, stretching her pussy out so much that they both had to fight the urge to groan at the feeling.

Tommy's cock was fully hard at this point, leaking with precum into his underwear as his fingers explored the depths of her virgin pussy.

His eyes daring to close, so that his mind could wander in places it shouldn’t. The mere thought of his thick cock wrapped and squeezed for dear life by her pussy was driving him wild, making his finger start to thrust faster as he moved his hips against nothing, just unable to fight the fantasy that he was inside of her precious cunt.

“Fuck, that’s it, honey” he praised, moving his wrist in a quick motion, leaning closer again. His hot breath hitting her neck with each exhale. ”I knew you were a little slut.” He rasped out in a shaky voice, struggling to keep his composure while feeling her pussy clench down on his fingers like a vice.

“Can feel your filthy cunt squeezing my fingers. Yer fookin’ close, aren’t ye?” he growled in a low tone, parroting back mockingly her noises of pleasure.

Y/n cried out at the humiliation and the overwhelming feeling in her lower belly. Despite her desperate attempts to not give into it, she couldn't fight it as he kept fucking her with his thick, gloved fingers.

”Give it to me. Stop fighting it.” He commanded through his teeth, as he felt his cock throbbing impatiently in his pants, demanding attention.

”N-no!” She pleaded quietly, trying her best to suppress the tension that pushed her on the edge of her first orgasm. Breathing deeply, she caught his wrist, trying to stop him, but Tommy just laughed quietly.

”There you go” He whispered, leaving a small kiss on her temple before shoving his fingers knuckle deep, fucking her with hard and quick strokes, curling his fingers up to hit her g spot with each thrust.

His other hand was clamped over her mouth, which she ended up biting as he made her cum so hard, that just a couple seconds into the orgasm, her body shook and vision went blurry as her juices shot out on his hand, wetting his glove when she squirted for the very first time in her life.

Y/n’s eyes rolled in the back of her head as she trembled, muscles relaxing as the feeling got… way too much. She was too long gone in her pleasure to notice at first the sound of his belt clicking open, the zip of his pants being pulled down with the fabric, so that his cock was finally free.

After licking his gloves from her wetness, he grabbed a hold of her hips, pressing his rock hard cock against her flesh, hsi eyes fluttering shut when he started to move his hips. Grinding at an animalistic pace, his main goal his own pleasure.

He needed to rub his cock, keeping it squeezed tightly between their bodies, for a couple of minutes to finally shoot his load on her lower back.

As they both breathed heavily, he moved carefully away from her, gathering his cum with his hand to shove it in her mouth before fixing his suit and walking out of the room without a word.

He walked followed with the same powerful aura, at a fast pace towards the front door

“Let’s go” Thomas ordered his brothers while walking to the front door, patting Finn’s shoulder with a serious expression

“She’s not a virgin… anymore” he informed him as he stole a cookie and walked out, nodding at the old lady with a crooked grin.

Taglist:

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queenshelby · 6 days

Text

Sweet Possession (Part 4)

Pairing: Very Dark! Thomas Shelby (32) x Innocent! Reader (19)

Warning: Age Gap, Smut

"What is going on, Tommy?" you asked when he came back inside, still feeling a little uneasy about what you had seen outside.

Thomas hesitated, his eyes darting around the room before settling on your face. "Just business, Love," he said dismissively, but there was a guarded look in his eyes that made you think he was hiding something.

"But what kind of business?" you pressed, your voice tight with apprehension.

"Business that I cannot discuss with you," Thomas replied, a hard edge to his voice.

You flinched at this, recoiling slightly from him. "Can't, or won't?" you asked, your eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Thomas sighed heavily, running a hand through his damp hair. "Can't," he said firmly. "It's better that way."

But you couldn't let it go. Something in your gut was telling you that there was more to this than he was letting on, and you were determined to get to the bottom of it.

"I am your wife, Thomas. You made me a promise on our wedding day to always be honest with me. I deserve to know what's going on," you said, crossing your arms over your chest in a defensive gesture.

Thomas sighed and walked over to the bar, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. He took a long sip before setting the glass back down on the table with a heavy thud. "I have been asked to export certain things on behalf of the Crown. Things that the Crown cannot itself be seen to be involved with," Thomas finally admitted, his voice tense and low.

Your eyes widened with shock as you absorbed his words. The Crown? Exporting things that they couldn't be seen to be involved with? What on earth could that mean?

"What kind of things?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

Thomas hesitated before finally answering, "Weapons. Guns. Ammunition," Tommy explained, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Illegal things," you gasped, your heart twisting with a mix of fear and disappointment.

"Not illegal, just controversial," Thomas replied, his voice still low and tense. "And necessary. It helps fund our operations and the facilities we support, including the orphanage you want to work in," he told you and you stared at him, your mind reeling with the implications of his words.

"So, it is legitimate? Because you are doing this on behalf of the crown?" you asked, struggling to make sense of the information Tommy had just revealed to you.

Tommy nodded. "It's a delicate matter but, of course, I wouldn't do anything illegal. You know that, right?" Thomas asked, his eyes pleading for your understanding.

You nodded slowly, taking in the weight of this new information. "Of course. I trust you , Thomas," you finally whispered, albeit with some hesitation.

Thomas let out a sigh of relief at your words, pulling you into a tight embrace and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I love you," he murmured.

But as the night wore on, you couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that something was still amiss. The idea of Thomas being involved in such controversial and dangerous business left a bad taste in your mouth, and the thought of him endangering himself for the sake of others weighed heavily on your heart.

The following morning, however, you went on with your day as if nothing had happened. It was your first shift at the orphanage, to which you had agreed last minute as someone else had, apparently, called in sick.

