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#peaky blinders request
padfootdaredmetoo · 2 months
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Tell Me Lies
Tommy Shelby X Wife Reader
Request for @luvlesavyy
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Request: What if Thomas found himself in a sticky situation? What if he had to be compelled to pretend that he had betrayed his beloved wife, whom he holds dearly in love with, in order to protect her and their child? What if Tommy received life threatening letters from his gems? He lies to his wife, tells her he cheated on her, all this to keep them away from the harm he can bring to their lives... How would this story end? Would she forgive him after he found the letters, threatening her and her firstborn's lives, in Tommy's office drawer?
(They spent a week apart, and she had constant back pain, Polly said she was pregnant. Now what? Pregnant, with the love of her life, who "cheated" on her. Wonder what she's going to do about it? Will you tell Tommy when you discover the letters?).
Hey love,
Sorry this took so long but I didn't forget about you. I've never been the kind for the silent anger type of thing. Changed a few of the details around but I hope you enjoy this <3 Thanks for being so wonderful!
Warnings: pregnancy, cheating, screaming, passing out, hitting, biting, extreme anger & the usual peaky themes
Tommy was used to the bitter taste of whiskey doing absolutely nothing to calm his nerves. He stares at the telephone wishing that he had just imagined the phone call he had received. He pulled a red package of documents out of the top drawer of his dresser. He had finally been advised to open it. Now that he knows what is being asked of him he wants nothing more than to throw it in the fireplace. 
For the first time, he really felt that he was flying too close to the sun. Everything he had started was for his siblings and aunt, now every day was for his wife and child. 
How could he turn his back on all of them, on you, even for a second? What could he say to you that would keep you away? If he told you the truth, then Polly and Esme would be dragged into it and all of a sudden it would be a family trip to Austria. His stomach gave a lurch and he put his head in his hands. 
He had to lie to you. 
He would have to tell you something horrible so you would let go of him for the week-long mission. Then he could come crawling back with the papers as evidence. Sure, he would spend the rest of his life on the couch in his study, but at least you would be safe, at least you would still be his. 
He could try to refuse. 
How many wives and children would die if he did? Would you want to be married to that man? Looking at the papers in the file it was his own family on the chopping block if he refused.
“Fuck” He swore slamming his hands against his desk. 
______________________________________________________________
“What’s wrong.” You said looking at him with sharp eyes. You could tell just by the way he held himself that he had gone and done something stupid. 
“I have to go away for a bit.” His eyes were focused on you in a way that made it hard to look away. 
“Why?” 
“I can’t tell you.” He said firmly and you could tell your husband wanted you to accept this answer. 
“I’m your wife. Spit it out, Tommy.” You said crossing your arms. You hadn't been in this position since you were dating. Once married in you were at every meeting, involved in every dollar, and every conflict. Okay, you weren't directly involved in every conflict but you helped out in areas that weren't covered with gunfire. 
“Look, something's come up and I need to see to it, I really don't want to -” 
“I don’t care what you want Thomas. Do what’s right and tell me.” The anxiety was starting to bubble up and turn into rage the way it always did. You hated when people lied to you. 
“I got a phone call last night. Someone I may have had an entanglement with has had a child. She’s saying it’s mine.” The words fell between you and you knew something was off. You assumed he was just hiding the juicy details of his affair. Now a child is out there. Whose child would he father? His wife’s or his mistress? 
You stood there feeling a familiar hysteria build up inside you. This time you didn't have to push it down. Charlie was with Esme and the cousins for the night. You could make him pay. 
The feeling started to radiate into your limbs and you were freed from your initial shock. You picked up the crystal vase on the side table beside the couch. You threw it at him. 
Head on where he was sitting at his desk.  He narrowly missed it. His eyes flared with shock. You picked up every single thing you could reach and threw it at him. He stood up and charged towards you and you welcomed it. 
You wanted him to hit you first. You wanted blood. It was your turn to cause trouble. He tried to grab your arms and you smacked his chest as hard as you could. He got his arms around you and you bit into his shoulder hard enough to draw blood. Hope his mistress likes that scar. 
You screamed at him. You told him every single bad thing you could think of. You told him he was the reason the family was cursed. That his mother killed herself to get away from him. You screamed your own curse on his life. 
You screamed and screamed until you cried. A deep sob that unraveled years of strength. Everything you had done for this family, just to be replaced as Lizzie once said you would be. 
This was beyond anger and betrayal. This was beyond human. You felt your mind become otherworldly and your vision narrowed in. The blackened edges of your vision collided and you weren't screaming anymore. You had dissolved into nothingness and it was blissful. 
______________________________________________
You woke up and he was gone. The family was in complete chaos over the news. Arthur was actually crying on and off, apologizing for his stupid little brother. He and John held the business together under Polly’s direction. 
Polly eventually sat you down and told you the news once everyone had come to say they were sorry and how they would be helping. It was like being a widow at a funeral. 
A pregnant widow. 
“You're joking.” You took in a sharp breath. “And that is not very funny at a time like this.” Your voice was high and she grabbed your face with two hands. 
“It’s not a joke. You’ll be fine.” Her eyes were so intense it put you at ease. 
Esme reassured you and decided to stay with you at Arrow House for a while. The kids were used to being lumped together and they had no problem looking after themselves for the most part. Charlie was 6 so he didn't have a hard time keeping up with his cousins. 
The two of you rot in bed and she did what she could to keep your blood pressure from rising. You could see it in her eyes though, she was pissed as hell and you were sure she would make Tommy feel it too when the time came. 
If he ever came back. Your heart gave a painful clench and while you were alone in the bath there was no one to judge you for crying. It was a soft moment you allowed yourself. It felt shameful, it felt like letting him win. It was stupid but you felt like you were just a girl getting your heart broken again. This time it felt final. Your heart would not survive this. 
But your family loved you. That was obvious from the cooked meals and even Arthur was around helping with the kids at bedtime. You could hear him and John reenacting all the monsters they fought when they had lived on the boat as kids. You even caught yourself laughing a few times at the wild stories.
It was almost a week since that night and you were starting to feel just as betrayed but you had your head back on your shoulders. In the middle of the night, you decided to see if this woman had written him any letters. You weren't sure why but you were obsessed with finding out who this woman was. Why could she steal him away from you so easily when you had done nothing but give him everything?
You went into his study and shut and locked the door. While you turned the latch you wondered where they had sex? Was it here? The office? The backseat of his car? The rage started to bubble up again and a hand went to your stomach. You took some deep breaths thinking about what a divorce would mean. 
His - scratch that, your family would still love you. You would get to pick a new house and decorate it however you wanted. Fill it full of books and do nothing other than look after Charlie and read. You took another big breath and moved over to his desk. 
You pulled open the drawers in his desk and started to pick through everything. You knocked on the bottom of the first drawer when you saw that the woodwork didn't quite line up. You remembered from all your spy novels that it could have a false bottom. You grabbed a letter opener and started to pry it open. 
It came loose with a pop and you pulled out lots of extra copies of passports and documentation for your family. A cold shudder ran through you. You picked up your fake passport to see that he had named you, Arbella Shelby, maiden name Sutherland. You let out a snort as that was a character in a Highlander romance novel you adored. Why would he remember something so stupid when he was plowing another woman the whole time.
You reached into the hidden compartment a little further and pulled out a red envelope. It was made with very expensive card stock. You opened it and read through the document carefully. 
He had been sent away to aid in the assassination of an English spy hiding in Austria.
Your brain hurt and you took another few breaths and kept reading. 
It only got worse. Any outside interference would result in death. Failure to complete the mission would result in his death. Failure to accept the assignment and the government will move forward with prosecuting the remaining members of the Shelby family for acts against the crown. You read down the list of names and ran a finger over your name, following it was the rest of the family. You also noticed that Esme and John’s older kids were on the list. 
He needed to leave without us going to find him. 
He lied to protect you. 
It got hard to breathe and you had to try and remain calm. You let out a weird sort of choking sound then threw up into a plant pot. Polly found you moments later. 
“Breathe.” You let her grip your shoulders and tried to follow her breathing but your vision went dark again and you were out. 
_______________________________________________
When you woke up Polly was pacing the room and shouting at someone in a hushed voice. 
“You should have told us.” She hissed. “What if something had happened to you.” 
“Churchill would have sent the news. Then she would know what had happened.” Tommy answered in a low and steady voice. He sounded exhausted. 
“What if you had failed! They would have shipped us off to jail again.” She snapped. “She almost lost the baby over this mess Thomas.” 
“Only if I had refused the job,” Tommy answered and he sounded so tired. You opened your eyes and watched them stare each other down. 
“Promise me it won't happen again.” You mumbled. 
“I wish I could.” He closed his eyes and looked positively exhausted. 
“Let me talk to Churchill.” Your whisper still conveying your anger. Tommy gave you a big smile. You finally registered how battered his face was. 
“I have papers saying you lot won't be used as collateral again.” He held his whiskey glass up to his cheek. 
“Tommy, if i thought that the family and our children would get killed I would manage to stay away.” You said knowing that tears were starting to spill down your cheeks. Polly took in a breath and you knew she was going to lay into him properly now that you were awake. 
“I’m sorry.” He said simply. His eyes opened and locked on yours. You knew he meant it. Shock crossed Polly’s face.
“I didn't think you knew those words.” She said waving her hand in the air. 
“Okay.” You said not wanting to be apart for a moment longer. There was ringing in your ears and you knew he was sorry. You knew he wouldn't do it again. Tommy was a lot of things, but he never hurt you the same way twice. He always learned from his mistakes. 
