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#tom shelby imagines
angelofthenight · 3 months
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Alfie, to Tommy: Ur in (y/n)’s dms, I’m on google looking for nutrient rich soil I’d keep them in if they were a worm. We are not the same
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Saga!! You’re baaaack!! Lovely to see you around these parts again hun 😘 If you’re in the writing mood, can I interest you in a little gif of our favourite Camden based reprobate as inspiration? 😉 xxx
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Thank you love! Good to be back (and make my favourite Camden gangster talk nonsense in my fics 🤭🤭🤭)
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“Alfie…”
“That is still a ‘no’, luv, all right, and that is final.”
“Alfie Solomons, I am your wife!”
“Playin’ the wife card, are we, right, but two can play this game, sweetheart, yeah? Now, I ain’t one to play dirty, right, and don’t you roll those pretty eyes of yours at me, ‘cause I know what you’re about to say next and the answer’s still bloody ‘no’!”
“Alfie, I am begging you…!”
“Oh, now she’s beggin’, ain’t she, isn’t that a clever thing to do to your husband, right, makin’ ‘im feel all sorts of notions just to win the argument, right, now listen to me, Mrs. Solomons, you women are a clever little breed, right, entirely overlooked and undervalued, yeah, I realise that, luv, an’ I can see that ‘cause you yourself are exceptionally clever, my love, so much so that you went an’ married a clever man, right, a trait that doesn’t apply too often to my kind… There she goes and rolls her eyes again, bloody hell, come back here, woman!”
“No!”
“Come back here at once, ya vexin’ creature, an’ no stompin’ on the bloody stairs, you’ll wake the dogs!”
“Don’t bring the dogs into this!”
“I’ll do as I damn well please in my own fuckin’ house that I paid for!”
“You, Alfie Solomons, are unbelievable!”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment and you know it!”
“Hush now, luv, let’s not argue, right, ‘cause I can take no more of this–”
“Alfie!”
“Right, an’ I can be the bigger person here, darlin’, and to say I love an’ cherish you more than life itself would be an understatement–”
“Unbelievable!”
“So I forgive ya.”
“Go to hell!”
“How many times must I tell ya I already got the ticket done and paid for?!”
“I swear on my brothers, Alfie, I will join you there, because I’ll bloody go and murder my own husband if his nonsense continues!”
“Right! Fuck! Now that right there is just fuckin’ brilliant, right, ‘cause your lovin’ brother is what started the whole fuckin’ thing!”
“Alfie Solomons, you put on a clean shirt right this instance and accompany me to my brother’s wedding or I swear to God, I’ll gut ya with a butter knife!”
“John bloody Shelby gets married at least every other October, what fuckin’ difference does it make if I come or not?!”
“You take that back!”
“Why should I fuckin’ take it back, right, if it’s true?!”
“A butter knife, Alfie Solomons, I swear to God!”
“Naaah, but do ya promise, dearest?! ‘Cause it’s a lovely set your Tommy got us for our anniversary, shame if it fuckin’ goes to waste…! What are ya laughin’ about now?”
“Nothin’… Oh God, Alfie, I bloody love you, you know that?”
“That a trick or somethin’…?”
“No! I just… God, Tommy always said I took after Polly, I just never knew how much… This is bloody ridiculous.”
“Right, you… Right, stop laughin’, woman, you’re bloody ridiculous, stand still… Now your lipstick’s all over the– an’ what was that for?”
“I love you, Alfie Solomons.”
“Right, now, I love ya too, alright, even though you Shelbys are all equally fuckin’ crazy...”
“You knew what you married into.”
“That I bloody did.”
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i-understand-vangogh · 3 months
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these are my baby boys.
“i need them in a way that’s offensive to feminism” broski nation
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dearshelby · 15 days
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Hi, Laura!
Could you write headcanons for the dark!Tommy and darling who has daddy issues?
thank you 🤍🫶🏻
this sat on my askbox for so long omg Hello! Sweet anon, I'm gonna offer you a little one-shot instead, I swear I tried to make headcanons but my mind came up with so many possibilities and different scenarios I couldn't put in order, especially because of Tommy's own daddy issues, so here it is, I didn't get too deep into darling's relationship with her dad because well, it's reader insert
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There was something wrong. Tommy knew it. Usually, his kisses drove you mad, a needy mess he loved taking care of, not tonight though.
He had you on his lap, lips attached to your neck and chest while his hands wandered under your nightgown. He was taking it slow, aware you weren't in your best spirits, however, what always seemed to cheer you up wasn't working.
At this point, he expected you to grind down on him, arch your back under his touch and moan softly, asking for more. Instead, you patted the back of his neck, face buried in his soft hair.
Tommy lifted his head, staring at your alert eyes that should've been hazed with lust. There was no other option, he'd had to ask, “Is everything alright?” 
“...yeah,” you whispered.
He frowned and cupped your face, you melted into his touch, brushing your cheek against his hand. If he cared a bit less, it wouldn't be hard to ignore all the signs and rail you into the mattress, in his eyes you were absolutely adorable. 
He couldn't, not until you spat out what was wrong.
“What's with that face, eh? Something's bothering you?” Tommy insisted.
“No,” you cupped his face, “no,” 
Trying to end the conversation, you kissed him slowly, feeling the corner of his lips turn up in the ghost of a smile. Since it was harmless, he thought it was funny you picked up some of his tricks, the main difference was that he could easily break through you.
Holding your jaw, he broke the kiss and gave you a glance you knew very well, the patronizing one, the one you always got before being gently scolded. 
Wrapping an arm around your waist, Tommy pulled you to lay on the bed on top of him. You made yourself comfortable, shivering when he started to  trace random patterns on your thigh.
“Tell me this…” 
“Hm?” 
“You know I always take care of you, right?” 
“Yeah,” 
“Why would it be any different now?” 
It came sooner than you expected, the burning ache in your throat and tears threatening to run down your face, it was true, Tommy took care of you since the day you first stepped into his office.
In your terms or his, all your problems were dealt with, even the ones you didn't deem as problems at first, eventually you realized he was right.
Your Tommy was always right, he was the only one you could tell all your troubles to. So why were you so scared tonight? Perhaps because it was something you never told him about, the only thing about you he didn't know…
Or you thought he didn't know.
“My-” you gulped, “my dad wrote me a letter,” 
“Oh?” 
“And, well, he just was his usual self, I don't know why it affects me so much,” 
Tommy bit his inner cheek, he knew your dad would bring trouble the day he didn't attend your wedding. Surely, he searched into your life for his own benefit, he had to know all about the fucker who made the ceremony less than perfect, but it still hurt to see how heartbroken you were.
“You're too sweet for the fucking world,” he sighed, “that's why it affects you,” 
“...I don’t want to talk about it anymore, Tom,” you confessed.
“Alright, just give me the letter, I’ll answer,” 
“No, it's okay,”
“I'll tell him to leave you alone,” 
“No, Tom, what-” you sighed and lifted your head, “what about we just make love and forget about it?” 
Without answering, he climbed on top of you, initiating a gentle kiss. You might be forgiving to your father, but Tommy wouldn't be.
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call-sign-shark · 6 months
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Day 2: Cut Your Wings || Alfie Solomons x Reader
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Requested by a lovely Anon 🖤
TW: Kinktober prompt- cut, dubcon, blood, inflected pain, masturbation?, enemies with sexual tension, canonical violence, dirty talk, sexual torture, kidnapping
Words: 2K
Notes: This work is a part of the Peaky Kinktober Event you can find here. Comment on the event post if you want to be tagged in the future works for Kinktober. Also this one ain't as smutty as I thought because I got carried away by the narrative?? Shark please, that ain't the goal of Kinktober??
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A grunt escaped from your lips as you desperately tried to free yourself from the heavy shackles imprisoning your wrists. You moved them back and forth, then left and right, turning your hands in every position possible, and yet nothing worked. The handcuffs were too tight for you to slip from them. Another painful moan echoed in the damp and dark room of the distillery in which the jew's henchmen had locked you a few hours ago. The cold metal bit your flesh again. "Fuck". When loud footsteps resounded behind the heavy wooden door of your prison, you swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat and prayed to God for a quick and painless death because you knew that Alfie Solomons wasn't a forgiving man. Quite the contrary, his quick temper, and frightening antics only fueled his reputation as one of the most dangerous criminals in London.
"So that's the fucking little rat my men told me about." He stated, standing in the middle of the open door, both of his hands resting on the handle of his cane and a black hat hiding one of his hazel gray eyes.
"Fuck you, fucking cunt! When Tommy will know about this y'all going to regret it!" Words passed your thoughts, spitting their venom at him and yet the man remained silent. You even wondered if he had paid attention to what you just said or if the voices in his head were louder than yours. His gaze, intense and unfathomable, was observing you attentively as if he was trying to decipher the secrets of the most unique precious stone he had even held in his palm. After what seemed to be an eternity, Alfie Solomons pursued his lips, stroked his scruffy beard, and nodded, coming to an agreement with himself.
"See, my mates here told me that Tommy Shelby had sent a few men to London, but here's the problem – He said 'men'. And not 'little girl', which is definitely what you are. A bloody and nosey little girl. Hmhm." He agreed with his own statement before walking to the dusty furniture that was leaning against one of the brick walls. Then, he took off his hat and his long dark coat, and put the cane aside before walking towards you. He stopped in front of you, tattooed arms crossed on his muscular chest. The unusual amount of greenish ink deeply engraved in his skin caught your attention for a short while, you curiously observing the pattern it formed. Of course, both Tommy and Arthur had tattoos, but not as many as the mad baker.
"Would you look at ya. Haven't you something else to do instead of following a Birmingham scumbag's orders? Like finding yourself a man or something like this, y'know. 'Cause I don't see why such a young lass like ya puts her own life into danger for Tommy fucking Shelby." As he talked, Alfie had closed the distance between you and him. He was now leaning above you, so close that his scorching breath was fanning over your skin and the hairs of his beard were almost tickling your face. "So can you tell me why? The only reason I see is that Tommy Shelby sticks his cock in you and it has magically bred some loyalty." The right corner of his full lips curled into a mocking grin when he noticed how his words had lit a fire of rage in your eyes. Bang on, he thought, "No. It's more complex than that, innit? He doesn't want you and yet you remained devoted to him in the hope that one day, maybe, he'd look at you differently. He'd look at you like a woman to fuck senseless and not a pawn of his game."
"Kill me, Solomons. Kill me now or I'll fucking cut you once I'll be out of this shit-stinking place." You hissed, baring your teeth like a cornered animal, the truth hurting you more than a gunwound. For a split second, Alfie swore you would have dug your fangs into his throat, sinking them deep until you tasted blood if you hadn't been restrained by chains and handcuffs.
"Cut me?" The baker repeated these two words, pretending to be surprised while the tone in his voice betrayed how amused he was, "And what kind of tool would you use to cut me? This?" As he said so, Alfie pulled your grey beret out of the large pocket of his trousers, holding it to have a good grip at the base of the razor blades that were sewn to the fabric. "You Peaky girl like to cut people with this right? So come on, threaten me again little bird, I dare you." He said with both of his eyebrows raised in a taunting expression.
"D'ya think you're scaring me? I'm not scared, I'm a Peaky Blinder and I'm going to make things clear again: you better kill me now because if you miss this chance, I'll fucking cut your face the next time we meet–" You didn't finish your sentence, your words replaced by a scream of pain when Alfie, without a single warning, slashed your arm with your peaky cap. Blood soon filled the gash and overflowed from it, soaking the white fabric of your shirt in a crimson stain.
"Go ahead, dove. Say it again." This time you remained silent, staring at him in horror. He had cut deep, deep enough for you to feel the sickening pulse of your own heart in the wound. Your refusal to obey led Alfie to burst into an unexpected rage. His face reddened, and his brows furrowed, casting their shadow eyes. With one strong and brutal movement, Alfie's free hand grabbed your face, his calloused fingers sinking into your cheeks until your jaw hurt. "SAY IT AGAIN AND I'LL CUT YOUR FUCKING WINGS!" He barked, a bit of spit spilled in his beard and bloodshot eyes staring at your very soul. "See, you don't stand a chance here my sweet dove. You're just a little girl playing gangsters". In an unsettling mood swing, his temper had gone quiet again.
"I'm not gonna kill you peaky girl, that would be too easy. I see your eyes, and what I see in them is that you ain't afraid of death and I reckon this is a trait I particularly fancy in someone. So what should I do with you? We might..." He made a short pause when he noticed a tiny detail he hadn't spotted before. Alfie's hazel grey eyes abandoned yours and dropped to your bosom where he could see the round shape of your hardened nipples pointing through the fabric of your shirt. Licking his lips, Alfie's iris darkened with mischief and something you never expected to witness in the eyes of an enemy – lust. An unpleasant shiver ran down your spine as the baker's smirk suddenly turned into a wicked and threatening smile, "I know, dove. I know what I'm going to do with you. Everything's clear in my mind". A sparkle of pure madness enlightened his face, just like an artist struck by inspiration. With his words followed his hand, that came meeting your trembling body. His strong palm roamed all over you, the friction it created snatching a whimper from your tight throat while you understood his obscene plans.
"No, no! Please! Alfie--" You wanted to scream but you couldn't, petrified from the moment his fingers trailed down your belly and ended their exploration between your legs. The noisy juggling of the chains you produced by struggling sounded like a melody in Alfie's ears, who hummed in satisfaction at your cunt's warmth he could feel through the fabric of your trousers. His fingers pressed a bit more against your core, shooting a wave of forbidden arousal through your entire body and making your legs shake.
"You're in heat, lil' dove." He noted with an amused tone before closing the distance between your ear and his lips. You squeezed your eyes shut at the overwhelming scratching sensation of his gruff beard against your skin and the blazing blast of his breath. The room spun as you found yourself intoxicated by the fragrance of his cologne. Musky, and with a dab of cedarwood. His scent was as raw and wild as him. "I'm pretty sure you're all wet, aren't you?" He cooed in your ear. His rough fingers, applying pressure at the exact spot where your throbbing clit was, started to rub it in slow and circular motions. As much as you hated the thought of it, his skillful caresses lit a fire of desire within you, so much that you felt your own wetness soaking your panties, "How long since a man stretched that lonely pussy?"
"Don't touch me!" You growled, but as convincing as you had tried to sound convincing you still failed judging by how Alfie's brow arched. He let out a dark chuckle. Doing the exact opposite, his fingers kept fondling your sensitive bud but this time his wet and warm tongue licked your neck just like a predator would do to get a first taste of his freshly caught prey.