Isiah, was again, tasked to drive you to the orphanage and, when you told him that he could simply drop you off and then pick you up later, he shook his head.

"No, I need to stay with you Mrs Shelby," he replied, his voice brooking no argument.

You sighed inwardly, not wanting to cause a fuss but also slightly annoyed at the thought of having your every move shadowed by Isiah.

You couldn't shake off the feeling that he was keeping tabs on you for Thomas.

But you swallowed your pride, knowing that it wouldn't be wise to defy Thomas given everything that had happened the previous night. You assumed that he was just being overprotective of you and this was kind of sweet, you thought.

The orphanage was buzzing when you arrived and a young man, around 25-years of age, greeted you in the grand hall of the big building. His name was James McKinnin , a well-known social worker of the city.

"Hi, it is so nice to meet you. I'm Y/N Shelby, Thomas' wife," you said with a smile, extending your hand towards him.

James clasped your hand firmly and shook it. "Mrs Shelby, of course. I heard that you we were coming," James told you , his voice full of enthusiasm. "Mr Shelby called me yesterday evening, at around midnight, to let me know that you would be joining us and it was quite a surprise, you know. Mr Shelby donates a lot of money to our organisation and I would not have expected his wife to volunteer with us as well," the man continued, his tone earnest as he led me down a long corridor.

"It's my pleasure and a little selfish really. I miss the work but, since I moved in with Thomas, I gave up my employment, so I have become rather bored," you said honestly and James smiled at my response.

"That's very commendable Mrs Shelby, but let me ask you, do you have any experience in a setting like this? Without meaning any disrespect, being Mr Shelby's wife, I had expected you to be a little older," James asked, his words laced with polite curiosity.

"No, but I am eager to learn, and I am certainly not afraid to do some hands-on work. Before meeting my husband, I worked in a factory and then in a pub, cleaning up after drunk men, so I am no stranger to hard labor," you replied with a small chuckle.

James smiled warmly at your response, clearly impressed by your determination and down-to-earth attitude. "That's fantastic, Mrs Shelby. I'm sure you'll be a great asset to our team. Let me give you a quick tour and introduce you to the other staff members," James said as he led you further into the orphanage. "Michael, one of our duty managers, will be looking after you and explain everything you need to know," he added as he spotted Michael in the distance.

Michael was a tall, slender man in his mid-twenties with short, curly brown hair and warm hazel eyes. He greeted you with a friendly smile and shook your hand firmly, welcoming you to the orphanage. He then gave you a brief orientation and introduced you to the other staff members, who were all friendly and welcoming as well.

As you worked there, you began to realize just how much need there was in the community and how much of a difference your husband's donations were making.

You felt proud to be a part of it, even in a small way.

That day, Michael showed you everything you needed to know in a commercial kitchen setting, which is where you wanted to work. It was your passion, cooking for others and Michael appeared to be an excellent source of information.

Isiah, however, always stood in the corner, observing your interactions with the tall man who, for his liking, occasionally came to close to you when working in the kitchen.

"Here, let me show you," Michael said on one occasion as he approached you from behind, taking the knife from your hands. "This is an easier way to prepare the herbs for the soup," he said, brushing your arm ever so slightly and causing Isiah to intervene.

"Everything alright here?" Isiah said, his tone stern and disapproving.

"Yes, of course," you replied, flustered at the intrusion. "Michael is just teaching me how to prepare the herbs for lunch," you added in an attempt to defuse the tension that had suddenly filled the air.

Michael nodded a greeting towards Isiah, who continued to glare at him with suspicion but nodded nonetheless.

Isiah then intervened a few more times over the next few hours, insinuating that Michael was getting too friendly and, eventually, you couldn't help but feel a bit uncomfortable with his presence.

Despite this, however, the day had been productive and fulfilling for you. You had made new friends, learned new skills, and felt a sense of purpose that had been missing in your life for quite some time.

As the sun began to set, Isiah drove you back to Thomas' luxurious home and, just after Frances greeted you and Isiah, you made your way to Tommy's office.

"You are late," was the first thing he said , not looking up from the documents in front of him. You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek before settling into the chair opposite him.

"I am sorry, I didn't realize the time," you answered with a small smile. "I was just so engrossed in what we were doing."

This seemed to appease him, and he looked up and smiled at you, reaching across the desk to take your hand in his. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said softly.

"I did," you answered, squeezing his hand.

"I really did. I never knew that working in a kitchen could be so fulfilling."

Thomas smiled at your enthusiasm, his eyes softening as he leaned back in his chair. "I'm glad," Tommy smiled before asking you for Isiah's whereabouts.

"He is downstairs," you said. "Shall I send him up?" you asked, your voice laced with a hint of caution. Thomas' demeanor had shifted again since that morning, and you couldn't quite put your finger on why.

"Yes, I have some business for him to take care of," Thomas replied, his tone curt and dismissive. You nodded and stood up from your chair, making your way to the door. But before you left, you turned back to Thomas and looked him in the eye.

"Is everything alright?" you asked, searching his face for any signs of distress.

"Yes Love," Tommy said, forcing a smile onto his face. "Everything is fine," he added, although his voice didn't quite ring true.

You frowned at his response, not entirely convinced. But you nodded anyway and made your way to the door, calling for Isiah to come upstairs and, unbeknownst to you, what Tommy really wanted from him was an update on your day.

"How was it?" Thomas thus asked as soon as Isiah walked into his office and closed the door behind him.

"It was fucking boring ," Isiah replied with a sigh, leaning against the door. "Just a bunch of kids and their annoying chatter," he explained to his boss who, of course, had some more questions.

"And what about the employees. Did they treat my wife with respect?" Tommy asked , his voice low and tense.

