notyour-valentine

[notyour-valentine]

Hi Val! The end of the year is here and I hope it goes well for you! 😊

I’m thinking of you and sending much love your way!

I hope you’re able to find some time for yourself to relax. You’ve got this! 🧡

Thank you so much K!

It is too sweet of you to think of me and wish me well. Of course, I only wish you the same and more and hope you enjoy the holidays. All the best for the coming year for you and your loved ones!

[notyour-valentine]

Thank you so much for saying that, Hattie! I had fun with Tommy speaking his own sentence, in a way. Young Tommy has my heart.

I'm so glad you enjoyed this little story of mine. THank you for reading!

The Spirits that I summoned (Young!Tommy)

[Masterlist] [Taglist]

Summary: Where Arthur sees danger, Tommy sees a quick way to make some money and use people's prejudices against them.

Note: This is my participation for Chi @little-diable 's 15k celebration - what an accomplishment, and what an incredible, versatile body of work. In typical student mindset, I'm scraping the deadline, but I hope you enjoy all the same. The quote I drew was: Even as a child I felt it, and marvelled at the power of this woman who, though veiled, could electrify a room

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

Warning: Stereotypes of travellers (in line with what is shown in canon)

Wordcount: 1588

He twirled the coin between his fingers. It was a habit of his he knew he better ought to shake. 

Though his hand was hidden deep in the pocket of his brown worn trousers, Tommy knew one glance would give away his restless nature, his nerves. His weakness. 

Lucky for him, his counterparts weren’t always as perceptive. 

They were young, younger than he was, but not by much. And they were playing dress up, the same way the children were doing down at the fair, picking up wooden sticks and calling themselves knights. 

Oh they had chosen well, he had to give them that - sturdy boots made for walking, weatherproof coats, and thick scarves to keep out the cold. 

But the leather was polished to a shine, the shoes free from any scratch. And the coats had never seen repairs, at least none that were visible to the eye. 

The scarves matched the boots and the boots the purse and the purse the coat. All a little too perfect to be accidental. 

Besides, the shorter one of the two had forgotten to take her earrings off. 

Pearl, he could easily tell, even in the fleeing light, with a little gold stud. 

Tommy knew money when he saw it, and he saw it now in the shape of these two newcomers. 

“Go-good evening.”, one of them said, looking from one to the other. 

Arthur only glared at them suspiciously. 

“Are, ahm, are you one of the-”, she gestured to the illuminated camp site behind them. 

“Who’s asking?”, Arthur wanted to know, building himself up to his full height. 

He had a strange look in his eye as if he wasn’t sure whether to scare them off or take them to bed. Either one. Or both. 

“We, ah, well, we-”, the one stammered again, nervously fidgeting for words. 

“We want our fortunes told.”, the other one said sharply. “They say you people know how to read palms and teacups. We want to know our future.”

Do you now?, Tommy thought, his eye-catching the reflection of the moon on those earrings, those pretty, expensive earrings. Peal and gold. 

“Yes.”, the first one, the shy one said. “Please.”

“Oh I can read palms alright.”, Arthur said, running a hand through his hair. 

“Arthur,”, Tommy said, cutting off his older brother, who glared at him as if Tommy had slapped him. 

He gestured for his brother to take a few steps away. 

“What are you on about, Tommy?”, Arthur demanded to know. “I like the look of the tall one. You stay out of it.”

“Shut up and don’t think with your cock for once.”, he sneered. 

His brother’s face hardened. 

“You can either get your end wet, or…we can make a sweet little something off of them.”

Arthur shifted on his feet, humming under his breath. 

“You think?”, he said. “Bringing them to Aunt Pol? Or Queen Boswell?”

Tommy shook his head. 

“We’re not bringing them anywhere.”

Birmingham was too far away, where Polly was haggling with the baby and Ada, and that Boswell hag would only take more than her share of a cut. 

Besides, these girls weren’t kin. They didn’t know what they were asking for. So they wouldn’t know what they would receive either. 

Arthur didn’t seem too convinced. 

“Mother said not to mess with things we didn’t understand. That if we disrespect the traditions, there’d be punishment.”

Their mother had said that. Their mother had also had most of her visions when she had drunk a gallon of rum or whisky in a single evening. 

Tommy was already thinking about how much those earrings would buy them - food, or new winter shoes for the whole lot of them. Maybe even a horse they could train to race. 

He’d like a horse, but those shoes would have to come first. 

“Just let me do the talking, eh?”, he told Arthur before turning back to the women. 

“So what made you come to us?”, Tommy asked, after bringing them into Polly's wagon and telling Arthur to stand guard. 

He could see the girls' eyes dart around it, picking up in little details. The crochet curtains, the Black Madonna, the framed pictures of the family. The countless candles. 

The girls exchanged a look, then one glanced down while the other squirmed in her seat. 

“My brother thinks it's all a hoax.”, the first told her lap. “But he wasn't there when…”

She took a deep breath. 

“Our mother used to hire a woman to tell their fortunes. A traveller woman.”, she said. 

“We weren't allowed to be there, but we saw her enter. Even as a child I felt it, and marvelled at the power of this woman who, though veiled, could electrify a room.”

She dropped her voice to a whisper. 

“Everything she said came true.”

Tommy nodded solemnly. 

“It's good to know you have a respect for these matters.”, he said. “Oftentimes those that are not learned in these arts underestimate the forces at play.”

He tried his best to choose words as ceremonious as possible. 

“Are you sure you want me to read your palms and tell your future?” 

The girls nodded eagerly. 

“We have money!”

She reached into her purse and pulled out a few coins. Tommy knew at a glance it wasn't a stingy offer, but the pearls would be worth more and so he shook his head. 

“Knowledge of the future cannot be bought with coin. It has to be a trade.”

“A trade?”, the shorter one asked. 

Tommy hummed. 

“Sometimes they'd tell the farmers the days weather and get a few apples for their worries. A fair price for something trivial. Are you asking about something trivial?”

He already knew they weren't, that was why he was telling these lies. 

It wasn't long before one urged the other and she took off one of her earrings. 

Just like he had hoped. 

“I want to ask about women.”, she said, slipping off her gloves and handing her hands to him in a show of surprising determination. 

“On the continent there are whispers of a woman's emancipation, of votes for women and equal rights to men.”

Tommy nearly laughed. 

“Will that happen here in England too?”

She looked almost eager, like a child desperate for sweets. 

Tommy took her hand in his, squinted, then ran his fingers along her palm. 

Just like he had thought, a soft hand that smelled of expensive ointment, probably lavender. 

“I can see you think highly of the value and purpose of your sex.”, he said, before contonuing. “Others will come to realise it's indispensability in a more clear, more distinct way.”

Poor brother, father or lover to deal with the consequences of his words, but Tommy wanted that earring, so he decided to add just a little more. 

He took a deep shaking breath and nodded. 

“And yes- don't let the distance to the continent discourage you. What happens there will spread.”

He lowered her hand gently. 

“Me now.”, the other one insisted. 

“A moment.”, Tommy asked, dabbing his dry brow with his sleeve. “Tis not an easy task for me, nor was it an easy question.”

He bit back his smirk at the look of sympathy in the woman's eyes. 

Finally he cleared his throat and urged the other woman to give him her hand. Gently, he stroked her palm while glaring deeply into her eyes. 

“I'm getting married soon.”, she said. “Or I may be. I'm not too sure about him.”

“Do you love him?” Tommy asked. 

“I do, but…”, she sighed. “He is a soldier, training to be an officer.”

“And?”

“I'm not sure I want to be married to a young Officer in His Majesty's army. But it's a thankless business being a soldier's wife.”

“And now you have come for insight to clear your doubts.”, he asked, before glancing at her palm. 

He took more time now, running along the lines of her palm, shifting and squinting and making a right show of it. 

“I can tell you one thing.”, he said. “It will not be thankless.”

“No?”, she asked. 

“Oh no- if you think your intended is set for a dull career in the forces, you are much mistaken.” He said. “I see service, yes, duty and courage too, but it will not be thankless. It will be celebrated and honored and remembered for generations to come.”

“My George?”, she asked surprised. “You can see that just in my hand?”

“That and more.”, Tommy promised her, picking up in the glint in her eyes. She may not like the idea of being a soldier's wife, but she seemed to enjoy the thought of being a hero's ons. 

“Medals, marches, hymns-”, he nodded, trying to piece together what little he knew of soldiery, most of it what he had picked up from pinched newspapers. 

“And the pride of our whole nation.”

Wasn't that what they said soldiers were? Those soldiers at the races certainly thought they were- as if all of England should bow before them just because they put on a sense of importance along with their uniforms.

But those words made her beam from ear to ear- both now without their earrings, as they left, clearly content with their visions of heroism and women's rise. 

Tommy let them go gladly, his fingers toying with the earrings in his pocket. They were worth a pretty penny and could stretch far. 

Easy money, for once. He didn't even pity those two for their ignorance. Of course he had never learned to read palms or cards or dreams, why should he? 

He had never shared Polly's conviction or Arthur's fear. Why should he? It was all just smoke and mirrors, nonsense, and charlatanry. Nothing to lose sleep over, he thought, as he tossed one of the earrings up in the air and caught it again.

~

Thank you for reading - I'd love to hear your thoughts

Taglist

Overall

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @chlorrox @watercolorskyy @books-livre @quarterpastmidnight  @lilyevanswhore  @polishcrazyone  @zablife  @just-a-harmless-patato  @stevie75 @flyingjosephine-blog @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @babayaga67 @butterfly-skinnylegend @shelbydelrey @mrkdvidal1989 @raincoffeeandfandoms @midnightmagpiemama @adaydreamaway08 @kmc1989 @trixie23

Tommy

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

#comment reblog

[notyour-valentine]

Thank you so much for saying that. I loved that line in the show and the dry delivery and this story is playing on just that.

Thank you for reading and for your kind words!

The Spirits that I summoned (Young!Tommy)

[Masterlist] [Taglist]

Summary: Where Arthur sees danger, Tommy sees a quick way to make some money and use people's prejudices against them.

Note: This is my participation for Chi @little-diable 's 15k celebration - what an accomplishment, and what an incredible, versatile body of work. In typical student mindset, I'm scraping the deadline, but I hope you enjoy all the same. The quote I drew was: Even as a child I felt it, and marvelled at the power of this woman who, though veiled, could electrify a room

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

Warning: Stereotypes of travellers (in line with what is shown in canon)

Wordcount: 1588

He twirled the coin between his fingers. It was a habit of his he knew he better ought to shake. 

Though his hand was hidden deep in the pocket of his brown worn trousers, Tommy knew one glance would give away his restless nature, his nerves. His weakness. 

Lucky for him, his counterparts weren’t always as perceptive. 

They were young, younger than he was, but not by much. And they were playing dress up, the same way the children were doing down at the fair, picking up wooden sticks and calling themselves knights. 

Oh they had chosen well, he had to give them that - sturdy boots made for walking, weatherproof coats, and thick scarves to keep out the cold. 

But the leather was polished to a shine, the shoes free from any scratch. And the coats had never seen repairs, at least none that were visible to the eye. 

The scarves matched the boots and the boots the purse and the purse the coat. All a little too perfect to be accidental. 

Besides, the shorter one of the two had forgotten to take her earrings off. 

Pearl, he could easily tell, even in the fleeing light, with a little gold stud. 

Tommy knew money when he saw it, and he saw it now in the shape of these two newcomers. 

“Go-good evening.”, one of them said, looking from one to the other. 

Arthur only glared at them suspiciously. 

“Are, ahm, are you one of the-”, she gestured to the illuminated camp site behind them. 

“Who’s asking?”, Arthur wanted to know, building himself up to his full height. 

He had a strange look in his eye as if he wasn’t sure whether to scare them off or take them to bed. Either one. Or both. 

“We, ah, well, we-”, the one stammered again, nervously fidgeting for words. 

“We want our fortunes told.”, the other one said sharply. “They say you people know how to read palms and teacups. We want to know our future.”

Do you now?, Tommy thought, his eye-catching the reflection of the moon on those earrings, those pretty, expensive earrings. Peal and gold. 

“Yes.”, the first one, the shy one said. “Please.”

“Oh I can read palms alright.”, Arthur said, running a hand through his hair. 

“Arthur,”, Tommy said, cutting off his older brother, who glared at him as if Tommy had slapped him. 

He gestured for his brother to take a few steps away. 

“What are you on about, Tommy?”, Arthur demanded to know. “I like the look of the tall one. You stay out of it.”

“Shut up and don’t think with your cock for once.”, he sneered. 

His brother’s face hardened. 

“You can either get your end wet, or…we can make a sweet little something off of them.”

Arthur shifted on his feet, humming under his breath. 

“You think?”, he said. “Bringing them to Aunt Pol? Or Queen Boswell?”

Tommy shook his head. 

“We’re not bringing them anywhere.”

Birmingham was too far away, where Polly was haggling with the baby and Ada, and that Boswell hag would only take more than her share of a cut. 

Besides, these girls weren’t kin. They didn’t know what they were asking for. So they wouldn’t know what they would receive either. 

Arthur didn’t seem too convinced. 

“Mother said not to mess with things we didn’t understand. That if we disrespect the traditions, there’d be punishment.”

Their mother had said that. Their mother had also had most of her visions when she had drunk a gallon of rum or whisky in a single evening. 

Tommy was already thinking about how much those earrings would buy them - food, or new winter shoes for the whole lot of them. Maybe even a horse they could train to race. 