You started taking some deep breaths trying to get your head to stop throbbing. Esme came through with a mug of tea and Tommy put his drink down to help you into an upright position. 
“Tea will help with the headache.” She said her eyes darting to Tommy. 
“Esme?” He said calmly.
“What.” She answered looking skeptical. 
“Thanks for looking after her.” He held her gaze and she nodded at him. The rest of the family piled in and discussed the events of the past week. The tea brought the ringing in your ears and the throbbing in your head down to a normal level. 
Charlie came through and climbed up on his father's lap. Tommy’s arm fit around him and he continued talking about what needed to happen moving forward when dealing with Mosley. 
You had hope for his cause. You rested in his arms and found your way back to him out of the darkness that had been threatening to swallow you.
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can you plsss make a part 2 to the Tommy x daughter when she got kidnapped fhgdyjhdd sorry, you don’t have to I just thought it was really well written ^^
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Summary: Part One
Warning: PTSD
Requested: Yes.
Taglist 🏷: @literishdegree99 @kittycatcait219 @oppile91 @unknowntoyou2205 @naxxsstuff @katherinemelissa @faatxma @skinmittensgoblin @bmh-mjh-bitchessss
The Taglist are just of the people who asked for a part two if you would like to be untagged you can let me know.
"Alright that's all, please feel free to continue about your days." Tommy said as the family meeting was coming to an end.
Y/N Shelby sat in a chair back pressed against the large book shelf that stood opposite the door. 
"I have something I'd like to say." She announced as everyone began to exit. "Something I need to say." She clarified.
Freezing in their tracks they all stop to look at the young girl before looking over to her father to see his reaction. Tommy took a few moments to also assesse his daughter before taking a seat back at his desk prompting everyone to reclaim their seats. 
"And what is it that you would like to say?" Tommy asked pulling out a cigarette from his jacked pocket and lighting a flame. 
"I've decided to leave." Y/N announced her eyes scanning over the different reaction of her family. "I'm gonna be moving out next week and my stuff will be gone by the end of the month." 
The room was eerily silent as the family knew that in situation that concerned Y/N and Tommy it was best to stay quiet but present incase thing were to get out of hand. 
Keeping his eyes on this daughter, Tommy let out a sigh before removing the cigarett from his mouth setting it on his desk along side the lighter.
"Moving out?" Tommy asked the 15 year old making sure he had heard her right. "And who exactly do you plan to do that?" 
Y/N watched as he interlocked his fingers and leaned forward on the desk, at least he was taking her seriously. 
"I'm going to move in with my mum." She answered adjusting her posture as she struggles to hold his gaze. "I've been in contact with her and she invited me to come live with her." 
"And how, may I ask, did you get in contact with your mother?" 
"No."
"No?"
"You may not ask." Y/N stated knowing that anyone involved in helping her would pay a price heavier than their 'crime'. Tommy scoffed maybe he would find this situation amusing if not for the context. 
"So you, through unknown means, were able to contact the woman who dropped you off to our doorstep and disappeared without a trace and now fifteen years later expect me to allow you to just fuck off with her to god knows where?" Tommy summarized. "And you're running off with a stranger on the promises of lollipops and rainbows, does she even have a place for you to stay?"
"She was young back then, she couldn't raise a child on her own." 
"I was young too, but I took care of you because you were mine." Tommy countered. "While she was too irresponsible to take care of her own child."
"She's different now, she married to a nice man...." Y/N defended her mother. "I've got sibling...they all live in London in a nice house." 
"And how do you know any of this is true?" Tommy asked rubbing his hand across his forehead in frustration. "She could be telling you anything to get you to London." 
"I know cause I've seen it. I've been there. met them." She confessed angrily looking to her father for insinuating she was some stupid child clinging to word with nothing to back it up. "I went to meet her last month, the week I was gone."
"Last month?" Tommy asked standing from his seat coming around to lean on the side of the desk facing her full on arms folded across his chest. "When you told me you were going to visit your friend Olivia? Though I suspect she doesn't exist." 
"She's one of my sisters." She clarified avoiding eye contact for a few moments before looking back to her father's face. "I spent time with them. My stepdad is a nice man, he's a banker, he treated me nice. When mom said she wanted me to live with them he said he wouldn't mind." 
"A banker? and what is they call him?" Tommy asked reaching back over to the desk to retrieve his cigarette and lighter. Y/N was hesitant at first but know he would find out sooner or later.
"Anthony Crestwood." She sighed.
"Right, Isaiah." 
"Yeah Tom?"
"I need you to get the address of the the Crestwood family, I'd like to have a call with Mr. Crestwood and his wife." He informed the young blinder never looking away from Y/N.
"Your going to call them?" Y/N asked only slightly confused seeing as he had every right to want to speak to the couple who would be housing his daughter. 
"Yes. Yes I am." Tommy answered lighting the cigarette between his lips. "And I will be informing the Crestwood family that upon their arrival to Arrow House in an attempt to remove my child there should be no doubt in there minds that at that exact moment their home will be burning to the ground." Taking a drag of the nicotine he watched as his daughter eyes widened in disbelief as she stood from her seat. 
"You can't do that." 
"I can." Tommy replied. "I can and  I will but not if you don't make me. It's time you learned action have consequences" He said pointing at her with the cigarette between his fingers. 
"So this is how it's going to be?" She asked. "You don't care about be so that means that no one else can?" 
"I care for you, you know what I do but you have chosen to forget that in the wake of one mistake." Tommy shouted
"'It's time you've learned your actions have consequences' or does that not apply to you, just everyone else?"
"So this is a 'consequence' an attempt for you to punish me for how I've wronged you." Tommy accused.
"God are you kidding- No!" Y/N shouted. "This is an attempt to free myself. this is an attempt to not have nightmares every time I close my eyes because for the last few months that all it ever is! Because every time I look at your face the only thing I can see is that man laughing and telling my that my father didn't give a damn about me and believing him because I had no prove to say otherwise.  
I've tried to forgive you, you have no idea how badly I want to. How badly I want to run to you like when I was younger and think that you'd never let anything hurt me, that the worries of the world don't exist inside the comfort of your arms but I can't.
So no Tomas...I'm not doing this to you, I'm doing this for me."  
The two stood there both looking into each other's eyes it was only then that Tommy truly saw how broken his daughter was on the inside and Y/N saw how desperate her father was to keep her. 
"I fucked up. I know I fucked up but you have to see that I am trying." Tommy admitted. "That I can't make this better if you run away." 
"I know you are...but I can't get better if I stay."  
"..."
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peakyltd · 10 months
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Requests
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Hii everyone! 
I decided to take requests from people who are interested to do so. I think it will improve my writing and it will keep my creativity going. You can choose a drabble/one shot or a moodboard but in order to do so please read the following: 
Fic (Drabble/One Shot)
You can send in a Peaky character with a prompt or a gif (You could even choose to do both if you think they fit well together), let me know if you want it to be angst/fluff/etc. If you have an other idea for something or even a very detailed request you can send it in as well. Please keep in mind that:
I only write for Tommy, John & Arthur at the moment. Michael can be an exception on this one, depends on the request because I never wrote him before.
I don’t write the same prompts twice.
I can’t guarantee a specific amount of words to any of the requests. It depends on wherever my mind takes me. So that means your fic can be shorter/longer than any other I’ve written. 
Moodboard
Send in a character with a prompt, a word or whatever inspired you. I will add a little blurb to each moodboard. Please keep in mind that:
I only do these for Peaky Blinders characters.
Please add for which one you are requesting! Ex. “I’d like a moodboard with…” or “I’d like a fic with…”
Prompts:
Lists of prompts that could help you out. Of course you can come up with your own prompts! 
Angsty Prompts by writtenonreceipts
Angsty Question Prompts by creativepromptsforwriting
Betrayal Liners by delilahfairchild
Fluffy Prompts by nightprompts
Fluffy Prompts by creativepromptsforwriting
Mix of all kind of Prompts  by make-me-imagine
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amazingmaeve · 1 year
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Ok so request are only open for COBRA KAI and PEAKY BLINDERS. So if you have any request send them in!
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shelbydelrey · 8 months
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Hey dear! do you still write and accept requests?
Hey anon 🤗 Thank you so much for showing interest in my stories! Unfortunately i'm not taking requests at the moment but i'm still open if to discuss any scenarios you have or just talk about Peaky and life in general 😉
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warnersister · 3 months
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“The silent treatment” Alfie Solomons x Reader
Alfie Solomons x Wife!Reader
You can’t stay mad and quiet at him forever, at least not if he can help it.
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You looked Alfie in the eyes before you shook your head and turned around, walking away from your husband. “Where are you going?” You stayed silent, walking up the stairs to get yourself ready for bed. He creased his brows and followed closely behind you. “You can’t just stop an argument by not talking.” You didn’t even acknowledge him, just undoing the back to your dress and allowing it to fall to the floor; unclipping your hair from your updo and letting it fall.
Alfie felt offended: that was his job; you always let him take down your hair.
“Ziskeit, the silent treatment isn’t the way to go about this.” He told you, but you just wandered off to put your slip dress and slide into bed. Alfie was still stood in the doorway in disbelief, watching as you went on about your day as if you didn’t live with your husband of three years.
“Poppet-” click the lamp beside your bed turned off and Alfie’s jaw was on the floor, tutting at you. How dare you? He went about his own nightly routine, trying not to seem wounded by his lack of goodnight kisses and giggles as he’d tickle your neck with his beard. Eventually, he laid beside you and put an arm around your waist but it was shrugged off. “Look treacle I don’t care how fucked off you are with me, right. But I should be able to sleep comfortably with my wife.” He said, gruffly into your ear; moving again to replace his hand.
