#tommy shelby x ofc

[all-mirth-no-matter]

Time After Time | Chapter Eleven

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: You join the Shelbys for Christmas Eve dinner.

Warning: language, alcohol, smoking, ethnic slur, heavy fluff, probably bad retelling of Greek history don’t come at me

ao3 link | catch up on tumblr here

Chapter 11: Dazed & Confused

I bet you know just what you’re doing. You’re not the type that’s used to losing. First you build me up, then with just a touch, leave me here in ruins. Something ‘bout your eyes, I can’t even walk in a straight line, under the influence. Oh, I’ve been dazed and confused, from the day I met you. Yeah, I lost my head, and I’d do it again. Either I’ve seen the light, or I’m losing my mind. There’s something ‘bout you, that’s got me dazed and confused.   — Dazed & Confused, Ruel

God you felt so stupid. It wasn’t like you were a stranger to this house — hell, even a stranger to having dinner at this house. But after meeting Tommy, it didn’t feel like just having dinner at a friend’s place anymore. Would this nervous feeling ever go away?

You’d gone all out for this special occasion, with Ada’s help after you’d expressed your nerves. She’d been far too giddy for your liking over your anxiety. But you let her take you shopping that morning and helped you tame your hair and even refrained from fighting her when she shoved a deep red lipstick into your hands after claiming that it was too dark for her to wear. 

Your hair had to be re-managed after your shift at the pub that afternoon. Apparently, Harry closed the place for Christmas Eve night. You thought that was a mistake, surely men were looking for some drunken solace after the children had gone to bed, but you bit your tongue at Harry’s excitement and accepted the extra time off. 

After the age of twelve, Christmases in your house had become a less-than-joyful time of year for you. It felt like a switch — one year you were a happy kid surrounded by excited parents drinking hot cocoa and waiting for Father Christmas — and then the next you were fighting over hanging tree lights, complaining about going out into the crowded malls, sitting in three separate rooms of the house to numb yourself with whatever was on the TV at the time. The littlest things would set off your mother, leaving you either raging with anger or crying in the garage waiting for your father to get home. 

The magic had disappeared along with your childhood. And it only got worse after your father died. You’d been reckless those first couple years, sneaking out any chance you got to run around town with your friends. When you left for college, you selfishly dreaded coming home during the breaks. That’s when your mother’s psychosis started to get worse.

Looking back, you couldn’t help but wonder if your mother hadn’t been alone for all that time, if she’d had someone to confide in or even just to talk to, if her sanity could have been salvaged, even just a little. But deep down you always assumed it was something darker going on inside her that made her act the way she did. By the end, if she wasn’t numb, she was crying, and you just had no idea how to handle her. 

After her death, you simply avoided holidays, always volunteering to work the extra shifts or treat it as if they were any other days of the week. 

Since arriving in 1918, you’d been so preoccupied with surviving, with trying to figure out what was going on, the idea of Christmas or any other holiday had been nonexistent. Which is why you’d been surprised at Tommy’s (or technically Ada’s) invitation to a Christmas Eve dinner. 

Fidgeting with your dress, you stood nervously at the doorstep and knocked. Behind the door, you could hear the sound of voices and pots banging, even a gramophone playing. 

The door swung open to reveal Ada, shouting her hello before pulling you inside for a warm hug. You chuckled at your friend, who clearly had been enjoying some pre-dinner drinks, and walked further into the house. 

The betting shop doors were open, the tables that usually hosted piles of books, papers, and money now cleared and replaced with plates, napkins, and silverware. You took a scan at the guests around, surprised at the number of people here. 

You recognized a few of them — the two men who’d been with Tommy and his brothers last night at the Garrison, Benji, and the man who stood out on the streets preaching. Then there was Martha sitting near the fire with Polly at her side, looking better but still not completely on the mend. Finn ran past you, shouting as the older of John’s kids chased after him. The rest of the men in the room you didn’t recognize. 

“Y/N!” Polly shouted, finally noticing your arrival as she left Martha and pulled you in for a hug. It appeared she’d also been indulging in some pre-dinner drinks, this being the most affection she’d ever shown you. “Let me get you a drink and then introduce you.” 

She shoved a glass of something brown in your hands, a quick sniff indicating it as whiskey, and began to walk you around the room, starting unfortunately with the group of men Benji was with. 

“Lovelock, Scudboat, and Hancock, this is Y/N. A family friend and barmaid at the Garrison. She’s under our protection, so you know what that means.” 

“Aye ma’am,” Scudboat smiled, nodding his head respectfully before lifting his hand. “Nice to meet you, miss.” 

You smiled genuinely at the man, already appreciating his vibe. Lovelock didn’t offer any words, but nodded and gave you a smile and handshake as well. 

Hancock, or Benji as he’d introduced himself to you as, gave you a smirk. “We met last night,” he said suggestively, lingering his hand around yours longer than you thought was appropriate. “But it’s good to see you again.” 

You didn’t respond, pulling your hand away and instead offering a polite smile. Luckily, Polly pulled you away to work the room. 

Jeremiah was the name of the preacher, accompanied with his young son, Isaiah. You were curious how he fit in with the group, but saved your questions for another time. 

Charlie and Curly worked at the Yard down by the Cut. You realized this must have been the ‘Uncle Charlie’ that Tommy mentioned the other night. They were both quiet, but nice. Curly was beginning to ask you if you liked horses, but Polly shoo’d him before pulling you along to the next man. 

Danny Owens, or Whizz-Bang as he mentioned everyone called him, said he could only stay for a drink before going home to his wife and kids. He was fidgeting with his hat, muttering something about wishing Freddie or Barney could be there. Obviously you recognized Freddie’s name and wondered if you’d finally get to meet Ada’s mystery man. It wasn’t the case though as you finished the rounds of introductions.

A shout of the men behind you caused you and Polly to turn, seeing Arthur and John enter the room. They welcomed everyone around them with a loud greeting. You kept your eyes on the doorway, waiting for the one family member who had not yet arrived. 

As if on cue with your thoughts, Tommy walked into the room quietly, leaning against the door edge to watch the scene. His eyes scanned the room until they fell to you. The corner of his mouth rose in that familiar resilient smirk, obviously unused to being caught doing his surveillance. He gave a subtle nod over his shoulder before pushing off and turning toward the family room.

Your heart raced a little as you took the bait, excusing yourself and grabbing your drink before walking across the betting shop floor. When you walked through the door into the family room, you heard the gentle shut of the door behind you, but your eyes were transfixed on the tree in front of you. 

You’d noticed it when you first walked in, but now, the simple Christmas tree was lit with candles tied at the end of its branches. 

The last time you saw a Christmas tree lit up, it’d been multicolored and flashed like a bad shop neon sign, glued to the plastic thistle of a fake tree. The sight of it at the time had made you groan at the very idea of the holiday you dreaded, thinking about all the money that was wasted during this time of year on stupid decorations like that one and worthless presents that would just end up in the garbage in a month. 

But this. The real fire dancing on the wicks, sending beautiful shadows across the whole room against the lush pine leaves. It was enough to take your breath away. 

“We lit it just now with the kids.” Tommy’s deep voice behind you brought you out of your trance as you felt him move to your side. “We’ll re-light it again before they go to bed.”

“It’s beautiful.” 

“It is,” he replied as you finally looked over to him, his eyes already on you. The implication of his words and that look made you blush. 

You bit your lip as you shook your head and the possible compliment off.  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” you found yourself admitting. 

Tommy’s brow creased. “Do they not have Christmas trees in America?”

“Um, they do. Just not decorated with real candles,” you replied, not exactly lying but not responding with the whole truth. 

You weren’t entirely sure when electric tree lights would be invented, or common place, even. To avoid further questioning, you asked one of your own, a genuine query you couldn’t help but wonder now that the bewilderment had faded. 

“Does the tree ever catch on fire?” 

He chuckled softly, “Yeah it has. That’s why we only light it for a little while each night, usually before the kids go to bed. This year it hasn’t yet, surprisingly. But the year before we left, Finn was tryin’ to light it for John’s kids and lit the whole bottom row on fire. Luckily Pol was there to put it out before the house caught.”

You were watching him as he told the story before he let a short breath out his nose and a crinkle in the corner of his eyes, as if reminding himself of his own memory had been a pleasant surprise. 

He cleared his throat, his smile returning back to his neutral expression as he busied himself with pulling his cigarette box out of his pocket and lifting out a stick. He ran it between his lips before lighting the end, the action causing you to lick your own lips before you remembered something.

“I, um — I got you a gift,” you said, feeling suddenly very embarrassed. 

He paused at your words, his brow creased as he watched you pull a small box out of the handbag you’d been carrying. 

“A gift?” He repeated, turning his body away from the tree and toward you. 

You shrugged, trying to shoo away your nerves. “Yeah, ya’know, it’s Christmas. It’s not anything super fancy, but saw it this morning when Ada took me shopping and I just, I don’t know, I thought you might like it. Sorry it’s not wrapped,” you lifted the box and offered it to him. 

Tommy took it tentatively, his brow hooked as he examined the plain cardboard. “You didn’t have to,” he said, not yet opening it. 

“I know. It’s just — it’s a thank you,” you finally spat out, your eyes chancing a look up to meet his, “for everything.” 

His brow was still creased as he looked down, and your embarrassment and stupidity reached it’s peak as you realized how much of a mistake this probably was. 

Did people not get each other gifts in the 1900s? Ada hadn’t said anything when you picked it out and asked if she thought this was something Tommy might like. She had given you a shit eating grin, but hadn’t deterred you or told you you were being weird. 

“I’m sorry,” you found yourself saying, turning away from him to try and hide how red your face was. “You don’t have to use it, you don’t even have to open it, I’ll just take it back and we’ll pretend this never happened—“

“Y/N,” Tommy’s voice said softly, causing you to look back over at him, the box open on the table and the cigarette case now in his hand. 

It was a simple case, minimal decoration around the border, but the minute you saw it, it made you think of Tommy and his damn cigarettes. Part of you wanted to get it engraved, something snarky about killing his lungs — but you could only afford the case, so you got it on a whim. It’d definitely been more than you could afford, but it was the holidays, you reasoned. You’d start saving again next week. 

Tommy tested the case, using his thumb to click the flap open, then closed it again. He did that a couple times before letting out a humored breath out of his nose, the corner of his cheek rising as he pulled out his box and moved a few sticks into the case. 

“Thank you,” he said sincerely as his eyes found yours, lifting up the case to emphasize before smiling back down at it. “It’s the best Christmas gift I’ve gotten in years.” 

You swallowed, dropping your head as your cheeks reddened again. The feel of his fingers against your cheek caused you to lift your head again, not realizing he’d gotten so close. Your eyes found his, serious and soulful as he peered down at you, the light from the candles dancing off the glassy orbs. God, he was beautiful. 

A bang on the door caused you to jump before stepping away. Polly shouted from the other side, instructing you both that dinner was ready and to get our asses out there. 

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Every time.” 

Tommy met your laugh with his own softer one as you turned toward the door. Before you could reach it, he grabbed your arm and spun you back toward him, pulling your body against his as his lips crashed against yours. 

He wrapped the hand still holding your gift and his lit cigarette around you to curve your body against his, his other hand raking through the base of your head and neck, nearly lifting you up to meet his hunger. Without a second thought, your own hands found themselves around his shoulders as you clung to him, your kiss matching his eagerness. You tilted your head and opened your mouth just enough for him to dive in deeper, breathing in sharply through his nose as you let out a needy moan.  

Fuck the dinner, screw all the people on the other side of the door. You’d let him take you right here on the couch, on the floor, you didn’t care. All you cared about was his hard body against yours, his hands gripping at you, his mouth and where else it could consume you. 

When you found your feet flat on the ground again, he pulled his lips away just enough before giving you another slow kiss, then another, before pulling away completely. 

He smiled as you caught your breath, still surprised and slightly disoriented from the action. You thought he was going to kiss you again as he brought his hand back to your cheek, but instead he used his thumb to rub what must have been smeared lipstick off your face. A pathetic whimper left your throat at the disappointment. 

“Better not keep Pol waiting,” he said easily, adjusting his suit and sliding his new cigarette case in his jacket pocket before pulling out a handkerchief and wiping his own lips. You watched as the white fabric turned red from your lipstick and smirked, thinking of other scenarios where you could leave pieces of you with him throughout the day. 

He noticed your look and rose a brow as you licked your lips, shooing those ideas away for more socially appropriate ones as he opened and held the door open for you.  

Ada and Martha were helping to set the table when you joined them, grabbing two plates from Polly before adding them to the make-shift dinner table. Once every seat was served, Ada pulled you into a chair next to her. You looked at the head of the table, expecting to see Tommy but surprisingly it was Arthur who stood up and rose his glass. To his right sat Tommy, then John and Martha; to his left was Polly, then Ada and you. 

Arthur cleared his throat, causing everyone to quiet and turn their attention to him. 

“Um,” Arthur cleared it again, pulling down at his vest as he fidgeted. “I um, I’m not much for speeches. But um, I wanted to— wanted to thank you. This year— these years, being away, it’s been—“ his voice chocked as he looked toward Tommy. 

Tommy smiled up at his brother and stood, gripping Arthur’s shoulder as he held up his own glass. “It’s been good to be back,” Tommy said simply, finishing Arthur’s prompt, possibly not in the same direction Arthur was heading, but a good detour to keep the moment light. He continued to keep his arm on his brother’s shoulder, as he addressed the rest of the room. “We all know the hardships and blessings we’ve been dealt, this year especially. And soon, it’ll be a new year. A fresh start. This is our opportunity to seize, and we’ll be damned if we’re going to let it slip.” His eyes flicked to you before rising his drink higher. “A toast, a simple toast, ya brotha’?” He pulled Arthur closer as he chuckled, rising his own glass higher with his brothers. “To good fortune, good health, good horses! Happy Christmas!” 

“By order of the Peaking fuckin’ Blinders,” Arthur added, his voice strong again. 

Everyone exploded with cheers as they raised their own glasses and shouted “Happy Christmas!”

The night went on as everyone ate and talked. You were enjoying the dinner, laughing as you watched the family dynamic between the core Shelbys as they enjoyed each others company. Everyone’s inhibitions and guards seemed to be set aside tonight, giving you what you assumed was a rare glimpse at what dinners pre-war must have been like for the group. 

On the other side of you sat Charlie and Curly, and you were grateful that Benji had been placed at the end of the other side of the table, just far enough so that easy conversation wasn’t possible. But you felt his eyes on you, causing you to shift in your seat every now and then when you’d catch his gaze. After the second time it happened, you found yourself sighing, knowing you’d have to have an awkward conversation at some point with him to convince him you weren’t interested. 

The dinner party was winding down, with most of its guests already gone. Even Ada had given you a kiss on the cheek before whispering that she was sneaking out. She wiggled her eye brows, causing you to roll you eyes and shove her away, whispering your own ‘be safe’ back at her. 

Of course, Benji took the opportunity to swoop in to fill the opening. 

“Your first Christmas in Small Heath?”

You nodded, taking a sip to keep your mouth busy. 

“I’ve always liked winter over summer. Sure, it gets bone cold, but there’s less smoke in the air during the winter,” he mused, topping off his own glass and offering to do the same for you. 

“That so?” 

He shrugged, “Dunno, just feels like it, I guess. Maybe it’s more to do with the days being shorter.” 

You nodded, slightly surprised at the insight. “Could be.” 

“Do you have to go back to the Garrison tonight?” 

You coughed at his unexpected turn in subject. “Um, no, Harry closed the pub for Christmas Eve.”

“So you’re free, then? We could go get a drink—“

“We have a drink,” you replied, holding up your glass. “And we’re guests at a party.” 

“Come on, no one would miss us if we left—“

Scudboat appeared behind Benji, dropping a weighted hand to his shoulder. “Gotta go, Hancock.” 

Benji’s brow creased as he scoffed. “Now?” 

“Aye, it’s Russel. Just got the order.”

Benji huffed, “It’s Christmas Eve. Can’t we do this after the holiday?” 

“You know the drill. It’ll hurt his family more to see that face Christmas morning. Will make him think twice next time. Tommy’s orders. Now!” 

