#Thomas Shelby imagines

[multific]

Little You-s and I-s

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary: You and Tommy deal with the changes that come with your pregnancy.

Your pregnancy changed you a lot.

You became more sensitive to smell for example.

One evening, Thomas arrived home from the bar, and as soon as you caught the smell of drinks and smoke on him, you rushed to the bathroom.

Then there was the incident when you craved fish but before you could cook it, the smell of it caught your nose and again, rushing for the toilet you went.

Thomas was incredibly happy when you told him the news, having his own family with you was always a goal of his.

What he didn't like however is just how sensitive you became and one thing that set it off easily was his cigarettes.

Thomas smoked a lot, so for him to not be able to do that in his own home was a bit challenging, but he still found ways to smoke one or two in the furthest part of the garden. Even then, sometimes the wind carried the smell right back to you.

"No smoking and no drinks!" yelled Tom at John as he pulled out a cigarette.

"What? Why?"

"My wife is pregnant, she is sensitive to the smell."

"Oooh, it got that bad huh?" asked John as you entered the room with a tray, on the tray there were some cookies and tea.

"I'll appreciate if you can hold yourself from smoking just this once John, the smell of it just..."

"No problem, thank you for the tea."

"I'll leave you to it." you smiled at your husband who nodded before he turned to John, talking about business.

When lunchtime was approaching, both John and Tom found themselves in the kitchen where you were currently chopping up some carrots and crying.

"Darling, I'm sure the carrots don't mind us eating them."

"Tell that to the headless chicken in the oven, Thomas!" you quickly said back making both men take a step back, Thomas should have known not to argue with you.

Both headed into the dining room instead.

"Is pregnancy supposed to affect a woman this much?" asked John in a hushed tone.

"I think so? I'm no expert John. Arthur has children, he might know more."

"She is glowing though. She was crying but she still looked like a Goddess."

"Can't argue with that, John. But keep your wandering eyes to yourself, she is my wife."

"Does she always cry during cooking?"

"As of late, yes. Yesterday, she made salmon, cried her heart about as she was talking about the poor little fishies the one she cooked left behind. But then this morning, she cried when she made salad. Saying the potatoes didn't deserve to die this way."

"So, she is sensitive to smell, cries when the cooks, can't get worse than that, I'd say."

"She talks back like I have never heard before."

"Okay, I was wrong it can get worse. You mean to tell me, that my lovely shy sister-in-law talks back? The one who didn't dare to tell you she didn't like the ring you gave her?" Thomas made a face at John's confession.

"She didn't like the ring?"

"No, she said she wished you would have given her something more simple. But she didn't want to tell you because she would hurt your feelings."

"Well now, with my child under her heart, she is not afraid to talk from her heart. The other day she told me I should dress better, apparently my suits make me look old. Then she wanted to dance and when I said I don't have the energy she complained that I never have when it comes to her. This is true sadly, however, the latest one... oh Johnny, my boy just before you arrived, she told me to ask you not to smoke and when I told her that you will be free to do as you please, the look. That look I know well, it's the look of someone who is about to murder. She said I either tell you to not smoke or-" Thomas stopped as he felt a shiver run down his spine, both men turned towards the door only to find you with the food in your hands on a tray. 

You approached them and placed the food in front of them. The air was cold, John swore he could have cut the tension with a spoon.

"I told him he either asks you not to smoke or I will seriously question his position as the leader, as all leaders should be listened to and respected. And if he is not able to do so, then I shall take his place. So, you are not allowed to smoke John." John nodded, not even daring to look at you.

"Th-Thank you for the meal." John said.

"I know I can be a handful since I'm with child, I feel the change in myself, the doctor said it was hormones to blame, but I seriously hope you do not plan on talking our dear Johnny's ears off with my silliness, Dear Thomas. He doesn't have to know everything."

"Of course, Love. I apologize." Thomas grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on it.

John left soon after lunch and you were now washing the dishes as Tom was reading in the living room.

Once all dishes were done, you headed into the living room, a soft song playing as he was reading in his favourite armchair. He put the paper down when he saw you approach and you sat on his lap, your head on his chest as he continued to read with one hand as the other was now around you, comforting you.

"Am I really that annoying that you talk to John about it?"

"You are not annoying, Love. Odd, sometimes yes, but that isn't due to pregnancy." you giggled a little.

You were fine with 'odd'.

"I try to control it, you know?"

"Oh, God, is this the controlled version? I'm scared now for the uncontrolled one."

"It will get worse, I'm warning you because the doctor said last week that this will only grow as the baby does."

"It's alright, your body will change, I can take a few harsh words, I took bullets after all." he placed a kiss on your forehead.

"Do you want a girl or a boy?" you asked with a rather quiet voice.

"I don't really care, as long as both of you are safe and healthy."

"So you want a boy, got it." Tommy laughed you looked up at him, into his blue eyes. "I just want them to have your eyes."

"What if they don't?"

"Then we try until we have a child who does." you smiled at him as he looked at you.

"Just how many children my Missus want?"

"Oh, as many as my lovely husband would give me. We have a big house, it would be nice to have some life in it. Little you-s and I-s running around."

"I would like that. Honestly, I would like that very much. But let's see how you do after this one, then we will talk."

You hummed before you placed another kiss on his lips, letting him return to his paper as comfortable silence fell.

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports  @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa   @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow @crazzyter  @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79  @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @liveforkarljacobs @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @paola-carter​ @stunkbiggu @violet-19999​ @praline357​

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

             DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

#Thomas Shelby x reader #Thomas Shelby x you #Thomas Shelby imagine #Thomas Shelby imagines #Thomas Shelby #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagines #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder headcanon #cilian murphy character #pregnant reader #pregnancy

[sourholland]

timeless; thomas shelby

This idea has been plaguing my mind for days, I cannot get it out of my head. I’m not sure if I will make any more parts of this, it all depends on how I feel about it and if it is well received. The timeline of this is skewed on purpose, it’s also heavily based on Tommy’s time fighting during the war. Timeless by Taylor Swift was a huge inspiration.

Both you and Tommy became unlikely friends during childhood, only for you to realize you had always loved him. Tommy finds himself seeing you in a different light, only war being able to separate the two of you. (3.5k)

Thomas Shelby was the first and only boy you had ever loved.

It was 1902, Tommy was twelve years old. He played with your older brother, they went out into the street with the Shelby brothers and few other boys from the neighborhood and kicked a ball around. You were eight, trailing your brother Joseph at every chance you had.

When you met Tommy, it was because you had chased after your brother one August afternoon with the intention to join their game of kickball. The moment you approached the large group of prepubescent boys, Joseph looked absolutely mortified. Even though he was older than some of the boys, at fourteen, he still followed all of Tommy’s orders. This, you didn’t understand.

“Go home,” he leaned down to your level in gritted teeth.

“I just want to play, just one game,” you pleaded with him. “Please, Joey.”

“No,” he barked. “Y/N, you gotta get out of here.”

Feeling you face heat up, you were near tears and embarrassed in front of all of the older boys. Joseph would not let up, angry at you for trying to play with him and his friends.

“What the fuck d’she want?” Arthur bellowed towards your brother.

Peering over at him, you could tell that he was not very patient and was even older than Joseph. After Arthur had yelled, you turned back to go home. Hot tears spilled down your cheeks as you shuffled back to where you lived and went inside to play alone.

“Fuckin’ asshole is what you are,” Tommy shook his head a bit. “Game’s not fuckin’ hard or anythin’, Joe. She could have played.”

That was all they ever said again on the matter, your brother never brought it up to you that night and you never spoke of it to him. It wasn’t until later on that month that anyone had approached you about what happened that day in Small Heath.

You were sent out to pick up your mother’s cigarettes, dragging your feet along the dirt path with the coin in your hand. Every Wednesday, you made the same trek. Tommy Shelby came up on your right side as you walked one day, you saw a screwdriver sticking out of his pocket and nearly shuttered. The kids around the neighborhood spoke of him in hushed whispers, calling him a gypsy and saying he and his brothers carried razor blades around with them.

“You’re Joe’s sister, aren’t you?” He asked, peering over at you. “Tried to join in on a game a while back?”

“Yes,” you nodded. “I’m Y/N.”

He hummed in response, kicking dirt with his shoe as you both walked. He was much taller than you, though he was still quite narrow and scrawny. Truthfully, there was no denying that you had a little bit of a schoolgirl crush on him.

“Where’re you headed?” He finally spoke up.

“Grabbing my mum’s cigarettes,” you told him with a sigh. “She sends me out every week to pick some up.”

At the time, you had no clue why Tommy had followed you all the way to the shop and then walked you home. He never gave you any inclination either. Then, he did the same the next week. He came outside when you passed his house and you walked together. This occurred every week after the first.

Of course, you assumed this meant he liked you and this caused you to revel in the attention just a little. Tommy would talk to you about school and horses mostly, he was kind to you.

About six months after you and Tommy had developed this weekly routine, you mentioned something to your brother about it and he teased you about having a crush on Tommy. Making the mistake of saying he must’ve liked you back if he continued to walk along with you, Joseph was quite cruel in return.

“He doesn’t do it because he likes to,” Joseph laughed. “Father started pestering me to walk with you when he found out you were being picked on in school, bothered and such by the boys around. I started to give Tommy a bit of my allowance to walk with you so dad would finally get off my fucking back.”

You no longer walked to the shops on Wednesdays.

Tommy waited for you the next week, but you never left out front and began past his house. The week after, he did the same and you still did not come.

“Y/N!” Your mother’s voice came up the staircase on Thursday morning. “Come to the door.”

Tommy stood there in the walkway to your home, talking with your mother about something as you came down the steps. She left you to walk outside together and down the stairs into the street.

“You’re not getting your mum’s cigarettes anymore?” He asked you suddenly.

“No, I am,” you told him. “Just don’t want to walk with you anymore.”

He seemed taken aback by this, not used to the idea of you sticking your nose up at him and looking the other way when he tried to talk to you. Tommy knew you were smitten with him, he didn’t mind it. He thought you were nice enough, he liked to walk with you every week. He just didn’t see you the same way that you saw him, you were too young and too curious about certain things.

“Why’s that?” He shot back a little annoyed.

“Joey told me that he’s been paying you to do it, to make sure nobody messes with me.”

“And?” Tommy asked. “Doesn’t really fuckin’ matter if you ask me, whether he’s payin’ me or not.”

This made you roll your eyes, shaking your head at him and leaning against the brick of one of the alleyways you walked down. Tommy was confused as to why this bothered you so much, truthfully it didn’t really matter about the money to him. It helped him to buy cigarettes, that was all. He didn’t mind walking along with you, though. He would’ve done it without the payout.

“It matters to me,” you told him. “I don’t need looking after or anything like that.”

Turning on your heel, you thought that you’d been able to get the last word. Little did you know, nobody but Tommy got the last word. He only realized you had decided to go out on Saturdays, rather than Wednesdays. He told Joseph that he wouldn’t be requiring payment anymore and you walked in silence for over a month before you spoke to him on your walks again.

His stubbornness irked you, leaving you infuriatingly mad at his inability to leave you alone. Your cheeks went hot when he came around, stomach in knots whenever he would say your name.

Over the years, you had tried to shake your feelings for Tommy. This was mostly due to the fact that you had grown attached in a way that allowed you to call him a friend. By the time you were eleven, Tommy had taught you how to ride his horse. He spent an entire summer working with you. He was fifteen and definitely had plenty of better things to do, but he spent hours upon hours in the grueling sun with you.

“Tommy,” you said, laying sprawled out on a patch of grass one afternoon when you were thirteen and he was seventeen. “D’you want to come ‘round to mine for supper tonight? Mum asked me to invite you over.”

The last bit was a lie, you truly just wanted Tommy to join you. He inhaled shortly before propping himself up on his hand and looking over at you.

“Can’t tonight, m’sorry,” he apologized to you.

“Why not?” You asked curiously, assuming he’d saying something about having to be with his brothers or Polly.

“I’ve actually asked a girl out,” he confessed to you. “I’m planning to take her out tonight.”

This was one of the few times Tommy discussed his love life with you. Your friendship mostly consisted of doing other things, less intrusive things. He still really saw you as a younger sister type of figure in a way. He thoroughly enjoyed your company, but there was no denying his attraction to the girls he saw in school.

Once, Tommy told you about Arthur bringing home a prostitute. He didn’t tell you why he did it, or what they did. Only laughed it off, unbeknownst to him that you really didn’t know what a prostitute was. Joseph had called them whores, but you lived a rather sheltered lifestyle and none of the older people around you ever spoke about such things in front of you.