Again, you’d pushed it off. “Fucking unbelievable. Cant touch my own wife.” He’s grumbled, turning over and crossing his arms to try to force himself to sleep angrily when all he really wanted was your embrace on a cold night.
The next morning, he’d woken up to you doing your hair at the vanity he’d bought you for your last birthday. He’d walked over and pecked your cheek. “Morning ziskeit” he said and you said nothing, didn’t even look at him. He sighed exasperatedly. “Still doing that are we.”
He put his hands on the back of your chair and leant down to look at you in the mirror. “Real mature of you this, poppet.” He told you, taking the hair in the pony tail and wrapping it around his hand. “Knew I’d married a younger woman when we said our vows but didn’t realise I’d married a little girl.” He tugged the hair sharply. “Perhaps you need daddy to reeducate you, hmm?” You looked back at him in the mirror and shivered, and for a moment he’d thought he’d won. You just picked up the nice little expensive perfume bottle he’d bought you and sprayed it twice on your neck, getting him straight in the face. He just huffed and let you be. You couldn’t continue this forever.
He trudged down the stairs and went to make you both some breakfast, simultaneously tightening jars and putting cans higher than he knew you could reach, placing a plate in front of you when you’d arrived downstairs. But before you could even look at it, Alfie had wagged his finger at you. “Only girls who use their manners get fed.” He said and you narrowed your eyes. He took your chin in a hand and hummed at you as though speaking with a disobedient child. “Hmm? So? You going to ask politely, ziskeit?” You clenched your jaw and swatted the hand away once more, standing to go feed Cyril.
It went on similarly for the rest of the day, you trying to open things, to no avail - just for your husband to swoop in like some saviour and offer to do it “if you just say please” to which you’d throw the jar in the bin. Or when you’d stretch go grab something high up, even trying to climb on the counter, feeling hands on your waist “I’ll give you a hand, just have to ask, treacle.” And you’d jump down.
And it was like Groundhog Day as he found himself in the same position he was in yesterday. “Please loves, just need to hear your voice I’m sorry.” He’d pleaded, watching you undress ready for bed. “Right-” he’d grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder, barely any garments covering your dignity. He gently dropped you on the bed and settled himself between your legs, ripping your undergarments off as he looked up at you “let’s see how long you can stay fucking quiet”
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garrison-girl-08 · 7 months
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love your blog, read everything you have posted. Can you please do a reader comforting Tommy from a nightmare? Thank you
Thank you ! Hope you enjoy your request x
Solace
Pairing - Thomas Shelby and Reader
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You had been in a deep sleep, your whole body relaxed. Mind closed off after a long day, just what you had needed. You had even been dreaming, walking through a meadow. The bright light from the sun, warming your face. Your husband beside you, walking with his horse.
Tommy had always loved horses. You remember him walking past your fathers bakery, with his white horse. Patting her nose, and talking to her in Romani. You had been seventeen then, and had the biggest crush on Tommy. You always had done, if the truth was known.
He was five years older than you, your father had warned you to stay away from men. No man, was to come near his innocent daughter.
You hadn't been so innocent, when you had let Thomas Shelby take you out. Taking you to pubs, taking you to the canal, taking you to his bed. No.... you hadn't been innocent at all. When you had given yourself, freely to him. And you had never looked back.
He treat you like a princess, worshipped you, provided for you. Loved you deeply, just as you did with him.
Feeling harsh movement in the bed next to you, you gasped. Sitting bolt upright, trying to catch your breath. It had been weeks, since Tommy had a nightmare. The darkness in the room suddenly felt heavy, with an eerie atmosphere.
You were still half asleep. Confused.
Turning your head, you found Tommy thrashing under the thin sheet. Beads of sweat rolling along his forehead. Hair damp, as he panted. Large hands flailing around, to grab onto something. You could feel the fear radiating from him.
To him this was so real.
He was back there.
Back in the trenches.... back in the war.
Reaching out a shaky hand, you gently touched his forearm. "Tommy," you whispered, "Tommy, wake up, you are safe,"
He was becoming more and more distressed. Head swiping back and forward on his pillow. Arthur had always warned you, not to suddenly wake him. Try to gently talk to him, to pull him back to reality.
But, you were scared, so worried for him.
Leaning out of the way of his thrashing body, you climbed from the bed. Biting your lip, as you stood at the end, unsure what to do. The whole house would be asleep, the whole of Watery Lane was quiet.
"Move," Tommy suddenly called out.
Going to his side of the bed, you touched his shoulder. "Tommy," you tried again, a tear rolling along your cheek. Your heart breaking, from seeing your husband like this. Grabbing your wrist, he sat bolt upright.
Eyes wide, like a scared animal trapped in a cage.
Pulling your wrist, he launched himself from the bed. Pushing you against the wall, "Get down, we need to get down," he ordered you. Looking around the room. The muscles in his strong shoulders flexing, as he held you tight.
"Tommy!" you shouted now, trying to get away from him. His weight crushing you, bumping into the drawers as the oil lamp fell onto the floor.
Smashing instantly.
Tommy's forearm moved to hold you in place, pushing against your neck. "Follow the order," he growled. Your delicate fingers now clawing at his arm, trying to break free. Fighting to catch your breath.
He was strong, too strong for you.
Feeling someone pull him away, you gasped. "Stand down, soldier," Arthur warned, holding Tommy at arms length. Falling to your knees, you fought to fill your lungs. Throat still tight.
Blinking against the small light, Arthur had turned on. Tommy found his brother in front of him, and you on the floor. All he could remember was climbing into bed. Drifting off, with you in his arms. He was safe with you.
“What? Eh… what happened…” he trailed off, wiping the sweat away from his brow. “Y/n?” He asked, his eyes shooting to Arthur for an answer.
When you remained silent. Trying to recover.
“It’s ok,” you whispered, pulling yourself up from the floor. Using the drawers to help you, feeling unsteady. “It’s ok ...Tommy,”
Arthur frowned, “You had a nightmare, Tom. A bad one,” Stepping towards you, Arthur tried to inspect your neck for injuries. Tommy still so confused.
“I’m fine,” you managed to smile, “Thank you, Arthur we are ok now,”
Patting Tommy on the shoulder, Arthur left the room. Holding Tommy’s bicep, you tried to guide him back to bed. His baby blue eyes staring up at you, looking so innocent. So childlike. His chest rising and falling rapidly.
Reaching for his smokes, he one across his full lips. Hands shaking too much to light it.
"What did I do?" he whispered, gazing up towards you, as you lit the match for him. Running your fingers through his hair, you stood in front of him. Watching him inhale deeply.
"It's ok Tommy, you are safe now," you soothed him, pressing his head against your torso. Feeling a rush of love for him. He was so tortured by the past. So tortured by the events of the war.
Placing the cigarette between his lips, he met your eyes. Hands slowly holding your hips, thumbs rubbing against your nightie. "What did I do? Did I hurt you, love?"
"No Tommy, you could never hurt me," you reassured, pulling back to let him inhale the smoke. "You were asleep, it wasn't you,"
Standing, he flicked the ash into a cup. Blowing the smoke away from you. Holding your face, he observed the red mark on your neck. "But it was," he whispered, slowly kissing where he had held you. "I'm so..."
"Stop," you warned placing your hand on his chest, "Don't you apologise, I know you would never hurt me on purpose. Let's get you back to bed, get some rest,"
Eyes flicking to the bed, Tommy looked back at you. You knew he was scared. Scared it would happen again. Encouraging him to lay down, you lay with your head against him. Listening, to the now steady beat of his heart.
"I'm here with you Tommy," you reassured, "Just us, I will be here when you wake up,"
Letting his fingertips run across the skin, of your bare arm. You heard him sigh, "I love you, Y/n. For now and forever,"
"For now and forever," you repeated, entwining your fingers in his. Hoping, he would now be able to have a peaceful sleep.
Tags- @romanogersendgame @loveableasshole @goldensunflowe-r @captivatedbycillianmurphy @namelesslosers @lauren-raines-x @fairypitou @answer-the-sirens @vxrixnt@kathrinemelissa @kaybeeboop @cloudofdisney@geminiwolves@datewithgianni @lyarr24 @ysmmsy @sixbillionpieces @morgana-olson @mysticaldeanvoidhorse @kaleid0sc0pe @dolllol2405 @queenies1x1 @agirlcandream84 @misselsbells06 @missymurphy1985 @mgkobsessed @alreadybroken-ts @peaky-cillian @whitejuliana1204 @look-at-the-soul @goldensunflowe-r @lespendy @cillmequick @raychh @watercolorskyy @cillybillyy @everyonesawhore @peakypoet @camilleholland89 @kaitieskidmore1 @midnightmagpiemama @castellandiangelo @babayaga67 @thenattitude @forgottenpeakywriter @elenavampire21 @cljordan-imperium @peakyscillian @muhahaha303 @aesthetic0cherryblossom @carma-fanficaddict @pono-pura-vida @kmc1989 @amberpanda99 @truebluehue @zablife @cljordan-imperium @heidimoreton@lilorphanann @already-broken144
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on your knees ~ thomas shelby;peaky blinders
word count: 2563
request?: yes!