"Of course, they did," Isiah replied with a shrug. "They were all very friendly, although, one of them was a bit too friendly in my opinion," he went on to say , causing Thomas's eyes to narrow.

"How so, Isiah?" Thomas asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"Just one of them kept getting a little too close to her," Isiah replied with a shrug.

"Too close how?" Tommy queried with a steely glint in his blue eyes. He didn't like the sound of some man invading your personal space after he had secretly made sure, for many years, that you were shielded from these kinds of advances. However, as Thomas pressed for more information, Isiah's response was casual and nonchalant.

"Just talking to her a lot, and touching her arm on occasion," Isiah finished, still leaning against the office door.

"He touched her?" Thomas repeated, his voice deceptively calm.

Isiah nodded. "Yeah, a couple of times," he confirmed before, explaining to Tommy again that the employee in question had only touched your arm. "Her arm, Tommy. Nothing else," Isiah clarified, sensing Thomas' growing tension.

"Did you get his name?" Thomas asked, his voice low and growly as he clenched and unclenched his fists in an attempt to conceal his anger.

"Yeah. His name is Michael Grosvenor," Isiah told Thomas, his voice steady despite the dangerous look in his boss' eyes.

"Michael Grosvenor, eh" Thomas repeated, testing the name on his tongue. He would remember that name. "Did my wife seem interested in his advances?" Thomas then asked, trying to keep his voice even.

Isiah shook his head. "No, she seemed a little uncomfortable with it after it happened a few times, but she didn't say anything," he answered honestly.

Thomas nodded, his mind already racing with plans of how to handle this situation.

He had always made it clear to the men in town that his property was off-limits, but now it seemed that some of them had forgotten that rule.

"I see," Thomas said simply, his voice deadly calm. He stood up from his chair and walked around the desk to stand in front of Isiah. "I want you to keep an eye on my wife whenever she's at the orphanage. Do you understand?" Thomas ordered, his voice low and commanding.

"Yes, boss," Isiah responded, understanding the gravity of the situation. He nodded once, before turning and exiting the room, leaving Thomas alone with his thoughts which began to race incoherently until, eventually, he snapped out of it and walked downstairs to the reading room where he knew he would find you.

"Y/N, may I have a word?" Thomas said, his voice rough and low as he entered the room. He closed the door behind him with a definitive thud, before walking over to you, the sound of your own heavy breathing filling the air around you.

"Of course," you responded, your voice a breathy whisper, your heart pounding in your chest as Thomas knelt down before you and pulled your legs apart, his gaze fixated on the lacy underwear you were wearing, catching you off guard.

"Thomas," you gasped, your fingertips digging into the plush armchair you were sitting on as he placed a soft kiss on the inside of your thigh, just above where your stockings met your skin.

"Isiah tells me that one of the employees at the orphanage got a little too close to you today," Thomas growled, his voice gravelly with desire.

You let out a soft moan as he traced his fingers along the seam of your underwear, the lace already damp with your arousal.

"No, oh god Tommy, it was innocent," you moaned , your head falling back as he pressed a tender kiss to your clit through the thin fabric.

But Thomas wasn't having it. He was insanely jealous and protective of you, and the thought of some man touching his property made him see red.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and tugged them down your thighs, baring you to him. He growled as he saw how wet you were, your pussy glistening in the soft light of the room.

"Innocent, eh?" Tommy groaned. "Just like you were, just days ago, before we got married," he continued, pinching your clit firmly between his thumb and forefinger.

You cried out at the sensation, arching your back as you clung to his shoulders, digging your nails into his muscular arms.

"Tommy," you whimpered, your hips bucking involuntarily as he teased you with his fingers. "Please," you begged, not sure what you were asking for, but knowing that you needed more.

"Please what?" Thomas rasped, his mouth hovering over your pussy as he waited for your response.

"Fuck me," you whimpered, unable to hold back the words any longer.

"But why should I?" Tommy asked. "You let some stranger touch what's mine and now you want me to give you what you want?" Thomas growled, his fingers still teasing your clit.

You whimpered as you processed his words, but the ache between your legs was insistent.

"He didn't. I mean, he touched my arm. Oh god, please," you moaned, pulling his head towards your core, desperate for some kind of release.

Thomas chuckled and obliged, pressing a tender kiss to your clit before slipping a finger inside you. You gasped at the intrusion, your back arching off the chair as he began to pump his finger in and out of you, his thumb still teasing your clit.

You felt yourself building towards your release, but just as you got close, Thomas pulled his fingers out of you, leaving you feeling empty and unfulfilled.

"No, don't stop," you begged, your voice breathy and desperate.

Thomas smiled at you wickedly, his fingers still slick with your arousal. "Tell me who you belong to, Y/N. Who owns you, eh?" Thomas repeated, circling your clit with his thumb as you writhed beneath him. "Say it."

"You do," you gasped, your breath hitching as he stroked your aching core with deliberate slowness.

"Be precise," he demanded, his voice low and raw with need.

"You own me. You own my body. I'm yours," you moaned, the words tumbling from your lips in a desperate plea.

Thomas smiled, a self-satisfied gleam in his eyes. He held up his fingers, still slick with your arousal, and sucked them into his mouth, groaning at the taste of you.

"Good girl," he praised, his eyes dark with desire as he reached for his belt.

You watched him undo the belt, your breath caught in your throat as you waited for what was to come next.

Thomas pulled the belt from the loops of his trousers, the sound of the leather slithering through the buckle echoing in the stillness.

"Tell me again," he commanded, his voice rough and ragged with desire as he approached you, the belt coiled in his hand like a snake ready to strike. "Who do you belong to?"