Tommy took girls out, he’d had several girlfriends as you approached your later teenage years. Your friendship, however, never faltered. When you were seventeen years old, you remember going out riding with him and telling him how you wanted to make something of yourself beyond what Small Heath had to offer. Planning to become a schoolteacher, Tommy had always admired this about you.

“Don’t you want to be something other than all this?” You asked him, alluding to the fact that he was growing more and more responsible for the Peaky Blinders. “I mean, I just wondered if you ever had other dreams.”

“I’d like to work with horses,” he told you quietly, running his hands over the mare’s mane.

“Why don’t you?” You questioned him. “I know you feel some sense of responsibility over your family, I think it’s one of your best traits. Don’t you ever want to just—I don’t know, live a less tormenting life?”

Tommy played with the reins, looking at you and shrugging. This was all he’d ever known, and all he would ever know. There was no Birmingham without Tommy Shelby, you knew it as well as anyone. It still hurt, though. Knowing he was playing with fire every day, testing God, as your mother had called it.

Once Tommy had grown more involved in the gang, your parents no longer allowed him to come over to the house. They detested you seeing him at all, your brother most of all. He settled quickly, marrying a woman and starting a family.

Tommy realized he loved you when he was twenty two years old. He’d known you for ten years, having called you his best friend for a decade. You were eighteen years old and had just begun training to become a teacher, you were commuting frequently and saw Tommy less and less.

It was that Christmas when you’d introduced him to the man you had been courting, his name was Michael. When he shook the man’s hand, Tommy felt something inside of him shift. Suddenly, you were no longer that little girl with scuffed shoes and long pigtails. He saw a young woman with ambition and heart, but you were no longer holding out for Tommy like you had for nearly ten years.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Arthur came up and clapped Tommy on the back of the shoulder. “S’fucking Christmas and you’re really bringing my spirits down.”

Tommy said nothing, downing more whiskey as he watched Michael spin you around in a dance. You were in a fit of laughter, smiling at him adoringly.

“Be serious, brother,” Arthur sighed, drunk and wondering how Tommy could truly be as he was. “You can’t tell me that you’re sitting over here in the corner drinking away your sorrows because she’s brought along some bloke.”

“Fuck off, won’t you?” Tommy shot him a look.

“Unbelievable,” Arthur walked away laughing.

It was completely and utterly unbelievable, not only to Arthur, but to Tommy as well. He’d spent years with you, practically praying that you would find someone, anyone to avert your feelings too. As you grew older, you also were able to hide your feelings and emotions better in Tommy’s case.

He watched you the entire night, nodding a farewell when he noticed you trying to approach him. He had no intention of speaking to Michael again, for fear that he may be physically ill.

His hope that it was a passing courtship died with what looked to be your close friendship. The two of you hardly saw each other anymore, animosity forming between you after the night of the Christmas party.

Months later, Tommy found himself at your apartment door when Ada had told him that you mentioned thinking Michael was planning to propose. He left to see you after midnight, walking the entire distance to where you lived and putting himself at your front door well past one in the morning.

“Y/N,” he called out as he knocked. “It’s Tommy.”

Opening the door, you were only left in your nightdress. Your hair was down completely, something Tommy had not seen since you were some years younger. He could not help but to notice the sheer material of the fabric, the buds of your nipples showing through.

“Tommy?” You yawned. “What’re you doing here?”

“I needed to talk to you,” he told you.

“Now? It’s the middle of the night.”

Ushering him in, you let him shut the door behind him and tried to rub the sleep out of your eyes. Tommy felt himself growing hard, looking at you in such a state.

“Y/N, don’t marry him,” Tommy blurted out in almost a whisper.

“What?” You looked at him, shocked. “What did you say?”

“Don’t marry him, don’t marry Michael.”

There was a stillness to the room, a silence that made you almost sick. His face was somehow stoic, but pleading at the same time. His eyes bored into your own, as if they were making it impossible to get a word out.

“He is a good man, Tommy,” you said. “He wants to take care of me, to make me happy.”

“With plenty of money and security, with a practical occupation and a good legacy to leave your children?” Tommy asked, sarcasm incredibly evident.

“Yes, Tommy. Fuck, I mean is that what you want me to say? That he can give me a good life? Why should it matter if he’s got money?”

“It shouldn’t, not if you love him,” Tommy told you. “Do you?”

It felt as if you were eight years old again, confronting Tommy about why he was walking with you in the first place. He looked at you with such yearning, such longing. It was as if he was begging you not to say yes, pleading with you not to have already devoted your heart to this man.

There was only one truth of the matter. Thomas Shelby was the only man that you had ever loved.

“Tommy, I have only ever loved you since I was eight years old,” you whispered.

As if unable to hold back any longer, Tommy embraced you fully and brought you into his arms. He kissed you furiously, without any doubt or question that you were meant for him. He let his hands run up and down your back and pulled you into his body.

Before you gave into your urge to let him rip your sheer nightdress off of you, you pulled away with swollen lips and eyes full of desire. This was not right, not until you spoke to Michael. Regardless of how you felt for Tommy, you could not do this to Michael.

“Not yet,” you whispered. “I gave a man my word, I need to speak to him before I can go any further here.”

Tommy respected your choice, he knew you wouldn’t want disloyalty on your conscience. He just nodded his head and placed a hand on your cheek gently, it was in these moments that he forgot about everything else.

Michael didn’t take the news very well at all, his ego was bruised and he pleaded for you to reconsider. He told you how deeply he loved you and how you had led him on, making him believe that you two would have a life together. He was right, you had encouraged him in all of his dreams of your future and you had done it without ever considering how it may end. It was selfish.

It took you weeks before you agreed to see Tommy again after Michael had left you feeling so guilty. Nights of tireless sleep, you would look up at the sky and pray to god that you were making the right decisions.

Over a year into your training, you would soon be able to do what you’d always dreamt of. Dark times approached, though. There were ghosts of whispers at every street corner, they spoke of war so feverishly. It was as if death was due to knock at the doors of families, stripping women of their husbands and children of their fathers.

The thought of this had left Tommy quite stoic most of the time, he held a monotonous view on the entire matter. Every time you had brought it up to him, he told you how he would be expected to fight on behalf of his country if it came down to it.

And so he did, when it came down to it and Britain had joined the War—The Shelby brothers and hundreds of other men in Small Heath joined as well.

“Tommy,” I sniffled as I watched him from across his bedroom pack a small bag of things. “I need you to promise me that you’ll come home, that you won’t die out there. They’re saying things about trench warfare, it’s all really terrifying—”

Tommy crossed the room and took your face in his hands, kissing you hard on the lips, as if it was the last time he would ever do so. A piece of you wondered if he believed that he would die out there.

“Please come home,” you breathed.

“I will come home,” he kissed you again. “I promise you.”

You planned to hold him to this promise. Having waited ten years for Tommy Shelby, you would wait however long more so long as he would come home to you.

It took two months before his first letter would come after you watched him depart on that large ship. Long months of kneeling at the foot of your bed, begging god not to take Tommy. Everything that was being said about the war was absolutely tragic, soldiers being blown to pieces or rotting below the earth in the trenches.

My Dearest Y/N,

I wish I was able to write to you sooner, I cannot say where I am for the risk of interception. Just know that I have never been in such conditions in my life, I spend my days underground. I have taken the role of a tunneler. Trench warfare has not been good to any of us, I find myself fantasizing of the end of this long hell.

I stare at your picture every night before I shut my eyes, dreaming of what it would be like beside you. There is no greater sorrow to me than your absence from my life at this point in time. I can only hope that it will not be for long.

Not long ago, myself and a group of men were gassed. I watched a fellow soldier go blind for nearly three days before he finally came out of it, only with some permanent damage. There are times when I have thought to myself, ‘Perhaps if I was hit, it would not be so bad. Perhaps even death is better than fighting in this war’.

Then I think of you. I think of the promises I made to you before I left to fight in this god awful war. I cannot understand how men are expected to live like this, nor how we will continue on. I was up to my knees in water last week, the trenches dark and desolate as we waited for the storm to pass. There is so much waiting these days.

I look forward to your letter.

With all of my love,

Tommy Shelby

#elle’s fics #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby x y/n #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagines #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader

[fallatyourfeet]

Empty Promises (Tommy X Wife Reader) One-shot

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

Word count: 746

Warnings: Nothing really.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about two nights,” Tommy repeated.

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

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

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

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

Shaking your head, you couldn’t contain the joy in your voice, “You’re such an ass, Tommy. Why couldn’t you just tell me, instead of torturing me like that?”

Tommy laughed audibly, “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you hurry up and get your own ass down here and you can punish me in any way you want.”

With a devilish voice, you sighed, “Oh Tommy, my love. Don’t you worry about that… I’ve got the whole car ride there to decide… and believe me, I already have a few ideas.”

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby imagines #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby x reader

[berrypockets]

Voiceless

Summary: In the heart of Small Heath, Tommy Shelby finds an unexpected connection with Y/N, a talented seamstress who lost her voice in a mysterious accident. As their relationship deepens, they navigate the complexities of love, trust, and the shadows of Small Heath. Amidst the whispers of betrayal, Y/N faces life-threatening challenges, and Tommy discovers the shocking truth about the accident that silenced Y/N. As their love withstands the tests of time, they build a life filled with resilience, family, and the unspoken language of love.

A sinister secret waiting to be unveiled in the chapters that follows.

Authors Note: This story has been with me for over two years. I have given this story to authors who I thought would deliver it as I am not a writer myself, but sadly none of them accepted the story as it was difficult to deliver. I have spent two years writing this story; I do hope you'll love it as much as I did. Please feel free to reblog, or share your thoughts on the story, I would appreciate it

Chapter 1: The Accident

Chapter 2: Learning to Adapt

Chapter 3: The Silent World

Chapter 4: The Shadow of Silence

Chapter 5: The Unheard Language of Love

Chapter 6: Whispers in the Shadows

Chapter 7: Stitches of the Heart

Chapter 8: Shadows Resurface | Shattered Trust

Chapter 9: Shadows of Betrayal | Resilient Hearts

Chapter 10: Awakening Shadows

Chapter 11: Veiled Whispers

Chapter 12: Shadows Beneath the Veil

Chapter 13: Echoes of Retribution

Chapter 14: A New Beginning

Epilogue: Threads of Eternity

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagines #cillian murphy #peaky blinders imagines #thomas shelby imagines #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x you

[calummss]

Do You Get Déjà Vu | Thomas Shelby

masterlist

summary: thomas doesn’t come to pick up his daughter. you decide to take her home only to find a man of a table with a bullet in his chest and a lot of deja vu

pairing: fem! reader x thomas shelby

words: 1.6k

a/n: just fluff and comedy tbh… not my usual angst i promise also, this takes place in 1919 because season 1 tommy has my heart. helena is around 9/10 years :)

How you disliked summer. Sweat pearls dripping simply sitting and breathing. Delicate fabric sticking to you like a bee and its honey. It was simply too hot for a woman to be wearing layers of modest clothing but here you were, sitting in front of your desk; no countertop in sight, too many different documents sprawled across the surface, each waiting on your eyes and conscious to scan it and then evaluate whatever category it fell into.

‘Miss Verys?’ Katie’s voice pulled you out of your slump, yet your heart skipped a beat when you saw her come closer with an arm full of newer papers that acquired your attention.

‘Please tell me you are joking…’

‘I fear not, Miss,’ she pressed her lips together as she placed them onto the right corner, the surface area with less than ten documents. ‘But these are all for the week.’ She smiled.

‘Finally some good fucking news,’ you huffed, ‘Sorry,’ you tilted your head when you realised Katie was taken aback by your choice of words.

‘Also I don’t wish to add more to your plate but Helena is still present. It seems Mr. Shelby has yet to pick her up. Do you want me to stay and wait with her?’

‘Katie you are truly an angel, really, I am so grateful but you are being paid to work on from eight to three, I couldn’t let you do that. Legally and from my heart.’ You curled your lips, fingers rubbing against the sheet of paper you were waiting to flip. ‘Just tell Helena to pack her things and to come to my office. Since I will be busy reading through all of these I might end up staying for quite a while.’

‘Of course. And thank you, Miss Verys, have a good day.’

‘You too.’

Katie left and you were stuck in front of an ocean of paper. If you had known that directing a school was so strenuous you might’ve thought about inaugurating a school twice. But it was a lovely institute. A school for girls with the most brightest and innovative minds, no runner up to men but competition with finest ideas.

Momentarily Helena came through the door and patiently stood at the door frame, her bag in her grip.

‘Hello Helena,’ you smiled at her. ‘Your father is not here yet?’

‘No.’