“hi! i was wondering if i could request a tommy x reader? where reader and tommy have obvious and undeniable attraction to each other, but she refuses to be with him/kiss him unless he explicitly gets on his knees and beg her too but since tommy’s pride makes him refuse, she uses flirting with his brother john to help change his mind.”
description: when he tries to make her jealous, she decides to return the favor with the help of his brother
pairing: thomas shelby x female!reader
warnings: swearing, smut (oral, f receiving)
masterlist (one, two)
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His eyes were on me. I could feel them, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how annoyed this was making me. That’d just be letting him win, and I was not about to let Thomas Shelby of all people win.
It was the worst kept secret in all of Birmingham that Tommy and I were in love with one another. To be fair, neither of us exactly kept it a secret from anyone, much less each other.
Early on in our partnership, Tommy brought me into his office and told me he had feelings for me. One would think I would be over the moon to learn that considering I had feelings for him too, but I knew Tommy wasn’t telling me this for our mutual pleasure. He told me because he wanted to arrange for us to be married, or at least for me to be his fuck toy while he explored other options that would be more “favorable” for the business.
Most other women in Birmingham would’ve jumped at the offer, but not me. I was too proud for that. I had some self respect. If Tommy wanted to be with me, he would have to honestly tell me he wanted to be with me. He’d have to get on his knees and beg for me.
But Tommy was also too proud, and thus we were stuck at an impasse.
This impasse included one of us trying to get the other to cave. On this specific night, Tommy was using the new barmaid to try and make me jealous.
And, oh, was it ever working.
Grace was all over Tommy, her face bright from the wide smile as they talked to one of Tommy’s business partners. Tommy, on the other hand, was giving me his full attention. I wasn’t sure if Grace had noticed this yet or not, or if she had I wasn’t sure if she really cared. She was the one on Tommy’s arm, not me.
I leaned against the bar and ordered myself a strong drink. I wasn’t going to get through this night sober.
“Whoa, take it easy, (Y/N). The night is young.”
I looked over at John after downing my drink. He had a playful smile on his face and his tone was light.
I liked John. He was different than his brothers. He had a heart that he actually wore on his sleeve instead of hiding it in fear of being “weak”.
I smiled back at him. “I know, but I want to be smashed before the night ends. So much so that I won’t remember in the morning.”
John gave me a sympathetic look. “Does it have anything to do with Tommy bringing Grace as his date tonight?”
In response, I ordered myself another drink. John chuckled and ordered one for himself.
We spent a long while at the bar, ordering drink after drink and just talking. I didn’t realize how much the alcohol was hitting me until I tried to stand and ended up stumbling into John’s arms.
“Shit,” I slurred. “Sorry.”
“I think you need some water,” John said.
I smiled up at him before looking over my shoulder. I had forgotten all about Tommy until I saw the enraged look on his face. I didn’t understand what he could’ve possibly been upset about, until I felt John’s hands on me, placing me upright again.
An idea popped into my intoxicated brain and I turned to look at John, a smirk on my face. I put a hand on John’s arms and looked up at him through my eyelashes.
“You’re so kind, John,” I told him. “You’ve always been so nice to me. You treat me like a person.”
“Everyone treats you like a person, (Y/N).”
“Not everyone. Some treat me different because I’m a woman. I appreciate you treating me like an equal.”
I leaned against him, using my intoxication to my benefit. If John ever brought this up in the future, I’d tell him I was too drunk to remember. I liked the friendship John and I had built, so I didn’t want to fuck it up by making him think I was really trying to flirt with him. Or to have him think I was just using him to get back at Tommy for trying to make me jealous.
Which, I guess that was what I was doing, but at least I actually cared for John. There was no way Tommy had any feelings for Grace, so him using her was much worse than me using John.
I think.
John put a hand on my waist to steady me again. I could see in his face that he was confused by the way I was coming on to him, but he wasn’t pushing me away just yet. If he was uncomfortable, I’d stop. I wasn’t going to push his boundaries. But so far, it didn’t seem like I had reached the boundaries, so I kept going.
“You’re so sweet and so handsome,” I continued, running my hand through his short hair. “Not all men are so lucky to be the full package like you. Your wife was very lucky to have a man like you.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that,” he said. “You’re not too bad yourself. Obviously you’re a stunner, but you are also a great person, even if you don’t show that side of you too often. Tommy’s a fool for not falling to his knees in front of you and begging you to be his.”
I grinned and took a sip of the water the bartender had brought for me. “I know. You’re much smarter than Tommy in that regard.” I leaned into his ear to whisper, “I’m sure if you were in his shoes, you’d be on your knees for me the moment I asked. Wouldn’t you?”
John tensed and I worried I had gone too far. I pulled away to see he had a blank look on his face, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at something behind me. When I turned around, I saw Tommy making his way through the crowd toward us.
“Shit,” I muttered. I didn’t expect him to make a scene with his own brother over all of this.
“(Y/N),” Tommy said once he reached us. “I have to talk to you.”
I made a gesture with my hand as I took another sip of my water. “Go on then. Talk.”
“In private.”
I looked at John over my shoulder. We shared a knowing look before John turned back to the bar and ordered himself another drink. He winked at me, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips before he turned and disappeared into the crowd.
No hard feelings, I thought to myself. John really is a great guy.
I was brought from my thoughts as Tommy grabbed my arm and started pulling me through the crowd. I tried to tug out of his grasp, but he just tightened his grip on me. I could see tinge of red on his ears and cheeks from anger. I was partially delighted to find out I had gotten this reaction from him, but I was also partially worried about what his reaction was about to be.
He kicked open the door to a nearby bathroom and, after checking that it was completely empty, closed it and locked it behind him. When he turned to face me, I could still see the anger in his eyes.
“What are you playing at here?” he asked.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I responded with an innocent shrug. “I was just trying to have a good time. You’re the one who demanded to speak with me and dragged me away.”
“You were all over John.”
I shrugged again. “Maybe I was. What’s the problem with that? You had Grace all over you.”
“That’s different.”
“How so, Tommy?” I challenged. “You brought a date here tonight, one who clearly is enjoying the attention you’re giving her. Or rather, the attention you’re supposed to be giving her. I came alone. If I want to leave here with whoever my heart desires, that is none of your business.”
“It is my business when it’s my own brother. He is off limits, (Y/N).”
“You don’t get to dictate who I flirt with, Tommy. You’re not my boyfriend or my husband. You’re just my friend, remember?”
Tommy opened his mouth to say something else, but then just sighed and turned away from me. I could see he was frustrated, and I was too. He was getting upset with me for doing the same thing he had been doing with Grace. The same thing he had been doing to me for so long. It wasn’t my fault that he wasn’t willing to put his ego aside to give me what I had been asking for since the beginning.
“How long does this continue to go on?” he asked, finally turning back to look at me. “How long until we finally let all of this go and just be with one another?”
I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow at him. “You know what I want before that happens, Tommy. I’ve made myself very clear from the start what you have to do in order to make me yours.”
He groaned. “God, (Y/N), why can’t you just make this simple - ”
“Because, Tommy, I want some proof that you’re asking me to be yours because you seriously want me that way,” I cut him off. “The first time you ever told me how you felt for me, the way you worded it was all business, Tom. It’s always all business with you. You told me you wanted to ‘make an arrangement’ with me given our feelings for one another. Do you know how degrading that is to hear? That, even though you have romantic feelings for me and you know I feel the same way for you, the only way you view me is as another arrangement for you.”
When he was silent, I continued, “That’s not what I want, Tommy. I don’t want ‘arrangements’, I want to be with you. I want to be your lover, I want to be your only lover. I want to be your wife eventually. But I want that because you want it, not because it’s another business arrangement you’ve come up with.”
The silence hung thick in the air. I was starting to feel a bit too sober and was longing to go back to the bar for another drink before leaving this shitty party and going home. I didn’t want to be in Tommy’s company anymore.
He ran a hand through his hair. “You’re right. What I said to you back then wasn’t right.”
This confession surprised me. Thomas Shelby rarely admitted when he was wrong. Of course, Thomas Shelby never believed he was ever wrong.
"But it wasn’t just about the business,” he admitted. “I wasn’t trying to make arrangements because I thought it would be best for my public image. I was trying to do it because I thought that if I didn’t make some arrangement, you wouldn’t want to stay in my life once you see what it’s really like to be a Peaky wife. Being a member of the Peaky Blinders is one thing, but being the wife of one is a whole other.”
“I think I could handle it.”
“I’m sure you could.”
Then, Tommy took me by surprise again and got down on his knees in front of me. For a moment, I thought he was going to ask me to marry him, until I realized he was giving me exactly what I wanted: him on his knees, begging for me.
“Give me a chance, (Y/N),” he said. “Be my girlfriend, and eventually my wife. I promise, I’ll do whatever you want.”
I couldn’t help but smirk down at Tommy. “I like the look of you on your knees.”
He mirrored my expression. “Yeah? I could get used to this view of you as well.”
He put his hands on my hips and slowly backed me to the wall behind me. Once my back was pressed against it, he reached under my dress and put my leg over his shoulder, hiking my dress up around my thighs. I was already breathless when he lowered his head to my core, pressing his lips against the thin clothing that stood in the way of what he really wanted. I let out a gasp but quickly covered my mouth, remembering there was a room full of people on the other side of the door.
Tommy made quick work of literally ripping my panties off, leaving me completely bare in front of him. I shivered as the cold air touched my naked skin, the cold shiver immediately turning to one of pleasure as I felt Tommy’s tongue against me once again.
I had heard the whisperings from the women in town who had been with Tommy intimately. I had heard many stories about what he was like as a lover. I had fantasized about being with him numerous times, but I never could’ve imagined how gentle he truly was. Each stroke of his tongue was long and gentle, almost agonizingly so. He was taking his time with me, making sure I felt every jolt of pleasure that ran through my body when his tongue connected to my clit.