He’d like a horse, but those shoes would have to come first. 

“Just let me do the talking, eh?”, he told Arthur before turning back to the women. 

“So what made you come to us?”, Tommy asked, after bringing them into Polly's wagon and telling Arthur to stand guard. 

He could see the girls' eyes dart around it, picking up in little details. The crochet curtains, the Black Madonna, the framed pictures of the family. The countless candles. 

The girls exchanged a look, then one glanced down while the other squirmed in her seat. 

“My brother thinks it's all a hoax.”, the first told her lap. “But he wasn't there when…”

She took a deep breath. 

“Our mother used to hire a woman to tell their fortunes. A traveller woman.”, she said. 

“We weren't allowed to be there, but we saw her enter. Even as a child I felt it, and marvelled at the power of this woman who, though veiled, could electrify a room.”

She dropped her voice to a whisper. 

“Everything she said came true.”

Tommy nodded solemnly. 

“It's good to know you have a respect for these matters.”, he said. “Oftentimes those that are not learned in these arts underestimate the forces at play.”

He tried his best to choose words as ceremonious as possible. 

“Are you sure you want me to read your palms and tell your future?” 

The girls nodded eagerly. 

“We have money!”

She reached into her purse and pulled out a few coins. Tommy knew at a glance it wasn't a stingy offer, but the pearls would be worth more and so he shook his head. 

“Knowledge of the future cannot be bought with coin. It has to be a trade.”

“A trade?”, the shorter one asked. 

Tommy hummed. 

“Sometimes they'd tell the farmers the days weather and get a few apples for their worries. A fair price for something trivial. Are you asking about something trivial?”

He already knew they weren't, that was why he was telling these lies. 

It wasn't long before one urged the other and she took off one of her earrings. 

Just like he had hoped. 

“I want to ask about women.”, she said, slipping off her gloves and handing her hands to him in a show of surprising determination. 

“On the continent there are whispers of a woman's emancipation, of votes for women and equal rights to men.”

Tommy nearly laughed. 

“Will that happen here in England too?”

She looked almost eager, like a child desperate for sweets. 

Tommy took her hand in his, squinted, then ran his fingers along her palm. 

Just like he had thought, a soft hand that smelled of expensive ointment, probably lavender. 

“I can see you think highly of the value and purpose of your sex.”, he said, before contonuing. “Others will come to realise it's indispensability in a more clear, more distinct way.”

Poor brother, father or lover to deal with the consequences of his words, but Tommy wanted that earring, so he decided to add just a little more. 

He took a deep shaking breath and nodded. 

“And yes- don't let the distance to the continent discourage you. What happens there will spread.”

He lowered her hand gently. 

“Me now.”, the other one insisted. 

“A moment.”, Tommy asked, dabbing his dry brow with his sleeve. “Tis not an easy task for me, nor was it an easy question.”

He bit back his smirk at the look of sympathy in the woman's eyes. 

Finally he cleared his throat and urged the other woman to give him her hand. Gently, he stroked her palm while glaring deeply into her eyes. 

“I'm getting married soon.”, she said. “Or I may be. I'm not too sure about him.”

“Do you love him?” Tommy asked. 

“I do, but…”, she sighed. “He is a soldier, training to be an officer.”

“And?”

“I'm not sure I want to be married to a young Officer in His Majesty's army. But it's a thankless business being a soldier's wife.”

“And now you have come for insight to clear your doubts.”, he asked, before glancing at her palm. 

He took more time now, running along the lines of her palm, shifting and squinting and making a right show of it. 

“I can tell you one thing.”, he said. “It will not be thankless.”

“No?”, she asked. 

“Oh no- if you think your intended is set for a dull career in the forces, you are much mistaken.” He said. “I see service, yes, duty and courage too, but it will not be thankless. It will be celebrated and honored and remembered for generations to come.”

“My George?”, she asked surprised. “You can see that just in my hand?”

“That and more.”, Tommy promised her, picking up in the glint in her eyes. She may not like the idea of being a soldier's wife, but she seemed to enjoy the thought of being a hero's ons. 

“Medals, marches, hymns-”, he nodded, trying to piece together what little he knew of soldiery, most of it what he had picked up from pinched newspapers. 

“And the pride of our whole nation.”

Wasn't that what they said soldiers were? Those soldiers at the races certainly thought they were- as if all of England should bow before them just because they put on a sense of importance along with their uniforms.

But those words made her beam from ear to ear- both now without their earrings, as they left, clearly content with their visions of heroism and women's rise. 

Tommy let them go gladly, his fingers toying with the earrings in his pocket. They were worth a pretty penny and could stretch far. 

Easy money, for once. He didn't even pity those two for their ignorance. Of course he had never learned to read palms or cards or dreams, why should he? 

He had never shared Polly's conviction or Arthur's fear. Why should he? It was all just smoke and mirrors, nonsense, and charlatanry. Nothing to lose sleep over, he thought, as he tossed one of the earrings up in the air and caught it again.

~

Thank you for reading - I'd love to hear your thoughts

Taglist

Overall

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @chlorrox @watercolorskyy @books-livre @quarterpastmidnight  @lilyevanswhore  @polishcrazyone  @zablife  @just-a-harmless-patato  @stevie75 @flyingjosephine-blog @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @babayaga67 @butterfly-skinnylegend @shelbydelrey @mrkdvidal1989 @raincoffeeandfandoms @midnightmagpiemama @adaydreamaway08 @kmc1989 @trixie23

Tommy

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

#comment reblog

[notyour-valentine]

If you haven't already, please check out this celebration and the wonderful stories included in it! Not just peaky, but if you're a peaky reader, you will certainly find something!

Little-Diable's 15k celebration TIME TO VOTE

My loves!! The time is finally here for you to vote on your favourite fics that have been written for my 15k celebration.

As a small reminder:

The fic which gets the most votes is the winner of this challenge, and the author will win something small.

If you add your username to the google doc I can see who voted the most and who actively took part in reading. The one of you who was the most active (I will check if you did comment/reblog the fics on Tumblr), will be contacted through Tumblr and will also win something. If y'all are super active (which I’m hoping for!) we’ll find another prize more of you can have!

You have time to vote till the 18th of December.

Here is the link for the doc

Tagging the authors

@zablife @runnning-outof-time @notyour-valentine @holylulusworld @band--psycho @nyxlaufeyson @cillmequick @whitedarkmoonflower @earlgreydream

#signal boost

[notyour-valentine]

Thank you so much for saying that! I'm glad you enjoyed this little snippet!

The Spirits that I summoned (Young!Tommy)

[Masterlist] [Taglist]

Summary: Where Arthur sees danger, Tommy sees a quick way to make some money and use people's prejudices against them.

Note: This is my participation for Chi @little-diable 's 15k celebration - what an accomplishment, and what an incredible, versatile body of work. In typical student mindset, I'm scraping the deadline, but I hope you enjoy all the same. The quote I drew was: Even as a child I felt it, and marvelled at the power of this woman who, though veiled, could electrify a room

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

Warning: Stereotypes of travellers (in line with what is shown in canon)

Wordcount: 1588

He twirled the coin between his fingers. It was a habit of his he knew he better ought to shake. 

Though his hand was hidden deep in the pocket of his brown worn trousers, Tommy knew one glance would give away his restless nature, his nerves. His weakness. 

Lucky for him, his counterparts weren’t always as perceptive. 

They were young, younger than he was, but not by much. And they were playing dress up, the same way the children were doing down at the fair, picking up wooden sticks and calling themselves knights. 

Oh they had chosen well, he had to give them that - sturdy boots made for walking, weatherproof coats, and thick scarves to keep out the cold. 

But the leather was polished to a shine, the shoes free from any scratch. And the coats had never seen repairs, at least none that were visible to the eye. 

The scarves matched the boots and the boots the purse and the purse the coat. All a little too perfect to be accidental. 

Besides, the shorter one of the two had forgotten to take her earrings off. 

Pearl, he could easily tell, even in the fleeing light, with a little gold stud. 

Tommy knew money when he saw it, and he saw it now in the shape of these two newcomers. 

“Go-good evening.”, one of them said, looking from one to the other. 

Arthur only glared at them suspiciously. 

“Are, ahm, are you one of the-”, she gestured to the illuminated camp site behind them. 

“Who’s asking?”, Arthur wanted to know, building himself up to his full height. 

He had a strange look in his eye as if he wasn’t sure whether to scare them off or take them to bed. Either one. Or both. 

“We, ah, well, we-”, the one stammered again, nervously fidgeting for words. 

“We want our fortunes told.”, the other one said sharply. “They say you people know how to read palms and teacups. We want to know our future.”

Do you now?, Tommy thought, his eye-catching the reflection of the moon on those earrings, those pretty, expensive earrings. Peal and gold. 

“Yes.”, the first one, the shy one said. “Please.”

“Oh I can read palms alright.”, Arthur said, running a hand through his hair. 

“Arthur,”, Tommy said, cutting off his older brother, who glared at him as if Tommy had slapped him. 

He gestured for his brother to take a few steps away. 

“What are you on about, Tommy?”, Arthur demanded to know. “I like the look of the tall one. You stay out of it.”

“Shut up and don’t think with your cock for once.”, he sneered. 

His brother’s face hardened. 

“You can either get your end wet, or…we can make a sweet little something off of them.”

Arthur shifted on his feet, humming under his breath. 

“You think?”, he said. “Bringing them to Aunt Pol? Or Queen Boswell?”

Tommy shook his head. 

“We’re not bringing them anywhere.”

Birmingham was too far away, where Polly was haggling with the baby and Ada, and that Boswell hag would only take more than her share of a cut. 

Besides, these girls weren’t kin. They didn’t know what they were asking for. So they wouldn’t know what they would receive either. 

Arthur didn’t seem too convinced. 

“Mother said not to mess with things we didn’t understand. That if we disrespect the traditions, there’d be punishment.”

Their mother had said that. Their mother had also had most of her visions when she had drunk a gallon of rum or whisky in a single evening. 

Tommy was already thinking about how much those earrings would buy them - food, or new winter shoes for the whole lot of them. Maybe even a horse they could train to race. 

He’d like a horse, but those shoes would have to come first. 

“Just let me do the talking, eh?”, he told Arthur before turning back to the women. 

“So what made you come to us?”, Tommy asked, after bringing them into Polly's wagon and telling Arthur to stand guard. 

He could see the girls' eyes dart around it, picking up in little details. The crochet curtains, the Black Madonna, the framed pictures of the family. The countless candles. 

The girls exchanged a look, then one glanced down while the other squirmed in her seat. 

“My brother thinks it's all a hoax.”, the first told her lap. “But he wasn't there when…”

She took a deep breath. 

“Our mother used to hire a woman to tell their fortunes. A traveller woman.”, she said. 

“We weren't allowed to be there, but we saw her enter. Even as a child I felt it, and marvelled at the power of this woman who, though veiled, could electrify a room.”

She dropped her voice to a whisper. 

“Everything she said came true.”

Tommy nodded solemnly. 

“It's good to know you have a respect for these matters.”, he said. “Oftentimes those that are not learned in these arts underestimate the forces at play.”

He tried his best to choose words as ceremonious as possible. 

“Are you sure you want me to read your palms and tell your future?” 

The girls nodded eagerly. 

“We have money!”

She reached into her purse and pulled out a few coins. Tommy knew at a glance it wasn't a stingy offer, but the pearls would be worth more and so he shook his head. 

“Knowledge of the future cannot be bought with coin. It has to be a trade.”

“A trade?”, the shorter one asked. 

Tommy hummed. 

“Sometimes they'd tell the farmers the days weather and get a few apples for their worries. A fair price for something trivial. Are you asking about something trivial?”

He already knew they weren't, that was why he was telling these lies. 

It wasn't long before one urged the other and she took off one of her earrings. 

Just like he had hoped. 

“I want to ask about women.”, she said, slipping off her gloves and handing her hands to him in a show of surprising determination. 

“On the continent there are whispers of a woman's emancipation, of votes for women and equal rights to men.”

Tommy nearly laughed. 

“Will that happen here in England too?”

She looked almost eager, like a child desperate for sweets. 

Tommy took her hand in his, squinted, then ran his fingers along her palm. 

Just like he had thought, a soft hand that smelled of expensive ointment, probably lavender. 

“I can see you think highly of the value and purpose of your sex.”, he said, before contonuing. “Others will come to realise it's indispensability in a more clear, more distinct way.”

Poor brother, father or lover to deal with the consequences of his words, but Tommy wanted that earring, so he decided to add just a little more. 

He took a deep shaking breath and nodded. 

“And yes- don't let the distance to the continent discourage you. What happens there will spread.”

He lowered her hand gently. 

“Me now.”, the other one insisted. 

“A moment.”, Tommy asked, dabbing his dry brow with his sleeve. “Tis not an easy task for me, nor was it an easy question.”

He bit back his smirk at the look of sympathy in the woman's eyes. 

Finally he cleared his throat and urged the other woman to give him her hand. Gently, he stroked her palm while glaring deeply into her eyes. 

“I'm getting married soon.”, she said. “Or I may be. I'm not too sure about him.”

“Do you love him?” Tommy asked. 

“I do, but…”, she sighed. “He is a soldier, training to be an officer.”

“And?”

“I'm not sure I want to be married to a young Officer in His Majesty's army. But it's a thankless business being a soldier's wife.”