Scudboat left you both as Benji turned back toward you, blowing a big breath out of his nose as he cursed under his breath. “No rest for a Blinder.” 

No rest for the wicked, you found yourself thinking, your tongue too tied to say the words aloud. Russel — you recognized the name of a copper from the family books. He’d been one of the more recent discrepancies you’d alerted. And now he was going to get beat up, or cut, on Christmas Eve. 

And it was on Tommy’s orders. You swallowed down a big gulp of your drink as Benji said his farewell. 

“Ready?” 

Tommy’s voice behind you caused you to jump startled. You turned to face him, his own expression seemed slightly perturbed as he watched the Peaky boys leave the shop. 

“Ready for what?” Your voice wasn’t as strong as it normally was, feeling both caught off guard as well as slightly uneasy about the darker side of Tommy. 

It wasn’t like you were an idiot. You knew this came with the territory. Tommy Shelby was a gangster, as much as he wanted to call himself a businessman. Violence was as much a currency of this business as money. And here you were, contributing to that violence. 

But you knew the world you were now a part of wasn’t that simple. Maybe this copper deserved it, maybe he didn’t. If you were going to be a part of this company, you’d have to trust the people making the calls, even if it went against your own moral code. 

Did you even have a moral code anymore? Were you just making excuses?

“To talk, like I promised,” he replied, his eyes finally moving back to you. “Unless you’d rather join Hancock.” 

His jealousy caused you to chuckle, despite your prior thoughts. “I told you last night I wasn’t interested in him.” 

He hummed, “Maybe you ought to tell that to him then, eh? This way,” he placed his hand to your back as he directed you back toward the house. 

You noticed him exchange a look with Polly before leaving the room. 

“Where are we going?” You asked hesitantly as he directed you toward the stairs. 

He didn’t answer you, instead taking the lead as he brought you to the top of the stairs and opened the door. “My room.” 

The room was small and plain. A bed even smaller than yours in the corner, a nightstand, a chair, a dresser, and a fireplace. The decor was also minimum: a mirror hung at the head of the bed, a lit lamp on the nightstand, a crucifix on the wall by the door, and a few other photos and paintings dispersed between the walls, nightstand, and fireplace, which was also already lit. 

The air smelled different in the room. There was something else, in addition to the outside air, sweat, and cigarettes that you’d grown used to. Your eyes searched for a source, but gave up when Tommy closed the door behind him. 

“You’re not worried someone will hear?” You asked as Tommy chose to sit in the chair by the nightstand, leaving you to either continue standing or sit on the bed. 

“This room is pretty sound proof, long as we don’t do any shouting. The other guests will leave through the betting shop doors. They won’t stay for long, Pol knows that we’re here and will clear them all out soon enough and lock up behind ‘em. I’ll walk you home when we’re done,” he said, pulling out the cigarette case.

He pulled out another stick and ran it across his lips, causing you to lick your own and making you fully aware that you were finally alone in a bedroom. God, your stupid libido. First you were questioning your own morality, and now all you wanted to do was jump his bones. 

“Did you, um — did you drink the tea yet?”

Your eyes flicked back toward him, surprised at his question. “That where you want to start?” 

He shrugged, lifting up the case before setting it gently on the nightstand. “I hadn’t intended, but in the spirit of gift giving, seems as good a place as any.” 

You turned away from him, anxiously avoiding his question by continuing to examine the room and get your mind out of the gutter. The box in question was currently sitting in your dresser drawer, shoved in there after you’d finally unpacked so you wouldn’t have to look at it. 

“And why not?” Tommy followed-up, taking your silence as a no. 

You shook your head, taking a deep breath before answering, “I have to think about it. I’m convinced it’ll either give me a seizure or just end up being a really bad cup of tea — both of which I believe will happen before it lets me talk with the dead.” 

“Perhaps you should talk to Pol. She’s always been more in tune with that side of things, she could offer you some guidance.” 

“Maybe,” you mumbled, still unconvinced. 

“We’ll revisit that another time, eh. Where is it that you want to start, then?” He asked. 

Your mouth felt dry as you tried to consider your options. Honestly, you’d expected Tommy to take the lead in this debrief, almost demanding answers or explanations. You hadn’t expected him to hand you the reigns, and you found yourself struggling to get a grip. 

He was watching you as you considered his question, refusing to speak first. You took a gulp of your drink before finally sitting down on the edge of the bed. 

“My nightmares — the two dreams that I had in the wagon, I’ve never had dreams like those before. I’ve had realistic dreams before. Mundane or stress-induced dreams where I’m living out my normal day and then wake up and can’t believe I have to do it all again. I’ve had dreams of memories, replaying of certain events. Hell, I’ve even lucid dreamed, where I recognized a dream I’d had before and been able to change the dream. But I have never in my life had dreams like the ones I had in that wagon.”

Tommy’s eyes flicked toward the wall across from him, some recognition in your words. If you hadn’t been so lost in your own recounting, you might have picked up on it, but instead you continued on. 

“It felt so real — more than a memory, like I was actually standing in that garden, feeling the wind against my face. But it wasn’t my memory. It wasn’t me. It was like I was watching and feeling the memory of another.”

“Whose?” 

You swallowed before looking back up at Tommy. “I think I was dreaming about the story of Cassandra and Apollo.” 

You left out the part where in your dreams Apollo just happened to look exactly like Tommy, just with golden eyes. The logical part of you knew that your brain was just inserting what it knew into the dream. Wasn’t it a known fact in your time that people only saw the faces of those they knew in their dreams? That’s all it was, you told yourself. 

Tommy took a long drag of his cigarette. “You goin’ to explain who those people are, or just leave me in the dark?”

“Do you know much about Greek mythology?” you asked, trying to gauge how to approach this. 

Tommy shook his head. You took a moment to collect yourself, your brain ready to jump into explanation and story telling mode. This was one of your favorite subjects, after all. You took a sip of your drink before leaning against the wall, making yourself more comfortable on the bed. 

“Where I’m from—” you started, swallowing as you decided to stop trying to hide the little details of your life — if you were going to do this, you might as well dive in. “I got to learn about it in school, mostly in language arts or social studies. I asked a teacher once why we were taught Greek over other mythologies, like Norse or any Asian religion — she seemed to believe it was because of the influence the Ancient Greek, and then Roman, society had over Europe, which then influenced Western civilization. There’s written records on top of word-of-mouth story telling that has lasted tens of thousands of years. And the influence they still have on philosophy, architecture, military, governance, agriculture, medicine — hell, even the word alphabet is Greek for alpha and beta, the first two letters of the Greek alphabet. Shakespeare wrote plays based on the mythology, Renaissance artists created masterpieces in an attempt to bring it to life. She said it was close to the same reason we learned about Medieval stories even though there’s no historical truth to King Arthur and Camelot. But we all learned them. And it started with literature.”

Tommy blew a puff of smoke, seemingly unimpressed with your pretense. “Ok.”

“Two of the oldest works of literature that’s still widely referenced are Homer’s epic poems — the Iliad and the Odyssey. The stories are pretty significant because of their themes about fate, glory, heroism, pride, wrath. And there’s so many phrases that originated or were inspired by the stories: an Achilles heel, Trojan horse, a face that launched a thousand ships, stuck between a rock and a hard place—”

“You’re losin’ me, Y/N.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I’m just — I’m trying to figure out how to make it make sense. The Iliad tells the story of the Trojan war, a ten-year battle between the ancient cities of Troy and Sparta, mostly focusing on the abduction of the Spartan Queen Helen, and the hero Achilles who was recruited to help save her. That’s a crazy oversimplification of the story, and honestly I’ve read so many retellings I’m not even certain on the actual story anymore. But it’s really quite interesting if you want to hear about it some time — I think you would especially find the character of Achilles interesting—”

“Y/N,” Tommy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he waved his hand along. “Madam Despoina said you were named after a Trojan princess. That was Cassandra, ya?”

The sound of Tommy saying your middle name out loud for the first time made your chest tighten.

You nodded, avoiding the feeling. “A Trojan prince was the one who stole Helen, the Queen of Sparta, so the Spartans and the Greeks attacked Troy to get her back. Cassandra was a Trojan princess who was also a priestess.”

Tommy hummed, “And you said that God gave her the gift of prophecy, but then He wanted to fuck her and she refused.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his retelling. “Something like that. But the Greeks didn’t believe in just one God, they had a pantheon of gods, goddesses, titans, and other creatures who all had roles they played in the creation and general day-to-day motion of the world and its people. One of those gods was Apollo.”

He leaned back in his chair, “The god Madam Despoina kept going on about.”

“Exactly. He was the god of, well, a lot of things — but he’s mostly tied to references of the Sun and light. He’s also the god of music, the arts, medicine, archery, town building, and prophecy.”

“And that’s where the Delphi come in?”

“Yep. They were priestesses who spoke his word at his temple, where people would travel from all over for a consult with the oracles. The Greeks considered this temple to be the center of the world.”

“So the princess wouldn’t fuck this god Apollo, so he cursed her. Why not just take back the gift?”

“A common myth is that a god couldn’t undo the work of another god, even their own work. So when Cassandra wouldn’t sleep with him, he couldn’t take back his gift of prophecy. He cursed her instead. She had no choice but accurately predict the future, but no one would believe her. Throughout the war, she tried to warn the Trojans, her family, of the dangers of their actions, but they couldn’t believe. Eventually, the visions of disaster and frustrations of being called a liar and madwoman drove her insane.”

“Why didn’t she just lie? Say the opposite and then they’d believe her?”

You shrugged, smiling at hearing the same question you’d asked your own teacher. “I don’t think she could lie. I don’t think she could even stop herself from telling the prophecies, otherwise I don’t see why she wouldn’t have just shut up early on.”

“What happened to her?”

“She predicted the fall of Troy, and the deaths of her family, we well as her own death. Before that, during the siege, she was raped, and then given away as a concubine to one of the Greek Kings. She and the King were then killed by the Queen and her lover.”

“And what happened to Helen?” he asked, genuinely curious it seemed to the story. 

“In Homer’s story, Paris, the Trojan prince who kidnapped her gets killed along with most of the rest of his family, and she’s reunited with her Spartan husband.”

“Lucky her.”

You scoffed, “Comparatively, I guess.”

“Does the story match up with your dreams?” 

“Kind of. In the stories, it’s always implied that either Cassandra promised that she’d sleep with him in exchange for the gift and then refused when he came to collect, or that she didn’t promise him and he just assumed that she’d give herself to him if he gave her the gift. Madam Despoina seemed to imply that there was another side to the story.” 

“Which is?” 

“In my dreams so far, it seems like maybe they actually both were in love with each other. But then something shifts and he’s cursing me— her. And that’s when I wake up.” 

“That explains why you kept saying you were cursed,” Tommy mused, taking another sip of his own glass before reaching for the bottle that was already on the nightstand and refilling it. He offered to refill your own glass, which you accepted. “And the main question — what does that all have to do with you?”

You took a deep breath, taking a big gulp of your drink, the warm liquid burning down your throat. “I think Madam Despoina thinks that my mother named me after the Cassandra from this story. It seemed like she was implying that I’m a descendant of Cassandra, or I don’t know, maybe a reincarnation? Both of which are ridiculous.”

Tommy’s brow creased, “Why?”

You shook your head, flopping down to lay flat on the bed, setting your glass on the nightstand. “Because it’s just a story, it isn’t even real! Homer wrote the Iliad like hundreds, maybe thousands of years after the war would have happened. If it even did at all. There’s some evidence of civilization in the area Troy is thought to have been, and even some evidence of war I think, but still. Now, the odds of Madam Despoina being a descendant of the Greek Delphi may be more likely, since there was more evidence of the temple discovered and records found. I still think it’s highly unlikely, but who am I to question her. Maybe some distant relative passed along the stories and traveled across Europe.”

“That’s the rumor,” he nodded. “Came from Balkan gypsies, they say. Would explain why their clan is so deep and connected.”

“As well as the divinity shtick.”

“And the tattoo, it connects you,” Tommy added as he stood up out of the chair and walked toward the bed, lifting up your legs and sitting at the end of the mattress, pulling your legs back to drape over his lap. 

“I got this tattoo on a whim,” you said with a shrug, as of trying to shake it off your back. “I just drew it one day and decided to get it for my first tattoo.” 

He chuckled, “So, what, after everything you’re just goin’ to chalk that up to a fuckin’ coincidence?” 

You huffed, “I don’t know. What else am I supposed to believe? That I thought of the tattoo because something in my blood or heritage or some mythological corner of my subconscious knew that one day I’d need to meet a Balkan gypsy family of fortune tellers who’s ancestry dates back to my own?”

“Is that harder to believe than the two of us having dreams of each other before we’d ever even met?” He asked, the question feeling like a cold splash of water. 

“No,” you groaned, throwing your hand over your face. “Both are just as ridiculous.”

Tommy rubbed your leg reassuringly. “Just one more question, and then I’ll drop the subject — for now at least.” 

You sat up, realizing you were practically in his lap as you waited for him to continue. 

“When I went to speak with Madam Despoina alone, she told me that our fates were entwined. That I shouldn’t repeat the follies of her god and that if I listened to you, if I didn’t push you, if I trusted you, we would achieve so much more together than apart. That you can predict the future, and I would be a fool to take your advice lightly.”

“Tommy, I can’t—“ 

“Can you predict the future?” He asked softly, running his fingers along your jawline. 

“It’s not that simple, Tommy.“ You looked between his eyes, swallowing before dropping your gaze. “I know things. Not everything, I can’t predict Ada’s future or tell you what Harry’s going to have for dinner a week from now. But I know that the prohibition amendment will pass in America at the beginning of the year. I know the worker strikes will only continue to get worse. I know the Irish will continue to fight against the British government for independence, and eventually between themselves. I know that jazz music is going to be everywhere.”

“You knew when the end of the war was goin’ to be,” he added. 

“And I know other things — things I can’t—“ you swallowed, lifting your eyes back to his and bringing your own hand to his face. 

“Perhaps you are Cassandra,” he said, his eyes moving down to your lips, “and this time, I’m to believe you. I’m to protect you from this bloody curse.” 

Your breath hitched at his words, “You— you believe? Me, all this? How?”

“Talk to Polly. Drink the tea. Who bloody knows if Madam Despoina is telling the truth or if she’s a fuckin’ nutter. But I trust my gut, and my gut has wanted you from the moment I saw you in my dreams.” 

“Really?” You whispered with what little breath you seemed to have. 

He smiled, humming. “And since you yelled at me down by the Cut.”

“I didn’t yell,” you chuckled, feeling the mood lighten again, your face just a breath away from his own. 

He pulled you forward just enough for your lips to meet for the fourth time that night, kissing you softly. You kissed him back, the build up from tonight and two nights before making you needy. 

“Tommy,” you whimpered when his mouth left your own for your neck. You swallowed thickly as an insecure thought crept through your mind. “I’m not a doll though, Tommy.”

“I know,” he said against your skin, his breath causing you to shiver. 

“I don’t know how to help you,” you added, suddenly worried about whatever promises Madam Despoina seemed to be making for you. 

He pulled away from your neck to meet your eyes again, running his hand through your hair. “You’ve already helped me, Y/N. I don’t care if you can tell the future — I don’t care if you can’t. I just know…” he paused, his adam’s apple bobbing as he rest his forehead against yours, “I need you, Y/N.” 

>> next chapter

<< chapter masterlist

tag list: @cillixn @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame @swordofawriter @sweetmilkshakeluminary @ttae-yong @topstory21 @cole-silas @moral-terpitude @optimisticsandwichgladiator @reallysparklychaos @enrapturedbythemoon @bat-shark-repellant @kpopslur @ilovestrngrthgs @musicsweetie21 @invisiblexcth @lovelydivs @whoisf4yryl0v3r @itscheybaby @laylasbunbunny @lordofthunderthr @luvstylesz @roseanimelover @lostgirl219 @berarenado @akemiixx01 @mulletmcghee @jasminxts @fanfics-that-hit-my-feels @piceous21 @xoprincessmel @arcanebabe @booktvmoviefangirl @cillmequick @nataliewalker93 @the-blueatlas @regatoni1 @goblinjnr @litteltourtius @xxbeckybeexx-blog @tanyaherondale @sometimes-i-sing @littlewhiterose @ja-4-leyvam @rubyxx16 @wildernessflora @radrouda @woofgocows @globetrotter28 @pet1t3 @allie131313 @happinesscomestothosewhowait

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x oc #Tommy Shelby reader insert #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas Shelby x oc #tommy shelby x ofc #thomas Shelby x ofc #fanfic #time after time #mine

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Peaky Blinders Masterlist

Please note - All stories smutty unless otherwise stated.