My hands grabbed at his hair, tugging on it in pleasure as my head rested against the wall behind me. I bit my lip to keep from moaning too loudly, but even then it was hard to keep myself quiet. I had never felt so good before, and this was just from Tommy’s tongue. I couldn’t imagine what he could do with his...other appendages.
“S-Shit,” I breathed. “T-Tommy, I’m c-close already.”
He hummed in response, sending another jolt running through me. My eyes rolled back into my head as I felt my orgasm hit me quick and hard. I put a hand over my mouth to muffle the loud moans that I couldn’t control. My body was trembling as Tommy continued to lap up my juices, riding me through my orgasm. I could barley stand right when he finally put my leg back on the ground and stood up himself.
His chin was glistening from me and it was enough to turn me on again.
He grabbed a nearby towel and wiped his mouth and chin before walking over to me. I looked up into those captivating blue eyes before I felt his lips on mine. I leaned into him, still trying to find my balance, as he wrapped his arms around me and held on to me.
“Take me back to your place,” I whispered against his lips. “We should finish what we started here.”
His grinned at me and took my hand. Tommy pulled me along through the crowded room once again. He ignored anyone who tried to speak to him, waving a dismissive hand every so often. As we got closer to the door, I happened to notice a familiar blonde looking at us in horror and hurt.
I shot Grace a triumphant smirk before the door to the party closed behind us.
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fandom-puff · 5 months
Note
Hi! Just wanted to say I love your writing and was wondering if I could request "overstimulation + praise kink" with Alfie Solomons from Peaky Blinders please? No pressure though and thank you!!
Thank you so much!! I love Alfie <333
Warnings: contains Overstimulation, oral sex, fingering, penetrative sex, praise kink
Pairing: Alfie Solomons x fem!reader
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“There’s a good girl,”
Alfie’s voice was low and gruff as he coaxed yet another orgasm from your oversensitive cunt, this time with his thick calloused fingers pumping deliciously in and out.
Your back arched, pushing your naked breasts against him, and you whimpered as your erect nipples grazed against his clothed chest. Eyes rolling back, your mouth went slack as slurred curses and groans of his name tumbled out in a muddled moan.
Alfie continued his ministrations, nosing at your neck and grazing his teeth against your throat, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. “Doing so well, pet,” he murmured, sucking a mark into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. “Such a good, good fucking girl for me,”
As his thumb reached up to circle your clit, your legs clamped around his hand, squeezing his wrist as you rocked into his touch. White-hot pleasure seared painfully through every fibre of your being, but you weren’t willing to throw in the towel just yet. You could feel your own wetness smeared on your neck and chest, transferred from Alfie’s beard to your skin once he emerged from between your legs. He had drawn out several releases just from his tongue, and now he had moved onto using his fingers to tease you open, swirling your slick and his saliva around your sensitive pussy until you shook over and over with pleasure.
“Think you’re ready for my cock?”
It was a stupid question; of course you were ready for his cock, and you had been for the best part of two hours. You had even begged for it… about four orgasms ago. “Please,” you whispered again. “Please, need it, Alf, please!”
“So pretty when you beg, darlin’,” he told you, kneeling between your thighs and shucking off his shirt, before tugging himself from his pants. You groaned at the sight of his heavy cock, pushing your hips up towards him. He smirked, holding the base in his fist as he lined up with your entrance, running the tip up and down your wet slit. “Gonna be a good girl and milk my cock?”
When you nodded eagerly, he grinned, pushing forward, stretching you out in a way his fingers never could. “Fuck… good girl, YN, love… take my cock so well, you do,” You moaned, already trying to rock your hips up and down, eager for him to ruin your overstimulated cunt. “My good little pet, drunk on my cock,” he grunted, starting to snap his hips against yours.
It only took a few thrusts before your overworked pussy was spasming uncontrollably around him, and he held onto your thighs, holding you close to him to keep his cock inside you. “Fuck… good girl,” he praised, and smirked as you tried to wriggle away. “But I’m not done with this perfect cunt just yet,”
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red-riding-wood · 3 months
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Devil, Devil - Part I
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Pairing: Tommy Shelby x F! Reader
Fandom: Peaky Blinders
Summary: The seal of your fate, to a man falsely crowned. And to your devil, your soul was bound.
[Inspired by this request for a jazz/vaudevillian performer and the song Devil, Devil - MICK]
Warnings: Dark!Tommy, dubcon/noncon themes, noncon touching, little bit smutty but full smut in future chapters, stalking/unhealthy obsession, manipulation, blackmail, mentions of domestic abuse, blood, mild choking, mention of prostitution
WC: 5277
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It was all because of that damned Peaky devil.
You cursed him for the gaudy pearls strung around your neck, for the corset that pinched your stomach so tight it would be a wonder if you’d be able to hit your lower notes. You cursed him for the waver in your stride every night you stepped onstage, for the heat beneath your skin when that frozen gaze seemed to douse you in fire, for the quiver in your tone when you sang – for you sang from your soul, and your soul trembled in the sights of the blue-eyed Devil.
He’d started arriving for your performances every night, attracting the attention of the dancers and the waitresses, the owner and the local hoodlums, but he paid no mind to any of them but you. He always sat in the second row, shadowed by the establishment’s collection of antiques. He’d light a cigarette and blow a halo for a crown, lurking in the darkness but staring at you from eyes like twin beacons, his pinewood throne framed by the black coat he never relinquished and his sharp features hallowed by the candlelit fires of Hell.
“He’s trouble, that one,” the locals had said. “Managed to turn a backwoods razor gang into an enterprise, but make no mistake; he’s got cursed blood in him. Shelby Company Limited, they call themselves now, but the Peaky Blinders they’ll always be. Thomas fuckin’ Shelby comes up from Birmingham, thinks he owns everything he sees. The Devil, some say; if you’ve crossed paths with him twice, them say it’s too late for you, when the Devil’s set his sights on your soul.”
If he’d truly set his sights on your soul, you wondered why he tormented you like this, why he never said a word but only devoured you with those frigid blue eyes, as if you were all his and you possessed not even a fraction of him. Last you’d checked, legend had it the Devil traded for souls, so what could he possibly think to grant you? The man had brought you nothing but misfortune. It was because of him that tonight you were expected to join the dancers, because your act had been slipping beneath that coldfire gaze and smoke-ring crown. Your manager claimed it was by popular customer request, but you knew better. You were a songbird, not a peacock; while the other girls of your troupe flared their feathered skirts and tasseled corsets, you were an instrument in their symphony. You got up on that stage not because you wanted to show off, but because when you sang, your soul came alive, and amidst the velvety sounds of the trombones and saxes and the lurid displays of flashing colours and lights, you were at peace.
Until he came along and ruined everything.
“I do not run a charity,” your manager had said. “I run a business. And this business, it has an image to maintain. Before our contract ends with this club, we need to show these Londoner pricks that we are not just another travelling circus with cheap whores and fake magic tricks. Nobody is questioning your ability to sing, Y/N. We just think you could be bringing a little… more.”
As you stepped onto the stage that night, and immediately felt yourself impaled by the icy hooks of that piercing gaze, you wondered if the Peaky devil also wanted a little “more”. As if you could give him anything more than what he’d already taken: your soul, your peace.
Your breath came shaky against the microphone as the lights illuminated the stage, blacking out all of the club’s customers except for one. One, whose mouth you could swear quirked into the slightest of smiles around his cigarette, whose gaze roved across your new ensemble like you were a piece of meat. Your corset already hitched your breath in your chest, and anger flared within you, frustration eating at the hollowness of your ribs as your voice came airy and light.
But this rage that had flickered to life inside you, warm and whelming like the oil lamps that cast darting shadows across the white tablecloths, it spurred a growl in your tone that surprised yet thrilled you, and as your nails curled around the microphone, your shoulders carried to the bright of the music, the dark of your tone made you feel like you were something dangerous. That perhaps a devil dwelled beneath your breast as it did the man with the eyes of death.
Feathered wings and headdresses whirled around you as the girls began their choreography, and your heart seemed to escape the heavy constriction of the corset to pound in your throat, your skull, joining the chorus of sounds that resonated deep in your bones. You sidled your hips from side to side, slowly, sensually, the way your dancer friend, Sally, had taught you, your heels beginning to click to the beat of the song.
But your flesh was burning up beneath that icy stare, and sweat prickled at your neck, and though you sang with fury, your voice still felt limited, unable to utilise the full breath of your stomach. Irritation clawed at your buzzing flesh, and your lip curled over your teeth as you attempted to belt your notes.
Damn you, Peaky bastard, you nearly breathed, hating the way his eyes seemed to gleam as you moved your body. He had no damn right to look so smug.
You tried to focus on channeling this frustration into the movements of your body and the snarl of your tone, the pearls along your chest clacking together as you twirled, your head growing dizzy as you battled for breath. It wasn’t the hoots and hollers nor the cat calls that spurred you on, but the icy hooks of the Devil’s gaze. No, he did not look at you like a piece of meat. He looked at you like you were a goddess.
Breaths coming shorter, you yanked at the laces of your corset, your irritation reaching new heights and the incense and music and cheer drowning out the voice in your head that usually kept you from doing anything stupid.
As your corset tumbled to the stage, cold air sweeping across your sweat-dappled flesh, your voice sprang free of its cage, notes pulled deep from your belly and your fury masking the tremble in your tone. The pearls pooled between your breasts, the feathers of the pasties still scratching your flesh but no longer grinding so painfully against the fabric of the corset.