"You, Thomas," you panted, your eyes wide and fixed on the belt in his hand. "I'm yours. Only yours," you confirmed, your voice heavy with desire.

Thomas' eyes blazed with a primal hunger as he lifted the belt and brought it down against your inner thigh with a sharp crack.

You gasped at the sudden sting, your eyes watering with a mixture of pain and pleasure. Thomas watched you carefully, his eyes searching for any signs of discomfort or distress. But all he saw was your desire-filled gaze locked onto his, inviting him to continue.

He raised the belt again, bringing it down on your other thigh with an equally sharp crack. You whimpered at the sensation, your hips bucking up towards him as you begged for more.

Thomas' eyes narrowed as he dropped the belt to the floor with a thud, his hands going straight to your hips to hold you in place. He tugged your legs apart wider, his gaze locked onto the glistening folds of your aching pussy.

"You're so fucking wet for me," Thomas rasped, his fingers tracing the slick seam of your core.

He spread your arousal over your clit, the sensitive nub throbbing under his touch. "And all mine," he growled, his eyes flashing with a primal hunger as he pushed down his pants , his hard cock springing free.

You moaned as he positioned himself at your entrance, notching the tip of his shaft against your slick folds. "Yes," you hissed, digging your nails into his shoulders as you arched your back, ready for him.

Thomas thrust into you in one swift movement, filling you to the hilt. You cried out at the sudden invasion, your eyes rolling back in pleasure as he buried himself inside you.

Thomas groaned as he felt you tighten around him, your walls clenching him like a vice.

"Fuck, Y/N," Thomas growled, his hips pistoning in and out of you in a punishing rhythm. He reached down between your bodies and found your swollen clit with his thumb. He pressed down on it, rubbing it in slow circles as he continued to thrust into you.

You moaned as he touched you, your hips bucking up to meet his thrusts.

Thomas was merciless, his hips slamming into yours with a force that left you breathless. The sound of their bodies slapping together echoed through the room, mingling with your gasps and moans.

Thomas reached down and wrapped his hand around your throat, squeezing gently as he powered into you. You whimpered at the feeling of his hand on your throat, your pussy clenching around his cock in response.

"You like that, don't you?" Thomas growled, his voice low and raw with desire. He had never taken you like this before, so possessively and it quickly became overwhelming for you.

The hand around your neck, the unyielding thrusts, and the sound of his hips slapping against yours. The pleasure was so intense that it bordered on pain. But, before you knew it, your orgasm was already creeping up on you. With every circling motion of Thomas' thumb on your clit, you felt yourself getting close to the edge.

"Come for me, Y/N," Thomas rasped through gritted teeth as he continued to thrust into you at a relentless pace.

"I want to feel you come all over my cock."

Your breath hitched as the heat within you coiled tightly, ready to unravel at any moment. Your legs shook around Thomas' waist, trying to keep contact as he hit your sweetspot over and over again.

With one last, hard circle of Thomas' thumb on your clit, you cried out as you toppled over the edge. Your orgasm tore through your body like a freight train, leaving you panting and trembling in its wake.

Thomas groaned as he felt your walls clench around him, milking his cock as you came. He continued to piston in and out of you, chasing after his own release which came much faster than he had expected.

Pulling out of you quickly, he cupped your mound, his fingers massaging and teasing the sensitive folds of skin as he watched you come down from your orgasm while he stroked his cock. He was so turned on by the sight of your pleasure that he couldn't help but take his own.

"Touch yourself, Y/N," he growled. "I want to watch you make yourself cum again, Love," he told you and so you did.

Your fingers hovered above for a moment before brushing over the sensitive nub of your clit. You gasped at the contact, your hips bucking as you felt yourself growing more and more aroused.

Thomas' eyes blazed with desire as he watched you touch yourself, his hand continuing to stroke his cock in long, languid movements. He groaned as he saw your pink flesh flush a deep red, your arousal unmistakable.

"Yes, just like that," Thomas rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "Make yourself come again."

You whimpered at his words, your fingers moving faster over your clit as your pleasure mounted.

"Oh god, Thomas," you gasped, your legs shaking as waves of pleasure washed over you.

Thomas groaned, his hand moving faster as he watched you touch yourself until, finally, he too came, hard and fast.

He grunted as he spilled his seed onto your stomach, the thick, white ropes of his release painting your skin in a primal display of possession.

You watched him, your chest heaving as you caught your breath, your pussy still clenching in aftershocks of pleasure. Thomas' eyes met yours, the dark desire in them sending another flush of heat through your body.

"Jealousy suits you , Tommy," you whispered, your fingers still stroking your sensitive clit.

Thomas chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that made your stomach flutter. "I'm not jealous, Y/N. But what's mine is mine and I won't have anyone else touching it," Thomas growled, his fingers tracing the curve of your hip as you lay panting beneath him, his tone determined.

"Nothing happened," you reassured him, your voice softer than a whisper. "It was just a small touch. It was inadvertent, innocent and it meant nothing."

Thomas nodded, but the tension in his shoulders didn't ease. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, before pulling up his pants.

"I can't help it, Y/N," Thomas admitted, his voice low and rough. "I need to know that you're mine.

Only mine," Thomas rasped, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your thigh.

"I am," you whispered, looking up at him with doe eyes that made him weak at the knees. "I've always been yours, Tommy. Only yours," you repeated, emphasizing the words that seemed to drive him wild and, whilst you had boyfriends before him, none of these relationships really lasted.

One of the men you had been with before meeting Tommy was killed in a fire following your second date while the other had disappeared without a trace, as had your brother. Men seemed to always have abandened you until now.