Nobody's Girl (Luca/OFC Series)

Immortal Beloved (John/Vampire!OFC Series)

La Dolce Vita (John/Cosima Changretta OFC Series)

Your Touch Builds a Bonfire (John/Reader one shot)

The Art of Pleasure (Modern day!Dom!John/Reader) - Part One Part Two

The Promise of Rubies (John/Reader one shot)

Wet Sheets (John/Reader one shot)

Baby Face (John/Reader one shot)

She Belonged to the Wild (Tommy/Reader one shot)

Buffed Brass and Baritones (Arthur/Reader one shot)

Animal (Luca/Reader one shot)

~*~ Drabbles & Shorts ~*~

Twitch (John/Reader)

Burn Bright White (John/Reader)

Little Sunshine (John/Reader)

Tiny Shelby Feet (John/Reader)

Never Forgotten (Arthur/Reader)

First Bloom (Tommy/Virgin!reader)

Devastating (Tommy/Reader)

Hungry (Luca/Reader)

Dance with the Devil (Luca/Reader)

Prompt short - "I know he's the one you're getting married to, but he'll never love you like I do." - (Tommy/Reader)

Prompt short - "Really? You're pregnant?" - (Tommy/Reader)

Prompt short - "If I have to stop what I'm doing, you won't be able to walk for the rest of the week." (Tommy/Reader)

Prompt short -  “Stop being a tease, or I’ll take you to the nearest darkened corner and fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk.” (Tommy/Reader)

Prompt short - “Good with your hands, hmm? I think I want to know more.” - (John/Reader)

Prompt short - “No, we’re not going anywhere yet. Not until I get to show you just how gorgeous I think you look.” - (John/Reader)

#john shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfiction #john shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #john shelby x ofc #tommy shelby x ofc #peaky blinders imagine #john shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #peaky fucking blinders

[sneakyblinders]

All His

A/N: another installment of the tommy x bee series aka Tommy and his darling wife!au <3 inspired by a lovely anon and @skydisneylover's asks for something with jealous tommy & how they said i love you <3 warnings: sexual themes, 18+ only, minors DNI. Alluding to smut, but no smut. Tommy being jealous/possessive, language. I take no credit for the gif! 1.5k words.

Tommy and Bee had been courting for two months. He felt like he was floating. In a dream. Having an out of body experience. This cannot be my life, he constantly thought to himself about this woman, this angel who graced his life with her time and attention. 

He began to bring her down to Birmingham on the weekends, sending a car for her up to London and having her brought to the Midland. He wanted her all to himself. Wanted to pleasure her, hold her, let her make all the noise she could manage without fear of his family overhearing and giving them both grief for it over breakfast. Wanted no one but himself to hear her mewls, her groans, whines, moans. The way she fucking moans makes him fall apart in her hands. 

She was everything he was not. Kind, charming, elegant, classy. She matched him in intelligence and wit. He had not seen her get angry with anyone besides him but once–she was calm–always soothing. 

In the back of his mind he knew she was too good for him. Out of his league. He knew she would one day discover his darkness, the depths of hell he had been through, and would deem him unredeemable. He was preparing for the day when his heart would be shattered, and his world would go from vibrant color back to shades of gray. 

But he loved her. He knew he loved her from the first few times they had really spent time together. Knew he loved her definitely from the first time they’d made love. How nervous she was to tell him she’d never done anything like this with a man before. His heart ached to tell her that he loved her. That he desperately loved her–that she was all he thought of day and night. He couldn’t bear to be apart from her any longer. Needed her, wanted her in Birmingham, sharing his bed, his home, his life. But he was terrified of her rejection, or worse, of her acceptance, and later, her rejection and abandonment.

So in the meantime, he showered her with gifts. Perfumes, dresses, lingerie, flowers. He bought her a mother of pearl watch with a gold band after they had been courting for a month. The next week he made love to her for the first time and bought her a delicate diamond anklet, clasping it on, her legs still thrown over his shoulders, still shaking from the pleasure he had brought her to seconds before. He’d recently discovered an emerald baguette necklace and instantly thought it needed to adorn her neck. 

He was walking faster than normal through Birmingham to get to the Midland, anxious to see her. Feel her. Touch her. Hear her voice. He walked through the doors and heard her giggle. Brow furrowed, he walked into the lounge, where she sat across from a young man who was flirting, telling her some ridiculous story. 

“Oh, there he is,” she said, looking at Tommy, breathless from laughing. Jealousy pooled in Tommy’s gut, knowing the day of her finding a better man was approaching soon. “It was lovely to talk to you, Sam,” she said, standing up to walk towards Tommy. “Hello, handsome,” she said, reaching up to kiss him on the lips. 

Far too distracted in his thoughts, he didn’t lean into her like he normally did, causing her to pull away far earlier than she would like. “Hello, darling,” he rasped, a hand on the small of her back. “Go on up to the room, I’m going to get some whiskey and I’ll be up, hm?” he said. She nodded before disappearing up the stairs to their room. 

He thoughtlessly retrieved a bottle of Irish whiskey from the bar before slowly walking up to the room. He groaned when he pushed the door open and saw her lying in the middle of the giant bed in nothing but a baby pink silk babydoll slip he’d bought for her. 

“Are you alright?” she asked as he kicked the door closed behind him and turned the lock. 

“Just tired, Darling. S’all,” he mumbled, walking to the window and closing the curtains. 

He set the bottle of whiskey down on the nightstand closest to the door–the side of the bed he always deemed as his. “Are you certain?” she asked as he loosened his tie and removed his jacket from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. 

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Been a long week and I’ve been looking forward to this since we left last time,” he said, unclasping his cufflinks as she rubbed her thighs together, dying from the anticipation, growing needy at this show of undressing he was making. 

“But,” she began as he removed his sleeve garters and braces from his shoulders. “You didn’t kiss me like you normally do,” she said, widening her eyes and batting her eyelashes at him as he unbuttoned his shirt. 

“Mm,” he threw his shirt and undershirt in the pile of discarded clothes on the floor. “And how do I normally kiss you, hm?” he asked, crawling on top of her on the bed. 

“Like a starved man,” she said, legs wrapping around his waist. 

“Mm, I see,” he kissed her neck. “If I am a starved man, then you are the meal I’ve waited my whole life for, eh?” he pressed his hips into hers, causing a whimper to leave her lips. Her hands moved down to unfasten his trousers and push them down his legs, along with his undershorts, leaving him bare atop her. His hand moved up to grip her jaw, causing her to gasp, eyes flying open. “Who was that man?” he asked, jaw clenched. 

“What man?” she asked, eyes wide in fear. 

“The man in the lounge,” he said, anger pouring from his words. 

“I don’t know, some man who wanted to ask if I knew of any good pubs,” she swallowed. “I told him the Garrison,” she said, flinching at his grip. “Thomas, please, you’re hurting me,” she whimpered. 

He loosened his grip immediately, breathing heavily. “If you want to run off with another man, just say it, Bee,” he said, sitting up and reaching for his bottle of whiskey, taking a long swig straight from the bottle. 

She sat up, hurt and confusion running through her mind. “Thomas, I’m not going anywhere,” she said, fighting back tears. 

He took another long pull on the bottle before setting it down with a thud and crawling back on top of her, laying her flat on her back. “Say it again,” he demanded, clasping her jaw in his hand again. 

“What?” she asked. 

“Say it again,” he demanded, pressing his hips into hers. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Thomas,” she repeated. 

“Tell me you’re mine,” he told her, dipping down to nip at a particularly sensitive spot on her neck that drove her wild.

“I’m all yours, Thomas,” she told him breathlessly, legs wrapping around his hips again. 

“Again,” he breathed, slinking down her body. 

“All yours!” she cried breathlessly. 

By midnight he was drunk. He didn’t make a habit of being drunk, and he actually couldn’t remember the last time he was properly drunk. But between the pleasure high he was riding and being thoroughly intoxicated with this woman, he had lost track of how much he had drunk until the bottle was nearly half empty. 

“Got something for ‘ya,” he said, walking over to his discarded jacket and fishing out the necklace he had bought her. 

“Thomas,” she scolded as he held it out, clasping it for her around her neck. “It’s beautiful, thank you,” she told him, pressing a kiss to his lips. 

They fell back onto the bed together, legs intertwined, her fingers drawing shapes on his chest while he lit a cigarette. “I don’t think I could deny you anything y’know?” he said. 

“Why’s that?” she giggled. 

“Those eyes,” he said, shaking his head. “Those fucking eyes could get me to do anything, I swear,” he said and she continued to giggle. 

“Anything?” 

“Yeah,” he said. “I have something else to tell ‘ya, but I know you don’t feel the same fuckin’ way so don’t laugh at me, eh?” he said. 

“Oh, Thomas, please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “What is it?” she asked, a hand over his heart. 

“I love you, Bee,” he said gently, all the tenderness in his mind, heart, body poured into those words. “I have from the moment I saw ya, I think,” he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. “There ya have it. Tommy Shelby–in love.” 

She looked at him with an awestruck expression, all words escaping her. “Thomas,” she breathed. 

“Ya don’t have to say it back, I know someone like you could never love someone like me,” he said, sitting up and reaching for his whiskey again. 

“Thomas,” she said again as he tipped his head back, taking a long drink.

“Hm?” 

She took his bottle and put it on her nightstand, before taking his head in her hands. “I love you too, Thomas,” a smile appeared on his face. “I didn’t think you were the kind of man to say I love you, that’s why I didn’t say it sooner,” she confessed. 

“I’m not the kind of man to say it,” he admitted. “But if you want to hear it, I’ll say it every day for the rest of my life,” he told her, happiness overwhelming him. 

“Are you happy, Thomas?” she asked.

“So fucking happy, Darling.” he breathed, kissing her. “All mine?” he asked, pulling away from her to look at her fully.

“All yours,” she said, smiling as he kissed her again. 

#tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby x ofc #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x ofc #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peakywomen #peaky blinder imagine #sneakyblinders #my au <3

[justrainandcoffee]

Tommy asked Timmy, the cat, to keep quiet while he was trying to enter their bedroom to suprise Eleanor. But Timmy, who was hungry, had another idea and meowed louder. Tommy sighed, obviously the kitten was the winner. He left the flowers on the armchair and went to the kitchen to feed the little animal.

Ellie wake up with the noises and walked out of the bedroom only to find Timmy looking at her with his big eyes, the bouquet was in front of him.

From the kitchen he heard his wife laughing and when he peeked out door, he saw her kissing Timmy's head. The traitor. Fortunately the day was just starting and Tommy had two more gifts for her.

For @dearshelby || Tommy x Eleanor || masterlist

#tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby x ofc #peaky blinders #moodboard #cillian murphy #tommy shelby

[midnightswithdearkatytspb]

MidnightsWithDearKatyTSPB’s Recommendation List: April PT. 1

Welcome to April’s recommendation list. Below is the link to take you back to March pt 2 featuring Peaky Blinders, Triple Frontier, Frank Castle, Joel Miller, and the works I posted. The goal for April is to write another chapter In This Heart and rewrite The Spark. If you are interested in having your writing challenges featured here, your stories, or even your blog, please feel free to tag me in your works, message me, or use the hashtag MidnightWithDearKatyTSPB. I hope you had a great Easter if you celebrate it!

<< March ‘23 PT. 2 🍀

April ‘23 Pt. 2 🌷 >>

Masterlist

A Different Sort of Man (Moodboard) for @evita-shelby story.

Feel What You Feel (Moodboard + Blurb) >> Tommy Shelby x OFC!Estella Holland | "Perhaps this was the day she fell in love with Tommy Shelby."

Happy Birthday Mr. Pascal (Moodboard)

Invisible String (Moodboard) >> Tommy Shelby x OFC!Estella Holland | "And isn’t it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?"

It's Ok (Moodboard) >> Arthur Shelby x Beth | "It’s okay to be not okay."

Secret Garden (Moodboard) >> Arthur Shelby x Beth | “You saved me, Beth. Perhaps it’s time you allowed me to protect you from whatever demons you allow to darken your beautiful mind.”

Visitor (Moodboard + One-Shot) >> Tommy Shelby x OFC!Estella Holland | "You will never be alone, Tommy, because I’m always going to be in your heart..."

BLURBS:

I'd Kill For You by @there-goes-thefighter >> John Shelby x f!reader - Summary: John doesn't take too kindly to someone asking the girl he likes out. | This was so fluffy and cute in a Peaky Blinders sort of way.

March Madness Drabble Challenge 2023: DAY 23 by @acewritesfics >> John Shelby x Wife!Reader - Summary: John cares for his wife and son. | I love reading about John Shelby and his kids.

Obvious by @peakyscillian >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary/Request: 'Giggling about how their friends haven’t found out about them yet even though they’re being so obvious.' | This was very cute. I enjoyed it.

ONE-SHOTS:

Bye Bye Blackbird by @zablife >> Tommy Shelby x F!Reader - Summary: Tommy's love interest from before the war leaves for the excitement of the city, but a chance encounter years later finds her disillusioned with all that sparkles. Can he convince her to come home? | Lee does a wonderful job writing something beautiful and sad simultaneously.

How Much I Love You by @runnning-outof-time >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: (Y/N) takes the opportunity to tell Tommy what she thinks when she finds him still in bed. | Melancholy Tommy to content and in love Tommy, beautiful.

Life is a Cabaret by @notyour-valentine >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: Tommy has an iron-clad arrangement with a performer, one of his own making. | Val does such a good job with imagery in this one as well as emotions, leaving you wanting so much more for both Tommy and the reader. Like with most of Val's writing, you don't want to miss this one. It's angsty.

Not Yet by @raincoffeeandfandoms >> Tommy Shelby x Wife!Reader - Summary: One of the most difficult days of his life awaits him. He's ready to kill Mosley, but not yet. He's ready to make him pay for his horrible thoughts and crimes, but not yet. For the moment, he is in bed with his wife. Life at your side, it seems to be easier, and he loves that feeling. | Flor's way with words in this is just breathtakingly beautiful. It's a must-read.

Philopator by @notyour-valentine >> Tommy Shelby & Daughter!Reader - Summary: When Michael presents his offer to Tommy for a restructuring of the company, he mentions his daughter - after all, she is already involved, even if Tommy doesn’t know it yet. | The emotions are so well written in this, and the tears that I shed while reading. It's a must-read.

*Saltwater Tears by @areyenotfondofmelobster >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary/Request: Do you really want me? Or is this your way of getting back at my father? | So much emotion in this one. I felt the big decision weighing down on me. So good.

ONE-SHOTS:

Stormy Night by @jackfrombaskinrobbins >> Matt Murdock x teen!adopted!reader - Summary: Matt comes home banged up when his teenager should be in bed asleep. | I always thought Matt would make a good Uncle/Dad, and this further proves my idea he would.

An Unexpected Delight by @amhrosina >> Poly!Frank Castle x Reader x Matt Murdock - Summary: Frank wants a taste after Matt tells him how perfectly delicious you are. | Amazing and hot.

PEDRO PASCAL CHARACTERS:

Delicate by @slow-motionlovepotion >> Joel Miller x Reader - Summary: Sometimes when I look into your eyes, I pretend you're mine, all the damn time. | It was so scorching and very well written. I loved it.

Learned Something New by @wheresarizona >> Jack Daniels/Agent Whiskey x F!Reader - Summary: Reunion sex with Jack leads to a discovery. | This is just so very hot that I needed a tall glass of cold water to go with it.