The Blinder’s smirk seemed to fall, jaw clenched, bright eyes darkening and drinking you in between minacious glances at the men in the crowd who cheered, kicked at the tables, shouted obscene comments that were only half-drowned out by the smooth shrill of the trombones. Your lips pulled into a wicked grin round your teeth, and you became lost in the music as you danced and sang, not caring anymore that your breaths were short or that you didn’t hit every note just right. The look on his face made it all worth it.
And as the final notes died in your aching chest and the stage was swept by dark, and the saxes unleashed their final, wailing cry, Sally swept a sheer robe round your shoulders and ushered you from the stage and to the dressing room. Her excitement was contagious as blonde curls bounced over her bedazzled headband and she whispered praises to you, but her words seemed to muddle together as you heard, distinctly, the chanting of your name behind you like a sordid prayer.
---
The muffled notes of piano still hummed past the walls of the dressing room as you applied another coat of cherry red lipstick, a coil of smoke rising from the ash tray beside you and clouding your head as you attempted to filter out the excited chatter of the girls. Sheer gown now fitted properly around your arms, your skin had the chance to breathe without existing under the ogling eyes of the rambunctious men who had been chanting your name.
“I still can’t believe what just happened out there!” Sally’s voice cut through the throng of the rest, mostly because she had leaned over to squeal into your ear. “Did you see that gentleman at the front? His jaw practically dropped along with your corset.” She giggled, and you popped your painted lips, chasing away the smile that threatened their corner. You hadn’t noticed any man in that crowd but the blue-eyed Devil. Those twin blues were practically burned into your skull, so much so that –
You stilled, blood turning to ice in your veins and your heart freezing over in your chest. The lipstick clattered to the desk, causing Sally to jump back with a yelp that if not from her, could’ve only come from a Chihuahua.
Blue eyes stared back at you in the smudged mirror.
A sharp breath filled your lungs as the ice around your heart shattered and it began to beat again, hard, against your ribs, and your head spun from the sudden flood of cigarettes and incense. You could’ve feinted as you stood, whirling on your heel, nails splintering the wooden grain of the desk with how hard they dug in to ground yourself. Your gaze narrowed, and your heart fluttered as you found it was met with the same intensity.
The dressing room fell silent with a hush, and as Thomas Shelby sauntered in, snubbing out his cigarette in the nearest ash tray, a fearful reverence seemed to coagulate in the air, until it became so thick you could scarcely breathe.
A few of the girls darted out behind him as he drew closer to you, smirk playing at his lip and that darkness colliding with the bright of his eyes in a twisted, glittering dance. But he held out a hand before the rest could vanish, even the high-spirited Marla, who seemed dismayed but didn’t challenge him. Though not of a very tall stature, Thomas Shelby was an intimidating man, and it was evident that the name he carried made him untouchable. Your brow furrowed, teeth grinding together as you tried to work out exactly why he didn’t want the girls to leave when it seemed obvious he had come here for you and you alone. And when that icy gaze settled on you again, the bright of it glittering with mischief, and his smirk tugged higher with unmistakable pride and that insufferable smugness, you figured you were beginning to work it out. He wanted to make a statement, and whatever it was he planned, he wanted them to see.
The statement, perhaps, that your soul belonged to him. And only him.
Shoving his hands in the pockets of his trousers, he closed the gap between the two of you with an agonisingly slow stride, as if time revolved around him. The gold chain of his pocket watch glinted in the harsh lights, and you might’ve used the word “dashing” to describe his prim, collared, snow-white shirt, had you not wanted to smear the contents of the ash tray across it out of spite, or perhaps douse his black suit in some of the gold glitter the girls brushed their skin with.
Perhaps, some part of you wanted to print your lipstick along the rose-white flesh of his neck, to match his striking red tie.
Forcing such conflicted, intrusive thoughts from your reeling mind, you cocked your head, glaring at him expectantly. 
“Quite the performance.” His voice was not shrill and grating as you had anticipated, but low, rumbling like thunder over a black horizon yet pooling like soft honey between your thighs. “Tell me, songbird, do you usually win the crowd over with such provocative displays?”
Already amazed by his sheer fucking nerve, you stifled a scoff. As if you hadn’t caught him staring, lurking in the shadows of every performance.
“You tell me, Mr. Shelby,” you purred out your words, but cocked a brow in challenge. “To what do I owe such keen interest?”
The bright of his eyes glinted, and his smirk hooked his lip. “You’ve heard of me.”
“Everyone in this city knows your name. It seems to spread like some sort of plague. I’d prefer it never have crawled from the sickening bowels of the Birmingham streets, but... here it is, on my lips.” You rolled your shoulders upward, leaning against the desk, head tilted to one side.
“And yet, you wear it well.” Thomas’ gaze darted to your parted lips, snaked his tongue between his teeth as if to taste the cherry. “Don’t fret, little bird…” He spoke in a hushed baritone that still managed to reverberate through the diminishing space between you, as if the faint hiss of his whisper would mask his words from everyone but you, like clouds gathering over distant thunder. “… you’ll be saying it more often.”
A burning, whiskey-tinged breath fanned your cheeks, stirring the wisps of hair from your face. Tension mounted in the room, the girls turning into porcelain dolls as they held their breaths, but they didn’t exist outside of the threads that pulled taut between you and the Blinder.
He smelled of gunmetal, of old books. Of charcoal and wood smoke. Like blood and hellfire.
“Will I, now? Think you own these lips, is that it? Think you own my body?” You didn’t even need to take a step to bring your figure to his, your breasts brushing his chest through the sheer fabric of your robe, the chain of his pocket watch tickling your stomach.
He smelled of earth, of sacred rituals. Of frankincense and myrrh. Like dug graves and lost religion.
And like a candle, the bright of his eyes was snuffed out by the dark, and the smirk fell from sharp outlines. “You haven’t heard?” he said. “Some say I own everything the light touches…” His fingers brushed your side, the heat of his blood beneath his skin sending cold shivers along your flesh, and you cursed yourself for wishing in that moment, in which his fingers dragged reverently down the curve of your hip, that his touch would burn away the fabric between you. “Some say I own everything the light is too fearful to touch.” The pressure of his touch increased, thumb tracing your navel, and suddenly, his grasp was anything but gentle – possessive, demanding, as his fingers curled between the parting of your thighs and his nails burned against your skin. A breath hissed from your teeth and you swatted his hand away. You were surprised when he returned his thumb to his pocket, his devious smirk reappearing. Could he hear how fast your heart was beating for him, could he smell the lust that brewed beneath your flesh, could he feel the heat that had pooled like poison between your legs?
Did he know that he haunted your dreams? That you could not drift off to sleep anymore without thinking of those soft lips trailing down your sternum, of his teeth leaving bruises across your flesh?
He made you want to be worshipped, and ruined. 
“Some say you’re nothing but a Gypsy bastard.” Your voice rose, breathy and high, like a falsetto note. “A false king, with no crown.”
“But a king nonetheless.”
“A devil, the witches say. Have you come to bargain for my soul, Mr. Shelby?” Your voice dipped back into your sensual alto as you regained some vestige of control, forcing your words to rise deep from your fluttering stomach.
“Oh, I’m here for more than your soul,” he breathed, closing the sliver of a gap between the two of you again, backing your spine against the wooden desk until you could’ve sworn blood welled beneath the sheer robe. “I’m here to offer a proposal, little bird. You’re going to sing for me, at the Eden Club. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. It’s far more prestigious than this seedy place. Your pay will be tripled, and you will never know a fabric rougher than silk or taste a wine younger than a lifetime.”
Though his offer would be tempting to most anyone, you did not sing for money. Pride, it came easy to you, and you did not appreciate the condescending way in which he spoke to you, looked at you, breathed in your direction.
“I’m under contract.”
“What, this?” He chuckled, pulling the slip of paper you’d signed a year ago from the deep pocket of his trousers. The material crinkled beneath his fingers, so close you could’ve reached out and grabbed it. But you didn’t. You watched, seething, as he lowered the contract to the candle beside your lipstick, an orange tongue lapping at the corner of the ivory paper, the ink of your signature bleeding into the open flame. Out the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Sally, her shoulders furling inward just as the edge of the paper did before it was swallowed by the flame, the blackened remnants of the contract smudged into the floorboards with the toe of the gang leader’s boot.
“Everyone can be bought with the right price,” he said. “Your boss’s wife, she likes diamonds.”
You shouldn’t have expected any less of your manager. Like most in the entertainment business, he was shrewd, frugal, ruled by greed. The idea of his wife wearing diamonds was laughable; Thomas must have been a bloody saint in her eyes, because the most you had ever seen that man gift her was a silver locket that had been put in lost and found at one of your past gigs. He must’ve sold you out before Thomas could even pull his mafia card. And then milked you for one last performance.
You hated them. You hated them all.
“Well, I will find new work. The crowd seems to love me,” you pointed out, recalling the jealousy you’d seen darken the Devil’s eyes as he’d watched over your performance. Butting shoulders, you moved to stalk past, but a vice grip latched round your forearm and you froze, a puff of startled air escaping your lips as your gaze swung to meet his.
“I haven’t told you my terms,” Thomas said, and if it was out of fear or that devilish itch between your legs that made your body acquiesce, you couldn’t be certain, but damn it all the same. He shoved you back against the desk, fire igniting in his icy eyes as his shoulders pressed to yours, his figure solid against your own, denoting no escape. “So long as you work for me, you will not dance for another man…” He had the courtesy, at least, of releasing those icy hooks from your soul, the sharp line of his jaw brushing a flushed cheek to let his breath pool against your neck as if whispering sweet nothings to a lover. His fingers, ghosting the pulse of your throat. A breath hissed between your teeth and your eyes flared as they dragged down the vulnerable flesh, demonstrating his strength in a squeeze at the base of your throat.