‘That’s okay, just wait here with me. I have much work and since we’re the only ones here I thought company would be nice, no? Sit,’ you pointed to the chair, Helena still standing at the entrance barely having moved.

Helena hummed in response.

‘So,’ you grabbed one of your quills to start signing documents that needed your signature. ‘What do you like to do when you’re not at school or doing homework? I am pretty sure you like horse riding?’

‘I do.’

‘Something else perhaps?’

‘Recently we bought a family car,’ Helena had sat down in the chair, laying her bag beside her as she relaxed into the seat. ‘When we got it we drove through the countryside…it was so thrilling. The wind on my face felt different to when I am riding. Daddy looked so happy too. I like cars.’

‘My my, what a riveting experience.’ You glanced at her from your work. ‘I remember my first time in a car. Felt exactly like how you described it.’

Helena beamed back you, her bright blue eyes gleaming with excitement, ‘My uncle Finn liked the car ride at first too but we had to stop because he got sick,’

‘And did you?’

‘No, I felt great. I love cars.’

‘I too think cars are the greatest innovation since the marvellous idea to roast and ferment cocoa beans to make chocolate.’ You let out a lighthearted laugh, infecting Helena with the same giggle.

‘I like chocolate.’

‘You do?’ Your lips curled. ‘Do you want one? I might have a bit stashed somewhere between all this energy-consuming work,’

‘I’ve only had it twice,’ Helena began another story, ‘It is very expensive and my father says it is bad for your teeth and that you mustn’t eat too much of it. He said that when he was visiting London he met a man outside of the sweet shop who became so round, simply for eating a lot of chocolate.’

‘Well best you have only one piece then,’ you put a piece into your mouth before giving her her piece. ‘This is my favourite. Got it from Cornwall. They make the best sweets.’

Taking the piece you handed her, she started eating it, her eyes in awe.

‘What about your father, Helena?’

‘What about him?’

‘What does he do for work?’ You asked, amusingly raising your eyebrows before taking the second heap of documents before you.

Helena hesitated. ‘I don’t think I can say.’

‘Why not?’

‘Family business…’

‘Family business?’ You looked up, Helena nodding her head in response. ‘I’m just curious that’s all. When you speak of him, you speak endearingly. You seem to have a very good relationship.’

‘We do.’ She ate the last bite, looking around the room. ‘If he wasn’t my father he would be my best friend.’

‘How sweet.’

With an easy lead conversation, time passed quicker than expected. But an hour later and Mr. Shelby still hadn’t come to pick up Helena.

With minutes passing you realised that Mr. Shelby wouldn’t show up anytime soon. It was also way past closing time so you had to start locking up the building. You thought it best to walk Helena home to see if anyone was there and if not you’d take her back to yours so she would have a safe place to stay until anyone got in touch.

‘Hello?’ You knocked against the door, the hard wooden door aching your knuckles as you repeatedly hit against it. ‘This is Miss Verys from Small Heath Institute for Girls. I have your daughter Helena with me as she has not been picked up yet.’ Your breath ricocheted off the door.

Seconds later you could hear the lock turning and were greeted by an older woman, her hair all over the place as her dark eyes burned into yours. Feeling as if she were about to take a jape at you, you quickly jumped back into your sentence. ‘I’m so sorry to intrude but I grew worried when Helena still hadn’t been picked up yet. I hope that all is well.’

Your eyes left her frame, seeing figures surrounding a table where there seemed to be a man laying down upon, quick huffs and puffs echoing from behind.

‘Arthur, shut up and just get this out of me.’

‘Drink this, Tommy. It’ll help with the pain.’

The unravelling scene before you had your full attention, completely forgetting the woman at the door.

‘I—oh no don’t do that!’ You raised your voice, pushing past her, now standing in the living room with three men staring at you. ‘I’m sorry to intrude but I was a nurse at the front and seeing you just stick your fingers inside his wound just rang my bells.’

The man on the table had blue eyes that protruded from the dim light within the room, his chest covered in dry and fresh blood, sweat dampening his skin and clothes. You overheard that his name was Thomas Shelby, Helena’s father.

You stepped closer and examined his wound. A bullet wound. Minimal surface damage and easily removed.

‘If someone could get me some bandages, an unopened bottle of alcohol and some tweezers with a bowl of warm water.’

‘I’ll get it.’ Helena walked past you to what seemed to be the kitchen.

‘The cheap one, Hallie,’ the light haired one yelled after her, his toothpick sitting between his lips. ‘If you open that rum from the Caribbean, I swear to you that I won’t give you any more sweets.’

‘You give her sweets?’ Thomas lifted his head.

‘Sometimes.’

‘Mr. Shelby if you could just relax for a short time longer. I will get that bullet out of you as swiftly as possible.’

Further taking in his naked chest you noticed his tattoo. Similar to sun rays just above his right chest. You had seen this tattoo before…

‘Mr. Shelby, can I ask you something?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you perhaps have a scar on your lower back? On your right just above your glutes?’

‘How do you know that?’ He stared up at you, holding your gaze as Helena came back with the supplies you needed.

‘Given it was a back injury you were transported to the tent on your stomach,’ you grabbed the alcohol to clean the wound, a hiss escaping him as you grabbed the tweezers, ready to pull out the metal embedded in his flesh. ‘I was the nurse that treated you. I was covered in ugly drapes and bloods, can’t say you could recognise me,’

Thomas winced as the ends of the tweezers dug around to grab the piece of metal, a small smirk on his lips. ‘You don’t say eh?’

‘I’m sure you’ll be having a déjà vu when I pull it out,’ you grabbed it and pulled it out, a loud growl escaping his lips as air pushed past his lips.

‘Thank you again.’

‘No problem, Mr. Shelby.’ You disposed of the bullet in a dish Arthur held out to you. ‘Next time Helena is not picked up I’ll bring her home and bring my first aid kit with me.’

‘That’s actually not a bad idea,’ he pulled himself up, grabbing a cigarette and lighting it. ‘Small Heath is starting you feel like a battlefield,’

‘Then I’ll be your nurse ready to care you to health.’

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby blurbs #tommy shelby blurb #tommy shelby headcanon #tommy shelby headcanons #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fluff #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagines #thomas shelby blurbs #thomas shelby blurb #thomas shelby headcanons #thomas shelby headcanon #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby fluff #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby angst #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x y/n #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders

[fandom-chic]

Please Please Please: Chapter 1

Summary: Y/N is only a child when she and Tommy Shelby meet. The two quickly become best friends as they grow up in Small Heath. As the years go by, Y/N and Tommy realize there may be more to their friendship than they originally thought.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Y/N

A/N: Hi everybody! This Peaky Blinders fic is a SLOW BURN ROMANCE and will start off quite fluffy! Let me know what you all think and if you would like to see more.

She knew exactly which day it was when she first met him. She wouldn't forget it for the rest of her life. It was the spring of 1898, and her family had just moved to Small Heath. Her father had grown up there, and she remembered hearing stories from his boyhood, calling it "Magical Small Heath." She was ecstatic to go to such a place. It sounded like a dream come true.

But she was mistaken.

The rancid smell of the town seeped into every aspect of life there. The colors were dreary, the weather was raw, and the people seemed indifferent to everything. To top it off, the house she called home had maybe four rooms in total: her bedroom, her parents' room, the kitchen, and the bathroom. It couldn’t even be compared to her family’s old home in the country. During her first month in Small Heath, she often found herself staring out of her shoebox-sized bedroom window, yearning for some semblance of familiarity.

"You can't stay in your room all day," her father would say, standing at the doorway.

"I can try," she would mutter back, tracing the condensation on the window pane.

"I bet you can," he muttered under his breath as he turned to leave. He stopped abruptly and looked back. "The least you can do is meet the neighborhood kids. Don't turn your nose up at everyone just yet." All she could manage was an eye roll before her father left her to her own devices. She continued to gaze out the window, imagining herself somewhere else amidst the gray roads of Small Heath.

As day turned into night, she felt herself starting to drift off. Her eyes fluttered as her chin rested in her hand. Just as darkness began to envelop her, she heard a loud bang. Her eyes shot open, expecting to see a bullet hole in her window. Instead, all she saw was a ball lying in the garden below. It hadn't been there before, but now it found its place in the grass. She focused her eyes on the ball for a moment, and that's when she saw him.

He couldn't have been much older than her, maybe eight or nine years old. He leaned down and picked up the ball, rolling it over in his fingers before looking up at her. His eyes were the most colorful thing she had seen in Small Heath, like a sea of warmth amidst the coldness. She couldn't help but smile at him, and he returned a small grin. Then, he jogged off into the streets of Small Heath. She knew she had to say hello.

Her father was pleased to find an empty room the following day as he walked by her doorway. She didn't know where to find the boy, but she knew she had to search for him. She scoured the streets until her stomach rumbled, indicating it was lunchtime. With a sigh of defeat, she made her way back home. As she approached the front steps, ready for lunch, she heard a noise that stopped her in her tracks.

"Oy!" she halted and turned back to see a familiar pair of blue eyes. It was him.

"Hello," she said, feeling a blush creeping onto her cheeks.

He held up the familiar-looking ball. "We need another player," he raised an eyebrow. "Wanna join?" All she could do was smile and nod. He returned her smile and motioned for her to follow him. She gladly obliged.

Walking by his side, they made their way down an alley. She couldn't help but notice how his clothes hung heavily on his thin limbs. If his shoes weren't so big, his pant legs might have dragged on the ground. His cheekbones seemed more pronounced than those of a child his age. She knew she couldn't be the only hungry child in Small Heath.

"I've never seen you before," he said, tracing the seams of the ball with his forefinger.

"My family is new to town," she said, feeling compelled to share more. He grunted in response as she started to hear the voices of other young boys.

"Then welcome to Small Heath. I'm Tommy," he paused, holding out his hand. It seemed unusual for such a young boy to introduce himself in such a mature way, but she sensed that he must not lead a typical life.

"Nice to meet you, Tommy. I'm Y/N," she hesitated before adding, "I hope we can be friends." His lips curved into a smile. She wished she could capture that moment in a photograph and live within it. This was the day she made her first best friend.

As the two children ventured farther down the road, Y/N finally distinguished voices. They approached closer until she could put a voice to a face. The voice that rose above all the others belonged to a boy who appeared a little rougher than the rest.

"It's my fucking turn," he said, emphasizing the final syllable of the curse word. Her eyes widened in surprise. In her seven years of life, she had never heard such language. She looked over at Tommy for a reaction, but all she saw was a smirk.

"Oy, Arthur, it doesn't matter," the angry boy turned toward Y/N and her new friend, "because it is Y/N's turn." Her eyebrows inched up slightly. She had never played baseball before. She always saw it as something boys did while girls played "house" off to the side.

"It is?" Y/N questioned.

"She's gonna mess up all the teams," Arthur moaned, waving an arm toward the five other boys behind him.

"Then we'll start a new game," Tommy said, sounding determined. She knew Tommy was younger than Arthur, but the older boy seemed to respect him.

"Fine," Arthur mumbled, "but she's on your team."

"Of course, brother," Tommy said. They were brothers. Even more unusual, she thought, as the two boys went to the pitcher's mound to discuss teams. Before she knew it, Y/N found herself holding a bat, waiting for a ball to come flying towards her.

"What do I do?" she whispered to Tommy, who stood a few paces behind her. He chuckled to himself.

"Hit it and run like hell," he replied. She nodded hesitantly before turning to face Arthur. He made eye contact with her and tossed the ball in her direction. Instinctively, she flinched away.

"Strike one!" yelled the catcher. She knew flinching like that was the wrong move. She looked over at Tommy, who masked his disappointment by gazing up at the sky. She knew she had to hit the ball. She raised the bat higher as another ball flew toward her. This time, she kept her eyes open as she took a swing.

"Strike two!" the boy yelled again. She could hear the grimace in his voice. Resigning herself to the idea that baseball may not be her game, she heard her name being whispered loudly. She turned her head to see Tommy.

"Hold the bat like this," he said, mimicking holding it horizontally in front of him. "Don't swing, just hold it out." She nodded and made eye contact with the pitcher. She was determined now. When the ball came hurtling in her direction again, she held out the bat. When she heard the light tap of the ball barely grazing the bat, she knew she wasn't out. She smiled to herself and then over at Tommy. He looked at her wide-eyed before yelling, "Run!"

She sprinted like lightning to first base, and before she knew it, she was safe. She had officially played baseball and had made her mark on the game. She felt victorious in her own way. As she basked in her moment of triumph, Tommy took his turn at the plate. Too caught up in her own accomplishment, she didn't hear the bat make contact with the ball. She also didn't look up in time to notice the ball whizzing right at her. It wasn't until the hard ball struck her gut that she realized Tommy had hit it. She clutched her middle, crumbled to the ground, and let out a scream. Rolling onto her side, she held herself in a fetal position, trying to find some comfort, but the pain was too intense. Tears began to stream down her face.