Like Real People Do by @tightjeansjavi >> Joel Miller x f!reader - Summary: You, Joel, and Ellie arrive in Jackson for the first time. Joel sees your real smile for the first time in months, all thanks to Jackson’s horses. | This was adorable, and at times Ellie maybe steal the spotlight (in a good way.) I truly did love reading this fluffy piece.

Long Long Night by @toxic-seduction >> Joel Miller x afab!reader - Summary: “I’m not done with you.” or big dick Joel Miller fucks you hard. | 🥵 🥵 🥵 🥵 🥵 🥵

Nadie Espera un Milagro (No One Expects a Miracle) by @oonajaeadira >> Javier Peña x f!reader - Summary: Sassy, confident, American ex-pat female who finds her parents a little tedious and enjoys both her independence and her job as a high-level admin at the DEA. | Had me falling in love with Javi and how much he cared for the reader and wanted to prove to the reader's parents she could take care of herself.

Need To Know by @ayorooster >> dbf!Joel Miller x afab!reader - Summary: THE FIRST TIME Joel Miller realized how bad he had it for you was on a Saturday night. | It's hot 🥵 and I really enjoyed it.

*Salvatore Pt. 1 to Playing Dangerous by @devilmademewriteit >> Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader - Summary: A secretary with an attitude problem, a DEA agent with an insolence problem. Years ago, you'd stopped hoping for his character to improve, but he's still gunning to set you straight. It’s the worst day of your life, and Javier Peña aims to take advantage of that. | Plot leaves you wanting more and more and so excited there is a second part.

*Playing Dangerous Pt. 2 to Salvatore by @devilmademewriteit >> Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader - Summary: Sure, the fact that he’d schemed up an entire, elaborate ruse to get between your legs was upsetting. More upsetting was the fact that he refused to fess up, insisting that you needed to be protected (or at the very least—cautious) because your life was in ‘grave danger.’ Most upsetting, however? That would be the fact that through it all and above everything else, you still wanted him—badly. | It's a masterpiece. That's the best way to describe this overall.

Still Here by @sl-ut >> Joel Miller x Reader - Summary: Joel is older than y/n, but that’s never been a concern of hers until very recently. | The number of emotions I went through while reading this one was dozy. I needed tissues. So well written.

Swaddling by @babydin >> Joel Miller x Reader - Summary: Joel was not a morning person. But the morning after he had spent the night with his cock inside you and woke up fucking you? That day he was definitely a morning person. | Dirty with a dash of cuteness.

TRIPLE FRONTIER:

Erase It by @jake-g-lockley >> Santiago Garcia x reader - Summary/Prompt: they’re teasing each other when one character goes “then kiss me” and is surprised that the other character actually does it. | Can Santiago come take care of me during my periods, please? It's so fluffy and sexy. TW: Period Stuff

Husband Duties by @rayslittlekitten >> Will “Ironhead” Miller x Wife F!reader - Summary: Not being able to fall asleep, you wake your husband up to help with your situation. | Currently wishing I was Will's wife. TW: Pregnancy

WILLIAM DAFOE:

*Heroes by @areyenotfondofmelobster >> Sgt. Elias Grodin x OFC! Alexis Ryder - Summary: He is king, and she is queen. He smokes, and she is mean. Tomorrow, death may take them, but today, they are heroes. A story about love, war, courage, and the duality of man -- inspired by the David Bowie song, "Heroes". | This is a beautifully well-done story.

Just Because 🌻 (Moodboard) by @raincoffeeandfandoms >> Modern!Tommy Shelby

Keep Us Safe (Moodboard) by @running-outof-time >> Tommy Shelby x Wife!Reader | for @zablife story Keep Us Safe.

Peaky Blinders characters with a daughter who gets her first period by @scorpiussage | I read Alfie’s dialogue in his voice; it was so spot on. I can see Arthur getting all pale. Tommy would stand by and listen to help in the future. So good.

Phantom!Alfie x Christine!Reader (Moodboard) by @raincoffeeandfandoms >> Alfie Solomons x Reader | I'm a huge fan of Phantom of the Opera, so this moodboard is just perfect, especially for Alfie. I think.

@notyour-valentine - Val is a fantastic writer at conveying the tone, setting, and emotions. I often feel like I've stepped inside the piece of writing I'm reading or watched it play out on screen instead of reading it. Not only does she write for Peaky Blinders, but she also writes for House of Dragons.

@cillmequick - Alex is a talented writer who writes for Peaky Blinder's fandom with two main stories. The Lockdown Sessions is a Cillian Murphy series, and Betrayal is a Tommy Shelby story feat. Luca Changretta. Alex recently celebrated 6 months of posting her stories. So, give her stories a read and a follow.

@areyenotfondofmelobster - S brings forth emotions when writing for Adrien Characters and Peaky Blinders, to name her current favorites. I've enjoyed three of her pieces, and they have moved me to tears, and I love it when a writer can do that. Her current series White Ribbon features Luca Changretta.

#tommy shelby #joel miller #peaky blinders #benny miller #midnightswithdearkatytspb #fanfiction recommendation #john shelby #john shelby x reader #tommy shelby x ofc #thomas shelby x ofc #thomas shelby #moodboards #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #alfie solomons x reader #joel miller x reader #2023 fic rec #ktk recommendation list #fanfiction rec list #ktk rec '23 #fanfiction recommendation list #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal moodboard #pedro pascal #arthur shelby x ofc #arthur shelby #william dafoe #javi pena x reader #narcos #santiago garcia x reader

[peakyblindas]

Summer Haze (Tommy Shelby x OFC)

Tommy visits Berkley House one summers afternoon, looking for Fawn and reflects on the woman he once called his.

Tagging: @evita-shelby @zablife

Tommy Shelby always felt unwelcome at Barkley House, He felt as if he’d jumped the fence and snuck into someone else's land and that at any moment he would be shot for trespassing.

“Fi here?” 

He asked, glancing around at the foyer of the house, avoiding eye contact with the man in front of him, Matthew Dormer tried his best to be nice to Tommy, but in his eyes, Tommy could see the hatred, he respected him for at least pretending, he supposed.

“Out in the grounds, shooting I think.”

How a girl like Fawn O’Hart ended up married to a man like Dormer, Tommy would never understand, he was all bright eyed and golden haired, he was raised with all the privileges Fawn and he never had, he was from a completely other world and at one time, Fawn would have spat on his marbled floors and threatened to burn this house down.

Dormer gestured with a paint stained hand, his fingertips were purple, stained, Did he know how stained his wife's hands were with blood? 

“If you go to the stables, Mel can help you saddle up one of the horses..It's far quicker and less muddy than walking.”

Tommy repressed a eye roll, Dormer was such a saint, taking on Fawn’s daughter, Melody, the girls Father was a American, died in a fire before she was even born, but Saint Matthew had officially adopted her when he and Fawn married, he didn’t even care she was half black, it was amazing he didn’t have a halo on his head.

“Aight..” Tommy cleared his throat “Thanks.”

Melody was a good girl, got her Mother’s good nature and wit, she was smart and loved horses, was a natural with them too.

“Uncle Tommy?” She asked as they trotted out of the stables 

“Yes, love?”

“Do you think I can train racehorses one day?”

“Of course, you’re a natural with ‘em, horses are good to folk who are good to them.”

“Mummy says you know a trainer, a Ms. Carleton.” 

“Yes I know Ms. Carleton, she trained one of my horses for me.”

“Would you introduce me to her?”

Tommy laughed, eleven years old and already making connections for future employment, she was Fawn’s daughter all right.

“Of course.”  

They rode in silence for a few minutes, before Melody stopped and Tommy copied

“Mum’s over there, I’m gonna take Galahad to the orchid.” She patted the horse's black mane “It was nice seeing you, Uncle.”

“You too, take care of yourself, alright?”

She nodded and smiled, it was Fawn’s smile, Dottie had inherited it too, As Melody rode away, Tommy found himself hoping that all Dottie had inherited from him was his eyes, God knows he had nothing else to offer her.

Fawn was behind a hill facing a lake, wearing a long black dress that fluttered in the midday breeze, Tommy watched as she raised a rifle and followed a flock of birds, before shooting, one of the birds fell to the floor, dead as a stone.

The wind caught in her hair, long and jet black, she walked through the grass, he remembered when they used to hunt pigeons.

God he loved her, more than anyone else he’d ever claimed to love, she was perfect in every way, she understood him more than anyone, she’d touched his soul with her bare hands and he’d stupidly pushed her away.

She picked up the dead bird and held it by its neck, she rested the rifle on her shoulder and turned, she saw him, and waved the bird, beaming from cheek to cheek, it hurt him to know he wasn’t the real cause of that smile, not really.

“Thomas!” She greeted “Fancy staying for dinner?”

“Of course.” He replied “No place I’d rather be.”

#OC: Fawn O'Hart #tommy shelby x ofc #tommy shelby #peaky blinders ocs #peaky blinders fan fic

[redahlia-writes]

peaky blinders masterlist

* contains explicit smut (my entire blog is 18+) - masterlist

tommy shelby

no grave can hold my body down. | series | ao3 only *

because the longing needs the leaving / and the loving needs the bleeding. | series | ao3 only *

#peaky blinder fanfiction #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby x ofc #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby x ofc

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven In Your Eyes || Masterlist

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC (Heaven Lavey Shelby)

Additional content/Info: CLICK HERE

Fic Summary: He meets her at church one dreary night, guided by her singing. Her name? Heaven Lavey. White ivory hair, fair porcelain skin, and petite shape, this almost ethereal creature is Arthur's strict opposite. Yet, all it took was one dive into her heavenly eyes for him to be convinced God has sent His sweetest angel to save his bastard soul. The two lovebirds, obsessed with each other, are determined to live their love no matter people's judgments and no matter the dangers of a Peaky Blinder's life. They are together through the best and through the worst.

But behind her holy appearance and sweet facade, Heaven Lavey is dangerous. With rumors of witchcraft and murder, her shady past weighs on her shoulders. And if she is a blessing for Arthur Shelby, she will soon prove to be a curse for those who dare to stand in her and her husband's way. Even Thomas Shelby himself.

She is Arthur’s Angel, but don't get fooled by her doe eyes: for the rest of us, she is the White Devil.

And by extend, you are too.

Why? Because Heaven Lavey… It’s you.

TW: Major character death, explicit sexual content, canonical violence, graphic description of violence, blasphemy, witch trials and burning of innocent women, dependent relationship (if Arthur and Heaven are happy in their relationship, they are obsessed and possessive, which leads to bursts of violence and deifying from Arthur. By no means I am claiming their relationship is healthy, but it is what works for them)

ACT I.

♢ Ch. 1 || Heaven in Your Eyes

♢ Ch. 2 || Never Did, Never Dared

♢ Ch. 3 || Something Wicked This Way Comes 🔞

♢ Ch. 4 || Dead Bird at Witchin Hour

♢ Ch. 5 || The Hell in His Eyes

♢ Ch. 6 || The One They Should Have Burned

♢ Ch. 7 || Of Matches and Gasoline 🔞

♢ Ch. 8 || Tango on Broken Dreams

ACT II.

♢ Ch. 9 || For Whom the Bells Toll

♢ Ch. 10 || Closer to Heaven or Closer to Hell? 🔞

♢ Ch. 11 || When The Bridges Burn

♢ Ch. 12 || As They Always Did

♢ Ch. 13 || Cross My Heart and Hope to Die

♢ Ch. 14 || Pure As a Lamb 🔞

♢ Ch. 15 || Women Like Me in a Men's World

♢ Ch. 16 || Après Moi le Déluge ( c o m i n g . . .)

♢ Ch. 17 || ( Il Diàvulu Biancu)

♢ Ch. 18 ||

ACT III.

♢ Ch. 18 ||

♢ Ch. 19 ||

♢ Ch. 20 ||

♢ Ch. 21 ||

♢ Ch. 22 ||

♢ Ch. 23 ||

♢ Ch. 24 ||

♢ Ch. 25 ||

♢ The series can be longer.

Some events from the show are taken and obviously reworked. Yet, except for a few quotes and scenes, everything else is imagined by the author.

Related works - in chronological order-

♢ From Blood We Will Grow

♢ To Bark and Bite

♢ Kaiser Meeting Cyril (requested)

♢ A Bone to Pick With It (requested)

♢ Perfect Lines

♢ Savage Daughter

♢ A Slice of Us (Modern!HYE)

♢ Love Ritual (@zablife's celebration)

♢ The Woods Whisper 1, 2 (Halloween Horror)

♢Little Lamb 1, 2, 3 (Yandere!AU)

Moodboards and other content

♢ Playlist

♢ Moodboard Aesthetic

♢ Moodboard Chapter 6

♢Heaven In your Eyes Act II trailer

♢ Moodboard Chapter 12

♢ Heaven in your Eyes chapter 16 trailer

Looking for more? Check out Heaven's masterlist I and II.

Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @cherubswhispers @he6rtshaker @bemyqueenofdarkness @cljordan-imperium @cjarbo @red-riding-wood @rysko

#arthur shelby #arthur shelby x reader #Peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #Arthur shelby x oc #Thomas Shelby #Tommy shelby x reader #Tommy shelby x oc #Arthur shelby x you #arthur shelby jr #arthur shelby x y/n #Arthur shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfic #john shelby x reader #Arthur shelby x ofc #Heaven Shelby #Polly Gray #Michael Gray #tommy shelby #peaky blinders x reader #Paul anderson #Cillian Murphy

[crowwritesaway]

Thomas Shelby x Female Reader (Oc) Pt. 2

“Lilybeth. Are you trying to get me scolded again?” You complained to her. Lilybeth was dragging you to the Garrison. “Ohh, forget them. Let’s just go have fun.” She said, holding onto your arm.

“Fun. They’re gonna talk my ear off. I’m supposed to be studying.” You said, sighing as you let her pull you along.

“Just blame it on me then.” Lilybeth replied, letting go of your arm. She pushed the doors of the pub and entered. You looked around before following her.

She sat down. “One whiskey please.” You reluctantly sat down beside her. A death wish is what she is looking for.

“Um, okay.” Grace moved around and poured her a drink. She placed the drink in front of Lilybeth. She looked over at Zoey. “None for me.” Zoey told her. Grace nodded.

Zoey looked around the pub. She tapped her fingers on the counter. Lilybeth sipped her whiskey. “Hmm…” Lilybeth glanced around the Garrison. “What now?” You knew she was bound to act mischievous. She was a rebellious woman and only needed a drink or two in her system before she made a fool out of herself.

“I didn’t say anything.” She giggled. She spotted a man that she liked. She got up from the chair. She fixed her hair and turned to you. “How do I look?” You looked at her. “As usual.” You replied, looking away. You sighed. Peace is not an option when she gets rowdy.

She smiled. “Gorgeous.” She bit her lip. “Watch and learn.” She walked off with her head held high. She swayed her hips with each step she took. Zoey shook her head. At least she’s having fun.

You turned around and made eye contact with Grace. She quickly looked down. “Grace. Can I get a drink?” She made her way over to you. “Same as usual.” You nodded. “Same as usual.” You mumbled, looking back at Lilybeth. She was chatting with the man she saw as eye candy.

“Dance. With what music?” You scoffed. As if she heard you, Lilybeth shouted to Grace. “Play some music! I wanna dance!” You took the drink from Grace.

She put on some music. Lilybeth along with the drunk men cheered. Twenty minutes went by, the music continued and Lilybeth dance with the man. The doors of the pub swung open. John, Thomas, and Arthur walked in. One after the other.

You different look their way. You just stared at Lilybeth who was being twirled. Thomas glanced at Lilybeth. His furrowed his eyebrows. “What she doing here?” John mumbled, glaring at her.

“I don’t know.” He glanced around and stopped to look at you. “As always, where Lilybeth goes, she is right beside her.” John looked at where his brother was staring. John nodded, he understood his brother’s frustration. Lilybeth wasn’t good company so why would you waste your time on her when he was waiting on any given moment to be called by you.

Thomas walked over to you. “Turn off the music.” He told Grace. He sat beside you. You pretended he wasn’t there. He glanced over at the glass. “You’re having fun.” John took a seat on your other side. You fidgeted with your sweater.

Silence filled the pub. Lilybeth whined. “Why’d you shut the music off!!” Her dancing partner looked around and quickly turned around when he made eye contact with Arthur who stared at him with untamed anger flowing in his eyes.