"Oh I'm not gonna touch you dove." The muffled sound of your cap falling on the concrete ground made you open your eyes again. You had barely lifted your eyelids when your gaze met Alfie's other hand, who was kneading his massive bulge. As afraid as you were, you could not help but let out a soft yet needy moan "I'm not gonna touch you. What I'm going to do cannot be described, no no it can't because I don't want God to hear it. What I can tell you though is that you'll never come back to Birmingham once you'll know the feeling of my cock buried deep inside you." His words' immediate effects upon you had your teased pussy clenching onto nothing and reminding you how desperately empty you were. An emptiness Tommy would never fill, "Are you thinking about him now?"
You weren't.
Alfie didn't need you to answer, for the way you brought your hips closer to his fingers and grind against them was enough. The mad baker's mouth sucked on the sensitive flesh of your neck, pinching it between his lips to leave a bright red mark on you, claiming his newly acquired property. All these sensations soon became unbearable: the friction of your shirt against your erected tits, the cold bite of the handcuffs on your wrists, and the increasingly faster rubbing of your clit destroyed what remained of your will of fighting. Never in your life you had been touched for you had always kept your virginity unspoiled for Thomas. A stupid and fruitless devotion.
You gave in to the pleasure and surprised yourself by thinking about how big Alfie's dick looked, unable to look anywhere else.
"Don't s-stop." You muttered under your breath, your climax building as Alfie kept assaulting your sweet bundle of nerves: he was nothing but gentle with it, almost hurting you with how rough he rubbed you. With your mouth parted and your breath quickening, you felt the delightful warmth of an orgasm coming but, all of sudden, Alfie stopped.
"Enough for today. We'll see if you deserve more tomorrow." He said.
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If you have appreciated what you've just read please take the time to reblog and/or comment. Your reactions are the real fuel and motivation of writers.
tags: @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @mollybegger-blog @hwangrimi @munson24 @tommyshelbywhore @devotedlyshadowytheorist @stevie75 @brummiereader @triplethreat77 @sebastianstangirl01 1 @izzy10369 @kimvolturicullen @peakyltd
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sneakyblinders · 1 year
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seeing clearly
A/n: part of my tommy and his darling wife au. warnings: breastfeeding a baby, alluding to smut but no smut. not canon.
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You cracked the door to your bedroom open, eyeing your husband, sitting in bed, propped up with fluffy pillows, smoking a cigarette. "Good morning," you smiled. He gave you a weak smile. "Hello, Gorgeous," he said, head lolling to the side to look at you. You sat on the edge of the bed, fingers gently tangling with his. "How do you feel today?" you ask gently, pulling his hand to your lips. "Head hurts still," he rasped, eyes sensitive to the light. "I'm sorry, lovey," you coo. He readjusts himself beneath the blankets. You notice a discarded book on your side of the bed, narrowing your eyes. "Trying to read?" you ask.
Tommy lets out a disgruntled sound, tossing his cigarette into the ashtray on his nightstand. His lips are in a pout, debating on whether to divulge the truth to you or not. He knew you'd find out regardless, but didn't want you worrying unnecessarily. Especially with how much you'd worried over him the last year anyhow. "What's wrong?" you ask, dark eyes filled with worry. "Thomas, tell me," you tell him softly, squeezing his hand tighter. "I'm--" he struggled to say it aloud. "I'm still having problems seeing," he said hesitantly. "Oh, Thomas," you sigh, reaching up to touch his face softly. He leans into your touch, missing how you felt near him, around him, close to him. You'd treated him with such gentleness, such kindness, such care. He didn't deserve you, he knew that all of your lives together, but with you nursing him back to health, it solidified his knowledge. "What if you tried wearing glasses?" you ask. He huffed. "Me?" he looked at you, displeased at the thought. "I think not, my love." "But if it helps you see, Thomas," you try and reason with him. "Would you try it, please? For me?" He sighed, the fuzziness of your features bothering him. He squeezed your hand. "I will, my love."
A few weeks later, he was well enough to go to the doctor, who had given him a thorough eye examination and deemed him in need of glasses. He sighed, picking out a pair of gold, wire rimmed glasses. They were simple enough, not too much to attract a bunch of attention. He was eager to return to his home, to see his wife and new baby, Katherine. Peter was excited that his father was now well enough to walk down the stairs and see him for a few moments throughout the day. Thomas had missed them.
Simmons drove him back to his home, saying little. Tommy had his glasses in a case in his jacket pocket, still reluctant to wear them. When he walked through the front door, Peter ran to him, telling him of a new book he had just got from his grandparents through the mail. "I can't wait to see it," Tommy told him, smiling at his son. "Will you read it to me? Mummy says some of the words are too big for me," he asks, big blue eyes pleading with his father. Tommy takes a sharp breath in. "Of course, son. We'll read it tonight before bed, eh?" Peter smiled widely. "Where is your mother and the baby?" he asks. Peter led him up the stairs to the nursery. The door was shut, often an indication you were nursing. "Go find Frances and tell her that I'd like that chocolate pudding for dessert tonight, eh?" he tells his son. "That's my favorite, Daddy!" he says. "Mine too, son. Run along," he says, smiling as Peter bounds down the steps to find Frances. He knocks gently on the door. You call gently for him to come in. You were seated in the rocking chair, baby at your breast. His heart swelled. "Hello, Darling," you tell him, eyes bright. He sits down on the footstool in front of the rocking chair, eyeing his dark haired baby girl nuzzled at her mothers breast. He gently strokes the back of her head. "Daddy's home," you coo to the baby. "She's still so small," he says, in disbelief of this little tiny baby that was his. "But she's getting stronger," you tell him, a smile on your face. "How did the eye doctor go, my love?" Your husband sighed, shoulders sagging. "They gave me glasses." "Oh, let me see!" you said. The baby had decided she was done eating, and you raised her to your shoulder to burp her, pulling up the neckline of your dress. He hesitantly pulled his glasses from his pocket and put them on. "Oh, Mr. Shelby," you say, a devious smirk on your face. "You look quite handsome," he shakes his head, laughing incredulously. "I don't think so," he starts, but you cut him off. "I think you look very handsome. Dashing. Kingly." you tell him, and a smirk grows on his face as he looks up--able to see you clearly. And you're beautiful, he thinks. The baby burped, and you turned her to face her father, her little head resting on your chest. "Tell Daddy he looks handsome, Katherine," you whisper to the baby, who smiles at her father, her blue eyes beaming at him. He smiles softly. "Tell your mother she's ridiculous," he whispers to the baby, a goofy smile on his face, making the baby gurgle and clap her hands. He takes Katherine from your arms, cradling her against his chest. "Really, Thomas, I think you look most handsome. If they help you see, Darling, that's what really matters." you say, adjusting the top of your dress again. "I suppose," he grumbles, getting up and fetching a baby blanket, lying it on the floor, laying the baby on her stomach on the floor. "She is getting stronger," he observed. She was able to hold her neck up on her own finally, and getting better about it every day.
That night, you came to bed after feeding the baby one last time, Thomas not in bed yet. You walked back down the hall and found him in Peter's room, reading his new book to him. "Father, why do you wear glasses now?" Peter asked as Thomas shut the book. "After my injury, it was harder for me to see. I need them so I can see you grow up," Tommy said, standing from his seated position on Peter's bedside. "And to see your beautiful mother and sister. And to read you stories." "They're nice, Father." Peter tells him, yawning. "Thank you, son. Goodnight," Tommy tells him, flicking off the light and exiting the room, finding you standing outside the door. "Eavesdropping, my angel?" he asks. "Our son is so kind," you tell him, pressing your head to his chest. "He is, my dear, just like his mother," Tommy tells you, kissing the top of your head. Tommy eyed himself in the mirror of your vanity in your room with his glasses, still unsure of his appearance. "Thomas," you say softly, coming up behind him, hands on his bare chest. "Stop worrying," you press a kiss to his shoulder blade and goosebumps rise on his arms. "May I show you how handsome I think you look in them?" you ask, hand dipping beneath the waistband of his sleep pants. His response was a moan to your touch. You come in front of him and drop to your knees, your back to the vanity, so he could see in the mirror, something you'd learned a few years ago that drove him wild.
A few minutes later he was a panting, moaning mess above you, a hand tangled in your hair as he came down from his high of pleasure. "Believe me now?" you ask, pressing a kiss to his thigh. He pulls you up by your shoulder, gripping the back of your neck, pulling you against him, lips crashing to yours in a searing kiss. He pulled away, breathless. "I believe you." he told you, pressing his forehead to yours.
If he had to wear glasses for the rest of his life, it was a damn good thing his wife liked him in them.
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raincoffeeandfandoms · 8 months
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Uncle Alfie (Alfie Solomons & Ruby Shelby)
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Summary: Alfie Solomons and Ruby Shelby enjoying the tea time and the beginning of the most unexpected friendship. That was the day that he entered Arrow House as "The Wandering Jew" and left it as "Uncle Alfie."
Warnings: None! Fluff. || In this fic I wrote, Ruby said that Alfie is "Uncle Alfie" and I wanted to write the story behind it 😅.
Words: 600.
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Alfie arriving at Tommy's, introducing himself as "the wandering Jew," had become a tradition ever since he first set foot in the mansion.
Of course Thomas was busy when he arrived, even though he had informed him he would be there. Waiting and patience were not part of Alfie's attributes, especially not when it came to Tommy, but he had learned to tolerate it.
Alfie was looking out of the window in Thomas's office when the sound of footsteps reached his ears. Turning around, he saw his partner's only daughter behind him. The little girl with a tea tray, was looking at him with her pretty brown eyes.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Shelby," he greeted.
"Good afternoon..."
"I'm Alfie Solomons, a friend of your father's."
"Mr. Solomons. I heard my daddy talking about you."
"I don't doubt it, Ms. Shelby. Time for tea?"
"Yes. My mommy's sick and I can't see her until she's well and Daddy promised to have tea with me but he's not here. And Charlie doesn't want to."
Alfie looked at Ruby with a smile. The little girl barely reached his hip. Alfie hadn't had much contact with children, except those in the synagogue who came up to greet him so having a little girl talking in front of him was unusual for him. But if Alfie was anything, he was a gentleman and as such he offered to have tea with her as the girl's eyes seemed to hold out hope that the tall, bearded man would join her in this British tradition.
Ruby smiled broadly as she placed the teacups, teapot and scones that the Arrow House cook had prepared for her exclusively, on the small table her father kept there. Alfie sat down in one of the armchairs and let the girl pour the cups as she seemed more than willing to do so.
Alfie, who thought the talk would be about teddy bears and dolls, found what Ruby knew about the Shelbys most interesting. Perhaps unaware of the child's presence at family gatherings, the adults talked to each other as if no one else was there. And Ruby innocently, or not, was more than willing to share that information with him.
"So, Aunt Ada and my daddy argued... Aunt Ada told dad not to bother again until he thought well what he was saying. When dad told Uncle Arthur to go and talk to her once she left, Uncle Arthur said no."
"Uncle Arfah? he said no to your father? I thought he said yes to everything your father said."
"It's just... he said no at first, but then he went after Aunt Ada like my dad told him to," Ruby offered Alfie a scon which he accepted.
"That's what I assumed... and it was about politics?"
"Yes. I think my dad wants to have the whole family together, but Aunt Ada doesn't want to get involved in that."
"Your Aunt Ada is a smart woman..."
"You're also part of the government like my father, Mr. Solomons?"
Alfie snorted "The devil forbid. No, absolutely, no. And you can call me Uncle Alfie."
Ruby smiled at him.
By the time Tommy arrived to see Alfie, his daughter was no longer there and the man was half asleep in his armchair.
That had been a totally unexpected evening for Alfie. Instead of meeting Tommy and his problems, he had found something much better: a girl who had invited him not only with tea and scones, but also with information that Thomas Shelby himself would never have given him.
Uncle Alfie would be back the following week, he had promised, and Ruby Shelby couldn't wait for that day to come. The Shelbys had a lot of problems and she was more than happy to share that with her new friend.
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ithebookhoarder · 1 year
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Relationship A - Z: (Alfie Solomons x F!Reader)
A/N: I randomly ended up catching a friend rewatching an episode of Peaky Blinders recently, and may have fallen back in love with this man again. So, it felt only right to finish this, after it sitting in my pile of unfinished drafts for months XD...
Yet again, for anyone who wants to know, I’m using Dameronlogy’s list here for this prompt. You can find it on their blog, or here. Thanks for all your love and support recently. It means a lot.
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Masterlist:
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A - actions. what sort of things do they do to show they love their s.o? 
Alfie listens which makes you feel special and valued to no end - something he demonstrates over and over again in many different ways. 
For example, if you say something is your favourite then he is sure to order it and leave it on your desk, whether it’s flowers, perfume, or books by a certain author. 
You even catch him one night, reading your favourite book, and can’t believe it when he starts asking you about it at breakfast the next morning, clearly having absorbed every word with great interest. 
And conversely, if you say you don’t like something… well, then it is all but eliminated from your life. Mushrooms? He’ll never let them touch your plate again. A certain cologne makes your headache? NO one at the factory can wear it. You’re allergic to something? Then Alfie will add it to a never ending list of enemies that need vanquishing and god help it if someone dares try to bring it close to you. 
He also shows it by asking about things you’ve mentioned, remembering all your friends and family names, as well as all the drama too (something you know he thoroughly enjoys catching up on, as yes, whether Mindy’s second husband is cheating on her is more interesting than answering Tommy’s letters.) 
B - beginnings. how did the relationship begin? how has it changed? 
However you met, you can guarantee that it took a while for you both to get to a point where you realised how you felt about one another. Alfie would definitely try to woo you though, even from the start. Tipping his hat when he passes you, sending gifts with handwritten notes, and taking you on lavish dates that clearly took time and effort to plan - he is a gentleman in many ways and refuses to treat you as anything less than a lady, even if you continually insist it isn’t necessary. 
C - comfortable. how comfy are they with each other? peeing with the door open close, or would they rather keep the mystery? 
He’d try to keep a line drawn between his work and your home life, but I feel he’d surrender pretty quickly once you start wearing it down. He has walls that he’s built pretty high and it takes him a while to figure out that it’s ok to let someone in every now and then - especially you.  