“And now you have come for insight to clear your doubts.”, he asked, before glancing at her palm. 

He took more time now, running along the lines of her palm, shifting and squinting and making a right show of it. 

“I can tell you one thing.”, he said. “It will not be thankless.”

“No?”, she asked. 

“Oh no- if you think your intended is set for a dull career in the forces, you are much mistaken.” He said. “I see service, yes, duty and courage too, but it will not be thankless. It will be celebrated and honored and remembered for generations to come.”

“My George?”, she asked surprised. “You can see that just in my hand?”

“That and more.”, Tommy promised her, picking up in the glint in her eyes. She may not like the idea of being a soldier's wife, but she seemed to enjoy the thought of being a hero's ons. 

“Medals, marches, hymns-”, he nodded, trying to piece together what little he knew of soldiery, most of it what he had picked up from pinched newspapers. 

“And the pride of our whole nation.”

Wasn't that what they said soldiers were? Those soldiers at the races certainly thought they were- as if all of England should bow before them just because they put on a sense of importance along with their uniforms.

But those words made her beam from ear to ear- both now without their earrings, as they left, clearly content with their visions of heroism and women's rise. 

Tommy let them go gladly, his fingers toying with the earrings in his pocket. They were worth a pretty penny and could stretch far. 

Easy money, for once. He didn't even pity those two for their ignorance. Of course he had never learned to read palms or cards or dreams, why should he? 

He had never shared Polly's conviction or Arthur's fear. Why should he? It was all just smoke and mirrors, nonsense, and charlatanry. Nothing to lose sleep over, he thought, as he tossed one of the earrings up in the air and caught it again.

~

Thank you for reading - I'd love to hear your thoughts

Taglist

Overall

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @chlorrox @watercolorskyy @books-livre @quarterpastmidnight  @lilyevanswhore  @polishcrazyone  @zablife  @just-a-harmless-patato  @stevie75 @flyingjosephine-blog @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @babayaga67 @butterfly-skinnylegend @shelbydelrey @mrkdvidal1989 @raincoffeeandfandoms @midnightmagpiemama @adaydreamaway08 @kmc1989 @trixie23

Tommy

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

#comment reblog

[notyour-valentine]

Congratulations! What a huge milestone!

By this point you've probably tired of me praising you for how much of a pillar in the fandom you are, but it is true. You have one of the largest bodies of work, you are one of the most constant writers, you are so welcoming and so encouraging to all fandom participants on here and we are all lucky to have you!

Congratulations, dear K

Thank you so very much for helping this blog each 4 thousand followers! It means the world to me that you’d still be interested, or still want to stick around, even though I haven’t been posting as much at the moment.

To celebrate, I thought I’d pitch an idea to my fellow writers on here (because I’ve still got some blurbs from my previous celebration that need to be finished) … I’ll share more information on that below the cut so this doesn’t get too long.

If you’re not interested, let me thank you one last time before you continue scrolling — I never thought my blog would grow to be this big…I appreciate every single one of you!! Here’s to the next 4 thousand! 💜

So you’re interested joining in on the fun?? I greatly appreciate that!

First I want to give a little insight into the title of the celebration: Caught in 4K …. usually that expression means that someone’s been caught doing something bad, or something they shouldn’t be doing, but I’d like to put a little twist on it.

It’s no secret that Peaky Blinders isn’t known for fluff…but yet a great majority of us (myself probably being the one who enjoys it most) enjoy putting its characters into fluffy situations. So for this celebration I decided that we’d ‘catch these characters in 4k’ - doing something they don’t usually do.

~ If you want to join in on the celebration, the ‘rules’ are super simple: write a fluff-filled story!

~ You can write a ‘x reader’, write something with one of your OCs, or write for a pairing from the show — all of the characters from Peaky Blinders are fair game!!

~ NSFW content is allowed, but please make sure that you mark/add proper warnings if you’re including it!

Still Interested?? All you need to do is either reply to this post or send in a message letting me know that you’re interested in joining in and writing something!! (If there aren’t many who are interested, I’ll just nix the idea)

As always, you don’t need to be following me to take part in this…everyone can join in!

There is no deadline for these stories to be posted!

If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to reach out! I hope you’ll join this celebration with me! 💜

~ also I know there aren’t many, if any, of you who follow me because of the other fandoms I sometimes post content about (i.e Chicago PD/Fire, Yellowstone, and The Bear) but if you’re from one of those fandoms and are interested in writing a fluff-filled story with one of those characters, you’re more than welcome to join in!

[notyour-valentine]

Thank you so much for saying that. Class and perceptions are such forces in the story and I love to explore them; here we have a very young Tommy just showing traces of the man to come

The Spirits that I summoned (Young!Tommy)

[Masterlist] [Taglist]

Summary: Where Arthur sees danger, Tommy sees a quick way to make some money and use people's prejudices against them.

Note: This is my participation for Chi @little-diable 's 15k celebration - what an accomplishment, and what an incredible, versatile body of work. In typical student mindset, I'm scraping the deadline, but I hope you enjoy all the same. The quote I drew was: Even as a child I felt it, and marvelled at the power of this woman who, though veiled, could electrify a room

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

Warning: Stereotypes of travellers (in line with what is shown in canon)

Wordcount: 1588

He twirled the coin between his fingers. It was a habit of his he knew he better ought to shake. 

Though his hand was hidden deep in the pocket of his brown worn trousers, Tommy knew one glance would give away his restless nature, his nerves. His weakness. 

Lucky for him, his counterparts weren’t always as perceptive. 

They were young, younger than he was, but not by much. And they were playing dress up, the same way the children were doing down at the fair, picking up wooden sticks and calling themselves knights. 

Oh they had chosen well, he had to give them that - sturdy boots made for walking, weatherproof coats, and thick scarves to keep out the cold. 

But the leather was polished to a shine, the shoes free from any scratch. And the coats had never seen repairs, at least none that were visible to the eye. 

The scarves matched the boots and the boots the purse and the purse the coat. All a little too perfect to be accidental. 

Besides, the shorter one of the two had forgotten to take her earrings off. 

Pearl, he could easily tell, even in the fleeing light, with a little gold stud. 

Tommy knew money when he saw it, and he saw it now in the shape of these two newcomers. 

“Go-good evening.”, one of them said, looking from one to the other. 

Arthur only glared at them suspiciously. 

“Are, ahm, are you one of the-”, she gestured to the illuminated camp site behind them. 

“Who’s asking?”, Arthur wanted to know, building himself up to his full height. 

He had a strange look in his eye as if he wasn’t sure whether to scare them off or take them to bed. Either one. Or both. 

“We, ah, well, we-”, the one stammered again, nervously fidgeting for words. 

“We want our fortunes told.”, the other one said sharply. “They say you people know how to read palms and teacups. We want to know our future.”

Do you now?, Tommy thought, his eye-catching the reflection of the moon on those earrings, those pretty, expensive earrings. Peal and gold. 

“Yes.”, the first one, the shy one said. “Please.”

“Oh I can read palms alright.”, Arthur said, running a hand through his hair. 

“Arthur,”, Tommy said, cutting off his older brother, who glared at him as if Tommy had slapped him. 

He gestured for his brother to take a few steps away. 

“What are you on about, Tommy?”, Arthur demanded to know. “I like the look of the tall one. You stay out of it.”

“Shut up and don’t think with your cock for once.”, he sneered. 

His brother’s face hardened. 

“You can either get your end wet, or…we can make a sweet little something off of them.”

Arthur shifted on his feet, humming under his breath. 

“You think?”, he said. “Bringing them to Aunt Pol? Or Queen Boswell?”

Tommy shook his head. 

“We’re not bringing them anywhere.”

Birmingham was too far away, where Polly was haggling with the baby and Ada, and that Boswell hag would only take more than her share of a cut. 

Besides, these girls weren’t kin. They didn’t know what they were asking for. So they wouldn’t know what they would receive either. 

Arthur didn’t seem too convinced. 

“Mother said not to mess with things we didn’t understand. That if we disrespect the traditions, there’d be punishment.”

Their mother had said that. Their mother had also had most of her visions when she had drunk a gallon of rum or whisky in a single evening. 

Tommy was already thinking about how much those earrings would buy them - food, or new winter shoes for the whole lot of them. Maybe even a horse they could train to race. 

He’d like a horse, but those shoes would have to come first. 

“Just let me do the talking, eh?”, he told Arthur before turning back to the women. 

“So what made you come to us?”, Tommy asked, after bringing them into Polly's wagon and telling Arthur to stand guard. 

He could see the girls' eyes dart around it, picking up in little details. The crochet curtains, the Black Madonna, the framed pictures of the family. The countless candles. 

The girls exchanged a look, then one glanced down while the other squirmed in her seat. 

“My brother thinks it's all a hoax.”, the first told her lap. “But he wasn't there when…”

She took a deep breath. 

“Our mother used to hire a woman to tell their fortunes. A traveller woman.”, she said. 

“We weren't allowed to be there, but we saw her enter. Even as a child I felt it, and marvelled at the power of this woman who, though veiled, could electrify a room.”

She dropped her voice to a whisper. 

“Everything she said came true.”

Tommy nodded solemnly. 

“It's good to know you have a respect for these matters.”, he said. “Oftentimes those that are not learned in these arts underestimate the forces at play.”

He tried his best to choose words as ceremonious as possible. 

“Are you sure you want me to read your palms and tell your future?” 

The girls nodded eagerly. 

“We have money!”

She reached into her purse and pulled out a few coins. Tommy knew at a glance it wasn't a stingy offer, but the pearls would be worth more and so he shook his head. 

“Knowledge of the future cannot be bought with coin. It has to be a trade.”

“A trade?”, the shorter one asked. 

Tommy hummed. 

“Sometimes they'd tell the farmers the days weather and get a few apples for their worries. A fair price for something trivial. Are you asking about something trivial?”

He already knew they weren't, that was why he was telling these lies. 

It wasn't long before one urged the other and she took off one of her earrings. 

Just like he had hoped. 

“I want to ask about women.”, she said, slipping off her gloves and handing her hands to him in a show of surprising determination. 

“On the continent there are whispers of a woman's emancipation, of votes for women and equal rights to men.”

Tommy nearly laughed. 

“Will that happen here in England too?”

She looked almost eager, like a child desperate for sweets. 

Tommy took her hand in his, squinted, then ran his fingers along her palm. 

Just like he had thought, a soft hand that smelled of expensive ointment, probably lavender. 

“I can see you think highly of the value and purpose of your sex.”, he said, before contonuing. “Others will come to realise it's indispensability in a more clear, more distinct way.”

Poor brother, father or lover to deal with the consequences of his words, but Tommy wanted that earring, so he decided to add just a little more. 

He took a deep shaking breath and nodded. 

“And yes- don't let the distance to the continent discourage you. What happens there will spread.”

He lowered her hand gently. 

“Me now.”, the other one insisted. 

“A moment.”, Tommy asked, dabbing his dry brow with his sleeve. “Tis not an easy task for me, nor was it an easy question.”

He bit back his smirk at the look of sympathy in the woman's eyes. 

Finally he cleared his throat and urged the other woman to give him her hand. Gently, he stroked her palm while glaring deeply into her eyes. 

“I'm getting married soon.”, she said. “Or I may be. I'm not too sure about him.”

“Do you love him?” Tommy asked. 

“I do, but…”, she sighed. “He is a soldier, training to be an officer.”

“And?”

“I'm not sure I want to be married to a young Officer in His Majesty's army. But it's a thankless business being a soldier's wife.”

“And now you have come for insight to clear your doubts.”, he asked, before glancing at her palm. 

He took more time now, running along the lines of her palm, shifting and squinting and making a right show of it. 

“I can tell you one thing.”, he said. “It will not be thankless.”

“No?”, she asked. 

“Oh no- if you think your intended is set for a dull career in the forces, you are much mistaken.” He said. “I see service, yes, duty and courage too, but it will not be thankless. It will be celebrated and honored and remembered for generations to come.”

“My George?”, she asked surprised. “You can see that just in my hand?”

“That and more.”, Tommy promised her, picking up in the glint in her eyes. She may not like the idea of being a soldier's wife, but she seemed to enjoy the thought of being a hero's ons. 

“Medals, marches, hymns-”, he nodded, trying to piece together what little he knew of soldiery, most of it what he had picked up from pinched newspapers. 

“And the pride of our whole nation.”

Wasn't that what they said soldiers were? Those soldiers at the races certainly thought they were- as if all of England should bow before them just because they put on a sense of importance along with their uniforms.

But those words made her beam from ear to ear- both now without their earrings, as they left, clearly content with their visions of heroism and women's rise. 

Tommy let them go gladly, his fingers toying with the earrings in his pocket. They were worth a pretty penny and could stretch far. 

Easy money, for once. He didn't even pity those two for their ignorance. Of course he had never learned to read palms or cards or dreams, why should he? 

He had never shared Polly's conviction or Arthur's fear. Why should he? It was all just smoke and mirrors, nonsense, and charlatanry. Nothing to lose sleep over, he thought, as he tossed one of the earrings up in the air and caught it again.

~

Thank you for reading - I'd love to hear your thoughts

Taglist

Overall

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @chlorrox @watercolorskyy @books-livre @quarterpastmidnight  @lilyevanswhore  @polishcrazyone  @zablife  @just-a-harmless-patato  @stevie75 @flyingjosephine-blog @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @babayaga67 @butterfly-skinnylegend @shelbydelrey @mrkdvidal1989 @raincoffeeandfandoms @midnightmagpiemama @adaydreamaway08 @kmc1989 @trixie23

Tommy

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

#comment reblog

[notyour-valentine]

Val. VAL. VAL.