He abandoned Lilybeth and left the pub. “What?” Lilybeth said, staring at his back as he left. You sighed. Lilybeth is going to pick a fight with them.

Grace poured them drinks. He looked down at Zoey. “Why do you refuse to listen? Huh? Speak to me.”

“Shelby!” Lilybeth yelled, swaying as she walked up to Thomas. Your eyes went wide. Fuck. Thomas ignored her. He waited for you to look at him. “Coward. What you think you’re some king to order everyone around?”

You stood up and pulled her away. “Lilybeth.” You scolded. She had a point but it was not the place to do so.

“John, take Zoey with you. I’ll deal with this.” John stood up. “Lilybeth, let’s go.” You said, raising your voice. Lilybeth cover her mouth in an attempt to muffle her laughter. “Deal with me. As if, you have no right.”

Thomas rolled his eyes and said, “Do you?” Lilybeth cursed him. “You!”

Stay around for more of Thomas Shelby x Female Reader (Oc)

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#thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinder fanfic #thomas shelby x oc #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x oc #peaky blinders fanfic #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x ofc #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby x reader

[all-mirth-no-matter]

Time After Time | Chapter Fourteen

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: Startling revelations ensue after drinking the tea. While you wait for Tommy to return, Benji comes in search for another date. Ada takes you shopping for a new dress to wear to the races.

Warning: language, slight supernatural (kinda?), harassment (not anything explicit but not fun), less tommy in this one but promise next chapter will make up for it!

ao3 link | catch up on tumblr here

Chapter 14: Raise Hell

I found myself an omen, and I tattooed on a sign. I set my mind to wandering, and I walk a broken line. You have a mind to keep me quiet, and although you can try. Better men have hit their knees, and bigger men have died. 

It came upon a lightning strike, and eyes of bright clear blue. I took that tie from around my neck, and gave my heart to you. I sent my love across the sea, and though I didn’t cry. That voice will haunt my every dream, until the day I die.

— Raise Hell, Brandi Carlile 

The tea cup landed on the rug with a soft thud, the hot liquid spilling at your feet — though you couldn’t feel a degree of it. 

Your mouth gapped open at the sight before you — your mother, sitting on the rug across from you, her legs crossed same as yours, as she smiled at you. 

“This isn’t real,” you whispered, still too surprised to move, your heart racing. 

Your eyes searched over your mother’s features, looking for some hint of something fake to indicate the trick that was being played here. 

But there was your mother — as plain as day. There was no otherworldly glow or translucent quality. She looked solid, wearing the same kind of modern shirt and jeans that she would have been wearing back when she was alive, looking very out of place against the 20th century backdrop. 

The only difference between the person in front of you and the memory of your mother was the smile on her face. 

“Real is quite relative, don’t you think, Y/N?”

Her voice sounded the same as well, if not maybe stronger than it had in her last handful of years. 

Instinct to combat your mother reared its ugly head as you scoffed and responded involuntarily, “Quite relative to whether I’m hallucinating or dreaming, sure.” 

Your mother chuckled, “I’ve missed you, my darling. We have so much to talk about.” 

Swallowing, you accepted that whether dream, hallucination, ghost, or indeed real, you’d done this for a reason. You’d been given this opportunity by the Delphi for a reason. It was now or never, and you couldn’t let a little thing like freaking out over talking to your dead mother stand in your way. 

“Do you know what’s happened to me?” you asked, feeling yourself sit up a little straighter. 

Her smile fell, eyes moving around the bedroom before landing back on you, running down the clothes you were wearing. “The curse. It finally came for you, too.” 

“Too? Are you saying—“

“Yes. I too was pulled from my present and into the past. As was my mother, and her mother, and her mother before that.” 

You couldn’t believe it. Of all the things you had expected, this hadn’t even crossed your mind. “How far back?” you wondered aloud.

She shrugged, “Centuries, I suppose. All the first born daughters of this cursed lineage. Cursed to know the future, because it’s our past.” 

So that was the schtick, you realized. You couldn’t predict the future, but you could recall it from a past that hadn’t happened yet — as long as you’d been paying attention. Your mother’s insistence of learning history now made more sense. 

And yet, there was still a big question, one you asked aloud, “Why?”

“I don’t know. That is still a mystery.” Your mother dropped her head slightly out of shame, “Even in death, I’m still searching for answers.” 

I curse you, Cassandra! The voice from your dreams echoed through your head and a crazy realization hit you. “Who was the first?”

Your mother swallowed. “When you were born, I saw a vision of my daughter. A woman who would know the future, just like I did. I heard the whisper of a name. It should have been a warning, but I was under a lot of drugs and hormones and thought the name was pretty. So did your father. We already had your first name picked out so on the spot agreed to name you Cassandra. I had no idea it was the name of our matriarch — of the first to be cursed.” 

“So it’s true, we come from the original Cassandra of Troy?” Your mother nodded and you shook your head. “But that doesn’t make any sense. Say the stories are true — say the Greek Gods really existed — she could actually tell the future and she’s from the ancient past.” 

“Another mystery.” 

You huffed, so sick of the ambiguity. 

“I’m sorry,” your mother said softly, causing you to meet her eyes again. “For lying to you all those years, for confusing you. For causing you grief and madness.” 

You felt a lump in your throat, your chest tight at hearing the acknowledgment you’d wished for your whole childhood. Your brain wanted to comfort her, tell her it was alright, but your heart was more wounded than you’d ever realized.

You swallowed down the rise of tears that were threatening to build and changed the subject. “When were you born?” 

She blinked, aware of your deflection method, and answered. “The early 2020s.” 

“But that’s so—“

“Close?” your mother sighed. “Yes. I grew up blissful — my mother never mentioned her own displacement. So when I was stripped from my loved ones in 2040 to 1990, I was distraught. I was lucky to meet your father, though regretfully I was never able to open myself up completely to him, still mourning the loss of my first love. I would jump from fits of madness to total denial. After we had you, I thought things would be different. But as you grew, I became more suspicious that you would also be stripped away from me, or I you, and the fear drove me mad. So I tried to prepare you. But the closer I got to my own birth date, the madder I became and more desperate for answers I grew. Eventually, I became convinced that I’d made the whole thing up. The line between reality and delusion became nonexistent.”

You felt the tears begin to pool again as you thought about your own struggles with reality since arriving here. Madam Despoina had told you that you were stronger than your mother. But that wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. 

“I’m sorry for your father, as well,” she went on. You opened your mouth to protest, but she stopped you. “I was able to warn him about certain events — terrorism, the housing bubble, natural disasters — but I couldn’t save him, not in the end.”

“Did you ever tell him? Properly, that is?” You found yourself asking, thinking about Tommy.

Your mother shook her head. “Not directly. The best I could come up with was the gift of prophecy. After a while of telling that story, a part of me began to believe it. Believe it for you.”

“I’m sorry,” you found yourself saying, “for being so hard on you. I didn’t understand—“

“And now you do,” she said with a soft smile, “more now than ever. And unfortunately, darling, I’m going to have to put pressure on you one final time.” 

“What do you mean?”

“The curse — it must be broken. You have to find a way to break it.” 

“Me? Why—“ your words stopped as you thought about Madam Despoina’s prophecy. “‘You have a chance to mend ancient mistakes. Break the cursed chain, end the line of travel.’ A woman from the Delphi family who said she was a descendent of the Pythia told me that.” 

She smiled knowingly again, “Your tattoo, ya?”

Your mouth dropped slightly, “You knew?” 

“I have the same one. I had the same impulse before I was pulled away. I didn’t even know you had it until I—“ she cut herself off, looking somber again before clearing her throat. “It’s the tree of knowledge, of balance. But how were you able to find them?”

“I’ve met some people since arriving here. A Romani family that I’ve grown quite close to. One of the brothers specifically, he— he helped me find them.” 

Your mother hummed as she listened, her eyes moving again to the space around you. “What year is this exactly?” 

“January 1919.” Your mother’s eyes widened. “I’ve been here a few months now.” 

“And I thought fifty years was a shock,” she murmured. “Remarkable. Although the interwar period has it’s merits I suppose. Roaring 20s, jazz, rise of automotives, electricity, women’s suffrage. Though suppose it also has it’s negatives: Great Depression, prohibition, facisism, gangsters—“ You must have had a reaction, because your mother paused. “This man, is he a nice man?”

You swallowed at that, your eyes shifting. “I think he wants to be. But the circumstances are a little more complicated.” 

“Complicated like organized crime complicated?” She retorted, and you were surprised at her humor in the situation. “Oh sweetheart, you didn’t—“ 

You scrunched your face, “I didn’t mean to. There’s been odd coincidences between us since even before we met. I had a vision of him the night I woke up here. He had one of me as well. And then there’s the other dreams—“

“What dreams?”

You took a deep breath, feeling once again like you were in a room filled with puzzle pieces trying to figure out which was the right piece to pick up and share with your mother. “I’ve had dreams. Very real feeling dreams of myself as Cassandra in ancient Troy. They’ve just been pieces though, it still feels incomplete.” 

“You’ve got a strong connection to her,” your mother mused. “There has to be something in those dreams, that story, that can help you?” 

Shifting in your place, she rose her brow at you. A wave of nostalgia hit you as you recalled the look many times from your childhood. She knew you had more. 

“The Delphi woman, Madam Despoina, she— she called him Apollo. It’s his face I see in my dreams when I, as Cassandra, am with him, as Apollo. But I— I don’t know what that means.”

Her eyes narrowed as the muscle in her cheek flinched, “And does he mean something to you?” 

Her question caused your brow to furrow. “What does that have to do with this?” 

“Mother’s intuition, I suppose,” she smiled. “It’s been good to see you, my darling.” 

“What do you—“ 

You blinked. 

She was gone. 

——-

You woke up the next morning on the cold floor of your apartment, the empty tea cup still laying on the rug. 

“Mum!” you exclaimed with a jolt upward, looking to the spot in front of you. 

But of course, no one was there. You were as alone in your apartment as you’d been when you arrived last night.

You reached for the tea cup and knew that it didn’t matter. Yesterday you might have tried to argue with yourself that you’d simply been dreaming or hallucinating, but the time for denial was over. 

Whatever this stuff had been that Madam Despoina gave you had given you the ability to talk with your mother last night. 

As you got ready for your shift at the Garrison, you tried to go through everything your mother had said to you, trying to commit it to memory, afraid that any little bit of it could slip away. 

You were going through it for about the twentieth time when a patron cleared his throat at the bar. 

“Apologies, I was—“ you turned and your customer service smile fell, “Oh, Benji, hello.” 

“I was just coming by to see when you were available next,” he said, offering you his most handsome smile. “No deaths or births or any other excuses this time, eh?”

Your brow lifted, finding that statement slightly rude. It’s not as if you’d blown him off for a headache or something minor — someone had died. 

But you knew what you had to do. Benji had been nothing but nice, if not a little forward, with you since you’d meet. It’d been wrong of you to accept his invitation when you were feeling alone and rejected. You couldn’t allow him to continue to believe he had a shot, but there was no reason to be rude about it. 

“I’ve been thinking about that, Benji, and I just— I don’t think it’s such a great idea.” His smile slowly began to fall as you talked, his brow creasing. “I shouldn’t have accepted in the first place,” you continued, feeling awkward and guilty. 

“Come on, love, you haven’t even given me a chance,” he tried to defend, pulling another smile on his face, though it didn’t reach his eyes. 

“I wasn’t ready to start anything. I’m still— I’m still adjusting and I—“

“Hmm,” Benji shoved his fists in his pocket. “And this wouldn’t have anything to do with the rumors going around of you and Tommy, would it?”

Your mouth opened slightly at the allegation, but you couldn’t form any kind of defense. Instead you crossed your arms, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” 

“Liar,” he hissed, slamming his fist to the bar top. The handful of patrons in the pub looked toward them, curious by the commotion. Benji noticed the eyes and cleared his throat, lowering his voice as he lifted his finger. “You’re making a big mistake, Y/N. Tommy-boy can’t sit on the throne forever, I’ll make sure of that.” 

He gave you a wicked smile as he turned and left the pub, slamming the door on his way out. 

You contemplated whether you should tell anyone about your interaction with Benji. Unsure if his threats were real or brought on simply by rejection and jealously, you decided to stay quiet for now. 

Things had been quiet for a few days afterwards, but slowly you began to notice some major irregularities in the books. Benji’s numbers were showing signs of stealing again. It started off small, similar to what it’d been when you originally became suspicious of him. But now it was quite obvious.

Finally, you came to the conclusion that you had no choice but to bring this to Polly’s attention. It was early in the morning before the shop opened. Polly was helping with John’s kids while Ada was MIA (though if you were a betting woman, you’d say she was with Freddie), and you found yourself sitting alone at the kitchen table, book open in front of you as you felt weirdly conflicted over Benji’s malfeasance.

In the past, you hadn’t been aware of what happened to the people you reported. But now, you knew that there were physical repercussions for stealing from the Shelbys, even as extreme as death. And whether it was guilt for leading him on or some piece of you that still believed that deep down he was a good guy — you began to contemplate whether he deserved a fair warning before you officially reported him. If he knew that he wasn’t as sneaky as he thought he was, that someone was paying attention to him, maybe he’d realize his mistake and end it before something bad happened to him.

You got up to get some tea, trying to think through how exactly you were going to warn him without giving yourself away, when the front door opened.

“How were the kids?” You asked over your shoulder as you poured, assuming Polly had returned.

“Y/N?”

A deeper voice than you expected came from behind you. Spinning around, you were surprised to find the man himself standing in the kitchen doorway.

Your heart rate surged when his eyes moved curiously from you to the table, the open diary and pencil next to it.

“You–” he started, the gears in his head turning to process the scene in front of him. “It’s been you all along.”

“What are you–” you tried to discreetly walk toward the other set of doors, but Benji rounded the table quicker than you, cutting off your escape routes.

What was the saying about good intentions?

“Benji you shouldn’t—“ you tried to lift up your arms between you.

His eyes narrowed and he took a step toward you. Your back hit the counter behind you as he caged you in. “It’s you isn’t it? I kept trying to figure out how it was Lenny and Jackson got stitched. And there you were all along — the little mouse hiding in plain sight.”

“Get off me!” You shouted as you tried to push him away, but he grabbed your arms. You tried to use some of the self defense moves you’d learned, but Benji was stronger than you’d anticipated, and much more sober than the last man you had to fight off of you in the pub. He spun you around and pinned your arms behind your back, pressing his weight onto you so you were pinned even tighter against the shelves and counter. You tried to kick, but he had your legs locked between his.

You were completely defenseless.

“You think you can fuck with me—“

“I wasn’t— I haven’t said anything–,” you gasped out, your face against the shelves as you tried to catch your breath while still struggling to get him off you. You felt the tears begin to fall down your face as you felt helpless.

“And you fucking won’t! You killed my mates. I’m gonna make you wish you’d never met Tommy—“

“Oi!”

Polly’s voice shouting from the doorway finally caused Benji to release you. At the slightly feel of freedom, you pushed him off and ran for the other other end of the kitchen. You grabbed a near empty bottle near you and threw it at him. He ducked as it broke against the wall behind him.

“Out!” Polly shouted, grabbing his arm and pushing him out the door. “And don’t you dare come back!”

Benji was shouting as well, raving that he was a Peaky Blinder dammit, and no one could stop him from getting what he wanted.

He looked back at you as he said that and you shivered.

Sure, you were shaken by being manhandled like that by someone you thought was a good enough man. But more than that, you were angry. This had been the second time since you’d been here that a man thought he could toss you around like you were some kind of doll.

Polly turned back toward you, and immediately got busy pouring you a cup of tea. She let you take your time as you finally launched into explanation. At the end, she calmly rose from her seat and found Scudboat in the betting den, who’d shown up at some point in all your distraction. You watched as she whispered in his ear and then calmly again walked back toward the kitchen. She reached into a drawer and pulled out a small handgun.

“You know how to use this?” 

Nodding, she handed it to you and told you to keep it on you from now on. 

“Go back to work, Y/N. Benji won’t be bothering you again.” 