Until Thomas Shelby. Thomas had been a constant force in your life. Never leaving, never giving up on you and always making sure that you were safe and secure. But as much as you belonged to him, he belonged to you too.

Tags:

#cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy imagine #tommy shelby #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction

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queers-gambit · 6 months

Text

If Speaking is Silver, Then Listening is Gold

a Turkish proverb

prompt: ( requested ) you require a bit of reprieve after the week you had, and Tommy's a gentleman.

pairing: Tommy Shelby x hard of hearing female!reader

fandom masterlist: Peaky Blinders

word count: 4.4k+

note: you hit me in the chest with this request. as someone who is hard of hearing (HoH) and progressively losing what they have left, this got personal.

warnings: author projects, mild angst, hurt and comfort, specified frustration, working with customers SUCK, mild violence, Tommy's a little OC 'cause he doesn't know what to do with emotion!

"Excuse me! God, the service here is terrible! Aren't you listening to me, barmaid!?" The woman with polished finger nails slammed her manicured hand to the bartop aggressively, glaring at you as if you had backhanded her mother.

The sudden slap made you jump slightly, turning your head to acknowledge her before deflecting, "In a moment, ma'am, I'm trying to listen to this man's order."

"I've been trying to get your attention for 10 minutes now!" She argued, the noise of the bar dialed up as the night droned on and the patrons drank more.

"And I'm busy assisting other customers, I'll get to you when it's your turn," you reminded her, blinking at the man in front of you. "I'm so sorry, sir, I, uh, what were you saying?"

He sighed, "You don't remember? Or didn't hear me?"

"I couldn't hear you over the woman yelling at me," you snipped, perking your brows. "Would you like to order or should I move onto another customer?"

He scoffed, "Just get me a fucking bourbon."

"One fucking bourbon comin' at'cha," you rolled your eyes as you turned from the people to grab the bottles of liquor lined up behind you. You poured the man his drink, set it in front of him, and pocketed the bill he slapped in front of you - not offering change as you instantly looked to another customer. He grumbled with displeasure, but you were asking the next person, "What can I get you?"

"Uh, no, I'm next, I've been waiting long enough," the woman with polished fingernails insisted, literally pushing the customer out of her way.

You sighed, "Know what? All right, fine, what can I get you, ma'am?"

At that moment, the doors swung open and a new wave of drunkards stumbled in; the bar roaring to greet the newcomers as the woman ordered her posh drink that had no business being ordered in The Garrison.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" You asked, staring at her mouth in the hopes of reading her lips. She repeated her order, but her tacky lipstick made her lips stick - making it hard to read. "What? I'm sorry, ma'am, it's loud, you're gonna have to speak up."

"Are you fucking with me right now!?" She screeched, making your eyes widen. "You're the fucking deaf - you can't hear a simple order!?"

"I only asked you to repeat yourself," You defended.

"You asked me three times!" She raged.

"So tell me a fourth and shut the fuck up!"

"Hey, hey, hey," Harry stepped in, hand to your shoulder when the woman looked ready to launch over the bar, "I got this. I'll man the bar, you go on - there's some tables that need bussing."

You sighed and stepped back, nodding, "Sure, Harry."

You hated when he did this. Instead of defending you and your inability to hear - something you have no control over - he would always just push you aside and send you to do other chores. It wouldn't cost anything to tell the customers to calm down, it was loud in the pub and you had a hard time hearing as is - but nope! The customer was always right, or whatever bullshit he would remind you.

You were constantly accosted at work for your difficulty hearing clearly. It wasn't that you couldn't hear at all, it was just difficult! Sometimes, you could hear bits of their sentence and just inference whatever words you missed, but that wasn't an exact science. You mostly depended on reading people's lips, always hating asking anyone to repeat themselves; but at work, it wasn't always possible. The people you interacted with seemingly took personal offense that you had a hard time hearing, and each of them made their displeasure known. Again, a great time for Harry to defend you, but the older man didn't like rocking the boat.

You didn't necessarily blame him, knowing the Peaky Blinders kept a close eye on the pub and would probably reprimand (cut) Harry for discipling customers instead of firing you. So, you kept quiet about your displeasure over your treatment because you needed this job - you never wanted to give reason or thought that you were difficult. Maybe that was why Harry would send you off to do other chores, he didn't want you to lose your cool and this job. Though, some of these people deserved a good tongue lashing.

Picking up a spare pail, you went around to a few tables and cleared them of empty glasses before using a rag from your bucket to wipe them down for the next set of people.

Apparently, in that moment, someone decided to move past you, and to their credit, they did say, "Excuse me, luv, behind yah," but you didn't hear him. So, when you straightened up from cleaning the table, you took a natural step back and bumped into a body; gasping when something wet splashed over your neck, shoulders, and down your back and chest. "Oh, fuckin' hell, lass! Watch where yer fuckin' goin'!" The man raged, his empty glass shattered on the floor.

You blinked in shock.

"What? Didn't fuckin' hear me when I told yah I was there!?" The man continued to reprimand you. "Gotta fuckin' listen in a pub like this, lass, you'll cause worse fuckin' accidents!"

"I'm so sorry," you offered meekly, shaking the ale off your arms and glancing at your front to see it trickled in alcohol. You needed to take a deep, long breath before turning to head for the bar.

"What happened?" Harry asked when you arrived, looking mild concerned.

"Another spill," you spoke through a clenched jaw.

"Oi!" The man who dropped his drink all over you approached the bar, barking at Harry. "It's not our fault you hired some deaf bitch! That can't fuckin' hear 'round her! She didn't move from my way, I lost me pint 'cause of her stupidity!"

Stupid...? Did this drunk asshole just call you stupid because HE bumped into YOU and spilled HIS OWN drink? Maybe the money you made at the bar wasn't worth this...