When I read the oneshot I was on the edge of my seat because Tommy was just telling them what they wanted to hear but ended up predicting the war and the remembrance and the poems and everything and then I read the title and now I have to sit down.

You know I like my titles - thank you for reading xx

#valentinesanswers #the spirits that i summoned

[notyour-valentine]

That's so sweet of you to say, Lee! I'm so glad you enjoyed it! I do have a soft spot for young Tommy - I wonder if he noticed the gravity of his words

The Spirits that I summoned (Young!Tommy)

[Masterlist] [Taglist]

Summary: Where Arthur sees danger, Tommy sees a quick way to make some money and use people's prejudices against them.

Note: This is my participation for Chi @little-diable 's 15k celebration - what an accomplishment, and what an incredible, versatile body of work. In typical student mindset, I'm scraping the deadline, but I hope you enjoy all the same. The quote I drew was: Even as a child I felt it, and marvelled at the power of this woman who, though veiled, could electrify a room

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

Warning: Stereotypes of travellers (in line with what is shown in canon)

Wordcount: 1588

He twirled the coin between his fingers. It was a habit of his he knew he better ought to shake. 

Though his hand was hidden deep in the pocket of his brown worn trousers, Tommy knew one glance would give away his restless nature, his nerves. His weakness. 

Lucky for him, his counterparts weren’t always as perceptive. 

They were young, younger than he was, but not by much. And they were playing dress up, the same way the children were doing down at the fair, picking up wooden sticks and calling themselves knights. 

Oh they had chosen well, he had to give them that - sturdy boots made for walking, weatherproof coats, and thick scarves to keep out the cold. 

But the leather was polished to a shine, the shoes free from any scratch. And the coats had never seen repairs, at least none that were visible to the eye. 

The scarves matched the boots and the boots the purse and the purse the coat. All a little too perfect to be accidental. 

Besides, the shorter one of the two had forgotten to take her earrings off. 

Pearl, he could easily tell, even in the fleeing light, with a little gold stud. 

Tommy knew money when he saw it, and he saw it now in the shape of these two newcomers. 

“Go-good evening.”, one of them said, looking from one to the other. 

Arthur only glared at them suspiciously. 

“Are, ahm, are you one of the-”, she gestured to the illuminated camp site behind them. 

“Who’s asking?”, Arthur wanted to know, building himself up to his full height. 

He had a strange look in his eye as if he wasn’t sure whether to scare them off or take them to bed. Either one. Or both. 

“We, ah, well, we-”, the one stammered again, nervously fidgeting for words. 

“We want our fortunes told.”, the other one said sharply. “They say you people know how to read palms and teacups. We want to know our future.”

Do you now?, Tommy thought, his eye-catching the reflection of the moon on those earrings, those pretty, expensive earrings. Peal and gold. 

“Yes.”, the first one, the shy one said. “Please.”

“Oh I can read palms alright.”, Arthur said, running a hand through his hair. 

“Arthur,”, Tommy said, cutting off his older brother, who glared at him as if Tommy had slapped him. 

He gestured for his brother to take a few steps away. 

“What are you on about, Tommy?”, Arthur demanded to know. “I like the look of the tall one. You stay out of it.”

“Shut up and don’t think with your cock for once.”, he sneered. 

His brother’s face hardened. 

“You can either get your end wet, or…we can make a sweet little something off of them.”

Arthur shifted on his feet, humming under his breath. 

“You think?”, he said. “Bringing them to Aunt Pol? Or Queen Boswell?”

Tommy shook his head. 

“We’re not bringing them anywhere.”

Birmingham was too far away, where Polly was haggling with the baby and Ada, and that Boswell hag would only take more than her share of a cut. 

Besides, these girls weren’t kin. They didn’t know what they were asking for. So they wouldn’t know what they would receive either. 

Arthur didn’t seem too convinced. 

“Mother said not to mess with things we didn’t understand. That if we disrespect the traditions, there’d be punishment.”

Their mother had said that. Their mother had also had most of her visions when she had drunk a gallon of rum or whisky in a single evening. 

Tommy was already thinking about how much those earrings would buy them - food, or new winter shoes for the whole lot of them. Maybe even a horse they could train to race. 

He’d like a horse, but those shoes would have to come first. 

“Just let me do the talking, eh?”, he told Arthur before turning back to the women. 

“So what made you come to us?”, Tommy asked, after bringing them into Polly's wagon and telling Arthur to stand guard. 

He could see the girls' eyes dart around it, picking up in little details. The crochet curtains, the Black Madonna, the framed pictures of the family. The countless candles. 

The girls exchanged a look, then one glanced down while the other squirmed in her seat. 

“My brother thinks it's all a hoax.”, the first told her lap. “But he wasn't there when…”

She took a deep breath. 

“Our mother used to hire a woman to tell their fortunes. A traveller woman.”, she said. 

“We weren't allowed to be there, but we saw her enter. Even as a child I felt it, and marvelled at the power of this woman who, though veiled, could electrify a room.”

She dropped her voice to a whisper. 

“Everything she said came true.”

Tommy nodded solemnly. 

“It's good to know you have a respect for these matters.”, he said. “Oftentimes those that are not learned in these arts underestimate the forces at play.”

He tried his best to choose words as ceremonious as possible. 

“Are you sure you want me to read your palms and tell your future?” 

The girls nodded eagerly. 

“We have money!”

She reached into her purse and pulled out a few coins. Tommy knew at a glance it wasn't a stingy offer, but the pearls would be worth more and so he shook his head. 

“Knowledge of the future cannot be bought with coin. It has to be a trade.”

“A trade?”, the shorter one asked. 

Tommy hummed. 

“Sometimes they'd tell the farmers the days weather and get a few apples for their worries. A fair price for something trivial. Are you asking about something trivial?”

He already knew they weren't, that was why he was telling these lies. 

It wasn't long before one urged the other and she took off one of her earrings. 

Just like he had hoped. 

“I want to ask about women.”, she said, slipping off her gloves and handing her hands to him in a show of surprising determination. 

“On the continent there are whispers of a woman's emancipation, of votes for women and equal rights to men.”

Tommy nearly laughed. 

“Will that happen here in England too?”

She looked almost eager, like a child desperate for sweets. 

Tommy took her hand in his, squinted, then ran his fingers along her palm. 

Just like he had thought, a soft hand that smelled of expensive ointment, probably lavender. 

“I can see you think highly of the value and purpose of your sex.”, he said, before contonuing. “Others will come to realise it's indispensability in a more clear, more distinct way.”

Poor brother, father or lover to deal with the consequences of his words, but Tommy wanted that earring, so he decided to add just a little more. 

He took a deep shaking breath and nodded. 

“And yes- don't let the distance to the continent discourage you. What happens there will spread.”

He lowered her hand gently. 

“Me now.”, the other one insisted. 

“A moment.”, Tommy asked, dabbing his dry brow with his sleeve. “Tis not an easy task for me, nor was it an easy question.”

He bit back his smirk at the look of sympathy in the woman's eyes. 

Finally he cleared his throat and urged the other woman to give him her hand. Gently, he stroked her palm while glaring deeply into her eyes. 

“I'm getting married soon.”, she said. “Or I may be. I'm not too sure about him.”

“Do you love him?” Tommy asked. 

“I do, but…”, she sighed. “He is a soldier, training to be an officer.”

“And?”

“I'm not sure I want to be married to a young Officer in His Majesty's army. But it's a thankless business being a soldier's wife.”

“And now you have come for insight to clear your doubts.”, he asked, before glancing at her palm. 

He took more time now, running along the lines of her palm, shifting and squinting and making a right show of it. 

“I can tell you one thing.”, he said. “It will not be thankless.”

“No?”, she asked. 

“Oh no- if you think your intended is set for a dull career in the forces, you are much mistaken.” He said. “I see service, yes, duty and courage too, but it will not be thankless. It will be celebrated and honored and remembered for generations to come.”

“My George?”, she asked surprised. “You can see that just in my hand?”

“That and more.”, Tommy promised her, picking up in the glint in her eyes. She may not like the idea of being a soldier's wife, but she seemed to enjoy the thought of being a hero's ons. 

“Medals, marches, hymns-”, he nodded, trying to piece together what little he knew of soldiery, most of it what he had picked up from pinched newspapers. 

“And the pride of our whole nation.”

Wasn't that what they said soldiers were? Those soldiers at the races certainly thought they were- as if all of England should bow before them just because they put on a sense of importance along with their uniforms.

But those words made her beam from ear to ear- both now without their earrings, as they left, clearly content with their visions of heroism and women's rise. 

Tommy let them go gladly, his fingers toying with the earrings in his pocket. They were worth a pretty penny and could stretch far. 

Easy money, for once. He didn't even pity those two for their ignorance. Of course he had never learned to read palms or cards or dreams, why should he? 

He had never shared Polly's conviction or Arthur's fear. Why should he? It was all just smoke and mirrors, nonsense, and charlatanry. Nothing to lose sleep over, he thought, as he tossed one of the earrings up in the air and caught it again.

~

Thank you for reading - I'd love to hear your thoughts

Taglist

Overall

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @chlorrox @watercolorskyy @books-livre @quarterpastmidnight  @lilyevanswhore  @polishcrazyone  @zablife  @just-a-harmless-patato  @stevie75 @flyingjosephine-blog @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @babayaga67 @butterfly-skinnylegend @shelbydelrey @mrkdvidal1989 @raincoffeeandfandoms @midnightmagpiemama @adaydreamaway08 @kmc1989 @trixie23

Tommy

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

#comment reblog

[notyour-valentine]

Thank you so much for saying that!

The Spirits that I summoned (Young!Tommy)

[Masterlist] [Taglist]

Summary: Where Arthur sees danger, Tommy sees a quick way to make some money and use people's prejudices against them.

Note: This is my participation for Chi @little-diable 's 15k celebration - what an accomplishment, and what an incredible, versatile body of work. In typical student mindset, I'm scraping the deadline, but I hope you enjoy all the same. The quote I drew was: Even as a child I felt it, and marvelled at the power of this woman who, though veiled, could electrify a room

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

Warning: Stereotypes of travellers (in line with what is shown in canon)

Wordcount: 1588

He twirled the coin between his fingers. It was a habit of his he knew he better ought to shake. 

Though his hand was hidden deep in the pocket of his brown worn trousers, Tommy knew one glance would give away his restless nature, his nerves. His weakness. 

Lucky for him, his counterparts weren’t always as perceptive. 

They were young, younger than he was, but not by much. And they were playing dress up, the same way the children were doing down at the fair, picking up wooden sticks and calling themselves knights. 

Oh they had chosen well, he had to give them that - sturdy boots made for walking, weatherproof coats, and thick scarves to keep out the cold. 

But the leather was polished to a shine, the shoes free from any scratch. And the coats had never seen repairs, at least none that were visible to the eye. 

The scarves matched the boots and the boots the purse and the purse the coat. All a little too perfect to be accidental. 

Besides, the shorter one of the two had forgotten to take her earrings off. 

Pearl, he could easily tell, even in the fleeing light, with a little gold stud. 

Tommy knew money when he saw it, and he saw it now in the shape of these two newcomers. 

“Go-good evening.”, one of them said, looking from one to the other. 

Arthur only glared at them suspiciously. 

“Are, ahm, are you one of the-”, she gestured to the illuminated camp site behind them. 

“Who’s asking?”, Arthur wanted to know, building himself up to his full height. 

He had a strange look in his eye as if he wasn’t sure whether to scare them off or take them to bed. Either one. Or both. 

“We, ah, well, we-”, the one stammered again, nervously fidgeting for words. 

“We want our fortunes told.”, the other one said sharply. “They say you people know how to read palms and teacups. We want to know our future.”

Do you now?, Tommy thought, his eye-catching the reflection of the moon on those earrings, those pretty, expensive earrings. Peal and gold. 

“Yes.”, the first one, the shy one said. “Please.”

“Oh I can read palms alright.”, Arthur said, running a hand through his hair. 

“Arthur,”, Tommy said, cutting off his older brother, who glared at him as if Tommy had slapped him. 

He gestured for his brother to take a few steps away. 

“What are you on about, Tommy?”, Arthur demanded to know. “I like the look of the tall one. You stay out of it.”

“Shut up and don’t think with your cock for once.”, he sneered. 

His brother’s face hardened. 

“You can either get your end wet, or…we can make a sweet little something off of them.”

Arthur shifted on his feet, humming under his breath. 

“You think?”, he said. “Bringing them to Aunt Pol? Or Queen Boswell?”

Tommy shook his head. 

“We’re not bringing them anywhere.”

Birmingham was too far away, where Polly was haggling with the baby and Ada, and that Boswell hag would only take more than her share of a cut. 

Besides, these girls weren’t kin. They didn’t know what they were asking for. So they wouldn’t know what they would receive either. 

Arthur didn’t seem too convinced. 

“Mother said not to mess with things we didn’t understand. That if we disrespect the traditions, there’d be punishment.”

Their mother had said that. Their mother had also had most of her visions when she had drunk a gallon of rum or whisky in a single evening. 

Tommy was already thinking about how much those earrings would buy them - food, or new winter shoes for the whole lot of them. Maybe even a horse they could train to race. 