——-

Polly had been right. Another week went by and you hadn’t seen or heard a peep from Benji. Part of you wondered if the bastard was dead, and you weren’t sure how exactly you felt when you realized that you didn’t really care. 

You also wondered if Tommy knew now about what happened with Benji. You hadn’t heard from him since he left again, but knew from Polly and Ada that they’d be back by the following weekend. 

In all the excitement, you’d forgotten about Tommy’s invitation to the races. When Ada burst into your apartment to announce that they were going shopping, you’d been surprised. It’d been a while since you’d been to the shops, but you weren’t going to deny the opportunity to find something nice to wear to your first race. 

“I’ve been crying nonstop for weeks,” Ada explained as you both walked around, looking at different fabrics as she pointed out some options. “Every little thing sets me off, I tell ya. I thought it was because of the funeral, but Martha and I weren’t really that close. Suppose it’s sympathy for the kids. Dunno. It’s been making me so tired though. I think I may be ill or something.” 

“Maybe,” you mused, grabbing the dress she handed you. 

A woman caught the corner of your eye. At your gaze, she dropped her head and turned. 

You ignored her, used to people staring when she was out with Ada. You hadn’t understood it when you’d first become friends, but now you realized. 

When you saw her again at the next shop, you began to feel less like it was accidental. 

“Hi,” you greeted when you met her eyes again. She looked away and tried to leave, but you spoke again, “Can I help you?” 

The woman stopped finally and turned, her head down slightly sheepishly. She wore a small hat and trendy dress, her hair was cut short like most women of the day, and you could tell she was quite tall, though she seemed to slouch slightly. Her facial features were sharp, complimenting her slim body shape. She was quite beautiful, and in your day could see her being the ideal supermodel. But the bags under her eyes and wornness of her skin led you to believe that her story probably wasn’t that simple. Not here, in Small Heath. 

“Pardon?” She finally said innocently, trying to subtly give you a once over as well. 

You shrugged, “It just seemed like you were needing something from me. My mistake.” 

You turned to leave but she spoke again. “This is incredibly improper of me, but I saw you and I just— you and Tommy, ya?” 

As you turned back to her, your brow creased. Instinct had you looking around for Ada. Ever since your encounter with Benji, you’d been edgier than you’d ever been, always looking for the exits and for familiar faces to run toward. It made you feel incredibly vulnerable and you absolutely hated it. You felt your fingers grip the strings of your handbag, knowing the gun Polly had given you was safely tucked away inside.

Swallowing, you resounded yourself to shake it off, to toughen up, and you straightened your shoulders as you addressed the stranger once again. “Excuse me?” 

“My sister saw you both walking home often late at night. I suppose he’s moved on, I shouldn’t be surprised.” She was rambling now, her cheeks blushed as if she were embarrassed by her own words. “I know we shouldn’t be speaking of this, not in public at least. It’s just hard, y’know, losing a customer. Especially one like him.” 

Customer. You looked over the stranger in front of you again and tried to think of any other instance where her phrasing would make sense aside from the very clear one that came to mind. 

Ada called for you, reaching you with a handful of dresses. You turned back to the woman who nodded and made her leave. 

“Ada, who was that?” 

She craned her neck and clicked her teeth. “Ah, that was Lizzie Stark. Surprised you haven’t seen her around town. Though why would you, less you were payin’ I suppose. Here, try these on.” 

——-

It’d been a while since you’d been on a real date. Even before you’d been sent to this place, dates had started to dwindle as you got older and got more choosy. For a while, starting in college, you’d easily been able to flirt with someone new, get to know them, and then start a fling for a while until one or both of you got bored. The couple serious relationships you’d had were harder for you. Being vulnerable hadn’t come easy for you, and it created commitment and trust issues. Dates became more complicated than they were worth. 

Tommy had greeted you at your place, and you surprised yourself with how much you missed him in the few weeks he’d been away. There was something about his presence, knowing that he was here, in the city, gave you a wave of some kind of safety and security that you hadn’t realized you’d been missing. 

He looked tired, though he smiled at you warmly as he walked you toward the family car, and offered you a hand in as you climbed in. 

This had been the first time you’d actually been excited for a date since possibly high school. 

And of course, Harry had to go and buzz kill your mood the day before the races. He hadn’t meant to, of course. After the Benji incident, he’d been extra protective and cautious. You’d explained the situation (without the stealing money from the Shelbys part) and he’d been surprisingly sensitive. But he believed his recent pub decision would make you feel better instead of make you sour.

“Somethin’ the matter?” He asked when you were quieter than he expected. “If this is about Hancock—“

“No,” you answered, already knowing from Polly that Tommy and the brothers had learned of Benji’s malfeasance, but he’d disappeared before Scudboat and Lovelock could find him. You’d cursed your previous self for trying to be sympathetic toward the man — it seemed like you’d just made everything worse. “It’s nothing honestly, just something silly.” 

“Go on, then. I can handle silly.” 

Your cheek flinched as you looked over toward Tommy, humored by him even saying the word ‘silly’. He rose his eye brow as he looked over to you, offering you a smirk before pulling his eyes back to the road. 

“Harry’s putting in an advertisement in the paper for another barmaid.” 

Tommy’s smirk turned into a frown, “Is he mad? The place wouldn’t be standin’ without you — I’ve seen the numbers, I know. I’ll have a word with Harry—“

“He’s not replacing me,” you quickly corrected. “I thought the same thing, but he wants me to concentrate more on the books and said he’d rather bring someone in part time to fill in behind the bar.” 

“Ah,” his brow creased as he gave you a short look. “The problem, then?” 

You sighed, knowing that you were being childish. “I’m just feeling territorial, is all. I know I’m not technically being replaced, but part of it feels that way. Did I mention I have a small case of control issues? I blame it on being an only child.” 

Tommy chuckled softly and shook his head. “You have nothing to worry about. If anything it’ll leave more time for you to do your real job.” 

“My real job?” You asked him curiously. 

“The Shelby business, ‘course. Wheels are already in motion, and today we’re going to enact the second part of my plan.” 

“And that is?” 

Tommy smiled, “Gonna buy a horse.”

>> next chapter << chapter masterlist

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#Peaky blinders #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #Tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby x ofc #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagines #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagines #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x oc #fanfic #mine #time after time

[darklydeliciousdesires]

She Belonged to the Wild - A Tommy Shelby/OC One Shot Story.

So since Tommy appeared to be quite popular, I think I might add him to the rotation of male muses, besties! Here you are, little bit of smut for you all :)

Words - 1,174

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

She smelled like summer, apples and horses, all the simpler pleasures Tommy had long forgotten drew the most contentment, the longings for the wagon and the brass, the campfire and the open air supressed beneath the thirst for power. 

He was a Blinder, after all. His thirst for more was unquenchable.  

At his roots, in his blood, though, gypsy was woven into his soul with threads that glittered, and he would always be this, would always come back to this. He could never truly sever, and since her, he didn’t desire to. He found himself at her wagon more and more, riding out over his land to find her, smiling at the simplicity of viewing her there in her long skirts, gold glittering her ears and fingers, fingers that lovingly ran a brush over Patch, her beloved horse.  

Her face lit up to see him approach, turning to move the brush over Patch’s flank as he climbed down from the large, black steed he rode. “Come to seek out a little solace, hm?”  

How well she knew him. He dropped his head, a hint of a smile playing his lips as he screwed a cigarette between them, lighting up. “Something like that, Els.”  

He was a man of so few words, his face always so passive. One never knew what lurked beyond the surface of Tommy Shelby, what stirred through his depths. Except for Elsie. She knew because she was the one who stirred them. Watching the storm begin to whirl in his eyes was half the fun, the precursor to the pleasure, her gaze flitting over him as he stood and smoked, waiting for her to finish tending to Patch. 

Once she was done, she padded barefoot through the long grass, casting off her blouse and skirts, revealing herself without a hint of bashfulness to both him and the early morning sun. The dew was damp and sumptuous beneath her feet, and for Tommy, the sight of her nearing him was perhaps even more splendorous than the pink hued dawn itself.  

His wry smile was all praise. “Blimey. That fuckin' figure. You're enough to drive a man out of his mind.” 

Approaching him, she moved her mountain of wavy dresses with the sweep of her hand, reaching for him, nimble fingers beginning to undo his shirt as he shrugged his jacket off. “God put me together well, I like to think.” 

He pulled her to him, his breath hot at her neck. “Mm, god didn’t create you, sweetheart. You’re much too rare for that.” His lips pressed against the silken flesh of her neck, hands wandering up her back as she arched against him. Her nimble fingers pulled him from his clothes, a naked tumble taking them into the long grass beneath, their kisses honey dripped and fever hot.  

Looking down upon him, she relished in the sight beneath her, Tommy moving to clasp her waist and turn her onto her back, her giggle playful as the damp dew met her soft skin in a cooling press. His full lips began to scatter paths of sizzling heat over her body, head dipping as he cupped her breast, his tongue circling the pink peak until it pebbled. Those kisses lowered, her curves tended to carefully, his sensual lips settling at her sex, kissing before parting.  

He took a long, slow lick at her, the taste of her womanhood, the softness of her neat, dark curls pulling a grunt from his throat, hands spreading her wider as he lapped thirstily at her folds. His eyes found hers, shining azure beaming light from the altar where he laid his worship to all that was sacred, beautiful, ethereal, blessings given back by the divinity of her taste, the sweetness of her scent.  

Her hands tugged in his hair, hips rising against his mouth as a tide of sunshine gleamed through her, each lick firm in pressure upon her bud, his fingers moving to stroke at her, pushing within the heavenly, slick clasp of her cunt. Sparks skipped through her, flames catching at her edges as she cried out, feeling him smile against her soaking folds, his full lips wrapping to suck her with pillowy heat.  

“Tommy, please. I... oh!”  

He hummed with laughter, tongue snaking over pink, velvet petals. “I know what you want, my wild beauty. You can wait a bit longer, though.”  

“I can’t!” she gritted, whimpering when he stopped, feeling his damp lips pucker upon her inner thigh. 

He moved to level with her face, kissing her softly, gently nuzzling her nose with his. “Yeah, you bloody can. Stop complaining, alright?”  

Shaking his head at her unimpressed pout, he moved back between her legs, his tongue evoking her wails once more. The pleasure he gratified her with was sharp, digging at her bones, sweeping over her nerves like the kiss of silk, her thighs beginning to writhe against his face as he ate her rapaciously.  

He was like a man half starved, not pausing or slowing, the punch of his fingers against her soaking walls having her mewling in delight, breathless and dizzy, Tommy moving to his knees and finally, guiding what she’d craved deep into the trembling hug of her cunt. Her back arched, her mouth dropping open as the thick of him split her wide, Elsie clutching at her breasts as she watched him intently, the cool fire of his eyes burning just for her.  

The way his cock spread her had stars tingling her insides, lit up and shooting as the pleasure darted through her like a hail of comets. He speared her deep, lean body moving steadily, her hands gliding over his lithe muscles, her walls fluttering around him. He arrowed her steadily to begin with, lowering to his elbows, mouth pressing to hers with kisses of scorching desire, her nails gently raking down his back.

Speeding up, her sob of pleasure made him tingle down to his depths as he drove into her, the lewd sounds of their sex filling the air along with the morning birdsong and occasional snort from the horses grazing closer to the camp, Elsie’s wails loudening by the second.  

“Oh, oh fuck!” she cried, her teeth nipping at his neck, her body feeling molten within the heat of his forge, flames roaring as she felt it reach out and pull her into the fire. Her muscles stiffened as she crested and shattered like heirloom glass around him, Tommy driving into her until he reached the same peak of divinity, breathless atop her as he felt the sun beginning to warm his back.  

He had her once again before riding back to his house, leaving her to her day. He knew there’d be a time where he’d look out of the window and find her gone, so until that fateful morning, he enjoyed his wild beauty all he could, while he could.  

Tommy knew he’d never seek to tame her. Perhaps he wouldn’t love her quite so much if he ever could.  

#tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby x ofc #tommy shelby #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders #cillian murphy

[sneakyblinders]

The Shelby's

A/N: another installment of Tommy x Bee aka tommy & his darling wife!au. the Shelbys. hope you all are doing well! <;3 warnings: jealous tommy, sexual references, language, not canon, alluding to smut but no smut. 5.5k words. i take no credit for the gif!

1934

Tommy sat in his office at the betting shop one afternoon, sifting through paperwork. It never seemed to end these days, constant influx of papers from Parliament, things Mr. Churchill wanted his opinion on, speeches to prepare, bills to pay. It never ended. The phone call was a welcome distraction. 

“Mr. Shelby? This is Harold Archer, from London,” the voice on the other end of the line said. Tommy could faintly recognize the man's voice. He was an up and coming politician in London society, someone Tommy did not really wish to associate with, but understood it was a necessary evil he would one day have to confront. 

“Mr. Archer, what can I do for you?” Tommy asked. 

“I wanted to extend my sincerest apologies to you and your wife, Mr. Shelby,” the man began. “We are hosting a dinner and luncheon at our London home. I’m afraid a stack of invitations was missed by our mail carrier and the invitations didn’t get out to a few folks, and unfortunately yours was in that stack,” the man said. Tommy rolled his eyes, fishing a cigarette out of his jacket pocket. “My wife and I would love for you and Mrs. Shelby to attend. It’s next Saturday evening into Sunday afternoon. Accommodations will be provided, of course.” The man droned on. 

“I don’t involve my wife with business, Mr. Archer,” Tommy said, trying to get the both of them out of this predicament. 

“All of the wives have been invited, Mr. Shelby, my wife does enjoy getting to know them all–more of a social than political arrangement if you will. I am sure your wife would enjoy some time away from your children, no?” Tommy could hear the man chuckle. 

“No,” Tommy sighed. “She quite enjoys being a mother,” Tommy could hear Mr. Archer’s breath hitch on the other end of the phone. “But I will discuss it with her and let you know by tomorrow.”

That night, after the children had been kissed goodnight, all monsters scared away from under the bed and in the closets, Tommy breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, a moment with her alone. 

Bee curled up next to him on the balcony off their bedroom, on some of the wicker furniture he’d just bought for out there. The spring evening had been warm, the warmth fading with the setting sun. 

He wrapped an arm around Bee’s shoulders and she laid her legs over his lap. He absentmindedly rubbed her calf with his free hand, both of them sitting and watching the horses roam the back pasture in silence. Some of the groundsmen returned to their cabins for the evening after a grueling day of cleaning the dreaded pool house. The days were getting progressively warmer, and despite the cold snaps that were so prone to happening this time of year, the children were getting rather tired of being in the house all day. They had just constructed toy boats with Simmons and were eager to send them on their maiden voyage. So–Tommy had instructed the groundsmen to prep the pool. 

Tommy cherished moments like this. Not much about his life, his work was quiet. But he always knew he could rely on Bee for moments of solitude and peace. To be comfortable with the silence—not feeling the need to fill the void. 

His moment of peace shattered when he remembered—the dreaded dinner. 

“What’s on your mind?” His wife asks, noticing his jaw clenching suddenly. 

He sighed, shaking his head. “This man from London, Harold Archer,” he rolled his eyes. “Invited us for a dinner and luncheon next Friday into Saturday at his London home. Some big political to-do,” Tommy explained, shifting his attention from her one calf to the other. 

“Both of us?” She asks, ears perking. 

“Yes,” he sighed. 

“Why do you not sound excited about that?”  

“You know I don’t like to involve you in business, Darling,” he tells you. 

“Yes, but, maybe it would do me some good to get to know some of these people. Get to know their wives,” Bee sighs. “I do get lonely, Thomas.” 

He furrows his brow. “You have Sara, and Frances, and the children. And me.” 

Bee rolls her eyes. “Thomas, it’s not the same as having a friend.” 

“I’m not your friend?” He asks playfully. 

“You are my greatest friend, my love, but who can I complain about you to?” She jokes, a cheeky smile on her face. 

He brings a dramatic hand to his chest, gripping his heart. “I am hurt, my love,” he tells her playfully. “I am practically perfect, what in bloody hell would you have to complain about?” 