Between the sobs, she finally noticed Tommy kneeling beside her. "Are you okay?" he asked. No, she was not. He knew that, just as well as she did. The pain was one thing, but the embarrassment in front of her new friend was unbearable.

"I should go home," she mumbled, wiping away a tear.

"Are you sure you want—"

"Yes," she spat. With that, she forced herself up and trudged home. She refused to look back at the boy she had hoped would be her friend. How could he be friends with her now? With the crybaby who didn't know the first thing about a friendly neighborhood game of baseball? She lay face down on her bed as soon as she arrived home, vowing to remain there for the rest of her existence. This was her life now—a loner with no friends.

She couldn't have been there for more than ten minutes when she heard a knock at the door. She heard her mother open it and footsteps approaching her room.

"Y/N," her mother said as the door creaked open, "you have a guest." She rolled her head to see Tommy standing in her room.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, as her mother shut the door behind Tommy.

"I wanted to see if you were okay," he said, stepping further into the room. "Getting hit like that hurts."

"It did," she said. "It hurt like hell." She heard a chuckle from Tommy.

"I can imagine," he said, dropping onto the floor beside her bed. Y/N rolled over, staring at the ceiling as a beat passed.

"I understand if you don't want to play with me anymore. No one wants to play with a crybaby," she kept her eyes fixed on the ceiling, not wanting to see Tommy's rejection.

"Why would you say that?"

"Because," she felt her fingers tense with anxiety, "they ruin the games and then run home to their mommies. How can that be any fun?"

"You actually sound a lot like Arthur right now," she could hear the humor in Tommy's voice, but she didn't want to look at his face just yet. "Maybe we can play a different game then." This statement shocked her. Now she looked down at him to see him gazing up at her.

"You still want to play with me?" she asked, a glimmer of hope in her voice.

He smiled and sighed. "I don't know," he said, fiddling with his fingers and averting his gaze. "I guess I do."

The moment she gave him a small smile, Tommy knew he was forgiven.

"We can ride horses next time in the fields outside town," she felt her eyes widen at his suggestion.

"You have horses?" giddiness bubbled in her stomach.

"No," he smirked to himself, "but I know where we can find some."

That day, Y/N knew she had met her best friend. Tommy, though, knew he had met his soulmate.

Next chapter

#tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #cillian murphy #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby fluff #peaky blinder imagine #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagines #cillian murphy imagine #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby fluff #cillian x y/n #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x reader

[penmansparadise]

Tommy Shelby ~ Dust in the Wind

*I DON'T OWN THIS GIF* *CREDIT TO GIF OWNER*

*I do not give anyone permission to repost my work in any way (translations included)*

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Discusses infant loss/stillborn, ANGST, mild language, possibly ooc Tommy

a/n: Alright, well, it has been quite some time since I've posted on this site. First, let me get a few things out. 1) This is the most self-indulgent piece I have ever written, so if you don't want to read it, please just keep on scrolling. 2) This does not mean that I am ready to start taking requests again or that I will be regularly writing again. As stated before, this is a very self-indulgent piece because I just experienced the loss of my daughter, who was born prematurely. It has completely wrecked me, and I have just finally decided to start writing again. I am trying to navigate my loss and thought maybe writing would help. It did, and although this piece is a little darker than I usually write, it was therapeutic, and I wanted to share it because I am proud of my work. I did write it as a reader insert, but if you all read it and think it would be better as an OC story, I'll change it. Anyway, this is the first time I've ever written for Tommy, so please forgive the potential out-of-character actions he has in this story. Also, it has been a bit since I watched season 3 so forgive any mistakes. I took some liberties with the story by adding different children for Tommy and Y/N and some of the things that happened in the show. Well, I hope you enjoy this story, and would really like to know what you all think.

§

Y/N was no stranger to death.  It was Small Heath, for goodness’ sake.  Death practically ran in the water.  Being deeply entrenched in the Shelby family since she was a young girl only made her acquaintance with death’s steely grip all that much closer.  She had been to more than enough funerals in her 29 years of living.  She was present at the cemetery when her father finally drank himself into his grave, she was there to mourn when consumption took her mother, and she showed up to support Ada when they buried Freddie.  Y/N was always there when any of the Peaky boys were killed in the line of action, and she even showed up for her elderly childhood neighbor’s funeral.  But this time, it was different.  She wasn’t gathered in the woods on the outskirts of Small Heath to mourn for someone else.  There wasn’t a stranger tucked away in the wagon standing in front of her.  The Shelbys weren’t gathered to bid farewell to a distant relative or friend.  The Lees weren’t generously providing this funeral for a price.  No, the whole Shelby and Lee families were there for her and Tommy this time.

            The heat from the flames washed over Y/N’s face, making her sweat a little, but she didn’t move.  She wanted to be as close as she could possibly be.  If she had it her way, she would have jumped into the wagon and let the flames swallow her whole, but Tommy’s hand tightly gripping hers anchored her to the ground.  It had only been a few days.  It couldn’t have been more than four, but with how time was moving, it felt like a lifetime had passed.  The flames roared on, and Tommy squeezed her hand a little tighter, causing Y/N’s throat to tighten.  She swallowed down the sadness trying to claw its way out of her.  Y/N wasn’t going to break down in front of all these people.  She didn’t want to cry at all, for that matter.  It felt like it had been an endless stream of tears, and Y/N was done.  If only her aching heart would catch the memo.  Y/N’s eyes traveled the length of the flames until they landed on the little plaque one of the Lee boys carved for the wagon.  “Lily Eleanora Shelby,” it read, and suddenly, the sadness returned with a vengeance.  Y/N shut her eyes, and the events that led to this day played in her head.  She was supposed to be happy.  She was supposed to be full of unadulterated joy.  She was supposed to be cradling her newborn baby girl.  But she wasn’t.  Instead, she held onto her husband’s hand like a lifeline as she watched her daughter’s wagon burn.  One day.  That’s all it took to completely destroy her.

            Even as she stood there, watching the flames devour her daughter’s wagon, she still recounted everything she did four days ago, trying to figure out what could have possibly led to this result.  Four days ago, she was a cheery 29-week pregnant woman.  A stay-at-home mom who, with the help of their maid Frances, cared for her and Tommy’s three-year-old son, Benjamin.  That day had started like any other.  Tommy was already out, and she could hear Frances chasing Ben around his room.  The little boy’s giggles echoed through the house, and she remembers smiling as she slid a hand over her round tummy.  Y/N couldn’t wait for Ben to be a big brother.  She got ready like any other day and eventually made her way to her son, who welcomed her presence with a hug and a kiss.  The little boy rubbed her tummy, planted a chaste kiss to her navel, and smiled at her. 

            “I just wanted to let my little brother or sister know that I love them too, Mommy,” he had said, causing Y/N’s heart to clench.  Even at three, he was a charmer, just like his father.  She knelt to be at eye level with her son and lifted her hand to cradle his face.

            “You’re going to be a wonderful big brother; do you know that?”

            “Of course I will be, Mommy.  I’ve been practicing sharing my toys with Frances and making sure I listen real good to you and daddy.”  He said, standing up straighter to exhibit his full height.  “Frances says I need to be a good example for the new baby, or else Santa won’t bring me any presents this year for Christmas.  How outrageous is that, Mommy!?”

            Y/N stifled a laugh before brushing Ben’s hair back and looking up to see Frances smirking from her spot by Ben’s block tower. 

“I’m sure Santa won’t forget about you this year, honey.”  She told her son.  The boy gave her a toothy grin before trotting off to continue playing with his blocks. 

Y/N returned to her feet and watched Ben for another minute before retreating to the new nursery.  It was already put together, and she often found herself hiding away in that room.  She glided her hand over the bassinet and let the soft fabric tickle her palm.  The walls were already decorated with paintings of horses, some of which came from Ben, who insisted that his younger sibling have them.  She sat on the rocking chair and gently rubbed her hands over her stomach, earning a little kick from her unborn child.  A soft laugh fell from her lips as she looked down at her growing bump.

“Sorry to disturb you, love.”  She whispered, her hands still rubbing slow circles.  “Mommy just wanted to let you know she loves you very much.  And so does your big brother, who is very excited to meet you.”

Another kick came.

“You’re excited to meet him, too?  I’ll have to let him know.”

“Daddy loves you too, just in case Mommy forgot to mention that.”  Tommy’s voice came from the doorway, causing Y/N to look up.  He gave her a full smile, the one he reserved only for her and their son, and it fell over her like a warm blanket.

“Mommy was just about to get there.  Had daddy not interrupted her,” she said.  Tommy hummed in response as he floated across the room to kneel before her.  He looked up at Y/N through his lashes and said, “Sure you were,” before removing her hands and planting a soft kiss where they had just lay.

“Daddy can’t wait to meet you,” he whispered against her stomach, his warm breath radiating throughout her body.  Tommy looked up at Y/N before standing and pressing his lips to hers.  When he pulled away, a smile matching his spread across her face.  She was beaming.  She had dreamt of being in this position for many years as a teenager, and now it was real.  Thomas Shelby was hovering over her very pregnant figure in their unborn second child’s nursery.  Their lively three-year-old son’s muffled laughter ricocheted off the hallway walls.  It was everything she ever wanted, and she was so happy.

“What’s that look for?”  Tommy asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Nothing,” she hummed, gaining a skeptical eyebrow raise from her husband.  “I just love you.  That’s all.”

Tommy nestled his face into the crook of her neck, peppering kisses along the exposed skin.  Then he pulled back, looked into her eye, and said, “I love you more than you know, Y/N.”

He gave her one more swift kiss before standing and sauntering out of the room with a smirk.  The rest of the day went by like any day usually went.  She sat around and read, played with Ben, ate lunch at 1100, put Ben down for a nap at 1230, and then went back to reading.  Tommy was in and out, balancing work from home and the office.  She could tell that day was extra tiring from how he sighed every time he left the house.  It was after Tommy left for the last time of the day that Y/N got the idea to wander down to the kitchen.  When she entered, the cooks were hard at work peeling and slicing vegetables.

“Good evening, Mrs. Shelby,” the head chef began, “is there anything we can do for you, ma’am?”

Y/N clasped her hands behind her back as she rocked back and forth on her heels like a guilty toddler.  “Um,” she said, “actually, yes, there is.”  She stepped into the kitchen and moved her hands to rest on her stomach.  “I was thinking that maybe tonight you and the rest of the staff could take the evening off and allow me to cook dinner.”

The head chef’s eyes widened at her statement.  Everyone else stilled for a brief moment, waiting for him to speak.  “Oh,” he stammered, “b-but, Mrs. Shelby, and please forgive me if I am overstepping, but shouldn’t you be resting instead of cooking?”  His eyes dipped down to her protruding abdomen before landing back on her face. 

“Resting?  I rest all day.  Really,” Y/N said, waving the chef’s comment off, “it would be nothing.  I actually miss being in the kitchen.  It’ll be nice.  Therapeutic.”  She couldn’t miss the wide-eyed stares from everyone in the room, but she chose to ignore them.  When they didn’t move to leave, she stepped forward, placed a gentle hand on the head chef’s back, and began leading him out of the kitchen. 

“Trust me,” she said, “I’ll be fine.  Thank you for your concern, though.”

Once she ushered the staff out, she began working on dinner.  It had been a long time since she cooked, but it came back to her like riding a bicycle.  She couldn’t escape the excitement that bubbled inside of her as she fell into a groove preparing dinner for her family again.  She boiled the potatoes the staff had peeled, sauteed the peppers and onions, and braised the beef that was in the refrigerator.  About an hour into cooking, a dull pain emanated from her lower back and into her hips.  The dull pain slowly morphed into a pressure that she just assumed was normal 29-week pregnancy symptoms.  It’s just the baby getting comfortable.  The baby is just moving around and pressing a little harder than usual on my cervix.  She ignored the feelings and finished cooking before asking the kitchen staff for help to bring the meal into the dining room.  Once the table was set, Frances went and fetched her boys, alerting them that not only had Y/N cooked dinner, but she had also served it.  She greeted the boys in the doorway of the dining room and gave each a kiss before they all sat to eat.  That pain returned in her lower back and hips, making it hard to get comfortable in her seat.  She let out a low groan of discomfort, and Tommy placed his hand over hers to gain her attention.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyebrows knitted together.  She swallowed another groan that threatened to come out and nodded with a strained smile.  Y/N could tell that her weak answer did nothing to reassure Tommy, but he didn’t press her. 