He’d like a horse, but those shoes would have to come first. 

“Just let me do the talking, eh?”, he told Arthur before turning back to the women. 

“So what made you come to us?”, Tommy asked, after bringing them into Polly's wagon and telling Arthur to stand guard. 

He could see the girls' eyes dart around it, picking up in little details. The crochet curtains, the Black Madonna, the framed pictures of the family. The countless candles. 

The girls exchanged a look, then one glanced down while the other squirmed in her seat. 

“My brother thinks it's all a hoax.”, the first told her lap. “But he wasn't there when…”

She took a deep breath. 

“Our mother used to hire a woman to tell their fortunes. A traveller woman.”, she said. 

“We weren't allowed to be there, but we saw her enter. Even as a child I felt it, and marvelled at the power of this woman who, though veiled, could electrify a room.”

She dropped her voice to a whisper. 

“Everything she said came true.”

Tommy nodded solemnly. 

“It's good to know you have a respect for these matters.”, he said. “Oftentimes those that are not learned in these arts underestimate the forces at play.”

He tried his best to choose words as ceremonious as possible. 

“Are you sure you want me to read your palms and tell your future?” 

The girls nodded eagerly. 

“We have money!”

She reached into her purse and pulled out a few coins. Tommy knew at a glance it wasn't a stingy offer, but the pearls would be worth more and so he shook his head. 

“Knowledge of the future cannot be bought with coin. It has to be a trade.”

“A trade?”, the shorter one asked. 

Tommy hummed. 

“Sometimes they'd tell the farmers the days weather and get a few apples for their worries. A fair price for something trivial. Are you asking about something trivial?”

He already knew they weren't, that was why he was telling these lies. 

It wasn't long before one urged the other and she took off one of her earrings. 

Just like he had hoped. 

“I want to ask about women.”, she said, slipping off her gloves and handing her hands to him in a show of surprising determination. 

“On the continent there are whispers of a woman's emancipation, of votes for women and equal rights to men.”

Tommy nearly laughed. 

“Will that happen here in England too?”

She looked almost eager, like a child desperate for sweets. 

Tommy took her hand in his, squinted, then ran his fingers along her palm. 

Just like he had thought, a soft hand that smelled of expensive ointment, probably lavender. 

“I can see you think highly of the value and purpose of your sex.”, he said, before contonuing. “Others will come to realise it's indispensability in a more clear, more distinct way.”

Poor brother, father or lover to deal with the consequences of his words, but Tommy wanted that earring, so he decided to add just a little more. 

He took a deep shaking breath and nodded. 

“And yes- don't let the distance to the continent discourage you. What happens there will spread.”

He lowered her hand gently. 

“Me now.”, the other one insisted. 

“A moment.”, Tommy asked, dabbing his dry brow with his sleeve. “Tis not an easy task for me, nor was it an easy question.”

He bit back his smirk at the look of sympathy in the woman's eyes. 

Finally he cleared his throat and urged the other woman to give him her hand. Gently, he stroked her palm while glaring deeply into her eyes. 

“I'm getting married soon.”, she said. “Or I may be. I'm not too sure about him.”

“Do you love him?” Tommy asked. 

“I do, but…”, she sighed. “He is a soldier, training to be an officer.”

“And?”

“I'm not sure I want to be married to a young Officer in His Majesty's army. But it's a thankless business being a soldier's wife.”

“And now you have come for insight to clear your doubts.”, he asked, before glancing at her palm. 

He took more time now, running along the lines of her palm, shifting and squinting and making a right show of it. 

“I can tell you one thing.”, he said. “It will not be thankless.”

“No?”, she asked. 

“Oh no- if you think your intended is set for a dull career in the forces, you are much mistaken.” He said. “I see service, yes, duty and courage too, but it will not be thankless. It will be celebrated and honored and remembered for generations to come.”

“My George?”, she asked surprised. “You can see that just in my hand?”

“That and more.”, Tommy promised her, picking up in the glint in her eyes. She may not like the idea of being a soldier's wife, but she seemed to enjoy the thought of being a hero's ons. 

“Medals, marches, hymns-”, he nodded, trying to piece together what little he knew of soldiery, most of it what he had picked up from pinched newspapers. 

“And the pride of our whole nation.”

Wasn't that what they said soldiers were? Those soldiers at the races certainly thought they were- as if all of England should bow before them just because they put on a sense of importance along with their uniforms.

But those words made her beam from ear to ear- both now without their earrings, as they left, clearly content with their visions of heroism and women's rise. 

Tommy let them go gladly, his fingers toying with the earrings in his pocket. They were worth a pretty penny and could stretch far. 

Easy money, for once. He didn't even pity those two for their ignorance. Of course he had never learned to read palms or cards or dreams, why should he? 

He had never shared Polly's conviction or Arthur's fear. Why should he? It was all just smoke and mirrors, nonsense, and charlatanry. Nothing to lose sleep over, he thought, as he tossed one of the earrings up in the air and caught it again.

~

Thank you for reading - I'd love to hear your thoughts

Taglist

Overall

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @chlorrox @watercolorskyy @books-livre @quarterpastmidnight  @lilyevanswhore  @polishcrazyone  @zablife  @just-a-harmless-patato  @stevie75 @flyingjosephine-blog @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @babayaga67 @butterfly-skinnylegend @shelbydelrey @mrkdvidal1989 @raincoffeeandfandoms @midnightmagpiemama @adaydreamaway08 @kmc1989 @trixie23

Tommy

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

#comment reblog

[notyour-valentine]

The Spirits that I summoned (Young!Tommy)

[Masterlist] [Taglist]

Summary: Where Arthur sees danger, Tommy sees a quick way to make some money and use people's prejudices against them.

Note: This is my participation for Chi @little-diable 's 15k celebration - what an accomplishment, and what an incredible, versatile body of work. In typical student mindset, I'm scraping the deadline, but I hope you enjoy all the same. The quote I drew was: Even as a child I felt it, and marvelled at the power of this woman who, though veiled, could electrify a room

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

Warning: Stereotypes of travellers (in line with what is shown in canon)

Wordcount: 1588

He twirled the coin between his fingers. It was a habit of his he knew he better ought to shake. 

Though his hand was hidden deep in the pocket of his brown worn trousers, Tommy knew one glance would give away his restless nature, his nerves. His weakness. 

Lucky for him, his counterparts weren’t always as perceptive. 

They were young, younger than he was, but not by much. And they were playing dress up, the same way the children were doing down at the fair, picking up wooden sticks and calling themselves knights. 

Oh they had chosen well, he had to give them that - sturdy boots made for walking, weatherproof coats, and thick scarves to keep out the cold. 

But the leather was polished to a shine, the shoes free from any scratch. And the coats had never seen repairs, at least none that were visible to the eye. 

The scarves matched the boots and the boots the purse and the purse the coat. All a little too perfect to be accidental. 

Besides, the shorter one of the two had forgotten to take her earrings off. 

Pearl, he could easily tell, even in the fleeing light, with a little gold stud. 

Tommy knew money when he saw it, and he saw it now in the shape of these two newcomers. 

“Go-good evening.”, one of them said, looking from one to the other. 

Arthur only glared at them suspiciously. 

“Are, ahm, are you one of the-”, she gestured to the illuminated camp site behind them. 

“Who’s asking?”, Arthur wanted to know, building himself up to his full height. 

He had a strange look in his eye as if he wasn’t sure whether to scare them off or take them to bed. Either one. Or both. 

“We, ah, well, we-”, the one stammered again, nervously fidgeting for words. 

“We want our fortunes told.”, the other one said sharply. “They say you people know how to read palms and teacups. We want to know our future.”

Do you now?, Tommy thought, his eye-catching the reflection of the moon on those earrings, those pretty, expensive earrings. Peal and gold. 

“Yes.”, the first one, the shy one said. “Please.”

“Oh I can read palms alright.”, Arthur said, running a hand through his hair. 

“Arthur,”, Tommy said, cutting off his older brother, who glared at him as if Tommy had slapped him. 

He gestured for his brother to take a few steps away. 

“What are you on about, Tommy?”, Arthur demanded to know. “I like the look of the tall one. You stay out of it.”

“Shut up and don’t think with your cock for once.”, he sneered. 

His brother’s face hardened. 

“You can either get your end wet, or…we can make a sweet little something off of them.”

Arthur shifted on his feet, humming under his breath. 

“You think?”, he said. “Bringing them to Aunt Pol? Or Queen Boswell?”

Tommy shook his head. 

“We’re not bringing them anywhere.”

Birmingham was too far away, where Polly was haggling with the baby and Ada, and that Boswell hag would only take more than her share of a cut. 

Besides, these girls weren’t kin. They didn’t know what they were asking for. So they wouldn’t know what they would receive either. 

Arthur didn’t seem too convinced. 

“Mother said not to mess with things we didn’t understand. That if we disrespect the traditions, there’d be punishment.”

Their mother had said that. Their mother had also had most of her visions when she had drunk a gallon of rum or whisky in a single evening. 

Tommy was already thinking about how much those earrings would buy them - food, or new winter shoes for the whole lot of them. Maybe even a horse they could train to race. 

He’d like a horse, but those shoes would have to come first. 

“Just let me do the talking, eh?”, he told Arthur before turning back to the women. 

“So what made you come to us?”, Tommy asked, after bringing them into Polly's wagon and telling Arthur to stand guard. 

He could see the girls' eyes dart around it, picking up in little details. The crochet curtains, the Black Madonna, the framed pictures of the family. The countless candles. 

The girls exchanged a look, then one glanced down while the other squirmed in her seat. 

“My brother thinks it's all a hoax.”, the first told her lap. “But he wasn't there when…”

She took a deep breath. 

“Our mother used to hire a woman to tell their fortunes. A traveller woman.”, she said. 

“We weren't allowed to be there, but we saw her enter. Even as a child I felt it, and marvelled at the power of this woman who, though veiled, could electrify a room.”

She dropped her voice to a whisper. 

“Everything she said came true.”

Tommy nodded solemnly. 

“It's good to know you have a respect for these matters.”, he said. “Oftentimes those that are not learned in these arts underestimate the forces at play.”

He tried his best to choose words as ceremonious as possible. 

“Are you sure you want me to read your palms and tell your future?” 

The girls nodded eagerly. 

“We have money!”

She reached into her purse and pulled out a few coins. Tommy knew at a glance it wasn't a stingy offer, but the pearls would be worth more and so he shook his head. 

“Knowledge of the future cannot be bought with coin. It has to be a trade.”

“A trade?”, the shorter one asked. 

Tommy hummed. 

“Sometimes they'd tell the farmers the days weather and get a few apples for their worries. A fair price for something trivial. Are you asking about something trivial?”

He already knew they weren't, that was why he was telling these lies. 

It wasn't long before one urged the other and she took off one of her earrings. 

Just like he had hoped. 

“I want to ask about women.”, she said, slipping off her gloves and handing her hands to him in a show of surprising determination. 

“On the continent there are whispers of a woman's emancipation, of votes for women and equal rights to men.”

Tommy nearly laughed. 

“Will that happen here in England too?”

She looked almost eager, like a child desperate for sweets. 

Tommy took her hand in his, squinted, then ran his fingers along her palm. 

Just like he had thought, a soft hand that smelled of expensive ointment, probably lavender. 

“I can see you think highly of the value and purpose of your sex.”, he said, before contonuing. “Others will come to realise it's indispensability in a more clear, more distinct way.”

Poor brother, father or lover to deal with the consequences of his words, but Tommy wanted that earring, so he decided to add just a little more. 

He took a deep shaking breath and nodded. 

“And yes- don't let the distance to the continent discourage you. What happens there will spread.”

He lowered her hand gently. 

“Me now.”, the other one insisted. 

“A moment.”, Tommy asked, dabbing his dry brow with his sleeve. “Tis not an easy task for me, nor was it an easy question.”

He bit back his smirk at the look of sympathy in the woman's eyes. 

Finally he cleared his throat and urged the other woman to give him her hand. Gently, he stroked her palm while glaring deeply into her eyes. 

“I'm getting married soon.”, she said. “Or I may be. I'm not too sure about him.”

“Do you love him?” Tommy asked. 

“I do, but…”, she sighed. “He is a soldier, training to be an officer.”

“And?”

“I'm not sure I want to be married to a young Officer in His Majesty's army. But it's a thankless business being a soldier's wife.”

“And now you have come for insight to clear your doubts.”, he asked, before glancing at her palm. 

He took more time now, running along the lines of her palm, shifting and squinting and making a right show of it. 

“I can tell you one thing.”, he said. “It will not be thankless.”

“No?”, she asked. 

“Oh no- if you think your intended is set for a dull career in the forces, you are much mistaken.” He said. “I see service, yes, duty and courage too, but it will not be thankless. It will be celebrated and honored and remembered for generations to come.”

“My George?”, she asked surprised. “You can see that just in my hand?”

“That and more.”, Tommy promised her, picking up in the glint in her eyes. She may not like the idea of being a soldier's wife, but she seemed to enjoy the thought of being a hero's ons. 

“Medals, marches, hymns-”, he nodded, trying to piece together what little he knew of soldiery, most of it what he had picked up from pinched newspapers. 

“And the pride of our whole nation.”

Wasn't that what they said soldiers were? Those soldiers at the races certainly thought they were- as if all of England should bow before them just because they put on a sense of importance along with their uniforms.