Harry had no issue giving the drunkard another pint of ale as you tried in vain to dry off, but your dress, hair, and skin was completely plastered in sticky alcohol. You felt your eyes burn with stress, wanting to burst into tears and sob your frustrations out, but you didn't have the strength to break down right now. That's how tired and upset you were - you didn't even have the energy to cry.

You went about your evening, bussing tables and avoiding whatever customers you could; keeping your head on a swivel to avoid any other accidents. You felt a little better, but the stress still lingered around the bar; feeling as if the customers were glaring at you no matter what you did. When a natural lull came, Harry let you back behind the bar with the promise of staying near in case you needed him, but you were ready to drop.

Your final straw was about an hour after the usual Peaky Blinders and Shelby brothers had come in for the nightly round(s) of whiskey. You smiled at Arthur when he approached the bar, all too happy to greet you loudly - the lad never having an issue with speaking up when you couldn't hear. Arthur was always happy to accommodate you, having a soft spot for you since his brother, Tommy, had made his interest in you known that past year.

Speaking of, Tommy Shelby, notorious gangster of Small Heath and the head huncho of the Peaky Blinders, entered after his brothers and made an instant approach. "Harry," he greeted when he stepped around the bar.

"Mr. Shelby," Harry nodded.

"Love," he acknowledged you, pecking your cheek sweetly. "All right?"

"Hmm?"

"Doin' all right?" He asked clearly, being similar to his brother and not minding speaking louder, slower, clearer, whatever you needed to hear him better. In fact, Tommy wasn't know for being patient, but with you, he'd repeat himself as many times as it took - but only for you.

"Oh, yeah," you sniffled, trying to hide your frustrations.

"Why's your dress wet?" He worried, petting a sticky lock of your hair back, his concern mounting.

You shrugged, "Bit of an accident, 's not a big deal."

"Someone run into you, again?"

You nodded, "It's fine, though. He got a new pint and calmed down."

Tommy shook his head, gritting, "Who?"

"Tommy."

"Tell me who, love."

"No, Tommy, it's fine," you insisted, petting your hand down his chest in a show of affection; seeing another customer approach the bar. "I'm sorry, I'm working, love, can we talk later?"

He nodded, pecked your temple, grabbed a bottle of Irish whiskey and moved for the snug - where his brothers and Aunt Polly waited for him. You got back to work, and barely noticed the time ticking by... Until a new customer approached you with a sneer already marring his face.

"What can I get for you, sir?" You asked kindly, needing to raise your voice over the usual drunken yelling. So, you preemptively warned him, "Sorry, 's bit noisy tonight, you'll have to speak up."

The man ordered his drink clearly, but another few men in loosened slacks and disheveled button-ups stalked up to the bar; crowding around the other two men who stumbled over in obnoxious laughter. You felt your panic spike, already overwhelmed by them all trying to talk over one another.

You were bombarded with drink orders from them all, eyes flickering between them because you didn't know who to listen to first. You tried to get the drinks together at the same time, but in truth, it was overwhelming because the men changed their orders, but got mad at YOU when you didn't quite hear them clearly.

Their drunken words added to the bar's noise level sprinkled with you being hard-of-hearing just resulted in a cluster fuck. "This isn't what I fucking ordered!" The original man complained, glaring at you with distain. "It's really not that hard, girl, my God. If you can't get our drinks right, how you gonna make any man a decent wife? Gonna fuck up his dinners, too?"

"Jesus - I'm sorry, there's just a lot going on. Why don't you remind me your drink and I'll get it now," you offered as kindly as you could.

"I doubt you'll be able to get it right," he sneered, but you missed half his sentence.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Are you fuckin' kiddin' me!? Just fuckin' listen - it's not hard!" He snarled, literally chucking his glass just past your ear so it shattered into the liquor bottles behind you. "You can't even get a fucking drink right! Fuck you doin' workin' here, then!?"

This caused a huge commotion, obviously.

The Shelby's don't play games, you see, and the moment the glass shattered, they were moving out of the snug to investigate. When they realized someone had offered you disrespect, it was a shit show as the drunkards clashed with the men with razors stitched in their caps. Still in shock from the show of violence, you felt something in your heart snap you into motion.

So, you silently untied your apron, grabbed your coat and home keys, then literally walked out the backdoor - while the men all scuffled. The moment you stepped outside, you let your emotional dam give out - sobbing into the stinging cold air as you moved up the street.

You weren't sure what emotion you felt - be it anger, disappointment, shame, fear... Crippling insecurity. Once at the Irish pub, The Black Lion, you settled at the nearly empty bar and ordered your own drink, something you rarely did anymore. Something about working with alcohol all day made you less inclined to drink, but tonight was different than previous nights.

"All right, lass?" The bartender asked, pouring the whiskey in front of you. "Look a bit put out, huh?"

"Just a long week," you answered. He hummed, nodding and asking something. You felt tears in your eyes when you asked, "C-Could you repeat that?"

Louder, he repeated, "Anything you wanna talk about?"

"Oh, no, thank you," you waved off. "Just... Customers being unruly."

He laughed, "Oh, don't I know it. What happened?"

You shrugged, "Nothing important."

"C'mon, lass, if it's made you come inta a place like this, searching for a drink, it's probably important enough."

You sighed, "Honestly, I think I appreciate the silence."

He smirked, "I can respect that. Here," he poured you a new glass, "this one's on the house. I deal with unruly customers, too, so, I know you'll need this second one."

You chuckled and grinned broadly when he went to walk away, did a double take, then left the whiskey bottle to your side with a smirk. He moved off to sit at a different table with some other older men, leaving you alone for the first time in what felt like a long time. It felt ironic for a moment that you sought solitude and silence, but you just wanted time to digest all that happened tonight and move on.