She leans over and playfully swats at his chest, laughter rumbling deep in his chest as she rests her head on his shoulder. Their whole lives together, he had never understood Bee’s loneliness. He told her nearly every chance he could that she was all he needed in this world. Her heart had nearly broken when she couldn’t return the sentiment. 

Of course, he was all she’d ever need romantically. But socially, she knew she needed friends. Women who understood. But no one really understood. Her or Tommy. Tommy unfortunately had cost Bee most of the friendships she had carried from adolescence into adulthood– and even her family did not understand their deep and unending love for one another, and many friends were either envious or afraid–too afraid to get close. 

“Do you really want to go?” He asked, hands covering hers, thumb rubbing gentle circles into the back of her hand.

“I think it might be nice to go,” she tells him, and he realizes he’s lost the battle when he hears that tone of longing in her voice. She looks up at him, and he melts into her eyes. 

“Alright, my love. I will phone Mr. Archer tomorrow and tell him that we will be there.”

“Oh, let me call his wife, please!” She says, looking at him, excitement filling her eyes.

And when she looks at him with those eyes—he cannot deny her anything. 

The next afternoon Bee phones Mrs. Archer. Her name is Laurel. “Yes, this is Mrs. Shelby,” she says into the phone. 

“Oh, my dear I am so sorry your invitation did not get in the mail! I feel so horrible for that oversight. I do hope you’ll forgive me,” she gushes into the phone. 

“It’s no trouble, I assure you. Thomas and I will be there for your dinner and luncheon, we are looking forward to it,” Bee tells her, beginning to think of what she should wear. 

“Oh, splendid! We will have the rooms ready, don’t worry about a thing,” she says cheerily. 

“Mrs. Archer, don’t trouble yourself, separate rooms won’t be necessary,” Bee tell her. 

“Don’t be silly, dear, it’s no bother. Looking forward to seeing you!” 

And she hung up. 

Simmons drove Bee and Thomas to the Archer’s London mansion. “No later than three, Simmons, not a second later,” Tommy told Simmons in regards to their pick up time the next day.

“Yes, Mr. Shelby, I’ll be here by three.” Simmons promised, throwing Bee a smile when Tommy’s back was turned. She smiled, shaking her head in annoyance at her husband. 

The butler retrieved their bags from the back of the car, the London home bustling with people. Bee’s heart fluttered in her chest, not used to these sorts of events–nervous that somehow she’d embarrass herself, or worse, embarrass Tommy. 

He held his arm out to her and she took it as the two of them were escorted into the house. 

 The Archer’s were waiting in their foyer, greeting guests as they arrived. “Mr. and Mrs. Shelby!” Mr. Archer beamed. He was an older man, about sixty, bald, with a gray mustache that reminded Bee of Arthur’s. Mrs. Archer had beautiful white hair and the most radiant skin Bee had ever seen. Her eyes were bright. “We are so pleased to have you, welcome to our home.” 

“Thank you,” Bee and Tommy say in unison. Tommy clears his throat, slightly embarrassed. 

“Right this way to your rooms,” Mrs. Archer said cheerily. Tommy shot Bee a confused look, but she was so busy taking in the beauty of this London house that she didn’t catch it. The hallways were ornately decorated, gilded frames of children, grandchildren, horses, dogs, prizes, meetings with US Senators, Presidents, prominent British families decorated the halls. Bee couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy at how active Mrs. Archer was with her husband's dealings–all the connections she had. Mrs. Archer led the two of them down a hallway, stopping in front of a dark blue door. “Mrs. Shelby, this is your room,” she said delicately, opening the door. “And Mr. Shelby, your room is right across the hall. I’ll have your things brought around directly.”

Not even five minutes into this trip and Tommy had already had enough. “My wife had told you that two rooms won’t be necessary, and that is still the case. One room will be adequate for the two of us,” he said, stepping into the room Mrs. Archer had deemed Bee’s. 

Bee blushed, throwing the woman an apologetic smile. “Oh,” Mrs. Archer said, surprised. “I am sorry, Mr. Shelby, I–most couples aren’t that way,” she said, laughing awkwardly.  

“Well,” Tommy said from inside the room, eyeing the vaulted ceilings and the huge windows. “We are that way.” 

Bee blushed again, embarrassed. “I am sorry, Mrs. Archer, we are very grateful for your hospitality. We’re just a little tired from the trip,” She tried to come up with an additional excuse to give for her husband's poor manners, but, truth be told, that was her husband most of the time. Bee was practically the only one he was never harsh to, and it was something his family reminded her of often, and with much disdain.

“I understand, dear. I will leave you to rest for the evening. Dinner is at seven,” she told them, just as the valet brought the bags to the room. 

“I’ll take them,” Tommy said, taking their suitcases from the awkward valet. The valet stood there, eyes wide, hands at his side. “That’ll be all.” 

Bee stood by the door as the valet awkwardly left, wringing her hands together. Tommy sat on the edge of the bed and pulled out a cigarette, the tension in his shoulders and jaw visible. “Thomas, are you okay?” She asks, sitting next to him on the bed. 

He sighed, bringing the lit cigarette to his lips, tossing his lighter on the bed. “I hate these sorts of things. Hate being in these big crowds of people. Not being able to speak freely. I never feel like I fit in.” he admitted. 

He had struggled with a lack of acceptance in his life, in general. From his upbringing and his heritage to his unconventional line of work, a common theme in his life was feeling isolated. Alone. A feeling he had grown accustomed to–a feeling he had allowed to make itself home in his soul, only making room for Bee and his children when the time came. 

Bee rubbed gentle circles into his back. He fell backwards on the bed with a dramatic thump. The coils in the mattress squeaked under his weight. Bee giggled, climbing on top of him, pressing kisses to his forehead, nose, cheeks. “I know right where you fit, Thomas,” she tells him cheekily, earning a naughty smirk from him. 

“And where is that, Mrs. Shelby?” he asks, hands grabbing onto her bum and squeezing, making her yelp in surprise. 

“Right here!” she giggles, putting a hand against her heart. 

He let out a thoughtful groan. “I can think of another few places right where I fit, Darling. Shall I show you?” he asked, rolling the two of them so he was on top of her, hips pressing against her. 

“Oh, please do,” she nearly moans as he presses a kiss to her lips. 

That evening at six thirty, some ladies maids and butlers were sent around to the rooms. There was a knock on their door as Tommy zipped the back of Bee’s dress. A maid let out a startled cry, seeing the two of them in the room together. “Mr. and Mrs. Shelby, I am sorry!” she said, averting her eyes from Bee’s exposed back. 

“Oh, it’s no bother,” Bee tells her sweetly as Tommy glides the zipper the rest of the way up, smoothing the fabric over her shoulders gently. The back of the dress dipped down to the middle of her back, revealing the T M S Bee had inked into her shoulder blade a year ago. 

The maid gasped at the artwork that adorned her body as Tommy pressed a kiss to her back. “May we be of assistance?” he asked, voice gravely with desire; not turning around, but rather pressing more kisses to the exposed skin of Bee’s shoulders, the back of her neck. 

“Just here to help Mrs. Shelby dress, that’s all,” the maid said nervously, unable to divert her eyes from the scene unfolding in front of her. 

“I assure you, Mrs. Shelby is in capable hands,” Tommy rasped, subtly dragging his tongue over the top of her shoulder. 

“That will be all, thank you,” Bee manages to croak out as Tommy nibbles at the back of her neck. The maid scurries out of the room, closing the door softly. “Thomas, you’re cruel,” she chastises him as he turns to face the two of them in the vanity mirror. 

He eyes her in the mirror, hands roaming over the front of her dress, cupping, kneading, caressing. “How?” he asked, hands moving to her back, fingers tracing his initials, inked into her skin. 

“Practically seducing me in front of the staff,” Bee blushes, reaching into her jewelry case to retrieve Tommy’s cufflinks. 

His eyes are dark as he eyes her, moving back towards him to fasten the cufflinks on his shirt. “Anyone would enjoy watching that,” he tells her, voice deep with lust. “Listening to those fucking sounds you make,” he shakes his head slowly, biting his lip, watching her trying to focus on the task at hand. “You drive me wild,” he whispers, gazing at her–a mixture of lust and adoration in his eyes. 

“Thomas, please, you’re making me warm,” she stifled a giggle, an embarrassed smile on her face, cheeks flushing red under his gaze. 

“You’re always warm, Darling,” he tells her. 

“What’s gotten into you?” she giggled, finishing his other cufflink. 

He walks over to his suitcase, where he retrieves a dark black box. “A man can’t show his wife how in love with her he still is? Even after all this time?” He hides the box behind his back. “Close your eyes,” he instructs. 

She turns away from him and closes her eyes, giggling. “Thomas, what’d we talk about?” 

He smirks, opening the box. “You said no more diamonds, that you had far too many than you could ever wear,” he recounts. 

“Yes,” Bee agreed. 

“Good thing I listen, hm?” he says, placing the three strand pearl necklace around her neck and fastening it in the back. “Open,” he instructs, and she does, fingers moving to touch the pearls. 

“Thomas,” she gasps. “Thomas Shelby!” she turns around to face him, a smug smile on his face. “It’s too much, Thomas,” she tells him, fingers still running over the smooth surface of the pearls. “Thank you.” 

He wraps his arms around her from behind, chin resting on her shoulder, eyeing the two of them in the mirror. “Anything for you, my angel.” 

And she knew he meant it. 

The strands of pearls complimented the dark peach of her dress beautifully, which set off her hair and skin tone in the most enchanting way. It wasn’t a long necklace, the strands laying elegantly at the top of her collarbones. 

“You look stunning,” he tells her, peeling himself away from her for a moment to pull his tuxedo jacket over his shoulders, and slide his signet ring on his pinky; his wedding band a staple he never removed. 

“You look dashing, Mr. Shelby,” she teases him and he rolls his eyes. “You outshine me, my Darling.”

His sweet words bring to remembrance the first time he’d danced with her, all those years ago, at her grandfather's birthday party. That he had crashed. 

“After all this time, hm?” she smiles, straightening his bowtie. 

“After all this time,” he agrees. 

The dinner bell rings, and they both let out a sigh. 

The Shelby’s make their way down the hall, a housemaid guiding them through the various passages and hallways, to a large, open room. “Welcome to cocktail hour, Mr. and Mrs. Shelby,” the maid smiles sweetly at them, eyes lingering on Tommy. 

“Thank you,” Bee tells her, Tommys hand moving to the small of her back, straightening his posture and widening his shoulders. The maid bats her eyelashes at Tommy, who paid her no mind, eyes canvassing the room. “Are you alright, love?” Bee whispers to her husband, who immediately tensed upon entering the room. 

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Just hate these fucking things,” he said. 

The women seemed to be gathered on one side of the room, the men on the other. “I didn’t know there’d be a cocktail hour,” Bee said, pressing her lips together. 

“Let’s go, Darling,” Tommy said as a waiter walked past with a tray of champagne. Tommy grabbed two glasses, handing his wife one. 

A man approached Tommy–a man about his age, maybe slightly younger. “Mr. Shelby!” he greets enthusiastically. 

“Yes?” Tommy replies, unsure of who this man is, or how he knows of him. 

“I’m Hiram Quincy from Manchester,” he introduced himself, eyes sparkling at Bee. 

“Oh, yes, I recall seeing you at my oath ceremony,” Tommy told him dully. Bee stifled a giggle. She understood why Thomas got into politics, but sweet-talking with other members of the political realm was not his strong suit. He loathed small talk. Would rather be silent for hours than talk about the weather, tell others menial details about his life, his children, and would rather someone throw all his cigarettes into the punch bowl than divulge information about his wife. She was his. 

“Mrs. Shelby!” Laurel Archer spotted her from across the room, and waved her over. Bee gave Tommy an apologetic look before walking over to the crowd of women. 

Hiram turned towards Tommy, hands in his pockets, eyeing Bee as she walked away. “What special occasion is this that Thomas Shelby allows his wife to grace us all with her presence?” 

Tommy watches as the man's eyes devour his wife, eyes moving up and down her frame. “What the fuck did you just say?” Tommy asked, eyes narrowing at the man. 

Hiram pulled a cigarette out of his pocket. “It’s no fucking secret, mate,” he chuckled, the cigarette between his lips. “You keep her locked up in the Shelby fucking Manor for fear of another man getting his sights on her and,” he shook his head, eyeing Bee again. “I can fucking see why,” he lit the cigarette. “She’s a a fucking dream.”

Tommy’s wrath was seconds from spilling over. He angled his body towards Hiram, his back to his wife. “Do you want to fuck my wife, Mr. Quincy?” he asked. The man's eyes widened. Until that moment, Tommy didn’t realize how beady they were. 

Bee had her back turned, Tommy’s initials on her skin visible. “You marked her, hm?” Hiram asked, raising his eyebrows at Tommy. 

Tommy raised his eyebrows, lighting a cigarette of his own. “She got it for our anniversary last year, actually,” 

“How long have you been married to that siren of a woman, Mr. Shelby?” 

Tommy could hear the blood furiously pulsing through his body. “Fourteen years.” 

“Lucky fucking man,” Hiram ground out. Tommy protectively kept an eye on his wife. It appeared she was having a good time, speaking with the other women. 

“The best I can do is offer for you to watch from a chair in the corner while I fuck her,” Tommy lowly told the man. “But I’ll have to take your eyes after we’re finished. No one looks at my wife that way, Mr. Quincy.” 

Hiram shot Tommy a cold look as Tommy walked away. 

Bee was in comfortable conversation with the women around her. Mary, the wife of an MP from Liverpool had asked dozens of questions about their children. She had beamed with excitement when she had told her of the twins. 

“Oh, I’m sure they’re just darlings!” she gushed. 

“They are. To me anyway,” she chuckled. “The nanny may have a different opinion.” 

A young wife, Madeline, whose husband was an MP from Bedford had hung on every word she said. She had complimented nearly everything Bee wore, and gasped when she saw her tattoo. It was something Bee was proud of–something she’d never in a million years would have thought about before Tommy. But he could be so possessive sometimes. She got it to remind him that no matter what happened, no matter where life took them–she would always be his. 

Bee had felt Tommy’s eyes on her all throughout the cocktail hour, protectively keeping watch. She’d caught his eye a few times, and had gently smiled across the room at one another. 

“Will you sit next to me during dinner, Mrs. Shelby?” Madeline asked. 

Bee smiled gently at her. “Of course, that would be lovely.” 

The dinner bell finally rang and Tommy let out a sigh of relief, anxious to be near his wife again. He came alongside her, a hand on the small of her back, already feeling more grounded from just a simple touch. “Madeline,” Bee says sweetly to the young woman standing rather close to them. “This is my husband, Thomas,” Tommy meets the young woman's eyes and is stunned by how incredibly young she is. Maybe nineteen. “Madeline is Mr. Stetfordshire’s wife, from Bedford,'' Bee tells him as he shakes her hand. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Stetfordshire,” Tommy says. 

“Your wife is wonderful, she’s kept me company this evening. I’m not too good at these social things, you see,” she said bashfully as her husband, easily thirty years her senior approached her. 

“Aah!” the man said, “Shelby! I see you’ve met my wife,” the man said, an arm around his wife’s waist. 

“Yes, Hugh,” Tommy said. “This is my wife, Bee,” Tommy introduced the two of them. 

“We have all heard many things about Mrs. Shelby,” the man said, smirking at Tommy, who fought back a flush that crept up his neck. 

“We’ll sit next to them tonight,” Madeline said, flashing her husband a pleading look. 

“Of course, of course,” her husband said, giving her a sympathetic look. 

The first course went smoothly enough, Tommy’s hand on Bee’s thigh whenever he wasn’t actively engaged in eating his dinner. It was something she’d gotten used to, really. Him always touching her, always wanting to be near–to know she was there. To feel that she was there, even though he could see her. 

“Mr. Shelby,” Hiram bellowed from another end of the table they were seated at. “Tell us of your background, what interested you in politics.” 

Tommy took a sip of his whiskey and cleared his throat. “I am Romani,” he started off with, earning several raised eyebrows from around the table. “We grew up very poor, being travelers, and I would like to see the world a little better–different for those after me who are in situations similar to the one I grew up in,” he said truthfully, one of the more transparent things he’d said in front of a group of people. That much was true, Bee knew, and her heart softened at the goodness that lived in this man. This man she loves–this man she would do anything for.  