But those words made her beam from ear to ear- both now without their earrings, as they left, clearly content with their visions of heroism and women's rise. 

Tommy let them go gladly, his fingers toying with the earrings in his pocket. They were worth a pretty penny and could stretch far. 

Easy money, for once. He didn't even pity those two for their ignorance. Of course he had never learned to read palms or cards or dreams, why should he? 

He had never shared Polly's conviction or Arthur's fear. Why should he? It was all just smoke and mirrors, nonsense, and charlatanry. Nothing to lose sleep over, he thought, as he tossed one of the earrings up in the air and caught it again.

~

Thank you for reading - I'd love to hear your thoughts

Taglist

Overall

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @chlorrox @watercolorskyy @books-livre @quarterpastmidnight  @lilyevanswhore  @polishcrazyone  @zablife  @just-a-harmless-patato  @stevie75 @flyingjosephine-blog @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @babayaga67 @butterfly-skinnylegend @shelbydelrey @mrkdvidal1989 @raincoffeeandfandoms @midnightmagpiemama @adaydreamaway08 @kmc1989 @trixie23

Tommy

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

#valentineswritings #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #young!tommy shelby #young!tommy #the spirits that i summoned #little diable15k

[notyour-valentine]

Urgghh Tommy, Tommy, Tommy - I can't even truly fault him in this, though my heart breaks for the reader, especially with the faith she showed him. I really liked the tie in with the leadership quote and the beginning of the story with the drawbacks to the war. It shows elements of Tommy the soldier (or rather the sergeant major) that isn't usually seen. We see the traumatised soldier, we know the 'cold calculating' commander, but rarely the leader. Thank you for writing this and sharing it with us!

It's Over

Tommy x gf reader

Summary: You implore Tommy to stay out of harm’s way, but he has other ideas. Will this be the end of your relationship?

Author’s Note: Written for @little-diable ’s 15K celebration. Congrats, darling! I'm sorry this took me so long! Quote assigned as the prompt: “A leader leads and you can’t ask men to risk death if you’re not willing to risk it yourself" from the Last Kingdom by Bernard Cornwell.

Warnings: angst

When Tommy returned home from the war he made countless promises. He said he wanted to give you the world and it wasn’t hard to believe him, his endless drive making all things seem possible. However, it had been a year since his return and with every new ambition came greater risk, threatening to tear Tommy away from you once more. 

Perhaps due to this fear, you held him tightly whenever possible, whispering words of love and devotion he seemed to have forgotten during your time apart. You hoped it would be enough to curb his relentless mind, but Polly warned you it might never be enough.

“He isn’t the same, love. He never really came back from France,” she confided sadly. The ominous words lingered in your head and tortured you with their certainty.

With all your stubbornness and fortitude you assured her, “He came home to me and he’ll always choose me." You kept that faith through all manner of disagreements.

Last night there had been another row over his plans and you expected Tommy to storm out, but true to your words he stayed with you. Wrapping him in your arms, he fell asleep on your chest and you sighed in contentment. You hardly noticed when the sun rose, beckoning him away from you and toward the danger that awaited him.

Tommy looked down at your sleeping form, watching your chest rise and fall peacefully. For a moment he considered leaving you that way. He wasn't prepared for a goodbye that could be his last. However, something held him there. A feeling which tugged at his heart when you stirred slightly, eyes fluttering open momentarily to smile at him with hopeful radiance.

“It’s time for me to go, love,” Tommy explained quietly, brushing his lips against your forehead in a tender kiss. Your smile soon fell away as you realized he hadn’t changed his mind about the attack on Kimber. You instantly sat up to reach for him, clutching at his arm. 

“Don’t do this, Tommy,” you pleaded, eyes filling with hot tears.

He only turned away from your desperate gaze, a dark shadow falling over his brow. “I have to, Y/n,” he replied firmly as his cold hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt.

“But why? Talk to me,” you begged, needing to understand why he was needlessly placing himself in harm’s way.

Tommy shook his head as he stared at a spot on the wall. “You know too much already,” he sighed, wishing he’d left you sleeping. In times like these he was reminded he was no good for you, a liability to your safety and well being. Suddenly he regretted falling into your arms for comfort at every chance. Frustrated with himself for his weakness, he swiped his boots from under the bed and headed for the door. 

You scrambled to follow him, bedsheet wrapped around you as you called after him. “Nothing ever stops you from leaving, does it?” you lamented, placing yourself between him and the door. 

Tommy hung his head as he exhaled a deep breath. 

“Tommy, look at me,” you implored, placing a hand to the side of his face. Your fingertips skated over his morning stubble as he finally looked into your eyes, longing and regret swirling in his bright blue irises. “Tell me why it has to be you. You have more than enough soldiers now who are willing to die for you. Why can’t you give the order and stay where it’s safe?,” you persisted.

Tommy placed a hand over yours, brow furrowed as he shook his head gently. “I couldn’t live with myself if I did that. A leader leads and you can’t ask men to risk death if you’re not willing to risk it yourself.” 

“But you can leave me with nothing and no one?” you argued. "Are you intent on breaking my heart?" you asked, feeling the tears escape your lash line and wash down your cheeks. You pulled away to swipe at them angrily with the backs of your hands as you awaited his reply.

Tommy ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the long strands on top as he realized the untenable situation. The powerlessness he felt turned to bitterness on his tongue. You noticed the icy look in his eye before he ever uttered his final words to you. “I’ll only hurt you if you let me. So perhaps it's time you let me go,” he uttered before turning to leave. The door slammed behind him, rattling the frames on the wall and you slumped to the floor in despair. Your heartbeat echoed in your ears, “It’s over, it’s over.”

---------------

Tag List:

@peakyswritings

@runnning-outof-time

@dandelionprints

@look-at-the-soul

@cillmequick

@brummiereader

@thomashelbyswife

@peakyltd

@call-sign-shark

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@christinasyellowflowers

@notyour-valentine

@polishcrazyone

@rangerelik

@elenavampire21

@lyarr24

@jomarch-wannabe

@the-fangirl-diaries

@kmc1989

@everythingelseisextra

@stilestotherescue 

@helen06dreamer

@chaosinkest1996 

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@l1-l4

@kmhappybunny240

#valentinesreadinglist #tommy shelby

[notyour-valentine]

Ohhh I first I was so annoyed at your Tommy, how typical of him to let relationships and agreements slide, but by the end I was so down for this couple! She is such fun and the flirty way they are around each other is so adorable. I love how you worked the quote Chi chose into your story. It felt so organic and natural.

Thank you for writing this and sharing it with us!

Chi’s 15k Celebration

Sorry it’s taken me forever to write something for your celebration @little-diable but first I forgot and then I couldn’t quite figure out my way into the quote you gave me! 🙈 Then finally this morning something clicked, so I hope you like what I’ve done here, even if it’s only little 🤍 Happy 15k darling, you deserve every single one! xxx

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

Prompt: ‘The dram of evil doth all the noble substance often dout to his own scandal’ - Hamlet

Summary: Tommy is late home and finds his wife reading in his office. Can he make it up to her?

Warnings: Nothing but cheeky fluff with a teeny bit of suggestion.

Word count: 457 MASTERLIST

Ignoble Sins

She was in his office when he got home, spread out on the chesterfield opposite the roaring fire, a glass in one hand, book in the other.

“You’re late,” she commented, not looking up.

“You’re in my office.”

He strode to the small collection of bright crystal decanters filled with amber liquids, pouring himself a drink. From where she lay, eyes apparently still glued to the page in front of her, she held out her glass until he came across to fill it.

“I’ll be home for dinner, you said.”

He shrugged off his jacket, pulling at his tie until he was able to throw it to one side and unbutton the top of his shirt. Lifting her feet he settled himself at the opposite end of the sofa, arm thrown across the back, resting his glass there.

“Well technically I haven’t eaten so that could still be true. Hungry?”

She prodded him sharply with her foot against his thigh but he caught her by the ankle, chilly fingers teasing across her calf until she squealed.

“Am I forgiven?” he grinned, fingers now tracing her knee beneath the hem of her dress.

"The dram of evil doth all the noble substance often dout to his own scandal,” she quoted from the page in front of her and he furrowed his brow, full lips pursed as if about to voice his confusion.

“It’s from Hamlet. It means that even a single sin can sully the most noble man.” She smirked wickedly, chucking the book to the floor and crawling towards him to settle astride his lap. “And you, Thomas Michael Shelby OBE, are far from noble to begin with,” she giggled, brushing her lips against his.

He caught the back of her head with a large palm, fingers tangling in her loose hair, gently massaging against her scalp.

“Is that so?”

She nipped his lower lip between her teeth, tugging lightly and felt him twitch deliciously beneath her core.

“Yes, I should say so. A very bad man indeed,” she breathed, eyes gleaming as she released him, nose brushing against his lightly. So close that she could almost rest her forehead against his, she revelled in how his usually pale eyes were already lost to wide inky pupils. His grip tightened in her hair and she whined needily as he held her fast, teasing his lips along the column of her throat.

“Do you want me to show you how much of a bad man I can be, eh..?” The growl of his voice against her ear, the scratch of his late evening stubble against her skin made her whimper, desperation pooling between her thighs.

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” she murmured darkly, rolling her hips against him.

Masterlists: TOMMY SHELBY | MAIN

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#valentinesreadinglist #tommy shelby

[notyour-valentine]

I had such fun writing this with you! Thank you so so much for trusting me to be a part of this 🤍

The Ghost of Christmas Past – Tommy Shelby

Part 1 of my Christmas Carol series. A big thank you to @notyour-valentine for writing this with me, this was such a grand joy! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Tommy keeps on pushing the reader away, only turning towards her when his nights get lonely, but maybe the visit of somebody from his past will finally manage to rip Tommy out of his state.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, some angst

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (4.6k words)

headerby @deathofpeaceofmind

Series Masterlist

The scent of smoke filled her small bedroom like a poisonous fog, a fog shielding the two lovers from a life that had been anything but kind to them, robbing them of loved ones, robbing them of their sanity, robbing them of their ability to express their emotions without holding back. A downward spiral Tommy and (y/n) had been stuck in for years, finding comfort in her bed whenever the world began to close in on them, forcing them away from the passing by days and weeks they’d go without seeing one another.

She couldn’t remember the moment she had realised that she was in love with Tommy Shelby, well at least not if you’d ask her. But deep down she knew it all too well, the day where she had run into him, soaked through clothes and cold hands, the teenage boy had wordlessly pulled her along, leading her into his home without asking any questions. He had been so gentle with her, a certain kind of gentleness Tommy was now a stranger to. 

“When will you come by on Friday?” Her soft words rang in his ears, a sound that almost reminded him of the sound of shots fired in the distance, a sound so distinct he’d never be able to forget it. Tommy had his chest bare, his eyes focused stoically ahead as he smoked his cigarette. He didn’t meet her eyes, kept ignoring the loving glances she threw his way, half laying on him with her naked body hidden beneath the warm blanket.

“Friday? Why should I come by on Friday?” Tommy felt her freeze, breaths growing shallow, fingertips no longer tracing his stomach. It took (y/n) a few seconds to regain her composure, clearing her throat before she slowly let go, sitting up with the blanket pressed to her chest.

“I mean it’s Christmas day, I just thought we’d maybe spend it together.”  He stubbed out his cigarette, rose to his feet and began to dress himself, almost like he hadn’t picked up on the words (y/n) had just spoken. Her eyes followed his every move, trying to blink away the tears that began to blur her vision, like the rain which had poured down on the day the two had crossed paths for the first time. “Tommy?”

“Why should we spend Christmas together, (y/n)? I will spend it with my family, as I do every year. You know that.” Tommy’s voice had an awfully chilling undertone to it, making goosebumps rise on her skin. Not once had she feared the man with piercing eyes and pale lips, not once had he raised his voice when she was around, but it seemed like today was the day the cards had changed their fate, the die was cast. 

“But–” by now he was fully dressed, back turned to her as their eyes met through the mirror hung on the wall Tommy was turned to. He watched her wipe her tears, unable to stop them from rolling down her cheeks, a sight that left his jaw muscles ticking, biting down the need to soothe the pain he had shot through her system. “You know what, you’re right. How foolish of me.”

No further word was spoken, slowly he turned towards her, nodding at (y/n) before he leaned down to press a kiss to her warm forehead, and without speaking another word, Tommy left the house she was living in behind. The second the sound of her front door falling shut rang in her ears, (y/n) let go of the sob she had tried to keep bottled in.

……

The silence filling his home had an awfully eerie touch to it, a silence Tommy had tried to flee from for the past years, no longer able to be on his own for too long. The nightmares would always catch up with him, robbing him of precious hours of sleep the man desperately needed. He nursed a glass of whisky, eyes closed, fingers holding onto yet another cigarette. (Y/n)’s pained expression filled his mind whenever he closed his eyes, wondering why he had pushed her away once again.

Tommy wasn’t oblivious, he was all too aware of the feelings she fostered deep inside, feelings that left him trembling in fear. Nothing good would happen to those that try to love him, they all ended up six feet under, a risk he wasn’t willing to take with (y/n) – not with her. 

A deep exhale left him as he sunk further into his chair, wondering if yet another sleepless night was awaiting him. He’d never admit it, and yet Tommy felt awfully lonely, without her near, without (y/n)’s voice filling the silence he was trapped in. Whenever he found himself hiding away in his office, his thoughts would catch up with him, forcing him down memory lane without a way out.