“They so much as look at you, I will personally take their eyes.” A kiss, placed to the crook of your collarbone, like a promise. His lips were as soft as you had imagined, and you half-expected his tongue to be forked like the legends, but it was supple and rounded as it wet your flesh. Your bottom lip caught in your teeth as you stifled a moan, your body betraying you in a slight rut of your hips. A chuckle rumbled against your ear; he knew what he was doing to you, and apparently the feeling was mutual, for the scarcely-clothed heat between your shivering legs brushed against a firmness in his slacks as your hips rolled forward.
“You see…” He paused to inhale your scent, to drink you down like the whiskey on his breath. “I’ve done some research… you like to move around so much because you have a husband, in Sheffield, who very much misses your company.”
The racing tides of heat that rolled beneath your flesh gave way to a cold sweat, and you shuddered, your blood turning once more to ice in your veins. Your heart, stolen from your chest, leaving your lips parted in a gasp. His fingers traced the hollow shell of your ribs, nails digging in where your heart should have been. His, you thought, wretchedly.
When he pulled back to assess your reaction, to witness the fear bloom in your eyes, the smugness was gone from his face, replaced by an intensity, a darkness that seemed to wrap its shadowy tendrils around your soul. His nose brushed yours, and you noticed, for the first time, that his face was freckled. Kisses from God, you’d heard them referred to as once, and if the breath had not been stolen from your lungs, you would’ve chuffed a laugh at the demented irony.
Dark lashes crowned the blue eyes that raked down your chest, his thumb continuing its snaking little path from your heart to the lip of your breast, slipping beneath the fabric of your robe. “A year ago, you spoke with a solicitor about his tendency to… well, overexpress his love.” A jolt rocked your body, accidentally sending your hips back against his, drawing a groan from his chest that managed to be irresistible despite the discomfort of the scar he perfectly traced with his forefinger. Pain exploded beneath the surface of your flesh, as if his fingers was made of glass, like the smashed bottle that had struck your side all those years ago. You shuddered beneath his touch, the alcohol on his breath suddenly foul, and for just a moment, the way the light reflected off his eyes betrayed a sliver of green in seemingly pure blue.
“The solicitor told me that you showed him this – this, that was not his to see. Not his to touch.” Your lashes batted beneath his furious breaths, but you dared not close them, dared not let this man turn into a ghost of your past. To your relief, his fingers retreated from your scar, only to cup your cheek in his palm. “You offered him one night in exchange for freedom, and by morning, he did not honour his word. Do you know what I did to the solicitor?”
Thighs damp with arousal, palms clammy with fear, you trembled, breaking, cracking at your seams. The splinters of the wooden desk pierced your flesh as you sought its support, feeling like your knees might buckle beneath you and somehow knowing that he would catch you, but that that would be worse than falling to the cold ground. Because he wanted you to break, wanted to be the freckled angel who caught you when you fell.
But somewhere, from the shattered remnants of your chest, festered a darkness, a thirst, a satisfaction as you imagined the bloodied face of the man who had tricked you, as you imagined his eyes turned pale, pale as death.
Your pain didn’t break you; it kept you standing, fractured but whole.
“To you, I may be the Devil, but the Devil keeps his bargains.” His thumb swept across the ghost of the kiss he’d left on your skin. “And when you work for me, I will ensure that your darling husband never bothers you again.”
You could not banish the tremble from your limbs, nor the ireful rise and fall of your chest. And when you spoke, your hate, it seemed, was not even for him but for ghosts, “You’re every bit as vile as the rumours say.”
“Oh, I’m worse.” He smiled, almost sweetly. “Much worse.” A clear-blue eye winked, before studying you so intently you wondered if he really could read your thoughts, your sordid desires. Your sins. “But I don’t see disgust in your eyes, little bird. I see intrigue.”
Breathe, you told yourself. Breathe.
You were most at ease when you sang, and in your moment of need, an old melody you’d heard once travelling west came to you, and with it, the curl of your lip into a wicked smirk.
“Cannot buy me, Devil, Devil,” you half-sang, half purred, the notes that found your voice carrying undertones so dark, it almost did not sound like your own.
And in this moment, you found power, in the way his thumb seemed to still against your jaw, in the way his eyes locked to yours, mesmerised, his tongue catching between his teeth. In this moment, at last, he was yours. In this moment, he was just a boy, lured in by a siren song. As the notes died in your throat, his eyes darted to your lips, something softer than lust forming in oceans of melted ice. Your fingers fumbled for the first drawer of the desk, stabilising yourself now on the ivory handle.
And the emotion vanished before you could make sense of it, frozen over by a wall of ice.   
“In life or in death, I will take your soul.” His teeth grazed the lobe of your ear, and his hand drifted to your scalp, sinking into the wild locks of your hair. “I will take everything.” Another hand closed around your waist, squeezing your ribs, bunching the fabric of your gown. “It is your choice, little bird. Because, you see, I made certain your husband knows of your infidelity. It’s a great dishonour, to a man of his station. And what sort of things does a man of his station do when he finds himself with a problem like you, eh?” Your chin was pointed sharply up, suspended by two fingers, your lips a hairsbreadth from his own as he stared you down.
“Now, I don’t think your friends will like to see what I’m going to do to you, little bird.” A growl grated the thunder of his tone, and he bit his lip. “I’m going to be a gentleman, and let you decide if you’d like them to give us privacy.”
And gone was the whiskey of his breath, the fire of his touch, the sharpness of his teeth. Thomas Shelby took a step back, smoothing out his waistcoat as if nothing had happened between the two of you. One of the porcelain dolls came alive, skittering back on her shaky heel to make way, but he paid no mind to her. He only awaited your command, as if trying to give you some false sense of control.
The silence that stretched between you was impossibly thick, like gasoline ready to ignite from one heated breath. You remembered to breathe, in, and out. And you began to sing.
“Clever Devil, Devil…”
His eyes narrowed, fixating so intensely on you that you were convinced nothing else existed in this moment beyond your dark melody, your cherry lips, your siren song.
Trembling, behind your back your fingers pulled gently at the drawer handle.
“How quickly do they sell their souls…”
He blinked, slow, enraptured. Yours.
Your fingers clasped the familiar stock of the 1911, flesh kissed by cold metal.
“… for the feast and the promise of gold.”
Time itself fractured; Thomas barely stirred as he watched your lips, your wrathful eyes, your brow sewn by ruthless will. He did not watch the gun you pulled on him, nor did he seem to hear the rack of the slide that split the quiet of the dressing room. 
“But Devil… that won’t be me.” Your velvety singing turned to words of steel in your throat, and you glared at him down the sights of your weapon. Only now, did he seem to take notice of it, with a fleeting, unconcerned glance at its gaping black maw. He could have turned it on you, but he didn’t. He just smiled, bright blue eyes shining down a silver-moon barrel to meet yours.
Stepping back, leisurely, fists buried in his pockets, he promised, “I’ll be back, to claim what’s mine.”
Your finger loosened from the trigger yet trembled as the sight of Thomas Shelby disappeared past the doorframe, nothing left of him but the soft thud of his dress shoes down the hall and the ghost of his burning touch on your skin, the dampness on your neck from the promise he’d made you. The shameful cling of the sheer robe to your slicked thighs, the cold sweat that sent shivers of winter, death, and all things barren along your flesh.
For one, gut-twisting moment, all eyes were on you. The suffocating festering of fear, the sickening crawl of disgust, the heart-wrenching trace of reproach all culminated in the air around you, cast to the incense and smoke by bright eyes and slacked jaws, crossed arms and furled shoulders.
And the girls began to scurry from the dressing room, skirts and dresses and tassels streaming behind them like streaks of lightning that followed the rumble of the storm, like rivulets of rain chased by the hurricane.
Marla was among the last to leave, her eyes wary and wild and a sneer curling her lip as her eyes traced up and down your trembling form. Only when she left did you lower your gun, sliding the hammer back in place.
That left two. Sally, and the woman who claimed herself a witch.
“I’m sorry…” you breathed, not knowing what to say. “I’m sorry you had to witness that, I – I had no idea that was going to happen.” Shifting your attention fully to your friend, you reached a tentative hand for Sally, as if to ease her anxiety. Poor thing was shaking like a furled leaf and quiet tears streaked the freckles of her heart-shaped face.
She flinched away, and your heart clenched, hand withdrawing. You set aside your gun, hoping that might settle her nerves. “At least, let me give you this back…” you untied the bedazzled choker from your neck. “It looks like this was our last performance together. Thank you, for lending me it.”
But she sprang back like a jackrabbit when the fabric brushed her knuckles, and she shook her head frantically, tears shaking free of her spidery lashes like dew falling from painted webs. “You can keep it,” she spoke, her tiny voice cracking in her chest. “Just stay away from me.”
Something bitter worked its way into the fracture of your chest, the cruel fist of rejection squeezing the remnants of your shattered heart tight. Your fist curled, hard, around the choker, so hard that when you opened it, the jewels had left red impressions on your palm, and your thanks turned to bitter ash on your tongue as the laces of the choker slipped between your fingers.
The witch, Clementine, watched you from dark eyes always shrouded in an enigma, but today, held the slight trace of unease. A foreboding weight sunk her shoulders, and when she spoke, the raspy tones of her voice were those of lost souls, crying from strangled throats to warn you of something truly grave on the horizon,
“You’re marked. You’re marked by the Devil, you are, girl.”