Soon enough, he’s sharing everything with you, from the sales figures, to other confidential business information. He keeps nothing back and neither do you. It’s a partnership and that makes you both incredibly happy. 
D - dates. do they consider dates to be important? what kind do they prefer? 
Dates are incredibly important to Alfie. They’re his chance to escape the darkness that follows him in his day to day life and to savour your company. They’re also a chance to strengthen your relationship which is the most important thing in his world. 
As for the types of dates, well, Alfie enjoys mixing things up, alternating between quiet evenings at home with you and nights hitting the town. 
E - engagement. how would they propose? who would even pop the question? 
Alfie would propose to you for sure. In fact, he’s probably been planning on asking you since the moment you first agreed to let him take you to dinner. He can see it all in in his head, and has his mother’s ring on standby for the day he finally musters up the courage to ask.  
F - fundamental. for them, what is the most fundamental part of a relationship? 
Loyalty - which I know sounds ironic given Alfie’s history, but it’s different when it comes to your personal lives. You’re not like his business, so there are no muddy waters for you to have to navigate through when it comes to right and wrong. You’re a team and that’s that, first, last, and always. 
You have each other’s back and love each other for who you are, and that’s why Alfie loves you so much. As long as you trust one another then you can handle anything, whether it be business at the bakery, or even hosting a dinner for the local community in your home. 
G - gratitude. how do they show their appreciation for you?
By spoiling you rotten. This could be via services for you, such as foot rubs, making you fall apart over and over in bed, or baking for you. Or, this could also be via material gifts, such as glittering jewels he’s procured from ‘work’ or fine dresses that you know cost far too much for any one person to own. But that’s Alfie. He loves to gift you fine things and watch as you put them on, looking every bit as regal and expensive as a queen - which is just how Alfie sees you anyway. 
H - home. a random domestic headcanon. 
This man can actually bake, which is fitting given his business front. Still, despite his true business ventures, Alfie can actually bake pretty well and loves to find an excuse to break out his mother’s recipes in the kitchen for you. Most days off start with you waking to the smell of something sweet wafting up the stairs, and the sound of your husband whistling as he works. 
He also has a pair of fluffy slippers that he would keep hidden with his life, if it came to it, rather than let anyone other than you know about them. He really doesn’t look so threatening with them on, which isn’t exactly the look he’s going for.  
I - infinite. do they believe their love is endless, or is there something that could break it? 
Alfie is a realist. Let’s be honest. He’s seen too much of humanity and the world not to be. Just because he expects the worst out of everyone in the world, doesn’t mean he isn’t determined to make your relationship work anyway. If he wants something he goes for it and his happy ever after is one of those things. 
It takes a lot of patience and self-work to not always fly off the handle or let the little things blow up into massive issues. You’d have your bumps along the way, especially in the early days, but you’d both find your feet together. In fact, soon your marriage is the gold standard amongst your friends. 
The secret? It’s learning not to see love as something that is either there or not. It’s something you earn, you build, you tend to. You don’t give up on it, no matter what the world throws at you. 
J - jokes. who's the funny one? 
Alfie is funny and often makes you laugh, but I think you’d get your fair share of laughter out of him too. He’s a goofy one when you finally crack through that shell of his, but he can take banter as well as giving it. In fact, the first time he properly laughed whilst at work he made the entire factory floor grind to a halt in surprise. You’d have heard a pin drop everyone looked so scared and confused.
K - kiss. how do they kiss? favourite type?
Alfie may seem like a massive extrovert, and he can be in the right circumstances. But when it comes to you? I feel like this man is private and protective af. He doesn’t like making a massive spectacle of you or your attentions. So, it’s the little kisses that are his favourite. The ones you subtly press to his cheek or hand whenever you’re near him. When you’re sat in his office or in the car together. When you’re lying side by side in bed and fighting the urge to close your eyes and doze off in his arms. They’re a constant reminder of the love you have for him. 
L - longing. who's the clingy one? how are they with long distance? 
Interestingly, I feel Alfie would be the clingy one, even though he is the one most often away from home, travelling for work. He calls you when he can, though, and makes sure to spend a day with you when he returns. 
He also has men watching you to ‘keep you safe’, even if he knows it drives you mad. Still, you put up with it because it makes him happy, making sure to offer each poor sod a cup of tea for their efforts, and charming them each into compliance. 
M - marriage. do they wanna get married? 
Alfie would love to marry you, let’s be honest. The chance to have a fancy wedding with the local community, and everyone witnessing how lucky he is to call you his? He’d be in his element - and the luckiest bastard alive. To call you Mrs Solomons is something he fantasises about nightly, and the ring box sitting in his desk drawer suggests it won’t be long before he asks you either. He would prefer a traditional Jewish ceremony, but wouldn’t insist if you said otherwise. After all, he just wants you to be happy. 
N - nicknames. what ones do they like? 
Sweetheart, Darlin’, Love… he has a lot of nicknames for you, each one depending on his mood. You can often tell a lot about how he’s feeling by the nickname he chooses to greet you with. Like, if he calls you by your actual name, then he’s feeling serious about something. It can be good or bad but he doesn’t use it lightly… just as he keeps ‘Oytser’ and a few other Yiddish terms for special occasions, usually when you’re alone. 
O - over the top. are they ever ott? or are they more low-key? 
This is Alfie. He’s OTT to the extreme. This wouldn’t change when it comes to you. His personality is as big as his empire and you wouldn’t change it for the world. It keeps things interesting, for a start, and you fell in love with him for him, just as he did you. That doesn’t mean, however, that you don’t sometimes wish things were simpler and quieter - especially once Tommy Shelby comes into your lives. That man only eggs Alfie on and makes him all the worse. 
P - picture. what's their favourite picture of them and their s.o? 
It would be something simple yet intimate to be honest, like a wedding photo, or one of the pair of you taken at a company soiree. He loves it because you’re dressed to the nines, wrapped in each other’s arms, and grinning like a pair of love sick soppy bastards. 
Q - quintessential. what is one they would refuse to compromise in their relationship? what's a deal-breaker for them? 
As I said before. Loyalty is everything to him. Plain and simple. 
R - rage. who is the most likely to start an argument? 
… come on. Alfie. For sure. He probably wouldn’t mean to, unlike when he’s with people to do with the business. Oh no, this man would do his very best not to upset you, given that you’re the one person in all the world that means everything to him. However, he’s still him. He still has a temper and a short fuse that all too often blows up whether it’s about not being able to find his cane, or about the fact he may or may not have pissed off an Italian gangster and needs you to flee to some safehouse for a week. 
He’ll take whatever rage you give back to him and can grovel with the best of them. Expect many bouquets, kisses, and angry sex, followed by make up sex is all I can say. 
S - sickness. who gets sick most often? what are they like when they’re sick? 
Given what we’ve seen in the show, I think Alfie would get ill most often. This can be due to his inability to take a day off or get a decent night’s rest in him, but it can also be due to more serious factors like his war wounds. Still, you’re a great nurse and aren’t afraid of ‘Big bad Solomons’, even if he does his best to get out of taking medicines or staying in bed. 
You can be a spitfire when you need to be and when it comes to caring for your husband, then you turn into the most fearsome Solomons in the West End. Scarier men than him have blanched and run away after being screamed at, by you, for refusing to let your husband out of meetings. Even Tommy himself once actually apologised after a dressing down from you, and sent a bottle of whiskey by way of apology. 
T - tattoo. would they ever get matching tattoos with their s.o, or a tattoo for them? 
Alfie would definitely get one for you. He has a lot anyway, but one dedicated to you would be important to him, so that he carries you with him. He’d also probably get it done over his heart, so it is all the more special as he claims it’s a visual reminder of the mark you’ve left on him. 
You make sure to call him a softy, but kiss him anyway once he tells you. 
U - understanding. how understanding are they? or are they a little difficult? 
All things considered, I think Alfie would actually be rather understanding about most things. It isn’t like his world is black and white, and he knows the world can be a complicated and unfair place. Sure, he’s stubborn but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t try to at least see things from a different perspective before deciding he was right in the first place. 
If anything, you’d be the one who is less understanding. By that, I mean, you have patience - the patience of a god damn saint, according to most of your friends - but God help you if Alfie makes a promise and then breaks it. You’ll put up with almost anything but if he makes a promise then he knows he has to keep it, else face your wrath later. 
V - vases. do they buy flowers?
Alfie would buy you flowers all the time. True, he’d normally bark at Ollie to order them for him, especially if it’s for an occasion or if he’s in trouble… he knows exactly what kind of flowers are your favourites and isn’t afraid to send you fields worth if it would make you smile. After all, in a city as grey and metropolitan as London, you savour any bud of greenery or coloured petals. It’s why you’ve come home to the kitchen filled with Sunflowers once or twice, after mentioning that you’d had a bad day… only the best for you, Alfie always says - to brighten your day, just as you brighten his life by being in it. 
W - wandering. do they wanna travel? or immediately settle down? 
He may be known as ‘the wandering Jew’ but Alfie would want to settle down, to be honest. You, him, Cyril and whatever kids you two have in a cottage by the sea in Margate… that’s the dream. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy taking you to places though, spoiling you with trips abroad every now and then, like Paris on your honey moon, and Italy for an anniversary. 
X - ex. how many exes do they have? any horror stories? 
As king of Camden he would more than likely have a few, but none he’d deem significant enough to tell you about. He’s always been more of a casual fling, kind of guy, until you came along and tipped his world upside down. The only person you’d ever have to worry about rivalling you for his affection has a tail and answers to the name Cyril… and to be fair, you’re pretty in love with him too.  
But if you had exes? Well, it depends on how it ended as to whether or not he has some of his men have quiet words with them in the middle of the night… 
Y - you. favourite thing about their partner? 
Alfie calls you his salvation, and you think he honestly believes that. You accept him for who he is and aren’t afraid of him, which is a minor miracle in itself. You’re patient and kind and all this things Alfie claims he isn’t, which is why he loves you so much - you are the light in his life and he hopes even just being around you is enough to make him a slither less of a sinner. 
That, and your irritating, unwavering optimism… oh, it annoys him to no end how you always smile and find silver linings wherever you look. You also seem to know just about everyone, often whistling and waving as you make your way through the factory like a god damn Disney princess. Hell, even the Shelbys seem to like you which really gets on his wick… but why wouldn’t they? You’re amazing, so he can understand even if he doesn’t like it. 
Z - zeal. how excitable are they? who's the calm one?
It’s Alfie. Come on - this one is self explanatory, even if I like to think you’d balance each other out. He brings out your extroverted side and you help temper his when he gets a bit much (even if you secretly love how excitable he gets). 
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throughgoeshamilton · 11 months
Text
Revelations
A The Other Shelby story
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Pairing: Alfie Solomons × fem!reader (OC hybrid)
Summary: The Shelby sister is torn between her loyalty to her brother and his Jewish frenemy who also happens to be her lover.
Words: 1.900
Warnings: none
The Other Shelby stories: Resurrection
A/N: Thank you @cillmequick again for beta reading this and your endless support 🫂 Also tagging @buttercupsandboys because you asked me ☺️
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"So your brother still doesn't know about us?"
"No, and if you wanna keep your eyesight, it's better if it stays that way."
"Y'know, the little trick you played on me last year with your grenade... I think that makes us all even, doesn't it? I think it really does."
“I think what really makes us all even is that I'm fucking someone who betrayed the Shelby family and so is Tommy.”
She furrowed her brows as she stared at the ceiling, her hand stroking up and down her lover's broad chest that was covered with ink and hair. Her brother's wife wasn't her taste at all but she knew she had no right to talk some sense into him for marrying an Irish spy. Not when she was spending that much time with the very man who sold Tommy and her family for a deal with Sabini two years prior. But Alfie was right, she and Tommy had paid him back well when they had forced him to overthink his outrageous demand to have all of their businesses written over to him. And if the worst had come to the worst, she would've blown his arse off, lover or not.
Although she had to admit, it would have broken her heart. Even though they didn't put a name on their relationship, two years were a long time to get to know each other, to grow close. After everything that had gone down at Epsom, with Tommy reconnecting with Grace over their child and his unreasonable love for her, she had needed to spend some time away from her family, for the first time in her life ever since Mrs Shelby took her in as a little girl. She and Tommy had always been attached at the hip, from dirty streets used as playgrounds as kids to dirty business giving them money and power as adults. Still, she could not forgive his wife for coming into their life with the sole purpose of ruining it. That was the line she had drawn, the difference between Grace and Alfie. Her mission had been spying on the Shelbys from day one, working together with a man as vile as Campbell, while Alfie had been doing his business as usual, making deals, breaking them and trying to get the most out of it all. She could excuse his behaviour because that was what gangsters did and she had spent enough time around them to know what they were like. She was one of them.
Whether she made that excuse for Alfie because he was who he was to her or not, she wasn't sure. She had been attracted to him pretty early on and escaping to Camden, to him, had been a welcome change. At first, it had been mainly his sheets where she had spent her time with him - or rather his desk in his office at the bakery. It had taken them some time to take it to his bedroom, some intimacy and closeness before they would spend the whole night together and sometimes even wake up next to each other.
Whatever this was, it was good for both of them. He valued her input on business related matters, everything that didn't have to do with the Peaky Blinders, of course, and her wit and attitude she liked to give him most times. She liked the freedom she had in London, the control she could take over her own life outside of gang wars - and she enjoyed feeling wanted and appreciated by Alfie in every way.
Tommy didn't know about the more or less romantic arrangement she had with his former business partner then enemy now business partner again and if she wanted to keep up her attitude towards Grace, it had to stay that way.
“Y'know luv, I think as much as you dislike your good sister, you cannot complain, ya really can't. You were at their wedding and gave them your blessing” Alfie let her know his thoughts on her little family drama while he scratched his beard as if he was deep in thought.
She rolled her eyes at him and sat up, wrapping the thin blanket around her body to cover up her breasts as she looked down at him with a frown.
“I declined his request, I think that was enough of a hint that I do not approve of their bond.”
Despite all the bad blood between her and his bride, Tommy had still asked her to be his best woman at his wedding - just another anomaly that Thomas Shelby wouldn't have given a single fuck about if anyone had questioned why he had his sister as his closest confidant at his wedding instead of one of his brothers. It hadn't got that far because she wanted to spend as little time as possible at the wedding and around Grace’s entourage. That had been her official excuse too because “Do you know who used to grab my arse the most in the field hospitals? Those fucking red uniforms”. Of course, Tommy had known that hadn't been the real reason - or at least not the only one - but he still had had the smallest bit of hope to build bridges between the two women closest to him in his life.