“How do you like the meal?”  She asked, doing her best to not sound strained against the constant pressure she felt pulsing between her legs.

Before Tommy could answer, Ben nodded with enthusiasm and stuffed a heaping scoop of mashed potatoes into his mouth.  “I love it, Mommy!  This is the best dinner I’ve ever had,” he said through his mouthful of food. 

Y/N smiled, but it must have looked more like a grimace because this time, Tommy stood up and moved to her side.  “Y/N,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders, “are you sure you’re okay?  Should I have Frances phone the doctor?” 

Y/N grabbed his hand and squeezed it as she looked up to her husband.  “I’m fine, darling.  I promise.  Let’s just finish dinner.”  She pulled his hand to her mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.  Then, using her head, she motioned for Tommy to sit again.  He stared at her for another moment, the line on his forehead deepening, before sighing and retaking his seat.  She kept her discomfort under wraps for the remainder of dinner because Tommy didn’t mention anything until after they had put Ben down for the night and were about to crawl into bed.  The pressure and pain had only grown in that short time, and she was beginning to get nervous.  She was sitting on the edge of their bed, eyes shut, and taking some deep breaths when Tommy’s hands landed on her thighs.  She could feel him kneeling between her legs, but she didn’t open her eyes.  She didn’t want to admit that her anxiety was consuming her or that the pain and pressure had turned into abdominal cramps.  It wasn’t until she suddenly felt the bed beneath her sopping wet that she looked at Tommy.  He looked down and saw the fluid dripping from her nightgown and their duvet before his gaze landed on her.  She could see his mouth moving, but his voice was drowned out by her rapidly beating heart.  Something is wrong.  She thought.  This shouldn’t be happening.  I’m too early.  Tommy pushed away the hair that had begun sticking to her sweaty forehead, and then ran out of the room.  His voice was distant, but she could have sworn he said something about calling Polly and Ada.  She wasn’t sure because all she could focus on was the sharp pain that was puncturing her abdomen and the immense pressure building between her legs.  Before she could comprehend what was happening, Tommy scooped her up and lay her on their bed.  What about the sheets?  I’m going to ruin the bed. 

She must have said those thoughts aloud because Tommy quickly said, “Don’t worry about the bed, love.  We’ll get another one if we have to.”  The pain was only getting worse, and she had to shut her eyes and bite her tongue to prevent a groan from escaping.  She didn’t know how much time had passed before Polly and Ada came rushing into the room, shoving Tommy into the hallway.  When it was just the three of them, Y/N finally let out a guttural moan.  She didn’t remember this much pain when she gave birth to Ben.  Something is wrong.  Something is not right.  Those words chanted in her head like a mantra.  Polly set her up on her bed while Ada used a wet towel to wipe away the sweat beading on her face.

“Just breathe, Y/N,” Polly chirped soothingly in her ear. “Ada and I are here.  We’re going to take care of you.”

Anxiety coursed through her veins and unfurled in her gut when the pressure between her legs began to increase.  She tried to cross her legs and prevent the inevitable from happening, but Polly and Ada wouldn’t let her.  Tears of pain and fear streamed down her cheeks.  She wanted to scream at them to stop and let her try to stop this urge to push.  But the pain and pressure were too much, and the only sound that came out of her mouth was a low groan. 

She could feel Polly’s hand between her legs, and the words “crowning” and “push” floated to her ears.  Ada took her hand, and Y/N tried with every fiber in her body to not push, but her body had other plans.  She held her breath and begged her body to stop forcing her baby out of her, but it was too late.  The pressure was building.  Climbing to a peak that felt like it would rip her in half until suddenly, she felt relief.  Her heavy breathing filled the room, and she waited impatiently for the tell-tale cries of her baby, but they never came.  She opened her eyes and looked at Polly and then at Ada.  They both just stared back at her, and Y/N knew something wasn’t right. 

“Y/N,” was all Polly whispered, and she knew.  The silence was deafening.  She lay there, completely exposed, bleeding, and sweaty, and waited, but her baby gave her nothing.  Her eyes shut and then, without any strength to stop it, let out a crushing wail.  The tears overflowed, and when she opened her eyes again, she watched the door burst open and Tommy storm in.  He moved over to where Polly held their baby and looked down at their motionless child.

“Why isn’t she crying?”  He asked. 

It was a girl.  I had a baby girl.  Even through her tears and sobs, she could see Tommy’s chest rising and falling at a rapid pace.

“Why isn’t she fucking crying, Pol!?”  Tommy’s voice boomed through the room and mixed with her loud cries to create the saddest song.  She could see the distress in the slant of his shoulders and how he ran a hurried hand through his cropped hair.  He didn’t wait for anyone to answer his question before bounding across the room and landing on the floor next to her.  His hands found hers, and she could feel them shaking.  His lips pressed to Y/N’s forehead and cheeks, absorbing only some of the tears that continued to cascade down her face. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered, but the way his voice cracked in her ear told her he didn’t even believe those words.  “I love you, Y/N.”  She could hear that his words dripped with the same despair she felt.  “You know that, ey?  I love you, and it’s going to be okay.”

Tommy’s words echoed in her head as she watched the fire blaze around her daughter’s wagon.  She wanted to be convinced that his words were true, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe them.  When the funeral finished, they all returned to Arrow House, where the wake was being held.  Even being in a crowded room surrounded by family, Y/N felt alone.  Her whole body was like radio static – unfeeling.  Tommy’s hand was on her lower back the entire time, but she still felt like she was floating away.  Nothing could tether her to this reality anymore.

Several people approached her and Tommy, and with every person, a new empty comment emerged. 

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” which loosely translates to, “Boy, that sucks to be you.”

“I can’t even imagine what you’re going through,” which means, “I’m really glad I’m not dealing with that!”

And, “At least you still have Ben,” equates to, “You shouldn’t be upset when you still have one kid alive.”

With every consolation tossed at her feet like the change she used to find on the ground when she was a child, this unknown sensation began to build in her chest.  It was heavy and wild, like an untamed animal.  It was red and bared its teeth, ready to bite.  It was something Y/N had never felt before.  She was usually understanding, calm, and collected.  She wasn’t hot-headed or easily provoked.  But now, she was quickly discovering that what she was feeling was rage.  Hot and stormy, it ravaged her insides, and instead of beating it back into its cage, Y/N leaned into it, letting it hold her battered and broken soul up.

After the wake, Y/N let her sadness swallow her.  She hid in one of the guest rooms daily and even went as far as to avoid Tommy.  She couldn’t bring herself to look at him because every time their eyes met, two things happened.  1) she could see the grief he was carrying like cinder blocks chained to his neck, and 2) she could see the way he looked at her like she was a broken piece of artwork now.  She knew she was a shell of the woman she once was, but it hurt her even more to know that Tommy saw it so plainly in her, too.  He didn’t see her as the strong, independent woman he fell in love with.  No, now she was a ghost of her former self, and she couldn’t take his pity for having lost their daughter and herself. 

Although clearly grieving, Tommy didn’t seem nearly as phased by their loss as Y/N.  He was able to jump back into work, and now, nearly a week since the wake, he was back to being fully invested.  If Y/N were being honest, she envied Tommy for being able to distract himself.  She couldn’t do anything but hide from the memories that haunted their home and do her best to still be a good mother to Ben.  When a week finally passed since laying her daughter to rest, Y/N knew she had to do something.  She would talk to Polly and beg for some sort of work.  She didn’t care that Polly insisted that Y/N take some “time to heal.”  She needed a distraction.  Being in Arrow House felt more like a prison than a home.

Y/N got dressed and began to head for the door after handing Ben over to Frances.  But, as she approached Tommy’s office, she could hear him talking.  She peeked through the tiny crack to discover John and Arthur sitting at Tommy’s desk. 

“Ada’s handling the Communists.  She’s got someone on the inside who’s giving us information,” Tommy stated.  “And,” he shuffled papers around on his desk, “I’m…dealing with Father Hughes.”

“And what about the horny princess?” John asked, leaning forward and adjusting his jacket.  “You gonna figure out where her family keeps the jewels?”

Tommy waved him off.  “I already know.”  That single statement had both his brothers and Y/N leaning forward just slightly.  Tommy lay a large blueprint on his desk, causing the brothers to stand.

“They keep their entire collection in this strong room.  There’s no way to get in from above without a key,” Tommy stated, flattening the paper and looking up at his brothers. 

“So, what’s your plan, brother?”  Arthur asked like a good soldier.  Tommy straightened slightly, and Y/N could tell he was a little uncomfortable.  He pulled a cigarette from his case and slid it across his bottom lip before lighting it and taking a drag. 

“We’ve gotta tunnel in,” Tommy said without hesitation.  Those four words landed on the Shelby men like a grenade, and Y/N could almost feel the atmosphere shift at the statement.  None of them moved.  It was evident that the idea of tunneling hadn’t been a thought in any of their minds since the war.  Tommy cleared his throat. 

“I know,” he began, “but there’s no other way.  I’ve already got Johnny Dogs ready to help.  He’ll set up camp where we’ll start the tunnel.”

The air was thick, and again, neither of the brothers spoke.  She knew they didn’t like the plan, but they would comply because Tommy was giving the orders.  Y/N watched as John and Arthur fiddled with their suit jackets, their anxious energy hitting her like a baseball bat to the face.  It wasn’t until Arthur blew out a puff of air and ran his hand through his messy hair, exposing his apprehension, that Y/N knew what she would do.  Without even a second thought, Y/N opened the door to Tommy’s office, and all three men turned to face her.  She was only adding insult to injury as the silence in the room became even heavier.  Neither of her brothers-in-law had seen her since the wake, and the uneasy energy was almost palpable.  Tommy stepped toward her but didn’t get too close, which Y/N could see his brothers noticed.

“Y/N, is everything alright, love?”

Her eyes flitted between all three of the Shelby men for a moment before finally landing back on Tommy.  She knew she probably looked like a deer in headlights.  Her stare was frazzled, and she knew she looked a bit harried.  But she still squared her shoulders and stated with the most conviction she could muster, “Let me help.”

All three men’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, but only one spoke. 

“Excuse me?”  Tommy asked, incredulity lacing each word.  There was no going back now.  Y/N had to double down on her commitment.  So, she waved her hand toward the blueprints on Tommy’s desk. 

“With the tunnel.”

Tommy’s eyes turned a shade darker, and Y/N could see his jaw tick.  She only glanced at John and Arthur for a second, and they both looked like they might choke on the thickness of the air.  She felt like she might, too, but she held her ground.  She was not a fragile porcelain doll and could help her husband like she used to.  Tommy coughed, then turned to his brothers and, in a calm voice, asked, “Would you mind giving me a moment with my wife, boys?”

Neither of the brothers wasted a second before hustling out into the hallway.  Once the door shut behind them, Tommy’s steely gaze landed back on Y/N.  Before, she would have felt a little nervous under Tommy’s intense glare.  She had never inserted herself into his shoddy business in the past.  But now, she didn’t care.  She needed a distraction and a way to prove that she was still a force to be reckoned with even after her loss.  Y/N could see Tommy trying to contain his anger as his nostrils flared and his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides.  His eyes shut for a brief moment as he took a deep inhale.

“Are you fucking insane, Y/N?”  He finally asked, his voice level.  Y/N’s mouth fell open, and she reared back just slightly.  But before she could say anything, Tommy continued.

“You’ve been avoiding me, your husband, for a week in our own home, and when you decide to finally speak to me, that is what you say?”

Y/N rolled her eyes.  “Tommy.”

“No, Y/N!”  He shouted, causing her to startle.  “You can’t just move past this!”

That statement made Y/N see red.  In the week since Lily’s passing, Tommy did precisely that.  Y/N’s spine straightened, and her whole body became rigid.

“Why not!?” she shouted back, stomping toward Tommy.  “Is that not what you did?  Pretend like we didn’t lose our daughter?  You threw yourself into your work.  Why can’t I do the same thing?”  Her chest was heaving, and as badly as she didn’t want them to, she could feel tears pricking at her eyes.  She hated that she was a frustrated crier.  Her fists were in tight balls at her sides, and every muscle in her body was flexed.  She was ready for a fight.  She was prepared for Tommy to yell back at her.  In fact, she wanted him to yell at her.  She wanted Tommy to tell her how stupid her idea was and that she was out of her mind.  She mentally begged Tommy to scream at her for barging in on his meeting with his brothers and even thinking about tunneling.  Y/N wanted to feel the passion he usually had toward her before they lost their baby.  She needed him to reassure her that she was not a lost cause he was housing but his fierce wife.  But he didn’t yell.  The fire in his eyes dimmed, and his features softened.  The pity eyes were back, and she was struck by the sadness she was trying to escape.  She shut her eyes in a lame attempt to avoid looking at her husband and keep her tears at bay, but it was futile.  The tiny droplets fell down her cheeks, and when she opened her eyes again, Tommy was right in front of her.  He lifted his hands to cradle her face, and she hated how she melted into his touch.  It had been a week since she even looked at Tommy, let alone touched him.  She couldn’t lie, she missed him.  But it was easier to hide from the pain and suffering they both shared than deal with it head-on. 