He could have sworn that shots were fired nearby, his body trembling in fear, about to disappear beneath earth’s surface, one with the soil he was forced to crawl through. Back then he had been filled with fright, though not the kind he found himself tormented by nowadays. No, back then he had other priorities, other people to care for, not understanding how much (y/n) truly meant to him.

But now he kept digging another tunnel, deeper than those he had crawled through, darker than those he’d see whenever his eyes fell shut. Fuck, she had been his anchor, the antidote to his nightmares, but yet the fear of letting her even closer still managed to push her away, preferring to stay away from her rather than being plagued by worries about her. Whatever grasp she had on his heart, he needed to get away from it, needed to leave her behind  – otherwise he’d go insane, otherwise he’d lose his last drop of sanity.

With one last yawn leaving him, Tommy felt his grasp on reality slip, lured into darkness by the tiredness clinging to his bones. 

……

The first thing Tommy felt was the cold. It crept in through the thickest curtains, the warmest socks and the most sturdy of walls. No blanket, no stone or wood, not even the most expensive of coats, could keep the cold away for long. Perhaps because it never left. Sometimes Tommy thought, it lingered in them, like mist over a lake, only sometimes retreating from burning coals or candles, but never quite leaving. Always waiting for a chance to strike again. By now he was almost sure the cold had found its way inside him too, curling inside him like it curled inside the walls of any place he had ever known. It had lingered in the plain wooden walls of the boat he had been born in, and the painted ones of the wagon that had been passed down generation from generation to find its current resting place in Charlie’s yard. It had always been in the gray walls of Watery Lane. The smoke and steam of the factories could chase away the snow and ice, but never the cold. He even found it in the walls of Arrow House. Or maybe he had brought it here, carrying it with him like all the other trinkets he had collected over his life, the first coin he had ever earned, the first bullet that had ever been dug out of him, a piece of mane from the first horse he had ever called his own. 

Now the cold had stretched out its pale fingers into his joints, making his knees ache as much as his fingers did. The fire must’ve gone out in the night. 

A curse slipped from his lips as he sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his hands for some warmth. They were stiff and strained as if he had been riding in the snow for hours. 

If only his dreams were that gentle to him. 

“Did I wake you?” He heard a woman say. 

His head snapped up immediately, searching for the sight of her dark hair, and her even darker eyes. He found her soon, sitting at the edge of the table, a cutting board in front of her. Busy, always busy. That was a good sign. The restlessness was innate to them, Polly said, once their hands stilled, that was when trouble came. 

“I wanted to surprise you,” she said, offering him a half smile as she brushed her hair out of her face with the back of her hand. “Do you like the sound of that? A Christmas surprise to make it extra special?”

His mouth went dry as he looked at her. He knew her. He knew the shade of her apron and could place each spot where it had been darned with greater certainty than he could place English cities on a map. He knew the curl of the shorter strands of her hair whenever she was out in the rain, or cooking with steam, the ones that framed her face. He knew that her fingernails, even if he could not see them now, would be bitten down all the way. 

Yes, Christmas was always special. It had to be special. 

Travellers didn’t like registries. Most didn’t know the dates of their birth, some not even the month. But Christmas was the same day every year. Christmas was the day when they could be sure to celebrate on the right one. And they did. In the good years, at least. 

“Look, Tom,” she said, putting the knife down, a strange look in her eyes. “I know you’re disappointed I didn’t take you with me on the road this summer, but now we’ll have a nice Christmas, you and me and the rest. And then, when the snow melts on the hills, we can try to go on the road together. You can ride your pony all on your own.”

She had tried, hadn’t she? She had stayed longer than she ever had before, almost until easter. Until the snow in the mountains was almost gone. They had even set the date, and he had packed and repacked his bags every night to be ready come morning, so that he would not miss it. 

Then there had been the fight. He remembered the shouting from below, his father’s booming voice, the shattering of glass and then the silence. Come morning, she had been gone, and she had even taken the pony too, so he had no chance of rushing after her. 

“If you want to, you can help me with the chestnuts,” she said, gesturing with her knife. 

He could see them now, laying in front of her. It was the biggest pile of chestnuts he had ever seen. Stolen, he thought now, just like the three oranges, and the chocolate. 

It had gotten old and brittle, tasting nothing like the silky smooth ones he had tried in Paris, the ones that melted on the tongue. While it wouldn’t even come close to the best chocolate Tommy had ever tasted, it had been the one he enjoyed the most. 

He found himself reaching for it, his fingers just an inch short of reaching it, when she slapped his hand away. 

“Wait for your siblings,” she said, a scowl on her face. “It’s for us all to share.”

He held his breath, waiting for her to say what she had said all those years ago, with that mischievous smile of hers that he had seen more times in John than he had ever gotten to see it in her. 

“Although…they won’t know one’s missing, will they?” She asked, piercing one with the knife and holding it up between them. 

“What do you say, Tom? It’ll be our little secret.” With that she drove the knife down on the board, splitting the small piece of chocolate in two. 

“Christmas is supposed to be special, isn’t it?”

~~~~~~

The last time it had been the cold that woke him, and its ruthlessness that had kept him awake. Now it was the noise, the grating, neverending screams, the wails echoing not just within their rooms but passing through the walls that separated their house from the next. 

And just like back then, it jolted him, made his stomach twist and his chest clench. 

Even now, despite everything, he had never been good with screaming. Although back then he had thought it was the worst sound of all. That was before he had heard men die. 

That was before he had been forced to hear horses die. 

Still, a screaming child was a sound that would never be easy on his ears, nor one he could ignore, pass on or drown out like other men. Or maybe they couldn’t either. 

Perhaps the same thing that made them flee to the pub or reach for the bottle was born from the same desperation that made his throat close all those years better. He had wanted to flee, but he had nowhere to flee to. Besides, if he fled, no one would be left. 

The memory returned the agonising feeling in his chest as if the construct of time had crumbled, between the boy he saw then and the man he was now. Because he was a boy. His hair was long, his eyes sunken, and his cheeks pale, even for winter. 

He looked like he hadn’t slept, and Tommy knew he hadn’t. How could he?

Perhaps it had been a saving grace, that the baby kept him up, or Ada having nightmares, or John crawling into their mother’s bed, finding it colder than it had been even when their parents still shared it. If it hadn’t been them it would have been Polly waking screaming from her night terrors, fighting nothing but her ghosts and regrets, or Arthur stumbling home drunk. 

With sleep, came nightmares. Though back then, the boy thought he was living in the worst one. That was before he knew what nightmares were, and looking at him now, Tommy wouldn’t blame him. 

“What’s wrong with him?” John asked, glaring at his two brothers, the older and the younger, with nothing but plain disgust on his face. 

The boy only inhaled sharply. not having an answer to share. Back then he had thought sometimes babies screamed just for the hell of it, or perhaps he was letting out his rage against the world, against his mother for leaving, against his father for fleeing, against his eldest brother for fleeing and his aunt for being a drunk, against his second brother for being too stupid to figure out if it was hunger, exhaustion, cold or pain that made him wail. 

With a scowl, John ran off, a face like sour lemon, leaving the boy to return to the kitchen. 

The air was thick with steam and smoke, and even thicker with tension. 

Ada’s face was flushed with rage. 

“No!” She insisted, her voice cracking like a whip. “I don’t! I don’t want it with cream, You ruined it!”

“Ada, it’s not ruined-,” Polly tried, her hands shaking too much to light the match for her cigarette. 

“Yes it is!” She snapped. “It’s never with cream. Mum always did it without cream because it’s supposed to be without cream!”

She screamed the last two words, tears shining in her dark eyes. 

She was wrong of course. Their mother didn’t always do it without cream, although there were little things she always did. Always would imply routine, certainty even, reliability. That wasn’t possible with their mother, not even in her death could they count on her absence. She’d come to haunt them in dreams. 

But Ada didn’t know that. She was younger than Tommy, and remembered less. And for all her faults, their mother had tried to make them a nice Christmas. When Polly didn’t respond in the way Ada wished, or in any way, she continued her tirade.

“It’s properly ruined! You ruined the cake and you ruined Christmas!”

“It’s the way I do it,” Polly said, her finger slipping again. She was too drunk to hold the match to catch the spark. 

“It’s wrong!” Ada snapped, trying to force back her sobs. 

“Ada, it’s a bloody cake!” The boy insisted, rocking the baby with his arm in a futile attempt to get him to stop screaming. 

“Well I don’t want it!” She snapped. “I don’t want the cream, I don’t want the cake and I don’t want Christmas!”

She didn’t have to say what she wanted. Tommy knew, then as he did now. She wanted the man back who’d lift her up to sit on his shoulders when he was sober and in a good mood. She wanted the woman back who’d sing to her and braid her hair. She wanted the family back that wasn’t wholly and utterly broken. 

The boy couldn’t give it to her, and the man knew that little girl would have to lose her family once more. 

“Where’s Arthur?” Polly asked the boy as she, having discarded the cigarette, reached for the bottle of gin. 

“Getting drunk.” The boy replied, and Tommy still remembered what he had thought. 

Like I want to. Like I should. But he couldn’t. 

That would leave them here alone, in the first Christmas without. They ought to fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. A mother without children. Children without a mother. 

But it had felt so wrong. 

Now Tommy wondered when it had begun to feel right, not then of course, not in the year after that. He didn’t know when, only that it had. The knocking on the door startled the baby to cry again, making him curse the interrupter before he had even put the baby down and walked towards it. 

Arthur didn’t knock and he wouldn’t be drunk enough yet to return. A gust of cold wind came as soon as he opened the door just a bit, the winter air being whipped through the narrow streets of Small Heath. 

“Happy Christmas, Tom,” she said, her voice muffled by the scarf she had wrapped around her head almost completely. 

The boy tensed. Tommy could see it in his shoulders. He had been upset by her use of the word “Happy” and by the sheer audacity of her to say something like that to him, to them, now. 

“I, ah, look!” She said, handing him a basket. Tommy didn’t have to see to know. Five gingerbread men. 

“These were left over from the bakery when we closed earlier. Mr Higgins gave us some to take home. Thought you’d like some.”

Five gingerbread men in a basket, wrapped in a white cloth. Tommy remembered the look of them, and the taste of them too, though he only had little. Both Ada and John had liked them enough to get distracted by them for a bit, first playing with them like they were dolls, and finally hacking off legs and arms and heads to eat them. 

He could see the look in her eyes, the expectation. 

“If you want, I can set them up in the kitchen,” she said. 

“They’re just gingerbread men,” the boy said. “Nothing to set up.”

She shifted, glancing downward. “Just offerin’.”

Tommy knew now what the boy didn’t, what she was actually asking. What she was actually offering. The boy was too caught up in his own misery to see the outstretched hand, and so instead quickly said that the house was getting cold and that he had to shut the door. 

“Oh alright. I better go then.”

Once more she had that expectation in her eyes, the spark that just waited for the right breath of air to ignite a warm, comforting fire. But it never came. 

The door was shut and locked, the basket taken into the kitchen, and Tommy was left alone in the corridor, as alone as the girl out there in the wind, making her way home. 

“Gingerbread. Ada’s favourite. And yours.”

His head snapped up, seeing the figure sitting on the stairs. Her hair was open for the occasion, with a wreath of holly that she wore like a crown. 

Seeing her here, in this house, on that day made his eyes burn. He almost wanted to lunge at her. 

But perhaps this was her hell, her purgatory, seeing the consequences of her absence, witnessing all their pain and desperation she had left in her wake. But he didn’t want her to suffer. He wanted her to be there. She smiled as she glanced at the kitchen door. 

“You know she lied, don’t you, Tom?” She asked, when from the kitchen the boy called his younger siblings. 

“Course,” he said. 

Mr Higgins was a man as greedy as he was mean. He didn’t give away anything for free. Once Tommy had heard her say that he’d eat himself to death before sharing a crumb. 

Either she’d have stolen them, which meant getting the price deducted from all the girl’s pay, or it would have come out of her salary, little as it was. 

John came rushing first, passing by the woman sitting on the steps, not knowing she was even there. Ada came more reluctantly, even if she ended up enjoying them more and buying them each year. Little did that girl know that the woman she would grow to be would hire one of London’s most famous, and expensive cake makers to create Gingerbread villages, and castles and boats to celebrate, a new motive each year. That year, a man had to do. 

“Happy Christmas, Tom,” his mother said, her eyes piercing through him. 

~~~

He woke with a gasp, hands shooting out to grasp onto the chair he had been sleeping in. An unfamiliar, rather uncomfortable feeling stuck to Tommy, forcing his eyes to blink a few times to adjust to the darkness he was engulfed by. With his eyes finding his clock he let go of a groan, it was already Christmas morning. 

“Tom.” The voice rang in his ears, making his head whip towards the door, only to find his room still empty. His heart was pounding, trying to shake his mother’s voice, hoping that the rather strange dream he had been plagued by would finally let him rest. But the voice called out to him once again, even as he cupped his face in his cold hands, desperately chasing the silence that had been ripped from him.

“It’s Christmas, Tom. You need her.” Her? Tommy caught the question before it could leave him, not wanting to speak out, scared that he was now going insane. He tried to shake his head, tried to rise with trembling limbs, though something clung to him, something his eyes couldn’t see. “Christmas is supposed to be celebrated with your loved ones, isn’t it?” 