“Why are you naked in ma bed and we're talking about ya brother anyway?”
“In all honesty, you started it. You're so obsessed with him” she chuckled before lying back down into his arms, making Alfie now roll his eyes at her.
“C’mere you little minx and let me show you ma real obsession.”
-
"Does my sister happen to be with you?"
"Tommy, shalom, my old friend. How can I help you?"
"I asked you a question, Alfie."
"Yeah yeah... what was that about again?"
He could hear the man on the other end take a deep breath.
"I asked you whether my SISTER is in your FUCKING BAKERY."
Alfie allowed himself a few seconds, leaving Tommy hanging by a thread judging by the heavy breathing that came from the speaker that he held against his ear.
"Hm... no Tommy, no she isn't. Why would she be 'ere eh? That woman tried to blow my arse off last time you put foot in ma bakery."
Tommy didn't believe him. He knew his sister was hiding something from him in London. That was why she was there all the time. But if his suspicions were true, and she was indeed spending time with the Jewish gangster, his old sparring partner better be sure to help him find her.
"If you happen to see her in London, tell her that I need her to come home immediately" he let him know in a strained voice before he hung up the telephone.
-
It was the two days later when Alfie made the decision to tell her about her brother's call. He had been hesitant at first. Why did her brother know about them? Had she told him? If she had, it wouldn't have bother him but he appreciated honesty, especially from the woman he shared a bed with.
"Treacle" he finally spoke up while clearing his throat, "there was someone on the telephone for you two days ago."
She looked up from the morning paper, slowly chewing on her toast some more as she raised an eyebrow at him.
"And?" she asked impatiently when Alfie didn't continue to speak.
He let out a heavy sight before speaking on.
"'t was your brother. He said you should come home immediately."
The paper made a slight crackling sound as she put it down with force, standing up with her hands pressed onto the table. If looks could kill, Alfie would've dropped dead on the spot. But he kept his calm. He knew she would be angry at him but he had his reasons to hold back this information. The more he had thought about it, the more possible it had seemed that this was Tommy bluffing. Maybe he didn't know about them after all, he was just testing the water, hoping an emergency call like that would give him the proof he was looking for - and a reason to punish her for sharing the bed with someone who once tried to fuck him over. His kid sister was the apple of Tommy's eye so Alfie didn't think he could be that cruel to her, but maybe that was the reason it had hurt him even more when he found out - or rather started to suspect - that she was indeed fucking his former enemy.
“And you didn't think about telling me earlier? Like, right away maybe, Alfred?”
Full name base was never a good sign but Alfie had known what to expect when he would finally break the news to her.
“We don't know what he wants. Maybe t’was a test. You know how he is. I tried to protect ya from him finding out.”
She dropped her head and closed her eyes for a second before pushing herself off the table and rushing towards the door.
“Tell your men to get my car ready, I'm packing.”
Alfie sighed but knew better than to talk back when she was this angry at him. She didn't have time for any discussion with him now but he could be sure to hear a few words about this from her once she was back from Birmingham.
-
As she entered the ridiculously huge mansion, John was storming through the hall, not even giving her one glance of attention. His face was red and he looked like he was ready to kill someone.
"John, what-" she tried to reason with her brother, turning around trying to make him stop in his furious tracks.
"NOT NOW!"
Shortly after him came Arthur, not looking any more cheerful. When she faced him with a questioning look, he slightly shook his head before embracing her in a short hug.
"I'll go after John but you need to talk to Tommy. He's in his office."
First Tommy's crude message he gave to Alfie, now this weird behaviour from her brothers. What the hell had happened here?
She took a few more steps into the house, crossing the grande staircase where Grace's oversized portrait greeted her, making her cringe. When she reached the door to Tommy's office, she gave it a quick knock before entering without being invited to.
"You better have a good reason to have such an anxiety-inducing message delivered to me."
Tommy stood in front of his window, not even flinching when he heard the rather annoyed tone of voice. Silence fell upon them. Half a minute passed, then a whole. She took a few steps towards him until she had reached his desk. It was only now, that she saw a pattern. He was dressed in a black suit, so had been John and Arthur when she saw them mere minutes ago. Suits were nothing special to them, but all black was a rare occasion, thankfully.
"Tommy... What happened?"
She crossed the distance between them and put her hand on his shoulder carefully, but still making him flinch. The few seconds they stood there like that felt like an eternity to her as she thought about all the people she hadn't seen yet, and John's anger. Was it Esme? Polly? One of the kids? Tommy clenched his jaw before he finally started to speak to the curtains
"Grace is dead."
298 notes · View notes
rosiemarieyn · 18 days
Text
𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 !!
⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅
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⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅
Thomas Shelby
Pretty White Dress
Secret
First Love
Evening Party
Jonathan Crane
Favour ||pt. 1||
Tom (the party)
Addiction
Robert Fischer
I Don't Like You, I Love You
Neil Lewis
Stranger In A Band
J Robert Oppenheimer
Robert Capa
Lenny Miller
Jackson Rippner
Tom Buckley
Raymond Leon
⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅
31 notes · View notes
crowleying · 1 year
Text
Tommy's Smile | m! reader
Date: 06.10.2022
Pairing:  Tommy Shelby x m!reader
Reader’s pronouns: he/him
Words: 2.120
Fandom: Peaky Blinders
Characters: m!reader, Tommy Shelby, Polly Gray, Ada Shelby, John Shelby, Arthur Shelby, Harry Fenton
Genre: Romance
Length: Oneshot
Warnings: Internalized homophobia, mention of war, mention of injury (nothing descriptive)
Requested: No
Prompts: No
Summary: Polly knows you and Tommy have been in love with each other for years, so she decides to take matters into her hands.
A/N: It's my first time writing for Peaky Blinders and with a male reader. I’m sorry for the requests still waiting in my inbox, my inspiration is all over the place.
English is not my first language so feel free to correct any mistake and I would love to know what you think about it. If you like my works, please like and reblog them. REQUESTS ARE OPEN. I posted a��List of prompts, so check it out! Let me know if you would like to be tagged in my works.
IF YOU LIKE MY WORKS, PLEASE REBLOG THEM
Masterlist
Ao3
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[ID: a gif of Tommy Shelby smiling. End ID]
After the war, everything had changed. The men that had come back weren't the ones that had left. They were haunted by nightmares; they drank a lot more and smiled a lot less, especially Tommy. He used to smile all the times, so bright every room would light up. Now, however, he rarely ever did. At first, Polly had even thought he wasn't smiling at all, but then she started noticing. The first time it happened was just after she had scolded him in his office. As she was leaving, you walked in and greeted her. She had almost missed the childish, amused smiles you and his nephew had exchanged then, so similar to those you used to share back when you were fifteen and you had managed to do something mischievous. From then on, she kept a close eye on the two of you, but you were too lost in each other to notice.
You had grown together. You would always play together and were joined at the hip since you were little kids. You were like a son to Polly. She and your mother used to joke about the fact that if they called one of you, both of you would appear. Polly was convinced you were two bodies sharing one soul. She was sure of it when you started to fall for each other without even knowing. You were young back then, and she thought you would have time to get your shit together and admit your love to the other, so she didn't say anything.
When Tommy announced his intention to volunteer for the war, she had looked at you, expecting you to join him, and you were already standing, looking at Tommy.
"I'm coming too," you had said, when what you really wanted to say was "I'm coming with you, I'll follow you anywhere, Tommy." The two of you had been so lost in each other's eyes that Polly was sure you didn't even hear when John and Arthur said they would come too. She had prayed for all of you that night and every night and day until the day you came back.
The day you had left, while the women and little Finn hugged the Shelby brothers, Polly had taken you to the side at the train station to ask you to take care of Tommy, and taking care of him you did.
In France, you didn't let anyone come between you. A month in and every officer knew you two weren't to be separated. You would make sure Tommy was eating and would share cigarette after cigarette with him when he couldn't sleep. You still gave him reasons to smile. And you saved his life.
You were shoving him out of the way before even realizing what was happening. You didn't die that day in Tommy's arms, but it did change your life. As you were hit by the bullet aimed at Tommy, he was hit with the realization that life was too short to spend the entirety of it trying to ignore his feelings for you.
He didn't listen to any of the people who told him he couldn't stay by your side the whole time you spent in the hospital. He was finally left alone when John and Arthur convinced one of the officers that he would be of no use on the field if you weren't there by his side.
When you woke up in the middle of the night after the surgery, Tommy was there. And hidden by the dark, he kissed you for the first time.
Keeping your relationship hidden when living in such close quarters with so many people hadn't been easy. Coming home had meant you could finally kiss and hug and fuck. Nobody knew about your relationship, but you didn't mind and you understood why Tommy didn't want anyone to know. You respected that but dreaded the day people would start to get suspicious and he would have to marry some girl to avoid the rumours.
You had no idea someone suspected of your relationship, but Polly noticed it all: smiles, fleeting touches, glances, winks. She never thought she would see his nephew wink or you blush like that. You were Tommy's smile. You clearly made him happy. So she was having a hard time wrapping her head around the fact that her nephew had yet to make a move on you. It seemed like her intervention was needed.
It was the end of the day. You were sitting on Tommy's desk, laughing at something he had said. He was lounging back in his chair, relaxed as he could only be around you. A cigarette was being passed between the two of you.
Polly barged into the office. You jumped up from your spot and Tommy straightened in his chair.
"Thomas, a word," she demanded, barely acknowledging your presence.
"I'll see you later at the Garrison," you said quickly to Tommy, before disappearing quickly out of the door without even waiting to see him nod.
You were always included in family meetings, and your opinions were held in high consideration, but you didn't want to intrude on Tommy's relationship with his aunt, not when Polly was like that.
Tommy's eyebrows arched as he watched Polly carefully, trying to understand what had gotten in her this time. He slowly killed his cigarette in the ashtray.
"Polly," he started cautiously, but before he could continue, his aunt spoke.
"When are you going to put an end to this foolishness, Thomas?"
Tommy's heart skipped a beat. "What are you talking about, Pol?" he asked, trying to sound more nonchalant than he felt. He leaned forward a bit. His hands gripped the armrests of his chair, bracing for the impact. He knew the moment would come, sooner or later, when he would have to choose between you and his family. But the time was here and he wasn't ready. He would never be.
"Don't play dumb, Thomas, you know what I'm talking about... This," she gestured to intend the relationship between the two of you.
"I don't follow," he said.
He took a cigarette from the case you had given him before the war. It had seen everything you two had gone through. He stroked the cigarette on his lips before setting it between them. The motion always made you weak. He lit it up to keep himself busy and try to calm down. There was no way she could know. she had to be talking about something else.
"You two are grown men. I didn't say anything when you were young. I thought you just needed time to figure things out, but it's been a while and nothing has changed."
He slowly exhaled the smoke, giving up all hope she could be talking about anything else. "How long have you known?"
"Years. You were sixteen and no matter how many girls tried to win you over, you only had time and eyes for him."
"He was my best friend!" he spitted through gritted teeth.
"One day, after you had spent the whole afternoon together in your room doing God knows what, you came to me and asked what was the difference between friendship and love, Thomas. Do you remember?"
He nodded slowly and cursed himself. If Polly knew, other people might find out. You were in danger. He needed to make sure you were safe, and then he would think about Polly.
Before he could spiral, Polly spoke again. "When will you grow a pair and just tell him you love him?"
He was surprised, to say the least. He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand to stop him. "I know you are afraid people won't respect you anymore if they find out or that someone will try to hurt him to get to you. All I'm saying is you can be open with your own family, Tommy. He deserves this, and you do too."
He closed his mouth, then opened it again. "What if Arthur tells someone when he is drunk, eh? What if little Finn goes around telling someone thinking it's no big deal?"
Polly shook her head and smiled gently. "Do you really think you can hide that forever? With the way you look at each other? I don't think so, Tom."
She turned to leave, but before she could, Tommy's voice stopped her in her tracks. "Is this your way to say you approve?" he asked.
She looked at her nephew and for a moment she saw the sixteen years old he once was, with those big blue eyes, that were your damnation, wide, looking for approval. She smiled and left.
That was a lot and completely unexpected. Tommy fell back into his chair and ran a hand over his face.
When he walked into the Garrison, Polly was already there, sipping a whisky at the counter. He nodded at Harry to have his whisky in the private room. He didn't notice you sitting at a secluded table, uncomfortably close to a girl John had introduced to you upon your arrival. However, when he saw you weren't in the little room with his brothers, he panicked, already expecting the worst.
"Where is he?" he demanded. His brothers stopped laughing at something, to look at him confused and worried. "Who?" Arthur cautiously asked, irritating Tommy further.
"Your lover is sitting on the other side of the room with a girl your brothers so kindly introduced to him," Ada piped up from her spot, a fake smile on her face and her arms crossed. Her eyes bore into him. She knew too. Damn, the women of that family.
Arthur and John's faces were comically confused.
Tommy stormed out of the room and spotted you. Your head snapped up when you heard the door bang open. Your eyes widened as he made his way over to you with long steps. He looked unstoppable and scary. That was probably what anyone else saw when they laid their eyes on Tommy Shelby. Everyone was looking at him, trying to understand what was going on. Harry winced behind the bar, already picturing the place after the fight that would very likely take place there in a matter of minutes.
Ada, John and Arthur had followed their brother out of the room and had stopped at the door to see what would happen.
He came to a stop in front of you.
"Tommy," you uttered, trying to find the words to explain the situation. You had tried to convince John that you didn't need help finding a girl, but Shelbys would never take no for an answer.
"Mister Shelby," a sickly sweet and flirty voice interrupted the staring contest. The girl next to you leaned forward to introduce herself to your boyfriend, whose complete attention was on you. He pushed her back into her chair. She let out an outraged cry, but he ignored her in favour of grabbing the front of the suit you were wearing, one you had bought together, and pulled you into a kiss. You didn't hear the gasps and murmurs coming from around you. You relaxed and your hands fell to his hips. You kissed him back until you both needed to breathe. You gave him the brightest smile, winning one back.
He wrapped an arm around your hips and turned towards the onlookers.
"This man is mine, and if any of you fuckers tries to take him away from me or says something nasty about him, I'll cut you personally."
The room was so silent you were sure you could have heard a pin drop.