Your brow furrowed, and the chime of her jangling bracelets seemed to mock you like laughter as she pointed a hooked claw to your loins.
Pawing aside the fabric of your robe, your fingers swiped across the nail marks Thomas had left along your inner thigh, wrathful and red and weeping. Your fingers came away with a veneer of blood, pooling in the rings of your skin like a wax seal.
The seal of your fate, to a man falsely crowned.
And to your devil, your soul was bound.
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Part II coming soon!
MASTERLIST • REQUEST
Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed to any of my taglists and notified of new works!
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Taglist: @emotionalcadaver @zablife @shelbydelrey @look-at-the-soul @brummiereader @mrkdvidal1989 @fiercelittlemouse @ohwellthatslifesstuff @minaethrym
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alicent-targaryen · 8 months
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TOMMY & ALFIE ▸ Peaky Blinders, 4.4
requested by @raincoffeeandfandoms
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padfootdaredmetoo · 9 months
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Hey, could you maybe write something with Tommy where the girl he likes is a bit of a party girl? How would be react to her wild behaviour? 🥂
Hey Anon,
I LOVE this idea! Thank you for sending it in! Hope you enjoy it!
Warnings: heavy drinking, fluff, murder, all the good stuff
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He sat there watching her dance recounting all the times he’d been black-out drunk. None of them resulted in him dancing like a whore in public. Or laughing so loud it carried over the music. 
He didn't understand how the same woman that had single-handedly got him out of a bind with not only another crime family but also the police, was the same woman here dancing on a table. 
Just hours previous to the celebration she had shot a man and now she was here dancing like she always did. 
The club was dark but the pink dress she wore would glow even with the lights out. Her hair was messed up and somehow looked even better that way. 
When she got like this he wondered somewhere in the back of his mind if she was worth pursuing. Parties were her thing. He’d met her as an event coordinator and while she complained about how boring his events were they had got along very well. 
Too well. 
She was always bombarded with men offering her drinks, expensive trips, and houses in tropical lands, and yet she always came back to him. She wanted to be by his side even in the cold British rain. 
She danced until the song stopped then let out a loud squeal when Esme poured more champagne into her mouth. 
“WE WONNNNN” She called out with her bejeweled fist in the air. Everyone erupted into loud cheers around her. 
Getting into clubs to celebrate wasn't an issue for a Shelby, but she had an even easier time. She once got dared to leap off a loft railing onto a chandelier. Not only was it official lore woven into the fabric of London, the owner just shook his head and laughed when she did it. 
She was a friend, valuable business partner, excellent lover, but could she be a wife? His stomach twisted at the thought of being with someone else, that was a feeling he hadn’t felt since Greta. A frown fell on his face. 
Would that be something she wanted? He looked for her again dancing and singing her heart out. Would she feel trapped? 
The night wrapped up and she crawled across the backseat of the cab. She slumped against him and smiled up at him brightly. 
“I saved you today.” She slurred happily.
“Yes, you did.” He answered with the slightest bit of a smile on his lips. 
“You owe me.” She said bringing a well-manicured finger up to push his nose.
“Is that so” He grabbed her jaw gently keeping her face tilted up towards him. Her eyes flared and he didn't know what he would do without her. Even if she wasn't incredible at her job, and networking, even if she was just a party girl, he wouldn't want to be with anyone else. “How can I make it up to you?” 
“Stay with me?” There was a deep sadness in her eyes that took Tommy by surprise. 
“That’s the plan.” He whispered.
“Stay with me forever?” She clarified and he smiled. 
“Forever.” He kissed the top of her head and handed her the box that had been on fire since he started carrying it weeks ago. He felt like he shouldn't give it to her when she was drunk. It should be some grand gesture, a proper event with people around. That’s what she would want, but he felt like it was the moment. 
Her eyes went wide. 
“SHUT UP” She took the box and gave him one last look before opening it. 
“Would you -” 
“YES -” She let out another squeal waving her hands animatedly. After lots of hugging and screaming she rolled down the window to shout at the people on the street.
“I”M GETTING MARRIED!!!!!!” She pointed to her finger and laughed as random people waved and cheered for her. 
Tommy just leaned back into his seat and enjoyed the pure joy that radiated off of his soon-to-be wife. After shouting at a few more people when stopped at red lights she rolled the window up and climbed onto his lap. 
She pressed her lips onto his and they enjoyed the rest of the ride back to their London apartment.
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noforkingclue · 4 months
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I warned you it's brain rot. It's Tommy Shelby brain rot-
But Tommy Shelby has a nurse who knows not to ask too many questions, who lets injured Peaky blinders into her house and helps them quietly. He's been there himself, so has Arthur, John. Finn once, too, but for a scraped knee on the street.
And Thomas has always regarded her as one of his-his men, his assest, whatever. And he's been slowly learning about her-she talks when she works, to distract, put them at ease, and it lets him learn more about her-she likes horses, for instance. Where she grew up, the basics of how she ended up here-and he pays her well enough, and she doesn't seem fool enough to turn coat.
But there are moments...moments where he's injured, where it's her and him in the room, smelling of blood, of pain and that soft voice and comfort-and he knows in those moments she's not just his nurse. Not just a healer he wants to keep around because her stitches are clean and neat, and her mouth shut.
So when Grace the fucking barmaid squeals about her to the coppers-he's not exactly a happy man. And Tommy Shelby angry is a sight to behold.
Note: requests are currently closed
Of course anon! I hope I got all the details in the request as it was a long on!
Enjoy!
Title: Vengeance
Warnings: descriptions of violence against women
Peaky Blinders tag list: @stylesofloki, @ohshititsfenharel, @lenaskyler02, @elenavampire21, @swordofawriter, @zablife, @cillmequick, @polishcrazyone, @nataliewalker93
Thomas Shelby tag list: @alreadybroken-ts, @darlingdevil, @lyrxbz, @watercolorskyy, @notyour-valentine
Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee
“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Arthur growled, “once we find out who did this their going to wish they hadn’t been fucking born.”
“Arthur-“
“They fucking hurt y/n,” Arthur said, “Y/n? What has she ever done?”
“She fucking helped us,” said John, “how many times have you been to her?”
“Not as much as you fucking have.”
Tommy was looking into the main bar, smoking silently. He had remained quiet while his brothers discussed what happened and their plans for your attacker. Well, Arthur and John had. Finn remained quiet and very pale, clutching a glass of whiskey so tightly that Tommy thought he was going to break it. That would only add to their problems seeing as you wouldn’t be able to pull the glass out. Tommy had seen Finn wiping his eyes but subtlety was never Finn’s strong points.
“Boys.”
Polly stood in front of Tommy. He glanced over her shoulder and looked at you huddled in a booth. Polly pushed her was passed him and Tommy shut the door behind her.
“How is she?” asked John
“What a fucking stupid question,” snapped Polly before sighing and running a hand over her face, “how do you think? She needs time so, don’t-“
“You need to leave.” Said Tommy
“Excuse me?” said Polly, venom in her voice
“I’m going to speak to her.”
“She doesn’t need that at the moment, especially from you.”
Tommy looked over and locked eyes with Polly.
“I need to speak to her.”
“Tom-“ said Arthur
“Fuck off.” Tommy said as he left the room
Your head jerked up when you heard the door open but you seemed to relax slightly when you realised it was only Tommy. He sat down opposite you and was vaguely aware of his brothers and Polly leaving. Neither of you spoke for a while. You ran a thumb over the rim of your glass and Tommy lit a cigarette and offered it to you. You took it with shaking hands and his eyes dropping down to the cuts on your hands. Deep scratches along the palms of yours hands, knuckles had the skin scrapped away. When he looked up at your face he felt the familiar bubbling rage resurface.
Your left eye was an ugly purple colour and swollen shut. Your bottom lip has been cut open and starting to scab over. Your nose was now slightly crooked and he could see the traces of blood around your nostrils. From the way you drew deep shaking breath, wincing every so often, he guessed that your ribs had been broken.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “this shouldn’t have happened.”
You took a deep drag of your cigarette and said,
“I knew that this could happen when I started helping.”
“You didn’t deserve it.”
“I work for the Shelby’s.”
“Which is why we’re going to find out who did this and kill him.”
You blinked in surprise and smiled bitterly.
“Never knew you cared.”
“Why wouldn’t I? You’re one of us.”
And maybe it was because Tommy liked you a bit too much. You always helped him and his men, probably more often then you should’ve. You stayed up late, humouring an old (and secretly lonely) man. Telling him stories of your life before the Blinders, telling him about your day and in return getting some small snippets of his life in return. In the dark of the night, in a room that smelt of blood and alcohol, the two of you grew closer.
And it was this that had sealed your fate.
“Love, you need to tell me what you can remember.”
“I… can’t.”
“Anything.”
“They blindfolded me.”
Ah.
“But, he had an accent.”
“Hmm.”
“Irish, I think.”
“Irish,” Tommy let out a chuckle, “think I know who you mean. He’d hate for you to call him Irish though.”
“Huh?”
You jumped when there was a clink by the bar. Tommy looked over at it sharply and saw Grace by the bar. A tense silence fell over the room before Tommy said,
“And how long have you been there?”
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thomashelbyswife · 24 days
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Tommy Shelby - Peaky Blinders S1E1
requested by: @runnning-outof-time 🤍
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amazingmaeve · 2 years
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Send in some request for peaky blinders I’m in the mood to write for them!
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peakyblinded · 2 years
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TOMMY + SMILING requested by anonymous
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