Y/N let out a shaky breath and looked into her husband’s eyes. 

“Why can’t I, Tommy?” She asked, barely above a whisper.  “Let me help you.  Please.”

Tommy’s thumb stroked her cheeks, wiping away a stray tear.  He cataloged her features, and for the first time in a very long time, she wished she could see into Tommy’s thoughts.  She stared at him and hoped that everything she wanted to say was conveyed in her eyes.  I’m no longer the same woman I was a week ago.  I’m a failure as a woman and a mother.  I’m alone, letting my thoughts eat me alive.  I’m scared you won’t love this broken woman I have become.  Her eyes pleaded for Tommy to let her prove that she could still be the same person as before.  She needed to prove to him and herself that she wasn’t hopeless.  But when Tommy shut his eyes and let out a sigh, she knew his answer before he even said it. 

He looked at Y/N and said sotto voce, “You know I can’t, love.”

Y/N’s body went rigid, and that new familiar sensation began to bubble in her gut.  She could feel it rumbling and swirling, mixing with her fear and sadness, creating an uncontrollable fury.  It burned like venom, but she found herself welcoming the sting.  Her once soft features hardened, and Tommy noticed the change immediately.  Her stare was blank, and the joy that used to fill it had vanished.  Before losing her daughter, she never understood why the war had changed Tommy.  She supported him while his experiences ravaged him, but she never knew why he returned with a harder exterior than when he left.  But now, after suffering such a devastating loss, she understood.  There is no coming back from witnessing a tragedy. 

Tommy’s rough thumbs brushed against Y/N’s tear-stained cheeks and bent until his forehead rested on hers.  “Where did the woman I married three years ago disappear to?”  He said, his breath fanning over her face.  He pulled back, his distressed stare locking Y/N in place, and whispered, “I know she’s in there.”

The words stung like a slap to her already bruised ego.  She could feel the weight of that question in every bone of her body.  All her fears began raging a war inside her head, and she could feel her armor cracking.  She could feel the tears clogging her throat, burning as she swallowed them down.  Her lungs felt like they weren’t getting nearly enough oxygen, and she was only seconds away from either crying or breaking something.  With a swift step backward, Y/N separated herself from her husband.  She hated to admit that her body yearned for Tommy’s hands back on her, but she batted that thought away as quickly as it appeared.  Tommy slowly lowered his hands back to his sides, and she leveled him with a callous stare.

“That woman is gone, Tommy,” she spat.  “She burned to ash with her daughter a week ago.”  She could see the way her words landed on Tommy like bullets striking his chest.  Some of her felt bad, but the angry beast slowly becoming her new persona convinced her she did nothing wrong. 

Y/N waited for Tommy to say something, anything, back to her, and when he didn’t, she turned and reached for the door.  Confidence that felt different from what she was used to coursed through her body like electricity.  She was a little scared of who she was becoming, but those wild and fiery feelings of rage were the only things that brought her peace.  Before pulling the door open, she turned back toward Tommy and said, “If you won’t let me help you, Tommy, I’ll find someone else who will.  You forget, my roots run deep in this business, too.”

Tommy let out a dry laugh.  “You’re really threatening me, now, ey?”

Y/N’s grip tightened around the cold door handle, and, through gritted teeth, she growled, “It’s not a threat, Thomas.  It’s a promise.”  Without a second look, she flung the door open and stepped out. 

John and Arthur straightened at her abrupt appearance, and she just brushed past them, letting her feet carry her toward the front of their home.  She knew they heard her and Tommy’s conversation, but she didn’t care anymore.  This newfound boldness that her bereavement had granted her washed away any and all anxiety.   

“Hope you enjoyed the show, boys,” Y/N tossed over her shoulder toward John and Arthur.  “Next time, I’ll sell tickets and make talking to my husband more worthwhile rather than a waste of my time.”

She didn’t turn back around to see their reaction to her words.  Instead, she showed herself out and hopped into one of Tommy’s many vehicles.  She would find another way if he wouldn’t allow her to help.  The image of a tall Jewish man whom she briefly met a while back when Tommy first started expanding into London entered her mind.  She knew exactly who would be more than willing to give her a hand in her effort to help the Shelby family – Alfie Solomons.

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[yespleasetommyshelby]

Before he cheats - Modern Tommy Shelby x reader

I've had this song stuck in my head for days and it's gotta go 😩 This literally took me all of 2 hours to plan/write/post and it hasn't been proofread so bare with!

Enjoy! 🥰

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"56, 57, 58, 59, 60, that's it, I'm done." I huffed as i threw my phone onto the sofa besides me, frown on my face as I sighed. "That's two fucking hours!" I muttered to myself stamping my feet into my trainers I threw my coat on before picking up my phone on some final hope that I'd actually had a reply, but low and behold, obviously not.

"Fucking Thomas Shelby always thinking with his mother fucking dick." I continued to mutter under my breath as I left my home on Watery Lane slamming the door behind me, my chest burning in anger. Stepping out onto the path I shoved my hands into my coat pockets, fists clenched as I headed the short distance down the road to the house where I'd practically grown up.

"Watch where you're fucking going!" I screeched as a teenager flew past on his bike almost knocking me into the road. "Fucking males and their fucking shit." I continued to slate each and every male that came into view in the 2 minutes it took to get to my destination, 'men are all the bloody same' my mum used to say, 'honestly, get yourself a women, their much easier.' Looking back maybe I should've taken her advice.

"Where is he?" I asked as I pushed open the doors to the betting shop that sat in Watery Lane, the punters and staff going silent as I watched with my hands on my hips. "Oh come on, you know exactly who I'm talking about!" I all but yelled into the silent room, after being with Tommy for 2 years now I had almost as much authority as him, almost.

"Y/n, not here." Polly's voice had my head on a swivel, finally spotting her in the doorway to John's office I stormed over ignoring the looks I was getting from everyone.

"Where is he Pol?" I sighed as I flopped down into Johns office chair. "And why are you in here?" I asked noticing that John wasn't in his own office.

"He's disappeared with Esme somewhere, honestly these Shelby boys and their dicks are ridiculous." She mumbled, lighting the cigarette she held in her hand.

"Tell me about it." I sighed, knowing that if Tommy wasn't in the office he was only going to be in one other place. "He's at the Garrison then." I asked, watching as she froze slightly before shaking her head.

"I think so, yeah, what's he done this time?" She sighed as she rubbed her eyes, having dealt with nothing but pissed up (and off) men and women placing bets they can't afford all morning, dealing with her nephews love life was definitely not on her to do list.

"Nothing Pol, he's done nothing which is the fucking problem! He was supposed to meet me 2 hours ago and I haven't heard anything since a lousy morning text all because he's too busy with that fucking whore Grace!" I ranted, reaching out and taking one of her cigarettes before lighting it and slamming the lighter down on the desk. "You know what I'm done." My voice sounded much more convinced then my mind as I said the words.

Shaking my head I stood up in a flash, out of Johns office and into Tommys within a second, without looking I reached behind Tommys desk and picked up the baseball bat that I knew he kept there in case of emergency's. Pushing my way past Polly who was stood in the doorway I made my way through the punters and out into the street without a second look, the bat weighing heavy in my hand.

"Y/n! What are you doing?!" Pol's voice follows me out into the street. "Come back inside!" She yelled, passers by stopping to look at the scenes, before a sharp look from Pol had them walking on.

"Woah! What's going on here?" I was stopped in my tracks as Arthur, John and Esme appeared from the corner ahead of me, grins on their faces as they looked from the bat in my hand to the scowl on my face.

"Looks to me that she's off to play baseball." John laughed, his input met with a thud on his chest by his wife.

"Would you two idiots shut up already." She giggled slightly as she pushed her husband into his older brother. "Now what's up with the bat?" She asked, smirking slightly as she had a feeling she knew exactly where you was going, after sitting on the phone for an hour the last time Tommy pissed you off she knew not to get in the way.

"Like John boy said." I shrugged, my hold on the bat tightening ever so slightly. "I'm going to practice baseball with a nice new shiny Land Rover I saw parked outside of the Garrison." I grinned before pushing my way through the trio and continuing on my way.

I couldn't help but let out a loud laugh as the Garrison came into view and just as I had predicted there was brand new Land Rover sat outside its doors. The brand new Land Rover that only 3 days ago I had travelled up to Scotland to collect with Tommy, not knowing that it would be the last journey I'd take with both him and the car.

"Y/n come on back to the shop love, we'll sort this shit out." Polly pleaded once more making me stop in my tracks, the Shelby's had been like a family to me, even in the years before me and Tommy had officially gotten together, being friends with Ada and all.

"I'm sorry Pol." I sighed shaking my head as I turned to face her and the trio that had followed behind. "But right now, right now he's probably slow dancing with that bleach blonde tramp and she's probably getting frisky. Right now he's probably buying her some fruity little drink 'cause she can't shoot whisky." I laughed a little, knowing for a fact that she couldn't handle the drink that Thomas Shelby worships so much. "Right now he's probably up behind her with a pool stick showing her how to shoot a combo, but he don't know." I laughed as I reached into my pocket and pulled out my keys, my hand wrapping around the longest and sharpest of them all, ironically the spare key Tommy had given me for this exact car.

I could help but grin as I stuck my key through the shiny black metal of the drivers door, the small act creating some kind of pleasure, a pleasure that only increased as I walked my way down the car, the key dragging a horribly crooked line right down the side.

"Right that's enough now! Cut this shit out!" Polly yelled, her eyes flickering between her nephews burnt lover and the door which he could come through at any second. "Think about what you're doing y/n." She almost pleaded, or at least as close as I'd ever seen her.

Ignoring her I made my way round to the passengers side, the metal bat dragging across the floor being the only sound to be heard, except for the muffled giggles that the other two Shelby brothers struggled to keep back. A wave of emotion hit me as I climbed into the car, a lone tear slipping down my cheek which I quickly wiped away.

"He doesn't deserve it." I muttered to myself as I quickly wiped it away without a second thought. "Fuck him and all the whores he's had in this fucking car." I growled gripping my keys as I began to carve my name into the leather seat.

"What the fuck is going on right now?!" My head snapped up as I heard another voice, Ada having stumbled upon my little rage room experiment, shall we call it.

"Ada! Nice of you to join us, i'll tell you what's going on shall I?" I asked as I hopped down from the car swing the bat up over my shoulder as I waved over to her. "Right now, your brother, you know the one that I'm supposedly engaged to, is in there living it up with that Irish tart of a woman!" I yelled, using the bat to point towards the door, not caring how loud my voice had gotten. "Right now she's probably up singing some white trash version of Shania karaoke, right now she's probably saying 'I'm drunk' and he's thinking that he's gunna get lucky! Right now, he's probably dapping on three quids worth of that bathroom polo!" I screamed, the more thought I put into what was actually going on just inside fuelling the rage even more.

I let out a gut wrenching scream as I swung the bat into his headlight, once, twice, three times moving on to the next I swung again laughing as the glass crashed to the floor before swing it into the windscreen for good measure. Throwing the bat to the floor I put my hands on my hips and grinned as I looked at the mess that was Tommy Shelby's new car before making my way over to Arthur.

"I need your knife." Holding my hand out infront of him. "Please Arthur." I sighed knowing that he always carried one no matter where he went.

With a sigh and grin he reached into his pocket and placed the small switch blade into my hand.

"Seriously Arthur?! Why the fucking hell did you give her a knife?!" Polly yelled as she threw her arms up in frustration, knowing that if anyone was going to be killed for this it wasn't going to be her.

"She asked nicely Pol." He shrugged, loving the fact that his brother was about to have the surprise of a lifetime and all he had to do was sit and watch.

Sticking the knife into the front tyre I smirked as the hiss of air filled the air, walking round and putting a knife slash in all of the tires for good measure, I stood back with a grin laughing at the look of amusement over the 3 Shelby siblings faces, the smirk on Esme's and the fed up look Polly had been giving me for the last 10 years.

"What the fucking hell is going on?!" The man of the hour roared as he stepped out onto the street, the pub doors banging against the walls before Grace appeared behind him, eyes cast down. "Answer me!" He bellowed, the vein in his neck popping with each syllable.