"By order of the Peaky fookin' Blinders!" Arthur roared from the other end of the room.
Polly and Ada smiled.
"Fucking finally, Tom!" John chimed in, grinning. And just like that, the tension in the room dispersed.
"Harry, open that bottle of champagne!" Arthur boomed, making Tommy laugh. You loved seeing him so happy and carefree. You promised yourself you would do everything you could to make sure he would always be like that.
You two made your way over to the private room to join the other Shelbys on the celebration. John patted your back. "Welcome to the family."
"Are you implying I wasn't part of it before?" you asked, pretending to be offended.
"No, of course not, you know..."
"Relax, Johnny boy, I'm just messing with you." You pulled his cap down his face, making Ada laugh.
She pulled you into a hug.
Tommy and Polly observed the exchange amused. "You were wrong about one thing," Tommy told her. His eyes didn't leave you.
"What's that?"
"We've been together for some years now."
She looked at him surprised. "Thomas Michael Shelby, you..." She slapped his arm, making him laugh.
"Let's make a toast," Arthur said, after filling the glasses and handing them around. Tommy wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer.
"To Tommy finally getting his shit together." Ada raised her glass and you laughed.
Tommy kissed your temple.
556 notes · View notes
mythos-writes · 2 years
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Spitfire
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Alfie Solomons x Shelby! Reader
Plot: (Y/N) Shelby, a force to be reckoned with in the Peaky Blinders. When the boys decided to go to London to meet a new business partner, she catches the attention of a certain gang leader
Word Count: 2262
Warning: Swearing, smoking, Peaky Blinders level of violence
Peaky Blinders Masterlist
I do not give permission for anyone to repost/ post my stories, with or without credit. Reblogs, comments, etc. are more than welcomed, but please DO NOT copy and paste my stories that you may like onto another platform.
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(Y/N) Shelby. Younger sister to Arthur, twin sister to Tommy, and older sister to John, Ada and Finn. With Tommy being 7 minutes older, he always holds it over her. Sometimes with twins, they can be either complete opposites or the same person. She was very similar to her twin, but, had Arthur’s anger. When the Peaky Blinders were becoming well known, (Y/N) was viewed as an angel among demons. But, when anyone had pushed her over her boundaries, she made her brothers look like angels. But she is very useful when it comes to negotiations with new business partners. 
“So why are we going to London again?” she questions while walking out to the car. 
“We are meeting up with Alfie,” Tommy says, getting into the driver's seat. 
“Alfie?” she questions. 
“Right, you skipped out on the first meeting, Alfie Solomons, he runs the gang that's out of Camden,” Tommy states. 
“I didn’t skip, I wasn’t feeling well that morning,” she states. 
“Yeah and it had nothing to do with you and Arthur having a drinking contest at all,” Tommy looks at her, knowing the truth. (Y/N) just crosses her arms over her chest, letting Tommy win this bout. 
Once they get on the road, she lights a cigarette and looks over at her twin.  
“I know that look, what are you thinking,” Tommy asks, his eyes not leaving the road. 
“Why do I have to come with you this time? Is there something up with this Solomons guy?” she questions, taking another drag of the tobacco stick. 
“I just want you to do a double-check on him. I know that you can be very persuasive and thorough look into his books,” he says, looking over to her quickly. She nods before finishing her smoke, flicking the bud out the window. She leans back into the seat and pulls her cap over her eyes. 
“Wake me when we get there,” she says, smiling a little when she hears a small chuckle leave Tommy’s lips. 
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(Y/N) was dead asleep when all of a sudden the passenger side door flew open, causing her to fall out of the car. She groaned out in pain, giving Tommy a deadly look. 
“You told me to wake you when we arrived. We've arrived,” he says. She sighs while getting up, fixing herself before placing her hat back on her head and grabbing her coat. 
“You are lucky we are doing business right now cause you would have a black eye right about now,” she says while they walk towards the bakery. 
“I don’t doubt that one bit,” he says before entering the building. They walk in and see a few people working. 
“Hello, what can I do for you?” one worker asks. 
“We are here to see Mr. Solomons,” (Y/N) states, making sure they got every syllable. Before the worker could get a word in, Alfie walks through the backdoor of the bakery. 
“Ahhh, Thomas, shalom. And who is this?” he asks, looking (Y/N) up and down. 
“Hello Alfie, this would be my sister, (Y/N). (Y/N), this Mr. Alfie Solomons,” Tommy introduces. (Y/N) stepped closer, sticking her hand out. 
“Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Solomons,” she says, a smile crossing her face. Tommy knew what she was doing, she was giving him the sweet side of her, to see if he will get burned. 
“The pleasure is all mine, love,” he says, flirting a little. 
“She is here to double-check your books, knowing that Arthur and John aren’t the strongest with them,” Tommy states, not liking the flirty responce he gave.  
“Right this way then,” Alfie says, showing him to his office. As they walked by the brew tanks, she was impressed with his operations. They walk into his office, getting to books. 
“We will leave you to this, I have some other business to talk to Mr. Solomons about,” Tommy says, looking at Alfie. She nods before checking over his work, making sure it was up to par. 
A little while later, she emerges from the office, very pleased with the way the books were balanced. 
“So how do they look?” Tommy asks, seeing his sister walking towards them. 
"Everything looks good, our meatheads of brothers did well,” she says, making jabs at her brothers who were back in Birmingham. 
“See, nothing to worry about,” Alfie says, sending a wink toward her. She smiles back, feeling her cheeks heat up. No one normally gave her this type of attention, let alone looks at her back home, so the attention from Alfie was nice. 
Tommy started to talk to Alfie again, trying to include her in their previous conversation about some plans. But she became distracted when she heard some words that she didn’t like at all. (Y/N) tuned out of Alfie’s and Tommy’s words and focused on the two workers behind them, talking about herself and her family. She turned at the words of the workers.
“Do you want to say that again?” she yells out, not only getting the worker's attention, but also the two gangsters' attention as well. The two workers don’t respond, so she moves closer. 
  “I’m talking to you two gits, and when I ask a question I expect an fucking answer. So I am going to ask again, do you want to repeat yourselves,” she spits, venom slowly forming in her words. The two shake their heads, not wanting to anger her more. She went to go back towards her brother, but more words were spilled.
“A real basket case this one,” one says. She quickly turned around and landed a clean punch on the man. He holds his face and falls to the ground. The other one went to attack but she pulled out her gun, aiming at his head. 
“Do you want to be worse off than your friend?” he quickly shakes his head. “That’s what I thought,” she spits.  
“That’s enough (Y/N),” Tommy yells, not fazed at all at her reaction. She puts her gun away, then quickly punches the other one in the face, before walking out of the building. 
“Bloody hell, a spitfire that one is,” Alfie says, his gaze not moving. 
“Trust me mate, she makes us look like angels,” Tommy says while the two watch (Y/N) walking out.
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A couple of weeks later, Tommy sent (Y/N) back to London to check in on Alfie. His thinking is that Alfie would probably like having her around the bakery rather than himself.
“Hello Alfie,” she says, seeing the gangster walking towards her. 
“Hello my dear,” he says, bringing her into a hug. “I am assuming you are here for business," he asks.
“By orders of Mr. Thomas Shelby himself,” she jokes. A smile makes its way across his face before moving them towards his office. 
“So what does your brother want?” he asks, sitting behind his desk, taking in the older Shelby sister. She was dressed very similarly to their first meeting, her hair braided back, dark grey suit jacket and slacks, a white dress shirt, her flat cap, and some dress shoes. 
“Wanted to make sure the whiskey order will be shipping out on time,” she says, sitting down in one of the chairs placed across from him. 
“Does he not trust me with my time management skills,” he says, putting on a sad face. She laughs and shakes her head. 
“No, he just wants to be safe than sorry,” she says, leaning forward a little.
“Tommy should stop worrying, but, if he sends you every time he gets worried, then I wouldn’t mind it,” Alfie flirts. 
“Oh please,” she deflects, trying to hide her blushed face from view.
“How bout this, you make sure that everything is moving smoothly, and then I get to take you out,” he says, leaning his arms against the desk. 
“Are you asking me on a date Mr. Solomons?” she asks, raising a brow at his offer. 
“It can be anything that you want Ms. Shelby,” he replies with a smile. 
“Let's get this look over started so we can get that date started,” she says with a smile. Alfie returns it before making his way towards the door.
"After you," he says holding the door open.
"Oh, what a gentleman," she says, flirting back.  
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Alfie and (Y/N) relationship has grown quickly and secretly. None of the other Shelby siblings knew, even Polly. She knew Polly would tell them and blow her chance at this. She would go to London almost every weekend, even if there was no business needed in London. Of course, her brothers were a little suspicious of her intentions with all the trips, but none ever questioned her. Polly tried but was quickly shut down. 
But it all came to a head when Tommy called (Y/N) into his office. Usually, he never has any issues with his sister, so when John told her that Tommy wanted her in his office, she got nervous. She gets to his door and walks in, not bothering to knock. 
“Sit,” he orders, not looking up from the letter in his hands. This shocked her as he normally greeted her when she entered his office. It quickly dawned on her, Tommy was mad. He lights a cigarette and just stares at her. 
“What’s this?” he questions showing her the letter. 
“Well, obviously it’s a letter,” she states, trying to lighten the mood, It didn’t work too well. 
“I am being serious (Y/N). Why is Alfie Solomons sending you mail?” he digs, wanting an answer. (Y/N) was thinking of an answer, but she couldn’t think of one. 
“Well?” her eyes met his, his body language said anger, but his eyes held protectiveness and concern. 
“We had dinner when I was in London one time, and we kinda hit it off…” she trails off, fidgeting with her rings. Tommy rolled his eyes and threw the letter onto his desk.  He lit a cigarette, before studying her again. 
“I don’t want you to get hurt. I know men like him and they aren’t good men,” he states. 
“I know,” she says. Tommy was quite shocked at her reaction. He was expecting her to throw it right back into his face, like normal, but (Y/N) sat there like a child getting scolded. 
“But he isn’t scared of me. Everyone here is scared and intimidated by me, but Alfie isn’t,” she defends. 
“(Y/N),” Tommy tries to but in. “No. You, Arthur, and John all got to run around with different girls and got to experience some sort of relationship and love. What did I get, three over-protective brothers who scared off anyone who showed an inch of interest in me! Ay, even Finn had a girlfriend before I have a boyfriend!”
 ‘There’s my sister’ Tommy thought. “Alfie is the first person who is clearly not afraid of you or what comes with someone who comes with the Shelby name,” she says, now standing eye to eye with her twin.
(Y/N) didn’t want to hear another word from Tommy, she quickly grabbed the letter before walking out of his office, slamming the door while she left. She walked through the betting shop, eyes on her angry form. 
“What are you all staring at?!” she yells. All attention quickly leaves her. “That's what I bloody thought,” she muttered as she walks out to the streets of Birmingham. She dug out a cigarette and quickly lit it. Leaning back against the brick wall, she opened the letter, reading over Alfie’s words.  
(Y/N) hears the door beside her open and a shadow cast over her. She sighs, taking another drag of her smoke, not looking up. “Tommy you better fuck off right now. I am not in the mood to see you right now,” she says. 
“Well then, if that’s how you feel, I’ll just fuck off back to London,” a familiar voice says. Se quickly looks up to see Alfie standing in front of her. 
“Alfie!” she squeaks before jumping into his arms. He spun her around, enjoying the embrace. 
“What are you doing here?” she questions, most time she would meet him in London, not the other way around in Small Heath.  
“Thought it would be my turn to come to visit and come do some business with your brother. A win-win I’d fucking say,” he says, keeping the oldest Shelby sister close.  She looks into his ocean blue eyes, quickly glancing at his lips. Alfie catches the que and leans down to meet her lips. She felt sparks run through her as Alfie deepen the kiss. Before it could go any farther, someone cleared their throat. They broke apart and see Thomas standing by the door. He lights another cigarette, looking over the couple. He points at Alfie. 
“You’re serious about ‘er?” he questions. 
“I am,” Alfie states, not giving in. Tommy nods, taking another drag of his smoke.
“Don’t break her heart, or you’ll have the lot of us after you,” he states pointing to the London gangster. “And you, don’t break his face when you’re arguing,” he says pointing to his twin. (Y/N) rolls her eyes at her twins' words. 
“ Breaking my face?” Alfie questions, looking down at her. 
“I might have broken John’s nose once or twice when we have had arguments,” she comments, causing Alfie to laugh. 
“You’re a real spitfire aren’t ya.”
1K notes · View notes
huntingingoodwill · 2 years
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the cigarette girl - part iii
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masterlist
part i part ii
a/n: hello!! thank you so much for being so nice about part i and ii ily i was dumb and made a mistake the events of "current day" should be more in the range of 1921 not 1919... but let's just... pretend i got it right the first time. anyway thank you so much please enjoy <3
pairing: tommy shelby x reader
tw: blood, hospitals, swearing
-
You were found in the dead of night.
Lying at the top of the stairs, you looked peaceful, as though a spell had been cast. As if you had been enchanted where you stood, made to fall fast asleep on the floor, eyes closed as your eyelashes brushed your cheeks.
The blood spilled across the floorboards made it apparent this wasn’t the case.
Your landlady had come home after a night out to be greeted with the scene. A trail of blood lead from your boarding room to the spot where you lay.
You had dragged yourself out of the room. As far as you could, all the way to the steps. Until you collapsed, not having the strength to go on.
She crept up the stairs, horrified. After building up the courage, she just managed to prod at you with the toe of her shoe before anxiously hurrying back downstairs to call an ambulance.
After the sirens had faded into the night, she pushed open the door of your boarding room. She crouched down, the beads of her dress clattering in the silent night as they grazed the floor.
Amongst the many envelopes scattered across the ground, she chose the most pristine. She turned it over and read the name scrawled across it, illuminated by blue moonlight.
-
“Shit. Shit. Shit!” Esme muttered frantically, tripping over her heels as she rushed down the cobblestone streets of Small Heath.
“Es-Esme, stay calm, alri-” John shoved a man who was standing idly in their path, running past him as he tumbled to the ground. “Stay out of my fucking way you stupid cun- Esme, Esme! Just stay fucking calm, alright? Stay fucking calm!” His own panic reared its ugly head easily.
They burst through the door of Tommy’s office, slamming it open so forcefully it almost fell out of its frame.
“You two, whatever it is-” Tommy began, already exasperated.
“It’s (Y/N).”