Why couldn't people understand that despite you being a public servant, you were still a human being? A human with human emotions, human disability, who makes human mistakes. Yet according to those entitled pricks that think YOU work for THEM, you were a second class citizen who was underserving of empathy. How dare you ask them to repeat themselves! How dare you misunderstand their order - and quickly replace it! How dare you have a disability past your control that affects your day-to-day life!

There was a heavy, looming feeling of being inadequate.

Being alive was hard enough as it is, more so when a bodily function most others take for granted malfunctioned within you. It made life harder; you had to work harder than everyone else just to operate on their same level. However, if you dare show exhaustion, frustration, any degree of weakness, you were quick to be labeled as "lazy" or "entitled" or your favorite, "dramatic!"

Those people can hear pins drop, they couldn't ever fathom what this felt like. It wasn't that you couldn't hear, you could. It just wasn't on the level other's could heard at, and for whatever reason, it seemed to frustrate everyone else more than you. You were the one dealing with the predicament, and yet, everyone else was seemingly the most inconvenienced! They thought it mortally offensive to be served by someone "like you", thinking your disability was unacceptable in their proximity.

Fucking assholes.

If only they knew the way your stomach knotted itself every time you asked someone to repeat what they said. Every time you said, "Huh?" or "What was that? What did you say?"

You were embarrassed because it made you feel as if you couldn't even be a human "correctly", and it's not like you chose for this to happen! It's not like anyone chooses to make the obligation called life ten times harder by putting you at a functional disadvantage. You felt like "damaged goods" because you felt constantly out of the loop; missing a lot of what's said if you're not paying explicit attention.

However, years ago, you had perfected the ability to read lips. Yet this was difficult when most people you couldn't hear were your customers, majority of who are slurring their words. You worked in The Garrison, meaning that on any given night, there was loud discussions that added to your frustration - but the tips were too good to quit. So you endured. You felt pathetic and borderline like a failure if you quit any job; feeling as if your disability had won by emotionally crippling you. So, while it didn't make a lot of sense to work in a noisy place when you're already hard-of-hearing, you remained at your place of employment simply out of spite.

It was difficult reminding yourself it wasn't your fault, that you were still doing a great job - no matter how many customers catch attitudes, get snippy, or throw full-on adult tantrums. You despised needing to be the "bigger person", but figured nobody else would be willing to accommodate you, so, if you wanted a semblance of peace, you had to be the one to create it.

You reached for the bottle of whiskey after downing your second glass. With a harsh sniffle, you glanced around the pub and realized how many people had arrived to fill in the place. You felt the hair on the back of your neck stand on end, acutely aware that you were so deep in your emotional tarpit that you missed the noise rising.

So much for a quiet night.

You poured a new glass, praying to whatever God would listen that you're granted deliverance from this empty, helpless feeling that was pitting your stomach and chest.

After hearing the glass shatter, Tommy and his brothers were rocketing to their feet to investigate. They saw a man, red in the face, yelling hatefully at you behind the bar - liquor dripping off the shattered shelves from the man's bout of violence. There was no thinking for any of them. Tommy recognized you were in a predicament; striding forward first, and the chaos began.

It'd been a good bit since the lads had a good fist fight. No razors, no guns, no advantages - just bare fists and bar furniture.

It cleared the place out, and when the drunkard was hauled off by his companions, Tommy was wiping the blood from his knuckles. Harry frowned at the sight of blood splattered on the floor, shaking his head before calling your name - knowing you had some secret to getting blood out before it stained. However, there was no response. The Shelby boys all looked around expectantly, waiting for you to reappear, but it was evident by the way Harry searched for you that you weren't in the building.

Tommy placed a cigarette to his lips, just lighting it when Harry returned from the back room, informing, "Her belongin's are gone, she must've left early."

This made Tommy whip around sharply to use his own eyes and scan the room. "Nobody saw where she went? How was nobody watchin' her!?" Tommy asked demanded. There were several shakes of different heads, Tommy's anxiety flaring in his chest. He quickly rushed to grab his coat and flat cap, tugging them on in haste, hearing Arthur question where he was going. "Gotta find her," he explained through his panting-panic. "City's dangerous enough for people that can hear properly. God knows what can happen when she's alone at this time of night."

"We'll help," John offered, nudging Arthur, Finn, and their cousin, Michael Gray.

"I'll find her faster," Tommy answered, already out the door.

Michael shared a look around the room, wondering, "He acts like this all the time or just with that one pretty barmaid?"

Arthur smirked broadly, "That one pretty barmaid is Tommy's girl. Don't get caught lookin'."

"He's like this with just her," John chuckled, "always has been, always taking care of her the way she cares for him."

"What did Tommy mean? She can't hear?" Michael questioned innocently.

"Nah, girl's got some hearin', just not a whole lotta it," John explained as if common knowledge. "Never thought I'd see Tommy so patient, so fuckin' doting. He doesn't mind repeating himself if she asks, in fact, he does what he can to talk to her how she needs."

"What's that mean?"

"Like," John paused, sighing through his nose, "he'll face her directly, speak slower to let her read his lips. He speaks up, he's clearer, he wants her to feel like she's not a burden if she can't hear like us can so he does it all organically."

Michael smiled softly, vaguely impressed by Tommy's show of humanity. Speaking of, everyone's favorite gangster was prowling through Small Heath; stopping in each and every open business, searching for the familiar sight of you, and moving on when he was unsuccessful. You weren't at the Shelby home, nor your apartment, church, or anywhere along the Canal - places you frequent when overwhelmed.