"Hi Tommy, remember me?" I asked sarcastically making his eyes jump to me, his face dropping ever so slightly. "You know, the fiance that you used to have!" I stepped forwards as I spoke shoving him back slightly, knowing if it was anyone else they would have recieved a bullet to the head, but I knew he'd never lay a hand on me.

"Y/n? I thought we were meeting later?" He asked, brows furrowed in confusion as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, the numerous texts and missed calls flashing on the screen and the time that read two and a half hours after the planned meeting time. "Oh." He muttered, wiping his hand across his face. "What have you done?" He asked as his eyes trailed along the nice long line that now travels the length of his new car.

"Yeah, oh." I nodded, laughing slightly as Grace stepped out besides him. "I suppose you missed the show while you were in there with ol' Gracie here. But I'll give you a rundown shall I? Well I dug my key into the side of your pretty little souped up four wheel drive, carved my name into your leather seats. I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights and slashed a hole in all four tires, maybe next time you'll think before you cheat." I couldn't help the tears that fell next, the adrenaline slowing and my whole body began to ache, the end of an era, me and the Shelby's.

"Y/n-" "No." I cut him off, not wanting to listen to any kind of reasoning he would throw at me, anything to get him back in the good book. "I might've saved a little trouble for the next girl, because the next time that you cheat, oh you know it won't be on me, no, not on me." I wiped my eyes before pulling of the ring that he had given me 6 months ago. "Guess I'll give it to you aye, Gracie." I muttered, throwing the ring at her feet before turning to walk away.

"Y/n!" His voice reached my ears just as I'd passed Polly, Arthur, John, Esme and Ada. "Y/n please!"

"Bye Tom!" I yelled without turning back, keeping my head up I shoved my hands into my pockets and carried on, not giving them the chance to see the tears that were currently streaming down my face.

-----

There you have it! My first fic where they don't end up happily ever after, hopefully you enjoyed!

Feel free to send any requests! 💖

#tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagines #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders imagines

[all-mirth-no-matter]

Time After Time | Chapter Twelve

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

Summary: You suffer through the repercussions of Christmas morning, a new year begins, and Polly provides some interesting insight.

Warning: language, smoking, ethnic slur, yelling

ao3 link | catch up on tumblr here

Chapter 12: Nobody Knows

So help me find my way, the way I came from. ‘Cause I’m feeling lost and afraid, you better not be too far gone. Oh, have I been so wrong? Missed the song? Still I don’t know where I belong. No I don’t know. Because no one really knows me, at all.  — Nobody Knows, Autograft, WYNNE

You ran through the garden toward the temple, sure the sacred grounds would bring you some solace. “You betrayed me!” You shouted behind you, tears pouring down your face. 

Closing your eyes, you once again saw the shower of arrows fall from the sky, then a plague of sickness run through your lands. You saw death on the sands of your beaches, fires raging through the cities. You felt the whips and thrashes of pain across your body, the screams surrounding you until you fell to the floor with your hands over your ears. 

“Cassandra.” The beautiful voice of your love boomed from behind you. On your knees, you opened your eyes and you were back in your palace, the peaceful night continuing as it had before. You turned, peering up at the figure, the moonlight illuminating his features.

Weak, your voice came out in a whisper. “What did you do to me?” 

He smiled. “I blessed you with a gift of my own rarity.”

You shook your head, the tears still falling down your cheeks until you could taste the salt. “I’ve seen your arrows — how could you?”

“Cassandra—“

“Back!” You voice stronger now as your fear fueled your adrenaline. “I didn’t want this! How could you do this to me?” 

He reached out to you, “Our future is together—“

A sob left your lungs as the images wouldn’t stop from behind your eyes. “All I see is destruction. Demise. Death. How could I love someone who allows such things to happen?” 

Patience turned into anger. Your god stood to his full height as the rage froze his eyes. “If you don’t want our future together, then you’ll have no future at all. I curse you, Cassandra!”

——

“You in there love?” 

You gasped awake, eyes searching around you as you tried to determine where exactly you were. Slowly, your brain began to recognize your surroundings. 

Tommy’s room felt different than it had before. You looked down at the bed, evidence in the tussled sheets of where you’d finally fallen asleep — but the bed and room was otherwise empty. 

A soft tapping brought you back, the door opening slowly as Polly poked her head in. 

“They’ve just gotten back,” she said, taking in your obviously confused expression as you finally sat up on the bed fully. 

You looked to see the open bottle on the nightstand accompanied by two empty glasses and the cigarette case you’d given him. That’s when you began to recall the events of the night. 

“I need you,” Tommy had whispered with his forehead pressed against yours, your legs in his lap as he held you against him. 

For a moment your brain tried to determine how exactly he meant that — was it business, pleasure, or something more. The way his lips pushed against yours swept the thought away, and an involuntary “I’m yours” came out as a breathy reply. 

His grip tightened in response, soft touches turned needy as your fingers worked on the buttons of his vest, his on your dress. You were in just your slip, him in his trousers, when you fell to your back against the mattress, pulling his body with you. 

“Tommy!” A shout from the other side of the door accompanied by an urgent knock caused you both to gasp away from each other. “We got trouble!”

Tommy jumped off the bed as your head fell back against the pillow, a huff leaving your lungs. “This has to be a cosmic joke at this point, I swear—“ 

He hushed you as he grabbed his gun from the holster on the hook before cracking open the door. 

“It’s Russel. We’ve been fuckin’ had,” you could hear Arthur from the other side of the door, Tommy standing in the way of the crack to keep you hidden, though you were sure his disheveled state was evident. “Put ‘our cock away and get dressed.” 

Tommy shut the door, running his hand through his hair as he turned back toward you, already offering him his discarded shirt. “Fuck,” he swore, pulling you into him for another searing kiss before he finally pushed away and took the shirt. You smirked as you watched the material cover the red smear from your lipstick on his neck and collarbone, internally groaning that he had to leave now, just when things were finally getting somewhere. 

You shook your head, trying to get it out of your vagina and back into the realities that something bad must be happening. 

“I was worried this would happen,” Tommy muttered as he pulled his shoes on. “Fuckin’ coppers.”

Standing up, you reached for your dress that’d pooled on the floor next to your shoes. 

“What are you doing?”

Your brow creased, “Getting dressed, I should go home—” 

“No,” he cut you off, grabbing the dress from your hands and throwing it over the arm of the chair. “I’ll walk you home when I get back, but you’re safer here.” 

“You think I’m in danger?” This copper wouldn’t know your involvement in the situation, you couldn’t reason why tonight would be any less safe than any other night you’d walked home from the Garrison. 

“Don’t know, but I’ll think straighter knowin’ you’re here with Pol and the family than out there,” he answered, securing his shoulder holster and checking the round of his revolver. “Sleep,” he added as he threw on his jacket. “I’ll wake you up when I get back.” 

And with that, he left. You’d tried to stay awake as long as you could, your neediness for him slowly turning into worry the later it got. Eventually, you’d fallen asleep. 

Finally catching up to what Polly had said, you looked out the window to fully recognize the beginnings of sunlight. “They just got back?” 

“Aye, they’re in the kitchen. They’re alright, just beat a bit.” 

Your eyes widened at her words, prompting you to scramble out from the covers and hustle toward the door. 

“Oi, get dressed first!” she snapped, stopping you as she gestured toward your discarded dress still on the chair. “You go down there in this slip of a thing and you’ll give ‘em all heart attacks. There,” she added, helping you finish the buttons and manage your hair. 

She turned back toward the door and reached for the handle. You took a step, ready to follow her, but stopped when she paused before turning the knob. Your brow furrowed as she turned back toward you, her eyes doing a quick scan of your face. 

Suddenly worried that the situation was more dire than she’d let on, your heart began to race faster. “What are you—“

“You care for him, truly?” she asked you, this time her eyes not leaving yours as she waited for your reply.

You opened your mouth to answer, but closed it when your throat felt suddenly thick, and you swallowed instead. 

“I pity you then,” she said when you didn’t answer, then turned back toward the door. “Come on, now. Let’s go figure out what the bloody hell happened.” 

Polly lead down the stairs, your brain ping ponging between what state Tommy and his brothers might be in after being out the whole night, and why the older woman would pity you. 

Your over analysis came to a halt when you both finally breached the kitchen doorway, your eyes immediately finding Tommy. 

The first thing you noticed was the bright red splattering against his white collar and shirt. You followed the trail from his neck to his collarbone, bright red blood replacing where your dark red lipstick had been just a few hours before. Swallowing, you examined the rest of him — his knuckles were beaten, the sleeves of his shirt a mixture of smeared blood and dirt stains. But other than a deep cut on the hood of his cheek bone and the early signs of bruising along the jaw, he seemed to be okay. 

You let out a relieved breath as your eyes finally met with his, knowing he’d been watching you as you took him in. The white of his eyes were red, causing his usual brilliant blues to appear icier than ever. They were wild, feral even, like nothing you’d yet seen. 

“Fuckin’ hell, Ada!” Arthur shouted, causing you to finally break your stare and address the room fully. 

“Shut up, you’ll make it bleed again!” Ada shouted back, shoving a soaked cloth to the piece of Arthur’s lip that was split pretty badly. 

Next to them, John held another cloth to his nose to stop the bleeding, a similar sign of a bruise against the edge of his eye that’d birth a nasty shinner by the end of the day. 

“What the bloody hell happened?” Polly asked, throwing Tommy a wet cloth as he began to clean off his knuckles. 

“Russel was sellin’ information to the sloggers in Digbeth,” Tommy replied, throwing the cloth aside and reaching for the box of cigarettes in the middle of the table. 

“Fuckin’ double dealin’ on the both of us,” Arthur added, hissing when his lip began to bleed again. Ada smacked his arm and pushed the cloth against him. 

Tommy took a long drag, “They found out first, tried to use him to lure us into a trap. When our men went after him last night, they were waitin’.” 

“Any dead?” Polly asked, starting the kettle — acting as if she’d asked a perfectly normal question. 

“Not any of ours,” John answered proudly. “They held ‘em off ‘til we got there.” 

“Got a few ‘fore the rest went runnin’ with their cocks ‘tween their legs—“

“Shut up, Arthur!” Ada shouted when his lip began to bleed again. 

Polly handed you a cup and you realized you hadn’t moved, still standing just on the perimeter of the kitchen. Tommy was still watching you as the family talked. 

“And Russel?” Polly asked, pulling out one of the family books. 

“Dead,” John answered, “Charlie already took care of him and the others. Left some of the boys to man the territory ‘til we can clean ‘em out for good.” 

“We’ll need lodgings for our men in the area to establish a stronghold. And you’ll need to get to the other coppers on our payroll,” Polly added, scribbling in the book. 

The conversation faded into the background as you met Tommy’s eyes again. Expecting the wildness of when you first walked in, you were surprised to see his expression softer now. You’d always been so good at reading people, but Tommy had been an enigma to you since the moment you laid eyes on him. 

He stood, and the motion snapped your brain back to the company of the room. “Come on,” he said, walking toward you and reaching for your back, only to clasp his hand and pull it back to himself. His jaw clenched as he instead moved toward the door, “I’ll walk you home.” 

You looked around, everyone sort of half watching as you and Tommy left the room. You hadn’t said a word since you left Tommy’s bedroom, and truthfully you’d have no clue what to say anyway. 

Your mind was still trying to come up with something when you and your escort made it to your apartment, faster than you expected. Because it was still so early, the streets were as quiet and bare as they’d ever be. You were about to invite Tommy up to your apartment, not ready for your time together to end, when he finally spoke up, cigarette still between his teeth. 

“Best to stay away from the shop for a while. Polly or Ada can bring you the books to audit here.”

Your brow furrowed as you crossed your arms. “Why?”

He took a puff before pulling the stick from his lips, his eyes looking everywhere but to you. “Because I say.”

“Tommy—“

“Because I fuckin’ say, alright?” Tommy’s eyes snapped to yours, the harsh tone in his voice forcing your back to straighten. “I pay you for a job and you’re gonna fuckin’ do it the way I tell ya, eh?”

The verbal assault had you stunned, but you quickly recognized his words for what they truly were. He was speaking to you the same as he had in the wagon knowing it’d upset you, but this time there was no sign of an apology, or something vaguely adjacent. He was purposely pushing you away, and the thought turned your confusion into anger. 

Where had the vulnerable man who’d held you not more than five hours ago gone?

Throwing his cigarette butt to the ground, Tommy turned to leave. 

“What the hell happened to you last night?” you asked softly, mostly to yourself. 