Tommy froze. The words imprinted on the paper before him began to swirl, a mess of black type. None of his brothers had tried to broach the topic of you for months, knowing that, to him, the thought of you was akin to a wound, the soreness never subsiding. Bringing you up was twisting the knife.
It had to be something bad.
He felt the walls closing in, and he blinked, all thoughts evaporating from his mind. He had tried to push the memory of you away every day since you left, but it all came rushing back now. He felt it all, the overwhelming wave of emotion he’d try to bury, his attempts as futile as throwing handfuls of sand into the ocean. He felt like he was drowning in it. His worry for you, his regret over the things he said, his ache for you to be alright, sweeping through his mind.
“Sabini’s men got to her. It’s not good.” Esme’s words were painfully gentle, worsening the intense agony that shot through Tommy. It happened. Just like he said it would. His heart sank as he dug his fingernails into the flesh of his palm. “Her landlady sent John a telegram, said she found the return address on one of the letters we sent.”
“We’ve got to go to London. We can take your car- Lizzie! Get Arthur!” John yelled out toward the secretary’s table, noticing Lizzie’s absence from it. “Where the fuc- Lizzie!”
“Lunch break,” Tommy mumbled, voice uncharacteristically soft as his head hung low.
John swore beneath his breath, running out to fetch Arthur.
Esme swept across the room, pulling Tommy’s coat and cap off the rack. “Come on. I can pull the car around, we-” She stopped in her tracks as she watched him, stoic in his chair.
Slowly, he lifted his eyes from the desk, looking at her. The pale blue stare unnerved her, the gaze colder than ever. Her hands dropped to her side, fingers curling around his coat. Her eyebrows furrowed. “Thomas. Let’s go."
“I’m not going, Esme.”
They stood, silent, for what felt like an eternity.
Then, the anger took over.
“You bastard.” She spat. She flung his cap at him, whipping it across the room. “You stupid fucking bastard.”
“I’m not going.” He repeated as if entranced. “I won’t-”
Her open palm slammed against his cheek, and all he did was sit there, working his jaw as the burn spread across his face.
“I told her-” He started up again, voice low and dangerously calm.
“You idiotic, vile…” She wanted to scream in frustration.
He pressed the heel of his palms into his eyes. “Alright, Esme, alright-”
“No, it’s not fucking alright!” Her voice crested. “She’s really hurt, and you’re refusing to see her because of what? Your stupid pride? Because you told her so!? You’re supposed to be her friend!”
“Don’t give me that fucking line-”
“It’s the truth. Don’t you dare abandon her. Not after all she’s done for you.”
“And what did she do for me?” He exploded, voice accusatory, volatile. “She went against me, she got hurt. I’m not the one who abandoned her. She didn’t listen, she left me. She didn’t trust me. She gave up on me. And now…” He struggled to get the words out. It felt like a lie. It could have been. “I’ve given up on her.”
“Tommy, I know you don’t mean that.” She spoke, her suffocatingly soft tone making his skin crawl.
“I don’t say things I don’t mean.” He spoke, looking away. He couldn’t look her in those eyes, full of sorrow and pity. He wanted to take it all back. He wanted things to be back to how it was, all those years ago. He felt a lump grow in his throat.
“You’re scared. You’re afraid to see her hurt. But she’ll want to see you. You want to see her too. You miss her, you love her, you loved each other. It’s the most transparent thing about you.” She barked out a pained laugh before extending her hand toward him. “Come to London, Tommy. It’s not too late to make it right.”
He didn’t turn back to look at her.
Sighing, she turned and walked out the door.
He emerged onto the street twenty minutes later, nursing a cigarette as he watched them load up the car with hastily packed suitcases. His brothers refused to look at him, as if he’d forbid them from leaving, too. But Tommy stood, silent, heart feeling hollow.
“You’ll regret this,” Esme said to him, piling into the car with the rest.
He looked up at her.
“Have a safe trip.”
The car sputtered off, and he watched it recede into the distance. Something inside of him screamed at him to run after it, to go to you, but his feet remained planted on the ground, stubborn.
He walked into his office just as Lizzie returned from her break.
“Mail for you.” She said, handing him a stack of envelopes.
He shuffled through them dismissively, heart stopping as he spotted the handwriting on one of the envelopes. “To Tommy Shelby”, each letter so familiar, looking at the ink felt like home. Like love. It was painful to see.
He ripped it open, pulling out the note that lay tucked in front of the letter.
“Dear Mr. Shelby,
I found this unmailed letter in my tenant’s room, addressed to you. Considering the circumstances, I only felt it appropriate to send it on her behalf. My best wishes to you, and to her. God knows she needs it.”
He turned around, rushing out of the door, shoes clattering against the ground. His heart pounded in his ears, a blindingly bright hope building within his chest. He could run after the car, find another way to get to London, whatever. He’d be with you, soon.
But as soon as he hit the sidewalk and saw the little black dot that the car had become, all that renewed determination dissipated, his heartbeat slowing down once more to a lethargic, depressive thump.
He couldn’t do it. It was too late to fix it, not after what he'd said to you.
He turned back inside. He just couldn’t. He wouldn’t let himself.
He sat back behind his desk, heart crushing beneath the weight of his own decision. Unearthing your letter from the envelope, he began to read.
-
You heard the shouting first.
It echoed through the hall, thunderous, the yells too much for your pounding head.
Then, it was the sunlight. It came in droves, bright and white, glaring past your eyelids even as you screwed them shut to keep it out.
And then, of course, it was the pain, a dull ache that rolled through your body, familiar as a friend.
You stretched your arms out, feeling the prickly old blanket that lay atop you. You opened your eyes slowly, your vision adjusting to the hospital room. A hospital room. You’d never been happier at the sight of one. You pulled the duvet up to your mouth, concealing your smile like a secret.
You survived.
“Sir, please, it’s not visiting hours yet-“ You heard the nurse’s shoes scuttle nervously down the hall, trailing behind more decisive footsteps.
“Fuck off!” The crude phrase uttered by Arthur’s familiar voice made you laugh.
The Shelbys appeared at the door.
“You’re awake.” He said, face softening as the family crowded around you.
“I feel like I’ve been asleep for centuries.” You chuckled.
You were so happy. You could almost ignore the sharp jabs you felt in your ribs as they each took turns giving you tight hugs, joy flooding the room like the light that flooded through the window. It had been almost a year since you left, and though it was under awful circumstances, the reunion was sweet.
As the excitement began to subside, you looked across the room, noticing the absence of one familiar face, an absence that dug a hole into your heart.
Esme knelt beside your bed, smoothing your hair away from your face as she watched you, the smiles falling off the faces of the rest as they saw you begin to catch on.
Tommy hadn’t shown up.
“Love,” Esme began, “I’m sorry, but… try to understand…he-”
“I understand.” The corners of your lips lifted into a gentle smile.
You did. You understood completely.
It was freeing, almost. You had held out hope for ages. But now, you knew. He didn’t care.
He’d given up on you, you thought. You’d do the same for him.
You survived without him, and you’d continue to do so.
But even though he wasn’t there, it felt like he was in the room, stomping on your heart, shattering it beneath his leather boots.
Still, you smiled.
"Tommy, he... he still loves you, you know-"
“I need to get out of here.” You ignored her, interrupting her with a laugh. “Staying still this long’s doing me no good.”
“You need to rest,” Esme said definitively.
“I’m feeling a million times better already.” She looked back at you, unconvinced. “Like a new woman.”
“We’ll take you back to Small Heath. We’ll take care of you.” John spoke.
Small Heath. You had always thought of it as your home.
You looked out the window, at the trees swaying softly in the breeze, the noise of the London street below filtering through the leaves.
You loved the Shelbys.
But you wouldn’t go back. You couldn’t, yet.
“John?” You spoke.
“Yeah?”
“In your letters… you wrote about Tommy doing business in London.”
“Yeah.”
“What was that man’s name, again?”
-
“Alfie Solomons!” You called out, voice booming as you strolled into his offices. You had a slight limp, but with your huge grin and confident stride, it was like the red marks and bruises that bloomed across your skin were nothing but war paint. Against all odds, it was the sheer renewed strength you felt that invigorated you, allowing you to sweep into the room like you hadn’t just rolled out of a hospital bed.
“Jesus fucking Chri-” Alfie muttered. It was too early for this bullshit.
Ollie ran up behind you, already slightly out of breath.
“Sorry. I tried to stop her but she’s… she’s fucking fast, Alfie.” He huffed.
Alfie let out a long, annoyed sigh as you pulled up a chair, sitting across from him.
“Alfie Solomons,” you flashed him a wide smile, “I crave a boon.”
He nodded contemplatively, steepling his fingers while gazing at you thoughtfully. Then, suddenly:
“Who the fuck are you?” Genuine confusion caused his eyebrows to knit together, making your smile grow bigger.
“Mr. Solomons, have you ever heard of a man by the name of Thomas Shelby?”
He exhaled sharply, drumming his fingers against his desk impatiently.
“Why is it that whenever one of you Shelbys comes into my office, you lot always look -and forgive me if this sounds rude, darling- utterly fucked up?”
“You’re forgiven.” You beamed. “And I’m not a Shelby.”
He hummed, examining you. “Well, you’re a lot prettier than Tommy, the ugly little bastard.” He chuckled. “Even while looking utterly fucked up.” He added quickly.
“I’m flattered. But I wouldn’t know anything about that. I was just an associate. I’ve never met Thomas.” You lied.
“Really?” He said, raising an eyebrow.
“Really.” You repeated defiantly. “I did the work they needed me to do and left. Besides that, I don’t even exist to them.” You said. And if the family listened to your wishes, you’d be telling the truth.
After a few nights of them insisting on watching over you at the hospital, you chased them all back to Ada’s house, telling them to get some rest.
They weren’t around that morning to stop you when you climbed out the bathroom window to escape the confines of your room, ditching the white hospital gown in the sink after changing into the new clothes they had bought you.
You weren’t cruel. You’d stopped by Ada’s house, not even a single movement within it, what with it being practically the crack of dawn. You slipped a note under the door, telling them not to bother finding you. You couldn’t go back to Small Heath and spend your whole life feeling like you were a failure, ghosting around town like Sabini had actually managed to kill you, unable to look the man you once cared for in the eye. You wouldn’t be able to bear it. They had to let you go. Tommy did. They would learn to.
After that, it was off to Camden.
“So, what does this non-Shelby want from me?” Alfie asked, leaning back into his chair. Before, his unflinching stare and large frame would have scared you. You didn’t feel an ounce of fear now.
“I’d like to work for you.”
His lips turned up into a smile of disbelief. Then, he began laughing.
“Look,” He wiped a tear away from his eye with sarcastic flair, “this has been a nice chat and all, but I’ve got work to do, here, alright.” His voice became deadly serious, the amused glint in his eye fading. “So I suggest you fuck off before I get Ollie here to throw you out on your ass.”
“He’d have to catch up to me first. I’m fast, remember?” You whispered.
“Cute,” Alfie said, tone still grave despite a quick, lopsided smile. “Run along, now.” He began to turn around, dismissing you.
“Now that we’ve discussed Mr. Shelby-”
“You’re making me lose my patience-”
“I’d like to talk about Mr. Sabini. You’re familiar, are you not?”
He slowly turned back to look at you.
“...What about him?” He asked. You’d hit a nerve.
“I’m aware he’s been encroaching on your good, rightful territory, and-”
“Alright, alright, hey.” He wagged his finger at you, rings glinting in the sun. “If we’re going to carry on, you can skip the flowery vocabulary and the kiss-assery and get to the fucking point, understood?”
“Understood.” You chuckled. You slammed your briefcase on the table. “I have everything you need to know about Sabini.” Sabini’s men had found your letters to the Shelbys by destroying your room, looking in every nook and cranny. They failed to look under your floorboards. When you went to visit your boarding house this morning, the briefcase still lay under there, tucked away like a secret treasure. It was enough to make you cry tears of joy.
Hesitantly, he reached out to it, clicking the case open. His eyes widened as he sifted through the papers on top, your comprehensive notes and files on all of Sabini’s operations, collected in the past eight months while you worked at his club. His fingers barely managed to jump back in time before you slammed the lid shut.
He cleared his throat. “So you have some old information. Who gives a fuck?”
“I think you do, Alfie. Most of it’s still valuable, but, of course, if this isn’t enough to impress you, there’s always the new updates.”
“You’ve got... new information?”
“I’ve always got new information. I’ve got cigarette girls, bartenders, people at the telegraph office, the post office, the fucking switchboard… hell, I’m a couple favours away from getting his secretary on my side. They’re all paid off. All answering to me.” You smiled. “Eight months is the perfect amount of time to form strong alliances if you know how. And do you know what the best part is, Alfie?” You didn’t wait for him to respond. You scooted forward, leaning toward him conspiratorially. “It’s gonna take him a while to catch on. He thinks I’m dead as a doornail.” You giggled.
He stared at your toothy grin, stunned.
“Well, I best not be keeping you from all your important work…” You began to stand before he raised a finger, gesturing for you to sit back down.
You did so with a smirk.
“I can do more, Mr. Solomons. Today I’m helping you with Sabini, tomorrow… I’m helping you run an empire that would make the king weep like a baby.”
“What’s your name?” He asked after a long pause.
“(Y/N) (Y/L/N).”
“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” He repeated.
“Yes, Alfie Solomons?”
“You’re hired.”
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paradise-yuna · 7 months
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Happy 10th Anniversary of Peaky Blinders 🥳🥂
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Credits belongs to 😍
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garrison-girl-08 · 2 years
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Wow huge congratulations. Thank you for sharing all your stories! I’m very happy for you and I hope you buy a cake to celebrate! Hahaha. For the requests since they are open. I’ve had an idea in my head for awhile. Basically the reader and Cillian are married and they met on the Peaky Blinders. But she played Alfie’s significant other and Tom Hardy’s wife played May, who was Tommy’s. I think it would just be a funny dynamic and they couples are all great friends in real life and tease each other about it. Maybe they are all in an interview talking about it.
Love this idea so much!!
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Real Life
Pairing - Cillian Murphy and wife reader. Not based on his real life.
Summary- Requested - see above. Plus, it is set in the middle of a press conference.
Walking through the corridor, you felt your husband squeeze your bum. Turning, you winked at him. Trying to appear confident, even though inside you were a bundle of nerves. Truthfully you hated these press conferences.
Never quite knowing the right thing to say.