He heavily swallowed, reaching for a cigarette in hopes of being able to let the memory of his mother finally rest. The blue smoke left his nostrils like a wave clashing through the streets he had once roamed as a young boy, with his siblings in tow. 

“Find her, Tommy, it’s never too late.” 

……

“Tommy? What are you doing here?” She was wearing her thin dressing gown, wrapping it tightly around herself as her wide eyes kept staring at him. Tommy cleared his throat, hands fumbling with his cap. For a few moments he struggled to meet her eyes, stepping on the cigarette he had finished smoking. 

“We’re supposed to spend Christmas with the people we love, aren’t we?” It was just a whisper, and yet the words were all too clear to (y/n) like bullets piercing her trembling body. The cold nibbled on her skin as she kept holding onto the door, watching snow settle on Tommy’s frame. 

All she could do was nod her head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. His words still rang in her ears, reminding her that “I will spend it with my family, as I do every year”. 

“I guess sometimes I’m not the smartest man, even though it pains me to say so.” Both chuckled in unison, Tommy took a slow step towards (y/n), and yet he still kept some distance between them. “I love you, (y/n), and I’d like it if you’d spend the next few days with me and my family.” She reached for his coat, pulling Tommy in for a searing kiss, drowning the gasp rumbling through the surprised man. 

Slowly Tommy guided her back inside, door falling shut with a thud as he shuffled out of his coat, falling to the ground with his cap following. They didn’t break the kiss, not as he picked her up, not as he carried her towards her bedroom. Only as Tommy carefully placed her down on the mattress did they part, allowing (y/n) to watch him undo his vest, taking his time as he undressed one by one. 

“You’re a strong headed idiot, Tommy Shelby, you’re painfully oblivious sometimes. And yet I can’t help but love you.” His fingers froze, eyes burning into hers. It took Tommy longer than he’d like to admit to snap out of his trance, lips finding hers again with a soft “I love you too, so very much” rumbling through him. 

Within moments both found themselves pressed together, naked bodies falling back into their all too familiar rhythm. They were a mess of tangled limbs, of racing hearts, and swollen lips, a mixture so loving, Tommy couldn’t help but wonder if he was still stuck in a dream. An almost melancholic feeling flushed through Tommy, momentarily taking him back to his rather confusing dreams. 

(Y/n) whispered his name as if it was a prayer one would only speak on Christmas, needing to keep one another close, wanting to fully pull him into her trap. He interlaced his fingers with hers as he slowly pushed into her, watching her eyes flutter close with a gasp leaving her. She was even more beautiful at that very moment, so beautiful Tommy wished he could freeze the moment to paint her.

His thrusts weren’t rushed, they were almost too slow for (y/n), though the way he looked at her, with so much love swimming in his pupils, seemed to be just enough to satisfy the moaning woman. She clung to him, fingernails scratching at his shoulders, scared that he’d let go of her all too abruptly, not giving her a chance to fully love him.

“Never let me go again, Tommy, promise me.” Her moans rolled off her tongue as he began to meet the one spot that left her gasping, seeing the brightest stars. He dipped his head down, kissing her throat as he spoke his sweet promise, words so loving, (y/n) feared her heart would rot from the love it felt. 

“May I die by my promise. I won’t ever let go again.” Their hearts were pounding in sync, roaring in their chests, louder and louder with every passing moment. Both kept holding eye contact, not wanting to miss their loving, lust-filled expressions. They were addicted, made for one another like Paris and Helen, like Orpheus and Euridice. Ancient lovers reborn at this very moment.

She came with a gasp, back arched off the mattress, pressed against his front. Tommy once again pressed kisses against her throat as he kept snapping his hips, needy for his own high. He didn’t let go of (y/n) as he followed her down the edge, imprinting himself on her walls, groaning her name with a smirk tugging on his lips. 

“Merry Christmas, love.”

#valentineswritings

[notyour-valentine]

50 years of TŘI OŘÍŠKY PRO POPELKU 1973 | dir. Václav Vorlíček

#la la la la la la la la la la - la la- la la lalala #european identity test

[notyour-valentine]

I-

This story had my head spinning- goodness how many twists can you include?

First of all the opening was so intriguing, really putting us readers on edge with the plot and the intrigue only for baiting us into believing it had all gone wrong, just to give us whiplash with the reveal. It was such a surprise even if we knew she was plotting, so even though you alerted us at the beginning that she was plotting something, you completely surprised us.

Then on the second reading I picked up on the Polly details but they were so cleverly hidden and would fit into any other story that described this evening, which just showed what a genius ploy that was.

I can't even blame Tommy, she (you) had me fooled hook line and sinker

Thank you for writing this and sharing it with us

i love dark stuff so i know your plot will be right up my alley. i was thinking of a female yandere reader who’s in a relationship with thomas? something with that couple dynamic would be amazing 🩷🩷 thank you for letting me request

I Would Die For You

Tommy x yandere wife reader

“There will be more after the job is done,” you promised, sliding a thick envelope across the table. Leaning back in the darkened booth to conceal yourself, you lit a cigarette and watched your companion closely. He hesitated, not over money, but loyalty. No one crossed the Shelbys and lived to tell the tale. However, something about the authority in your voice convinced him the protection you offered could be trusted.

The man looked over his shoulder before snatching the money up in his large hand. He placed it in his pocket in one swift movement as you arched an eyebrow in his direction.

“We’re in agreement then?” you asked impatiently.

“The Shelby's charity ball next week,” he grunted, repeating the information you’d provided earlier. 

“That’s right,” you smiled with satisfaction, pushing a celebratory glass of whisky into his hand. “I’ll ensure everyone is in place so you have a clear shot. You remember what to do with the gun?”

He nodded slowly before tossing back his drink. The burn of the alcohol barely took his mind off the thought of what might become of him if he failed. With slumped shoulders he pushed away from the table, lumbering toward the door of the pub.

You sat in silence, continuing to drink and ruminate over your detailed plan. Weeks of work organizing the catering and attending dress fittings had made you anxious for this important event, now only days away. It was all leading up to the moment of vengeance you'd dreamt of for years.

———————————-

As the gong sounded for dinner, you struggled to control your thundering heartbeat. It thumped painfully against your corseted chest while you waited for Polly's face to appear amongst the wide smiles of the other guests. When she finally swept past in a confection of pink taffeta and ostrich feathers, you gave a slight nod of your head.

With the signal given, you gingerly stepped to Tommy’s side, stealing his attention with a witty joke that made his eyes crinkle with laughter.

Bright blue eyes dancing with merriment, he never saw who fired the shot that came deafening close. There was only a look of horror as chaos broke out. Guests scattered to the far corners of the ballroom leaving him alone to witness your body fall to the floor in the slow motion of a nightmare.

Crumbling to the floor with you, he held you close. Tommy struggled to regulate his breathing, unsure how he would live if you died. "Call a fucking ambulance!" Tommy yelled over his shoulder. “And find out who did this. No one leaves!” he instructed his men angrily.

"Tommy," you whimpered, slumping against him weakly. The pain in your shoulder was like a searing hot poker lodged inside your muscle. It was far greater than anything you'd anticipated, but you reminded yourself why you had to endure the pain. Appealing to your husband you mumbled, "Help me."

"I won't let anything happen to you," Tommy promised, rubbing a thumb over your cheek. He continued whispering words of comfort as he willed you to fight the darkness threatening to descend upon you. The world outside stood still as he doted on you, eyes locked on yours for any sign of change.

As John approached with a pale face and trembling hands, Tommy knew it was more than the sight of your blood that upset him. “We found the shooter,” John announced in a shaky voice.

“Well?” Tommy barked impatiently, eager to return his attention to you. 

“The coppers say it was Polly,” John muttered in disbelief.

Your gloved hand slid down Tommy’s forearm as he turned away from you, pale irises darkening with fire. His jaw clenched in rage before he spat, “Tell them to take her away."

“Wh-what are you talking about?” John stuttered as his voice raised into a shout.

“She tried to kill my wife!” Tommy bellowed in return. With that John backed away, afraid to challenge his older brother.

Tommy adjusted you in his lap as he listened to John's footsteps fading into the background. Placing a kiss to your temple he added, “I’m so sorry she tried to hurt you, my darling.”

You shook your head. “She was aiming for you when I …” you stopped short, falling back into his strong arm.

Tommy pressed a cool hand to your forehead to revive you as he finished your thought. “You saved my life,” he said in hushed awe. He smoothed your hair away from your face as he looked at you with complete adoration. “Is this what you've been trying to tell me about a traitor in the family? I should have known."

Tears began to well in your eyes with relief that everything was falling into place. As they slid down your cheeks, you proclaimed, “I would die for you.”

"I know," Tommy said, wiping them away with his fingertips. "You're the only person I can trust," he concluded. He pulled you impossibly closer and you pressed your face into his tuxedo jacket to hide your triumphant smile.

-----------------

Tag List:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy 

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@callsign-fangirl

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@noforkingclue

#valentinesreadinglist #tommy shelby

[notyour-valentine]

Oh goodness I feel for her so, so much! We all like Tommy but his behaviour is nothing short of emotionally neglectful and cruel at times. They really seem like they've had this happen time and time again and the only thing changing are the stakes. But the final line really broke my heart a little, really highlighting the lack of emotional empathy Tommy shows those around him. He might not value his life, but they do 💔

Hi K! Congrats on the milestone! I would love to see what you do with this:

"Please stop talking." with Tommy.

Can't wait to read it!

Hi Karissa! Thanks so much for sending this in! I hope you like what I’ve done here! Sorry it took a bit for me to write. I’m not sure if anyone’s even interested in these blurbs anymore, but I’m going to write them because people requested them. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK - COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!

Some of Us Aren’t

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: language, smoking

Word Count: 843

Summary: Tommy and (Y/N) clash over Tommy’s most recent business decision.

“So you went and did it, huh?” (Y/N) didn’t even bother knocking on the door of her husband’s office before she opened it, storming into the room with an intensity that she only reserved for serious situations.

Tommy didn’t look up at first. Instead he went about capping his pen and tossing it to the side, his eyebrows raised as he tried to curb his annoyance. This was not what he needed at the moment. But he knew that he wouldn’t be going back to work any time soon.

“Did what?” he asked cooly as he finally looked up to see her standing in front of his desk with a pointed look on her face and her hands on her hips.

“You fucking know what, Thomas,” she sneered at him. He looked at her expectantly, his eyebrows raised as to say “I’m waiting” as he rested his elbows on the desk and clasped his hands together. (Y/N) wanted to slap the look off of his face. “You went ahead and agreed to work with the Russians,” she spelled it out for him.

“I did,” he stayed curt, not denying her accusation.

“Polly told you not to,” she shot back.

“I chose not to listen to Polly,” he was still level with her.

“I told you not to. And you better not say that you chose not to listen to me,” (Y/N) raised her eyebrows, getting that second sentence in before he was able to give her another one of his blunt comebacks.

Tommy paused for a moment, eyeing his wife up and down. The frustration was practically radiating off of her at this point. He needed to pick his battle here. He took a deep breath and slowly brought his eyes back up to match hers. “This move will be good for the business,” he then told her, an air of absoluteness present in his words. This matter was not up for discussion.

But (Y/N) was never one to stop herself from voicing her disagreement with Tommy’s ideas. “Like hell it won’t!” she exclaimed. “You’ve decided to go and make this move without consulting any of the other people invested in the business. What happened to having a meeting and talking things through? Huh?!”

“Please stop talking,” he interjected, keeping his voice level in hopes that his head would stay with it.

“Oh but you knew that it’d get shot down, didn’t you?” (Y/N) just kept on going, narrowing her eyes at him, “you knew that everyone else would see the situation for what it is, so that’s why you decided to steamroll it forward.”

Tommy took another deep breath and let it out in a huff. He grabbed his tin of cigarettes and pulled one out, rolling it between his lips before he lit it and took a deep drag. “Arthur’s on board with it,” he then commented nonchalantly with a shrug of his shoulders.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh at the statement. “Arthur will always go along with you. He’s practically your ‘yes man’, Tommy,” she pointed out, crossing her arms over her chest as a way to say ‘you’ve got to do better than that’.

He made sure to set his glasses down on the desk before he stood from the chair, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stood before placing his palms flat on the desk. They stared at each other for a moment before he spoke. “Have you got a better idea?” he countered, his brows raising as he looked her with wide eyes, “eh?”

(Y/N) bit on her lip as she held her husband’s stare. Her mind was full of the things she wanted to say to him about this terrible move that he’d made, but there was nothing that she could offer up as an option to be done instead.

Tommy noticed this almost instantly. “There’s a reason why I have the final say over what this company does; over who it works with, love,” he began, speaking slowly so that she would hear him clearly. “I consider every fucking option and avenue to take before choosing one. What they’re offering is something we’ve never come close to before. I have a plan.”

“I fear that one day your plan will not go as you hope it does…and then this business, and your life, will be destroyed, and it will all be because you decided to make a move without consulting the others in making that plan,” (Y/N) laid out her worries, not quite ready to accept the fact that this matter was not at all up for discussion. But no matter what she said, Tommy wasn’t going to be changing his mind…that was written all over his face.

“I’m prepared for it if that day were to come,” he kept his response brief.

“Yeah? Well, some of us aren’t,” she responded in a bitter tone, glaring at him and his stubbornness before she sharply turned to exit his office.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @areyenotfondofmelobster @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

#valentinesreadinglist #tommy shelby