Tommy was beginning to get cold, but he wouldn't say that. His determination would keep him warm, and even as the snow began to fall once more, Tommy hiked through the wind. Luck seemed to be on his side because when he entered the third pub, one he doesn't usually step foot in outside of evident emergencies, there you were; sat at the bar looking miserable.

"Thank God," Tommy breathed in relief, straightening his jacket and swiping his cap from his head. He approached your side and reached a hand out to the bartop in front of you, minimally startling you by announcing his presence without words. "Hey, love," he greeted you.

"What're you doing, Tommy? Blinders don't come 'round in here."

"We do when one of our own goes missing."

Your eyes rolled, "I'm not missing, I just needed a break."

"I know," he nodded, "but I'm here to make sure you get home safe."

"I don't need an escort."

"I don't think you do, but it's dangerous at night. You know I care about you and that includes your well-being."

"Oh, don't tell me, you're trying to play the gentleman card?" You scoffed, taking another swallow from your glass. "C'mon, sit down, I don't like drinking alone," you commented, "makes me sad, leaves me alone with my thoughts."

"We can drink at home, love."

"I don't want to go home yet."

"Why?"

"'Cause I'll have to explain why I got fired."

"You didn't."

"Huh!?" You yelped.

"You didn't lose your job," he assured softly.

"No?"

"No, not fired."

"Oh," you mulled over your thoughts, "that's good, then."

Tommy sighed and pulled his coat off to take the empty barstool beside you. "All right," he decided, going through the motions to stick a cigarette between his lips and light it. Smoke wafted from his mouth as he asked, "What happened tonight?"

"You already know, I'm sure."

"I want your truth."

"Doesn't matter," you refused, downing the last of the whiskey in your glass. You went to leave a few bills for your tab, but Tommy stopped you and covered it himself. Your eyes rolled and hand snatched the nearly-empty bottle of whiskey before heading for the exit.

Tommy followed not far behind.

"Love, c'mon, wait up," he grit, catching up to you and tossing his coat over your form, "you're gonna catch ill."

"I'm fine," your eyes rolled. Truthfully, the consumed whiskey in your system acted as an internal heating mechanism; warming your blood, wrapping you in a fuzzy grip.

"Talk to me," he pleaded.

"I just - I'm frustrated, okay?"

"Sure, all right," he agreed, "but why?"

"You don't get it, Tommy," you felt emotional, rounding on him with tears in your eyes. "You don't know what it's like, you can hear just fine, you can still see, you don't know what it's like to progressively lose one of your senses! The way people get angry for something I cannot dictate - it's like they're the one being vastly inconvenienced!"

Tommy nodded, just listening.

"And they crucify me for it!" You sniffled, feeling defeated. "Like I'm some pariah that will infect them with my loss of hearing. They treat me as if - as if I've asked for this, as if I'm doing it on purpose!"

"What would help?"

"Honestly? I don't know anymore, Tommy, but this town is seriously lacking in their ability to empathize. I don't know what I'm supposed to say or do - I get so angry now. It happens more and more, people getting angry or frustrated at me 'cause I need them to repeat themselves. What am I supposed to do, huh?"

He smirked slightly, but the sight angered you.

"Oh, fuck off, Tommy!" You turned from him, moving back up the street. "I don't need to laugh at me like the rest of them - "

"I'm not!" Tommy insisted, reaching for your wrist to halt you, whip you around, face him again. Both his hands extended to hold the area above your elbow, speaking clearly, "Listen to me. I was going t'wait, but I think now's a good time."

"Good time for what, Tommy?" You growled, now just wanting to go to bed and hide from your emotions; hide from people; hide from reality.

"I have a new job for you, in the company," he smirked. "We're still getting things structured, but why don't you step away from the bar and come work for me now? Help us build what's left, and then transition into your company job?"

You paused, just staring at him in mild shock.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Why would I joke?"

"You're... Offering me, what? Some job as your receptionist?"

"No, I was thinkin' something a little more paramount."

"Like what?"

"Like Chief of Operations?"

"COO?" You laughed, "For what company, Tommy?"

"Come home with me, we'll talk all about it," he bargained, "but if you accept, you've gotta quit The Garrison, love. We'll need your head in the game, no other distractions."

You felt something in your heart crack, asking, "What if you lot can't stand working with me, too?"

"Because of your hearing?"

"Or, you know, lack there of."

"Love," he smirked, "there's nothing you can do - intentionally or unintentionally - that would make any of us distance ourselves. If we get frustrated, it's not because you can't hear - it's never your disability, love."

"So, if you get frustrated, it's just, what? My personality?"

"More than likely," He grinned, arm snug around your waist again to walk down the snowy lane together. He laughed when your hand rose to pinch his side; squeezing his rib tightly, causing him to flinch and grunt lightly. "Hey, hey, easy with that," he chuckled, seeing your happy smile. "You all right, love? I know tonight was a lot, but... You feelin' any better?"

"I think so," you sighed. "The whiskey helps," you joked, raising the bottle to your lips.

"Mhm," he mused, taking the bottle after you.

"But present company helps more," you complimented softly. "You know, I'm sorry for today..."

"You're sorry that you couldn't hear a bunch of drunks in a packed-out pub?"

"Maybe?"

Tommy smirked, "Don't apologize, sweetheart. It's not your fault; like you say, it's not something you can control. I'm the one who's sorry you had to endure all of that... The lads got that guy pretty good."

"Good."

"And now you've a new job, yes?"

"After I hear about it," your eyes rolled in humor, taking the bottle back. "What's this big idea for a company anyway? What's it even called?"

"The Shelby Company Limited, and we're gonna change the whole of England, love."

requesting rules and masterlist

Peaky Blinders masterlist

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