You all lined up, as the staff attached your microphones. There was you, Cillian, Tom Hardy, Charlotte Reily, Paul Anderson and Kate Philips. You had already had a glass of wine, to calm your nerves.
“Are you okay?” Cillian asked, wrapping his arm around you.
“Yeah, yeah fine, you know I hate these things,” you responded. Pulling you closer, he tried to reassure you. Wrapping his arms around you. On the stage you would be sat as “couples”. You with Tom, Cillian with Charlotte, Paul with Kate.
Heading onto the stage, you all got settled in your chairs. Tom gave you a reassuring wink, he was like a big brother to you. The four of you often went out, for dinner together. Cillian sat on the end, he would be asked the most questions. You hoped.
As the claps of the crowd died down, you took a deep breath. The first few questions were for Tom and Cillian. You listened to your husbands little chuckle, as he talked about being on set. How well you all got on.
“What are your hopes for this series, Y/n?” A question was fired at you. Regaining your composure, you answered confidently.
“We hope, that all of the fans will enjoy it. That it meets their expectations. Answers, some questions,” you laughed. “We have all worked hard on it, I think everyone will love it,”
“Did you enjoy making it Cillian?” A journalist asked, “The scenes between you and Charlotte, are fan favourites,”
Here we go, you thought.
“Yes, I enjoyed making the series. And I have many scenes with different actors. We will see a lot more of Tommy and May,” he answered politely reaching for his water. "Their relationship is just developing,"
It was a strange situation, real life partners switched around. You being “intimate” with Alfie, while your husband was “intimate” with May.
"How does that make you feel, Y/n?" the same journalist asked you.
"In what context?" you questioned, now on guard, "We are actors, we do a job and go home,"
Tom Hardy spoke up, "You could ask me the same question, yeah? Or any of us. It is not real, it's a job. Has anyone got a sensible question?"
You breathed a sigh of relief. "Will we see your character, Alfie get married to Y/n's character?"
Tom laughed, "That would be giving too much away. Will have to see if Alfie deserves her yet?"
The questions eased off, as Cillian and Paul answered most of them. They all knew how private Cillian was about your relationship. But, they never seemed to hesitate in asking you questions.
"Y/n, have you and Cillian got anymore children planned? Anymore Peaky babies?" one of them yelled towards you. Your son was now nine months old, and had just started to sleep through the night.
Cillian looked at you and smiled. "We are still catching up on sleep, from the first one," you answered, laughing.
"I remember those days," Charlotte spoke up.
"How did you find filming the series, Charlotte? Is there a certain rivalry between Y/n and yourself?" the journalist grinned, "Who pleases their husband the most?"
"Absolutely not," Charlotte answered, smiling towards you, "We are really good friends. We have even been on holiday together,"
"Do you ever get tempted to swap bedrooms, Y/n?" he asked, laughing again.
"As I have previously stated, we are actors it is not real. This is our real life. Which of course you know, and that is why you are looking for a reaction," you couldn't help but snap at the journalist.
Paul started clapping, "Damn right, can someone get rid of that fucking idiot?" he called to the staff.
After the interview, you sat in the toilets and had a cry. It had been building up, it was always the same stupid questions. The press trying to drive a wedge between you all.
“Babe?” You heard Cillian call out.
“Yeah, I’m coming,” you responded, dabbing your eyes as you unlocked the door.
Cillian was stood, leaning against the sink. “Are you OK? I knew they would be fucking pricks,” he huffed, walking towards you.
“I’m fine, just bloody overly sensitive. Ignore me, I’m fine,” you leant into his embrace, smelling his aftershave.
“I’ve known you long enough, Mrs. Murphy. That when you say you’re fine, your actually not,” He stroked your hair, soothingly as you both stood in the bathroom.
“You are mine, and I am your that’s all that matters,” he reassured you. “Now let’s go home and make another baby,”
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sneakyblinders · 1 year
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the drunk lunch
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A/N: this one follows directly behind chocolate cake and followed by the greatest honor. i take no credit for the gif, i just imagine this is how he’d look towards the door during the night scene. 
warnings: language, sexual themes (we run into a lil kink the mrs and Tommy have) , alluding to smut but no smut, alcohol, smoking, more grace.  not canon. a part of my tommy and his darling wife au <3
Grace knew she needed to get close to you to get close to Tommy—to get close to what the company was doing. To get close to the guns. But she was struggling with finding out how to do it.
Every time you were in the Garrison, you were on Tommy’s arm, the two of you inseparable. You worked in the office together, and when Tommy had other business to attend to with his brothers, you stayed behind in the office, managing other projects on the legal side of things that he had asked you to attend to. He made sure you only dealt with the legal side of things, never wanting to endanger you. It often made you angry how he would not tell you of the other side of things, but he insisted he kept you in the dark for your own safety. In the event that people came around asking for information, you would not be able to give them anything, simply because you had no idea.
So one afternoon when you walked into the Garrison alone, Grace saw it as her opportunity.
“Mrs. Shelby!” She called out to you as you walked towards the stairs, where Tommy’s office is. He had asked you to grab a few files and bring them back to the betting shop office.
“Good afternoon, Grace.” You said, eyeing her suspiciously.
“You—you may find this quite odd, but, since I’ve been in town, I haven’t made very many friends,” you threw her a compassionate smile. “And I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go to lunch one day. So we could get to know one another.”
Your jaw clenched, and her demeanor changed. She held a towel nervously in her hands. “I’m busy most days, Grace, but I could potentially find an opening.”
A smile crept on her face slowly. “Oh—okay. Just, let me know when you have time. I know of a new restaurant that just opened down by the docks on the other side of town.”
“I’ll get back to you.” You said, walking up the stairs to Tommy’s office.
That evening when you crawled in bed next to Tommy, you decided to tell him of the barmaids invitation. He was reading his book, nearly finished with it now, brow furrowed in concentration.
“Thomas,” you start, getting into bed beside him. He set his book down in his lap and looked at you softly. “The barmaid asked if I would go to lunch with her sometime.”
He dog-eared the page of his book before setting it down on the nightstand and reaching for a cigarette. “And that’s a bad thing?”
You pondered his question as he lit his cigarette. “No, not necessarily I don’t think.”
“Then what’s the problem, my love?” He asked, exhaling smoke.
You pulled the blankets farther up your body, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Nothing really, I suppose. I just find her odd.”
“You find most people odd, my dear.” He chuckled, taking another drag on his cigarette.
You knew he was right about that. “She said she didn’t have very many friends, and after I thought about it, I realized, I don’t really have very many friends here, either,” you said, leaning back against the headboard. “I have you and your family, and my family, who are miles away now, but I don’t think it’s the same as a friend who you can confide in, don’t you think?”
“What happened to Betty?” Tommy asked.
“She got married and hasn’t talked to me since. Not sure why.” You said, sad at the thought of losing a lifelong friend.
“Hm,” Tommy mused.
“Who is your closest friend?” You asked him, genuinely curious as to what his answer would be.
“Arthur.” He said quickly. “Arthur has always been my closest friend.” Your heart swelled. They did have a special relationship, the two of them. An interesting dynamic, certainly, but a good friendship. A solid brother bond. “I don’t think it’s a bad thing to have friends, Darling, I just want you to choose them for the right reasons, that’s all. We’re a powerful family and people want to get close to us for lots of various reasons, and I don’t want you getting hurt.” He said, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lips.
“I’ll be okay, Sweetheart.” You assure him, curling into his side.
“Then go out with the barmaid. You can clear your schedule whenever you like. You have good connections with the boss at work,” he smirked, stubbing his cigarette in the ashtray on his nightstand.
“I certainly do,” you smirk. “Did I tell you he bent me over his desk yesterday afternoon?”
“What a lucky bastard,” Tommy smirked down at you, before rolling on top of you and kissing you. You shrieked, a giggle escaping your lips as he tickled your sides. “What a lucky bastard I am,” he said, breathless as he began to kiss your neck, your shoulders, your cheeks, your lips. “Gypsy fucking magic that brought you to me, you know that?” He breathed against your skin as you writhed beneath him.
The next day you walked to the Garrison around noon and unlocked the door with your set of keys. “Grace?” You called out. Grace came from the back of the pub, a surprised look on her face.
“Mrs. Shelby! I was not expecting you, is everything alright?” She asked.
You stand in the middle of the pub, feeling quite awkward. “I was hoping that I could take you up on your offer for lunch today.”
A smile spread on her face and she nodded. “Of course. I’ll need to be back by five, but I’ve got a lot of the work finished already.”
“Oh,” you wave her off. “Don’t worry about that, I already ensured Harry would be here by four to finish everything up in time to open for the evening.”
“Oh, thank you.” She said, “Let me just grab my coat.”
The two of you walked through town, each of you telling the other the basic facts about themself. Age, education, family.
You sat down at the table in the new restaurant and Grace ordered the both of you whiskey. You began to refuse it, but she put her hand up. “Nonsense, this is going to be a fun afternoon,” she said. You normally didn’t drink, you said Thomas drank enough for the both of you, and that was true. But that day, you drank. A lot.
You were three whiskeys in, and feeling good. You and Grace were at the table in the restaurant still, cackling about something ridiculous when she decided it was a good time as ever to start prying. You were loosened up from the alcohol, and she had thought she had peeled back enough of the getting-to-know-someone layers, making you more comfortable.
“How did you meet Tommy?” she asked as you took another bite of bread.
“Oh, I ran into him in London one day. Literally, ran smack into his chest and he dropped a bottle of whiskey he had just bought. It got all over his suit and my legs. I thought he was going to scream at me but then he just sort of–looked at me.” you say, a far away look in your eyes.
Grace giggled. “He sort of just looked at you?”
“Yes,” you said sighing dreamily, thinking of your husband. “And then he asked me to dinner.”
“Is he good to you?” she asked.
“Oh yes,” you nearly moaned, drinking the rest of your whiskey. “Terribly good to me. He’s ruined me for all other men.” you tell her and she clears her throat uncomfortably at your crudeness.
“What do you do for the company?” she asked.
“I keep the books, help with the numbers. Write letters for Thomas so he doesn’t sound like so much of an ass when doing formal business proposals.” you giggled.
“What exactly does your husband do?” she asked.
You stopped giggling, and miracle of all miracles, despite your rather drunk state, narrowed your eyes. “You’re asking far too many questions about my husband's work.”
Her expression fell. “I’m sorry, just curious.”
“Curiosity killed the cat, Grace Burgess.” you warn, signaling the waiter for the bill.
“Allow me, Mrs. Shelby,” she tells you, but your hand is quicker in reaching for the bill.
“Nonsense,” you quip, and her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean it in that way, Grace,” you try to recover.
“No, it’s quite alright. I appreciate your generosity.” she says as you hand the waiter enough to cover the bill, and a generous tip. “Let me ensure you get back safely.” she says as you stumble standing up, legs feeling a bit wobbly.
“I think I should like to be returned to the betting shop, Thomas won’t be gone yet.” you tell her, and she nods, holding onto your elbow as she guides you through the streets of Small Heath.
You knock on the door of the betting shop, too drunk to remember which damn key opened the side door. “Oh, Thomas!” you say in a sing-song sort of manner.
Polly opens the door, a confused look on her face. “Dear God,” she sighs. “What did you do to her?” she asks Grace in an accusatory tone.
“What did I do? She didn’t have to drink three full glasses of whiskey!” Grace said.
“She offered them, Pol,” you tell her, your words beginning to slur together. “Pol, Pol, where’s Thomas, I need to see him,” you’re slurring your words together, eyes only half open.
“He’s in his office, love. I–I think he may be a little upset at you being so drunk it’s only four in the afternoon.” Polly said as you nearly fell into her arms, brow furrowed, eyes blazing with fury at Grace.
“He’s never upset with me for long, Polly,” you say, a grin spreading on your face. “A wife has ways, you know.”
Polly shook her head in disbelief at you, guiding you inside. Grace followed behind, closing the door gently. “Thomas!” you call again, growing impatient. Shortly thereafter, you hear heavy footsteps upstairs and the familiar creak of the office door opening. “There he is,” you sigh dreamily as he appears at the top of the steps. “My husband.”
A confused look crosses his features as he comes down the stairs. “What the fuck–” he mumbled to himself as you threw yourself in his arms.
“Thomas, I missed you,” you tell him. His eyebrows shoot up as he smells the whiskey on you.
“My love, what in hell have you gotten into?” he asks, taking you by the shoulders to look you in the eyes.
“I just went for lunch with Grace,” you tell him innocently, eyes wide. He eyes the barmaid, who is uncomfortably standing in the corner near the door, shifting her weight between her legs.
“I see, my love. Do you think you can go upstairs and lay on the chaise in the office? Wait for me a moment? Hm?” he asks you softly, rubbing your arms.
You give him a cheeky grin, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “Will you fuck me when you come back upstairs?”
He let out a sigh of exasperation. “I’m afraid not my love, but I won’t be long. Go on, please.” he said. You pulled away with him, a pout on your lips.
“Thanks for lunch, Grace. I had a grand time,” you tell her before you wobble up the steps.
“I’ll go make sure she doesn’t break her neck.” Polly said, walking up the steps behind you.
Tommy eyes Grace angrily. “What the hell was she thinking?” he asks her.
“I’m not sure, Mr. Shelby. One minute she was fine, the next she was–several drinks deep.”
He narrowed his eyes. “She never drinks.”
She shifted uncomfortably again, heart beating quickly under his scrutinous gaze. “She did today, Mr. Shelby.”
“Curious that the first time my wife drinks since our wedding day is the first time she goes out with you, isn’t it?”
“I’m just simply trying to make a friend.” Grace told him, tone defensive.
“Well, next time you try and befriend my wife, do not, get her drunk.” he demands, wagging a finger at her. They both heard you wail Tommy’s name from upstairs and she blushed, embarrassed. “Don’t you have to be at the Garrison soon, Miss Burgess?” he asked, exasperated.
“Yes, I will be going now. I’m sorry, Mr. Shelby.” she stammered, walking out of the door. Tommy locked it behind her and watched as she walked down the street towards the Garrison.
He made his way back upstairs, to your shared office, where you were dramatically draped over the chaise, an arm over your eyes, crying. “What the hell, Pol?” he asked as Polly watched you in disbelief.
“This is ridiculous.” Polly said, annoyed. “Absolutely ridiculous, Tommy, how did you marry someone who cannot hold her liquor?”