Hiram chuckled. “A Gypsy, hm? Bee, really, what did you see in him?” 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “He’s a war veteran,” she says, tone firm. “He was a Sergeant Major in the tunnels in France. He was at the Somme and Mons,” she told them, their eyes flashing sympathetic. “He saved me from being raped not long after we first met. He’s a wonderful father. A protective brother and uncle. There’s a lot I see in him. Not that it’s any of your business, but if you’re interested I could easily spend hours telling all of you of what I see in Thomas Shelby.” 

Tommy’s eyes dropped to his hands in his lap, a wave of emotion overtaking him. The pride she had in him. The pride that she had to be his. Unashamedly and unabashedly. Bee literally wore him on her body and would scream it from the rooftops of Buckingham Palace that he was yours if he asked her to. He reached for her hand, smiling softly at her as the table fell silent, Hiram’s face falling. 

Anger poured from Bee–anger at this assumption that her husband wasn’t worthy of love. Wasn’t worthy of her love, of this life he’d built. Tommy’s thumb stroked gently on the back of her hand, drawing her from her angered state. 

The evening ended with a nightcap in the library, which was the most impressive home library either of them had ever seen. Madeline didn’t leave Bee’s side, almost like a lost puppy. At the end of the evening, as Bee made her way back to her room with Tommy, and Madeline with Hugh, she looked at Bee with a heartbroken expression. 

“I would give anything for a man to look at me the way Mr. Shelby looks at you, Bee,” Hugh caught up to her and escorted her to her room. 

“Goodnight, Dear!” Bee calls after her. Madeline threw her a smile over her shoulder as Tommy came up behind Bee, opening the door. 

Tommy opened their room door, letting Bee in before closing it gently behind the two of them, securing the lock in place. 

Bee sinks into the vanity bench, mind and body ready for sleep. “These things are exhausting,” she says, slipping her shoes off. 

“Tell me about it,” he ground out, shrugging his jacket off his shoulders, lying it neatly across the dresser top. “All I heard about all evening is how many men want to fuck my wife,” he said, angrily tugging his bowtie free from his neck. 

Bee turned around to face him. “What?” she asked in shock. 

He scoffed. “Oh don’t act like you don’t know, Darling.”

“I don’t!” she tells him, mouth open in shock. “What on earth do you mean?” 

He unclasps his cufflinks. “This is why I can’t bring you to these things because everyone,” he throws them down on the nightstand with a clang. “Wants to know about you,” he says, toeing off his shoes next. “Wants to talk about you,” he removes his braces from his shoulders. “Wants to know why I keep you locked up in a castle in Birmingham to rot away, while you make me out to be some hero at dinner. Here I am a jailer.” 

Bee eyes him in the mirror. “Thomas,” she says softly. She gets up and walks over to him as he nearly rips his sleeve garters from his arms. “Thomas,” she holds his face in her hands and he sighs. “Look at me,” she tells him sweetly when he doesn’t meet her gaze. “I love you,” his hands grip her wrists. “They don’t know about us,” she tells him. “They don’t need to know everything. They just need to know that I am yours and you are mine.” 

They undressed each other quickly, desperate to touch one another, feel one another, after a long night of longing looks from across an unfamiliar room. She was panting beneath him when he dragged his thumb over her lower lip and rasped, “Don’t you dare be quiet tonight. I want them all to fucking hear you. Hear you say you are fucking mine.” 

She obeyed. 

Bee fell asleep in his arms while he laid awake, observing every inch of her body as she slept. He ran gentle fingertips up and down her body, watching in amusement as goosebumps rippled in his touch's wake. 

During the night she rolled over, the dim candlelight from his nightstand illuminating his initials on her back. He pressed a sleepy kiss to the ink. He rehearsed in his mind all the sweet things she’d whispered, moaned, cried into his ear when he made love to her. How worthy she made him feel. How loved. Treasured. Respected. Adored. Cherished. Feelings he’d never felt before. Never felt free to feel before. 

His father had drunk to forget how he felt, allowing only anger to be the driving emotion in his life–something Tommy and all his brothers wore scars both physically and emotionally from. His mother felt everything deeply–something Tommy was afraid he and Arthur inherited. His father made them feel ashamed for feeling any extreme emotion.

Tommy remembered when he was five, his favorite horse fell lame and had to be shot, something a boy of his age was not prepared to hear, let alone see. He had run to cry in his mothers chest, terrified of the horror his father had inflicted on his favorite animal. His mother tried to soothe him, rubbing his back, rocking him gently in her lap. His father wandered in later, drunk and angry, pulling Tommy from his mothers lap. He screamed in his face, Tommy not remembering most of what he had said, half asleep and still terrified. 

It wasn’t until he found Bee that he could feel safe again. She was his hiding place, his refuge. The one he could always run to. The first time he’d cried in front of her he’d been beyond embarrassed. But she held him and kissed every inch of skin she could get her lips on. He shook, body overwhelmed from exhaustion and pent up emotion, and she held him together in her arms. 

When she woke up the next morning, she smiled at him and he looked at her with all the love and tenderness he could muster. “My lighthouse,” he whispered. “I was lost. Drowning. You saved me with your light,” he pressed kisses to her collarbones. 

“Mr. Shelby, waxing poetic this morning, hm?” she asked as he moved atop her. 

“I think when I’m old, I’ll write poems for you. That way you can read them when I’m dead and you’re missing me,” he said, half jokingly, half serious. 

“Thomas!” she scolded, playfully swatting at his bum. 

“Darling, the chances of us both dying at precisely the same time are terribly slim,” he said.

“But that’s how I want it to happen,” she said, eyes wide. 

“I know, my darling, but that is the risk you run I suppose when you marry a man ten years your senior,” he told her, dropping to his forearms above her, his forehead against hers. 

“Old man,” she giggled playfully, kissing him, her hands in his hair. 

“Old man who knows what the fuck he’s doing, eh?” he smirked into the kiss, grinding his hips against hers. 

“Oh yes,” she moaned as he made love to her again… for the first (and not only) time that day. 

The Shelby’s skipped breakfast entirely, too wrapped up in one another to care that their bellies rumbled with hunger. They decided to prepare themselves for the luncheon and for their departure. 

“Are you ready for your shadow to return?” Tommy asked with a small smile as he tied his tie. 

“What do you mean?” Bee asked, selecting her jewelry. 

“That young woman from dinner last night. She practically followed you everywhere.”

“She needs a friend, Thomas. And so do I,” Bee said, not meeting his eyes. 

“Alright, my love, I’m sorry,” he came up behind her and pressed a kiss to her neck. “I do think her husband was rather old for her,” he said, hands resting on her belly, chin on her shoulder. 

“Yes, it’s unfortunate but I do think they care for one another,” Bee said, reaching for her bottle of perfume. 

Tommy stepped back as she misted herself with her perfume, the one he loved, the one that drove him wild. He admired her. Her grace, her elegance. And in that moment his heart swelled with gratitude that he was able to marry for love. Not forced to out of convenience, not trapped in a loveless one, bound only by the children they’d brought into the world. But for love. 

They managed to emerge from their room a decent amount of time before lunch was scheduled to begin. Madeline caught Bee’s attention almost immediately. “Oh, are you feeling alright? We missed you both at breakfast,” Madeline smiled kindly at both of them. 

“Nonsense,” another wife, Carol? Anne? Bee couldn’t remember, commented. “We all heard them last night. It’s ridiculous! This is a sophisticated party and they fuck like animals. Hmph!” she turned her nose up at Bee. Who smirked. 

“At least my husband fucks me,” Bee smirked before walking towards the appetizer table, rather pleased with herself. 

“Well! Most couples aren’t that way!” The goody-two-shoes wife said, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. 

“Well,” Bee shrugged. “The Shelby’s are.” 

tag list: if tumblr isn't allowing me to tag you, please see this link for reasons why the tags aren't working. (most likely #3)

@peakyltd @cctoma @lyarr24 @shelbyteller @mrsnshelby88 @skydisneylover @babygaga67 @mariarozasworld @kemillyfreitas @cyphah

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby x ofc #tommy shelby x bee sutton #tommy shelby x bee #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby x ofc #thomas shelby #peaky fookin blinders #peakywomen #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #sneakyblinders #my au <3

[justrainandcoffee]

He's betrothed to her cousin. And both know that it's impossible, for now at least.

That Valentine's day started like any other. Both pretending that they don't have feelings for each other.

Nina picked apricots from they own garden, they had the breakfast like always.

Only when her family is distracted doing other activities and they're alone, they find the opportunity they were looking for. No one can see them together. And during those brief minutes, no one else exists.

For @peakyswritings || Nina x Tommy || Masterlist

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby x ofc #peaky blinders #moodboard #cillian murphy

[midnightswithdearkatytspb]

Visitor (Tommy Shelby x OFC!Estella Holland)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x (OFC) Estella Holland

Warning: Slight Swearing, A Slap, Death, Talks of Death, Tuberculosis, Taking Herbs

Word Count: 0.9K

Synopsis: Tommy goes to bed in one place and wakes up in another. He isn’t sure it’s real.

Notes: Divider is made by the beautiful @firefly-graphics; I know nothing about gems, but I did google and read my mother’s gemstone book, so please don’t come for me. 

Tommy wasn’t sure how it happened. He went to bed in his vardo in the middle of nowhere and woke up in the middle of the forest, Estella, his beautiful gorgeous wife sitting beside a fire. His beautiful dead wife, the one Tommy had just laid to rest just two months ago. When he first saw Estella, he thought it was just another vision his war-damaged brain conjured up again, but when she hugged him from behind, Tommy felt her lips on his neck and smelled the flowers on her skin. He knew it was his Estella. 

“So this is heaven, eh? I’ve got to say I never really believed in such a place. The closest I ever got to believing was when we were together, but this, this must be it, if we are together again.” Tommy grabbed ahold of Estella around the waist and pulled her to his lap as she laughed. Her laughter was music to his ears, even years after being together. Estella threw her arms around Tommy’s neck as he placed his forehead against hers. 

“Every day we were together was our little piece of heaven, but this is permeant. You’re here because you needed me. Why did you need me, Tommy?” Estella nudged their noses against one another, trying to get her husband to open his eyes to look at her. Meanwhile, Tommy felt his heart drop to the bottom of his stomach. She had to be real and not a dream or a mirage. Estella felt so real. Tommy could feel the velvet fabric of the dress she was wearing against his palms.

“Tommy, why did you ask Esme for the herbs to make you go to sleep? Why did you need me so badly?” Tommy felt a cold soft hand brush against his face. It was ice cold. It was so chilling for them to be so close to the fire, and suddenly he felt his heart breaking again. But, of course, it was not real. It was never real, to begin with. 

Cold lips brushed against Tommy, pulling him from his never-ending thoughts. Tommy opened his eyes to the lips, kissing him every day and night with love and tenderness. Tommy knew this was his Estella, whom he loved and cared for. 

“It’s Ruby. She got tuberculosis as well. It already took you from me. I couldn’t save you and break the fookin’ curse. The doctors don’t give her much time, but I thought if I came to you, you could do something, Estella, she’s our angel, and I can’t lose her too. I don’t think the kids could take losing their sister too.” Estella pulled Tommy into her chest. It wasn’t often her husband cried. Currently was probably one of the handfuls of times she had seen it happen, and they all had to do with their children and her. She knew this was serious, her daughter was lying in a hospital bed dying, and her husband had almost died via herb ingestion to see her. 

“Here is how we’ll fix this, Tommy.” Estella pulled her husband's head back from her body so they looked each other in the eye as she wiped his tears away with the pad of her thumbs like he often did for her. 

“In my jewelry box is a citrine necklace. Please take it to Esme, have her charge it, put it on Ruby, and ask her to make a balm. When you see Ruby Tommy, you must promise to wear your mask. So kids can’t lose you too.” Tommy took a deep breath, like most times when trying to keep himself from fighting with his wife. 

“If it’s my time to go, it’s my time to go. The kids have Polly and Aberama. They do not need me.” Tommy’s face flung to the side as Estella slapped her husband's face. Then furious at him, she stood up and started to pace. 

“Don’t you dare say that our children do not need you, Thomas Michael Shelby. You are the only parent they have left! I fought so hard to stay for all of you. Tommy, I would still be there if I could, Tommy, but I can’t. So that means it’s up to you to be both the mother and the father. You need to be the one that bandages scratches, cuddles the monsters away, settles the disputes, eases the heartaches, and most of all, has the heart to hearts. It’s okay to go to Ada, my sister, or Polly for help, but you need to be the one to do this. You are their father. Act like it, and show them you care. Don’t be like our fathers.” Estella leaned to her knees before him with her hands in his, pleading with him, tears running down her eyes. 

“You will never be alone, Tommy, because I’m always going to be in your heart, because you promised to love me with all your heart, but the thing is, you couldn’t. You shared your heart with our beautiful baby boy Charlie and girls Josie, Ruby, and baby Eliza. They will always make sure you are never alone again, either.” Estella stood with Tommy’s hand in hers, yanking him to his feet. The bonfire had gone out. The air was suddenly freezing, colder than he remembered. 

“I love you, Thomas Shelby.” Tommy started to look around as he began to notice the forest around them was getting darker and darker. 

“I love you more, Estella.” one last lonely tear slipped down Tommy’s cheek as Estella kissed him, whispering in his ear.

“Wake up, Tommy.”

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #my moodboards #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x ofc #in this heart #tommy shelby moodboard #moodboard #peaky blinder moodboard #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x ofc #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder x reader #peaky blinder x ofc #ktk writes #ktk post

[peakyblindas]

A leaky tap.

Its the night before Tommy gets sent to war.

@zablife @evita-shelby

Dinner had felt more like a wake than a meal, everyone was painfully silent, they all knew that it might be the last time they saw the Shelby men.

Fawn had held it together, until she and Tommy were lying in bed together, tucked up in the darkness and quietness of her flat, the only sounds being a distant dog barking and the annoying drip of the kitchen tap.

“You need to get a plumber in.”  Tommy’s voice broke the silence “That taps driving me insane.”

“There’s a tool box in the cupboard, you sort it.”

He chuckled “It might be my last night alive and you want me to fix a dodgy tap?”

She slightly hit his chest “don’t joke about that.”

She told him off, but a smile was forming on her lips.

“And if you were to die, could you rest peacefully knowing I have a dripping tap?”

There was a long pause, then a sigh.

“Fuck I guess not.”

He got up from the bed, the dim lamp light came through a gap in the curtains and perfectly illuminated his bare arse, which made Fawn giggle. 

“Shut it you.”

He pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms and went about lighting the lamps. 

Fawn lit a cigarette and watched him

“Ya know when all the other boys talk about their last night with their missus I doubt they’ll mention plumbing.” 

“They will mention dripping though I’m sure.”

Tommy laughed, he opened the bottom cupboard and found his tool box “There’s rat shit in here you need to get traps or put down some poison.”

Fawn blew smoke out of her nose, annoyed “I’ll tell you what I told Pol, They aren’t doing me any harm and I welcome the company.” 

“You're off your rocker, Fi.” 

“If I wasn’t I wouldn’t be bothering with you.” 

The tap was an easy fix and to thank Tommy for his handiness, Fawn got out of bed, the oil lamps always reflected off her skin in a way that made her look like she was glowing.

“Thank you so much, kind sir.” 

She put out her cigarette on the ashtray and then put her arms around Tommy’s neck “How ever will I replay you?”

He put his hands around her waist and picked her up, she locked her legs around his hips.

“Well, because I know you’re dirt poor…” he smirked, “I’ll take my payment other ways.”

She kissed him, with so much force their teeth knocked together and he almost fell over

“Jesus Christ Fi…Almost knocked me teeth out.”

“You said it yourself this might be your last night and if it is….I never want to forget how you taste.” 

#OC: Fawn O'Hart #couple: Tommy and Fawn #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby x ofc

[throughgoeshamilton]

Revelations

A The Other Shelby story

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 ☺️

"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."

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