Tommy shook his head. “She has nothing to drink about, Pol. Not a single thing. So why would she?”
“I’ll leave you to deal with her now.” Polly said. “I’m closing up and going home soon, see you tomorrow,” She turned to leave, but said over her shoulder, “Thomas, she did say Grace offered her all the alcohol. Don’t be too upset with her.” she said, closing the doors on her way out.
He made his way over to where you were laying on the chaise, body bouncing with the most dramatic sobs he’d ever heard in his life. “My love,” he said gently, kneeling down to be eye level with you. “Sweetheart,” he said gently again, tenderly touching your arm.
“What?” you asked, removing your arm from your eyes. “You’re mad at me.” you said matter-of-factly.
“No,” he shook his head. “No, my love I am not mad at you. Not at all, I just don’t understand why you would drink this much when you were out with a complete stranger.” he said. You shuffled to lay on your side, making room for him to sit down next to you.
“She insisted today was a day for fun, wasn’t she drunk, too?” you asked, squinting up at him.
He licked his lips, sighing as he reached for a cigarette. “No, ‘m afraid she wasn’t, darling.” he told you, holding the cigarette between his lips as he lit a match.
You wailed, the tears flowing down your face again. “I just wanted to be friends with her,” you say in between crying.
“My dear, there are plenty of women to be friends with, I assure you.” he told you, lighting his cigarette.
“Tommy,” you say, which catches his attention. You always, religiously, since the beginning of your relationship call him Thomas. He was never sure why, but you always called him Thomas unless you were cross with him, in which you called him Tom, because it was quicker to get out of your mouth when you were shouting. He looks at you, concerned. “Tommy, I think she wants to fuck you.” you tell him and he chuckles.
“She can want to all she wants, my love. I am all yours.” he says, pressing a kiss to your nose. “I have a few things to finish up and then we can go home, yeah?” he says.
“What’ll I do?” you ask, trying to sit up as he stands.
“Nothing, you just lay there and rest. Fall asleep if you can. Alright? Just lay there and look pretty, hm?” he says, and in your drunken state, much to his surprise, you listen.
A couple of hours later Tommy was finished with his work and was ready to go home. He picked you up from where you were asleep on the chaise and carried you down to the car. You faded in and out of sleep on the ride home. He carried you in the house and laid you in bed, taking your coat and shoes off carefully before sliding you into bed.
He went back downstairs, where Frances had prepared dinner for the both of you. “Evening, Frances,” he said, entering the kitchen where she was.
“Oh, good evening, Mr. Shelby. I’m just plating up dinner for you.” she said cheerily.
“Frances, is it alright if I eat in here tonight? Mrs. Shelby won’t be joining me, I’m afraid.” he said, motioning towards the small table in the kitchen.
Her expression fell. “Oh, of course, Mr. Shelby. Is she alright?” she asked, handing him the plate.
“She’s uh–a bit drunk.” he admitted, sitting down at the table.
“That uh–certainly is out of character for her, sir.” Frances said, selecting her words carefully.
“I agree, Frances,” he said, taking a bite of his food. “Please, will you join me?” he asked as he noticed she was starting to clean instead of eating her portion of the dinner.
“Are you certain, sir?” she asked.
“Of course. I am intruding in your space, after all.” he said.
She smiled softly, getting a plate of food for herself before sitting down across from him. “You’re not intruding, this is your home after all.” she laughs.
He shrugs his shoulders. “My wife went out with the new barmaid at the Garrison today.”
Frances looked at him strangely. “May I say something, Mr. Shelby?” she asked. Tommy nodded. “I have a very odd feeling about her,” he gave her a look as if to say, do go on. “The night where Mrs. Shelby organized the birthday party for you at the Garrison, she asked me to bring the cake a little earlier so it would be there when the two of you arrived for the evening. And so, of course, I did. But the barmaid kept asking a lot of questions. At first, I thought it may have been to just get to know people a little better, but then she started to pry about you and Mrs. Shelby. Asked if it was a marriage of convenience. I told her absolutely not, that the two of you are absolutely in love with one another, because, well, you are,” she laughed uncomfortably. Tommy’s cheeks flushed, thinking of the things this poor housekeeper had seen and heard in the short ten months he and his bride had been married. “And she seemed rather upset about that. About you two being in love. She said she didn’t believe that being in love lasted long. I told her that no, this love between you and Mrs. Shelby was different, and she got mad and asked me to leave. So I did.”
Tommy sighed. “Frances, why didn’t you tell me of this sooner?”
“I didn’t think it was that important, just silly female things I suppose; jealousy, you know.” she said, throwing him an apologetic look.
“Anything else like that happens, tell me, Frances.” he said, a dangerous tone in his voice.
“Yes, Mr. Shelby.” she says.
They ate the rest of their meal in comfortable silence. “Thank you for dinner, Frances. I will be in my office. Please, leave a plate out for Mrs. Shelby, I think she may be hungry when she wakes. Please don’t wait up for her though, Frances.”
“Thank you, Mr. Shelby. Goodnight.” she says kindly as Tommy disappears into his office for the evening.
At nearly ten o’clock, you still hadn’t awoken and Tommy was sitting in the family room in front of the fire, sipping his whiskey, smoking a cigarette and reading his book. His suspenders hung off his shoulders, the braces hanging down to his thighs, his cufflinks and sleeve garters long discarded, sleeves rolled up to the middle of his forearms and the first few buttons undone on his shirt. He had just removed his shoes when he heard a knock on the front door. He hoped that Scout, your faithful protective canine, hadn’t heard, and much to his dismay, she did. He heard the clack of her nails as she came down the steps, and the low growl deep in her chest as she approached the front door. Her ears were peaked, fur on the back of her neck sticking straight up.
“Scout,” he whispered, taking his gun from the holster on the table next to him and padding over to the front door, trying to walk slowly so as to not slip on the freshly waxed hardwood floors in his socks. Scout’s attention did not waver from the front door for a moment. Tommy peered out of one of the side windows that flanked the double doors on either side and saw the late night visitor. Grace.
“Down, Scout,” he commanded the dog, who sat obediently behind him, still on high alert. He apprehensively opened the door, gun in his hand. “Miss Burgess,” he greeted.
“Mr. Shelby,” she said, a little too cheerily for this time of night. “I just wanted to check on your wife. She was a little–worse for wear when I last saw her.” she laughed softly.
“Little late, Grace,” Tommy rasped, Scout growling behind him.
“May I come in?” she asked, rubbing her arms. “It’s a little cold.”
He opened the door a little wider, against his better judgment. “Shouldn’t have come, then.” he let her slide past him, Scout standing immediately and letting out a vicious bark.
“Down, girl.” Tommy commanded, tucking his gun in the waistband of his pants, against his lower back.
“She’s a beautiful dog, Tommy.” Grace said, reaching her hand out for Scout to sniff. Scout apprehensively approached her, sniffing her hand before growling at her again.
“She’s my wife’s dog.” Tommy said, stroking Scouts back, hoping it would tame the low grumbles she was emitting. “I trust a dog's instinct, y’know?” he said, eyeing Grace carefully.
“Yes, they are very trustworthy animals.” she said.
“My wife is upstairs, asleep, hopefully still even after that loud bark,” he said, eyeing Scout, who looked up at him quizzically. “You shouldn’t be here, Miss Burgess.” he said, squaring his shoulders. “How did you know this was our home?”
“Your wife told me where you lived today. She said it was grand, but I didn’t think it would be this grand.” she chuckled nervously, eyeing the crystal chandelier that hung above them in the foyer. They stood awkwardly in the foyer before Grace said, “Well, your wife said you were a gentleman, but I don’t think a gentleman would let a lady wait this long and not even offer her a drink.” she smiled.
Tommy’s expression remained cold. “I’m a gentleman to my wife, and a bastard to all else, Miss Burgess. That is something you should know.”
She approached him apprehensively, carefully calculating her actions. “Don’t you ever wish sometimes, you could be a bastard to your wife, Mr. Shelby?” Tommy froze, as she approached closer. “Don’t you miss that old life you used to live?” she asked. Scout stood up, ears attentive as she heard the bedroom door squeak open. Grace froze in place as Tommys eyes widened in disbelief at the barmaid's words. “Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Shelby.” she continued, reaching out to put a hand on his chest.
“Thomas?” you called out, voice heavy with sleep, rubbing your eyes. Your eyes adjusted to the dim light and you froze when you saw Grace standing in such close proximity to your husband, her hand falling to her side slowly upon seeing you.
“Glad to see you’re awake.” Tommy said gently.
“What’re you doing here?” you ask Grace, who quickly backs away from Tommy.
“I came to check on you.” she said quickly.
“How did you know where we live?” you asked, confused.
“You told me at lunch, silly.” Grace said, giggling nervously.
“I don’t remember that,” you say to yourself quietly.
“I’m sure you don’t remember much, you were quite drunk.” Grace quipped back, moving to approach you. Scout let out a harsh bark that made your ears ring, head already pounding. Scout moved between you and Grace, teeth bared.
“I think it’d be best if you go, Grace.” Tommy said with that tone in his voice that, if the situation weren’t so odd, would have you on your knees in front of him in a matter of minutes.
“I think so too.” Grace said, gaze never leaving you. “Goodnight,” she said as Tommy opened the door for her and slammed it behind her, locking the deadbolt.
“How odd.” you muse aloud as Scout went over to the window, growling the whole way that Grace walked down the driveway.
“Odd indeed, my love.” Tommy says, putting an arm around your shoulders and leading you to the kitchen, where he warmed your food up for you.
You were quiet, mind whirring with questions, assumptions. He brought the warm plate of food over to where you were sitting at the table in the kitchen. “Thank you,” you smile weakly up at him. He sits down across from you, forearms on the table. “You look tired.” you observe.
“I am,” he admits, reaching for a cigarette.
“Why was she standing so close to you?” you ask, eyeing him, every insecurity coming to the surface.
Tommy sighed, not meeting your gaze. “I don’t know. She was–saying something about "don't I wish I could go back to my old life’.” he said lowly, lighting his cigarette.
“And what’d you say to that?” you asked, tone dark.
“I didn’t have the chance to say anything, you came down the stairs.” he said, exhaling smoke.
“So what would you have said if I didn’t?” you asked, raising your voice.
“I would’ve said fuck no.”  he told you, expression serious, lips in a tight line, eyes not leaving yours.
You angrily stared at him for a while, breathing irregular, rage building. “Just as much as I am yours, Thomas Shelby, you are mine.” you tell him, jaw clenched.
“You’re absolutely fucking right,” he ground out. You stand up, taking your plate to the sink, mumbling that you weren’t hungry. He stalks over to you, turning you around, your back against the counter, a hand around your throat. “I am all yours,” he says slowly, his face close to yours. “And you are all mine,” he presses his forehead to yours. “For fucking ever.”
“Thomas,” you let out a breathy moan, a pool of heat forming between your legs. He had done this before–and it had both tested your trust in him and solidified the knowledge that he would never do anything to actually hurt you. Every ounce of strength and self-control he had in his body and mind was put to the test, and adrenaline coursed through your veins. You could see the lust in his eyes as he moved closer to you, crushing you further against the counter.
You had done this a few times since you had been married–this game of trust and brute force. You didn’t think you would enjoy it as much as you do. The first time it happened, it was by accident. The second time, you intentionally provoked Tommy, telling him you wanted to see the darker side of him, that you were tired of being treated like porcelain. He warned you it could end badly, but you were so lost in lust, you told him you didn’t care. Afterwards he held you, cleaned you up and whispered loving praises in your ear. You shook for a quarter hour after the second time the two of you played this game, your body wrung out from pleasure, all of your energy gone.
“I will never betray our love, do you understand?” he asks through gritted teeth, pulling you back in this moment. His grip on your throat tightened ever so slightly, just the way you liked. You were thankful Scout was asleep at the front door, not wanting this moment ruined.
“Yes, Thomas,” you moan, and he releases his hold on your throat to hold your face in both of his hands, his lips crashing to yours in a searing kiss. The kiss is teeth and tongue and lips and he’s swallowing your moans as he begins to tear your clothes from your body. His hands move to grip your backside and you throw your legs around his waist and he carries you up to bed for the night.
The next morning, you wake up and Tommy isn’t in bed with you, which is odd. You roll over, groaning at the discomfort you feel in your limbs, assumedly from being tangled up in him all night. When you go to wash, you notice bruises across your skin and smile softly to yourself, thinking of the previous night's activities. You deeply enjoyed all parts of who your husband was, and allowing him to bare the darker parts of himself to you only made you love him all the more. The strength he summoned daily to overcome that darkness filled you with a sense of pride for what a good man he is. What a good man he is to you.
He knocked on the bathroom door and you opened it, wearing only your dressing gown. You were toweling off your face from where you had just washed it. His fingers ghosted over the bruises he left on you, a downcast expression on his face. “I’m sorry, my love.” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“Don’t be sorry,” you tell him, shooting him a naughty grin. “I quite enjoyed it.”
“Mm,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around you. “That’s a good thing I suppose.”
You gasped when he pulled away from you, noticing a mark you had left on him, just underneath his collarbone. “Oh, Thomas, I’m sorry!” you giggled as he moved to inspect what you had discovered in the mirror.
A disgruntled sound left his lips. “Well, Mrs. Shelby, guess we’re both marked as one anothers for the foreseeable future, hm?”
~
“You went to their house?” Inspector Campbell ground out at his meeting with Grace the next day.
“I had no choice.” she replied softly.
“You have every choice!” he exclaimed, surprising himself with how loudly he said it. “If you can’t get close to the wife, and you can’t seduce Thomas, how exactly do you plan to get the information we need, Grace?”
She bit the inside of her cheek. “I can do this, Mr. Campbell.” she said.
“I trust you know what you are doing. These are dangerous people.”
“I am aware!” she snapped at him. “I was aware when I was met at his door by a gun and a dog that was eager to tear me from limb to limb.” she said, jaw clenched. “I was close last night, he was vulnerable. And his brother, the one who is really the one in charge of the Garrison, he’s easier to get information out of. More trusting.”
“Then by all means, get as much information out of him as you can, Grace. But you must link all of this to Thomas Shelby.”
“I will!” she insisted, growing frustrated at the man's lack of confidence in her.
“Of course you will.” he said, demeanor softening. “I just don’t want you harmed is all.”
“I was trained for this. Now I’m running late.” she said, turning the corner and disappearing into the streets of Birmingham.
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