He rounded back on you, his eyes wild once again as he raised his voice. “This is me, Y/N! This is who I fuckin’ am. Now you’ve seen me, and you’ll stay away when I tell ya to.”

Your mouth snapped shut as you held eye contact for a moment longer, despite the burn you felt behind your own. His turned from wild, to remorseful, to cold once more before he turned to leave again, this time not looking back. 

Now you’ve seen me, you repeated his words in your head as you watched him walk down the lane. He thought you disapproved, or you were disgusted, with the surlier side of the Shelby business. 

Was he wrong? 

It wasn’t like you were sensitive or anything to violence. With the way it was woven into most forms of entertainment in your day, it was hard to avoid — whether it was in video games, tv shows, movies, or even sports, you were no stranger to both real and fake injuries. But there was something different about seeing the Shelby brothers in person all cut, bruised, and bloody, knowing how they’d gotten that way that made you realize how different this was from anything you’d been exposed to before. 

And honestly, you weren’t sure how you felt about it. Of course part of you was scared, for both yourself and the people you’d come to care for here. Meanwhile, the other part of you tried to rationalize that this was the way of the world, or at least the Shelby’s world. You’d learned a long time ago that the world wasn’t black and white — that there were shades of grey that were circumstantial and layered in intent and values and point of views. 

While you didn’t know yet the full backstory of how the Shelbys came to be where they were now, the little information you did know painted an understanding that part of the circumstances with Tommy was grounded in some way with survival against poverty, racism, classism. There was a road the Shelbys had traveled to get where they were now, and you knew that part of it was paved in violence. 

You watched as Tommy finally disappeared from sight, swallowing thickly as you retreated with a shaky hand into the building. 

——

The next week went by quietly. You’d followed Tommy’s instructions of not coming by the shop, throwing yourself instead into the pub. You found yourself reverting back to the habits you’d made prior to meeting Tommy — though this time you had one more thing to obsessively overthink about during the quieter parts of the day. 

Luckily, the pub was busier than ever. Factory worker strikes were growing more rampant, and a common group seemed to find base in the Garrison booths right after the whistles blew. After a few days, you overheard one of the men call another “Freddie” and turned in time to see the greeting and identity of Ada’s mystery man and Tommy’s former best friend. 

You didn’t let yourself linger, not yet sure what information Ada had told him about you, so you continued on with your business as usual. But you still allowed yourself a few stolen glances and discrete eavesdropping out of pure curiosity. 

Aside from that, the holidays also played a role in the Garrison’s popularity as you geared up for New Years Eve, a night Harry anticipated would be three-times busier than it had the year previously. 

The work was good though — not only did it keep your mind busy, but it kept your body tired, which made sleep come easier. That, and the fact that your dreams seemed to stop — something you didn’t necessarily notice right away. 

And yet, even with all your work and distractions, you still found yourself every night expecting to see Tommy walk through the pub doors. 

New Years Eve night was the first instance where you caught a glimpse of any Shelby family member since Christmas morning. The crowd was so thick both you and Harry found yourselves working behind the bar. You heard rather than saw Arthur barrel through the door, shouting something about needing a drink to wash away the shit show of a year. You tried to listen closely to the voices to see who was with him, but the crowd volume was too overwhelming to zero in on. Harry had jumped at serving the snug himself, none the wiser to your inner turmoil. 

You were trying really hard not to act as pathetic as you felt when a body pushed through the wall of people against the bar. For a moment your heart leapt, thinking it was Tommy, but deflated when they fully turned to face you. 

“Hey beautiful,” Benji greeted, wide smile on his face as he leaned against the counter. 

“Harry’s already over there to serve you boys,” you answered, giving him the server-smile you’d been dawning all night and gestured toward the snug in between pouring glasses and trying to retain shouts of orders from the others at the bar competing for your attention. 

He shook his head, “I just wanted to come say hi. Busy night, huh?” 

The poor boy was trying to small talk while you were running back and forth behind the bar. You swallowed your annoyance with a mirthless laugh and shrugged your shoulders, “Whatever gave you that idea?”

He laughed, and you were sure he was saying something else, but the sound of John’s laugh through the snug window caused your attention to shift. You glanced in time for Harry to move out of the way of the window, eyes landing on Tommy, who was sitting between his brothers with a set of cards in his hands. When his eyes shifted, possibly to look through the window himself, you turned back toward the crowd of people. You didn’t want him to catch you staring at him, your pride still wounded from your last encounter. 

Benji’s voice calling your name brought your attention back, nearly forgetting he’d been there. “Did you hear me?” 

“Um, no, sorry Benji,” you apologized while waving an acknowledgment to the man who shouted for rum on the other end of the bar top. 

He chuckled, “I’ll try again when the crowd lessens.” 

Doubt that, you said to yourself as Harry fell back behind the bar with you. You chanced a glance toward the window, but the door was properly closed now, causing you to both sigh in relief and disappointment. 

The night ended with the crowd shouting with the sound of the church bells signaling midnight and the beginnings of the new year. Last call came an hour after that. Without you realizing, the Shelby and Peaky Boys had slipped out of the pub some time before closing, and you felt your heart break pathetically at the realization. 

Not that you had any expectations, but you’d come to enjoy the feeling of being a part of something recently. And to not even get a hello from any of them made you feel even lonelier than ever. 

Well, not counting Benji. Who also hadn’t come back like he said he would. 

And now you were officially living in the year 1919. For a brief moment when the realization hit you while cleaning up for the night, you nearly expected something monumental to happen space-time-continuum-wise. 

But the rest of the week went by just the same as it had before New Years. You were five days into the new year when you got to talk to your first Shelby since Christmas. 

Ada arrived at your front door Sunday morning with two company books concealed discreetly in a bag. You didn’t bother asking how she knew it was your day off and instead embraced her warmly. 

“Tommy said to not let you and the book out of my sight, but d’ya mind if I sneak out here to see Freddie while you work?” 

Your brow creased at her question, slightly surprised at the vote of no confidence from Tommy — as if you needed a chaperone to do the job you’d been doing for months now. “Oh, uh, no, that’s fine. I finally saw him at the pub last week, been meaning to tell you.” 

Ada’s eyes widened as she grinned, pulling you to sit with her on your bed. “What’d you think? You didn’t say anything, did you?” 

“Of course not, I didn’t even talk to him. Just overheard him in a booth with some other guys. He seemed nice though.” 

“He is,” she sighed, almost dreamily, and you shook your head at your friend despite the smile on your own face. “I just wish he and Tommy weren’t still at odds. He still won’t even tell me what they fell off about.” 

You hummed in consideration, “Would them being close again make it easier for Tommy to accept you being together?” 

Ada shrugged, “Dunno. Possibly.”  

“Well, don’t waste any more valuable time with me,” you gave her a friendly shove off the bed, causing her to smile again. 

“Thanks, I’ll be back in a few hours!”

After she left, you settled at your small dining table and dove in. 

The books were telling. The holidays seemed to be a very good time for the betting shop, which made sense you supposed with people trying their luck to make as much money as they could before the year end. 

The family books, however, were even more telling. New contacts had made an appearance, both as payers and payees, most of which seemed to be located in Digbeth. By the books, it seemed the Peaky Blinders had officially expanded into the new territory and there was no sign of slowing down. 

You finished the audit just as Ada returned, leaving again promptly and promising to see you later. 

——

Another week went by, the pub crowd slightly smaller but still lively enough to keep you busy. Benji showed up again about half way through the week. 

“I was hopin’ to take you to dinner sometime,” he finally said once you served him his drink. 

You blinked, “Like, a date?”

Immediately you panicked — did people use the word date nowadays? It was the boyfriend conundrum all over again and you were kicking yourself for not having learned more about historical slang or word use. 

Benji didn’t seem bothered by your use of phrase, instead shrugging. “Or we can go see a new picture.”

“Oh—”

“Or both,” he said with a chuckle and friendly smile. “What’ya say?”

“Um, I’m— I’m not sure,” you found yourself answering, surprising yourself. 

Since your first meeting with Benji, you thought you’d be in this position at some point, and at the time knew firmly that you’d have to kindly turn him down or express your disinterest in anything romantic with this guy. 

But now, you found yourself reconsidering. Benji hadn’t been anything but nice and friendly to you since meeting. Sure, the conversations had been flat, but that wasn’t necessarily his fault — you hadn’t really given him much to work with due to your own reservations. 

And maybe you’d been too quick to judge with the whole stealing from the company thing. The optimistic (and pathetically lonely) part of you could convince yourself that his math really had just improved over the months, and he didn’t actually have any nefarious intent. 

It didn’t hurt that he was quite handsome. You were surprised he didn’t have someone already. 

And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to actually agree to go out with him nor turn him down completely. “It’s just I’ve — I’ve got a lot going on right now.”

Benji nodded, still offering you a smile as he set down a coin for his drink. “Maybe another time?”

“Yeah,” you said noncommittally, finally giving him a genuine smile of appreciation. 

He smiled back before leaving, giving you a wave as he walked out the door. 

At his absence, you found yourself feeling guilty, thinking of what Tommy would think if he found out you were going on a date. 

You shook your head — to hell with what Tommy thought. You couldn’t keep up with what may or may not have been going on between the two of you. 

It was astonishing when you realized exactly how little time you and Tommy had actually spent together. The time span between that first night at the Garrison and Christmas morning accounted for less than five days. And yet within that time, you’d made out with the man four times and nearly slept with him twice. You felt more connected with him than you’d ever felt with anyone before. And not to mention you’d been tempted to tell him your big secret — hell, Christmas Eve night you’d basically shared the majority of it, just without the time travel aspect. 

All that to say that the total time you’d spent with the man had been tiny in relation to the bigger picture, and yet you could not get him out of your mind. The longer you went without seeing him, the heavier your heart grew and the antsier you became. 

What the hell was the matter with you anyway? The last time you’d been this strung out over a guy had been in high school when your hormones were running rampant and you had absolutely no self-awareness or all the finely honed self-respect you’d built up over the last decade. You weren’t a teenager — you were too old for these flighty and fruitless games. If the man didn’t want to be with you, (or if all he’d wanted was to sleep with you) he should just tell you. 

And now he’d all but banned you from his presence it felt, and your feelings of hurt had officially transitioned into anger. 

Why the hell shouldn’t you go on a date? If you were going to be stuck here, why not have a little fun?

“Benji?” You called, just as the door was starting to close. It opened, and he popped his head back into the pub, his brow up in question. “Dinner might be nice. How’s next week?”

 ——

That Sunday, you were surprised to see it was Polly at your doorstep with the books.

“Morning, love.” She greeted you, shoving the two books into your chest as she walked past you into your apartment. She took a seat at your dining table and began to take off her gloves with a huff, “Ada’s run off again, leaving the book transport to me. Not sure why I’ve got to stay here with you the whole bloody time, but when Thomas insists—“ 

“Did I do something, Polly?” You asked finally, unable to hold it in any longer as you sat down across from her and set the books on the table top. “It’s like Tommy doesn’t trust me anymore.” 

Polly shook her head. “It’s just been chaos with the Digbeth move, that’s all. Half our men are split, leaving the betting shop more vulnerable than we’d all like. It’s nothing you did. Got any tea?” 

Her words were encouraging, but the way she dodged her eyes and reached for her paper half way through still gave you that unsettled feeling. She lifted the paper to begin reading, a silent end to your conversation. Taking the hint, you silently poured you both some tea and began your work. 

But the back of your mind still churned as you went through the monotonous steps of math and pattern checking. Despite Polly’s reasoning, you still felt like you were being punished for something. You felt a level of guilt beneath your mountain of other emotions because despite all the secrets you had shared with Tommy, there was a pretty big one that you still hadn’t shared. Perhaps he’d finally grown tired of waiting, or had officially decided against trusting you after all. 

You physically shook your head as you moved on to the second book, shaking the thought away before you tailspun into a hole that you weren’t prepared to dig yourself out of while company was here. 

The thought made you look up at Polly for a moment, who was still reading through her newspaper meticulously. 

“Polly, can I ask you something?” 

She didn’t look up from her newspaper, “If it’s about Thomas, I can’t help you. That boy’s as unpredictable as ever nowadays.”

“It’s not that. It’s—“ you hesitated, unsure exactly how to approach the situation. Polly lowered her paper and rose an eyebrow. “You told Tommy you thought I was born gypsy.”

She folded up her paper and set it on the table. “I did.” 

“Why didn’t you just ask me yourself?” 

“It wasn’t my place.”

Your brow creased, “But you told Tommy.”

“I made a calculated decision at the time.”

You hummed, nodding as you looked down, then back up. “I’m not related to the Delphi,” you said tentatively, watching her face as you went on. “At least I don’t think so. To be honest, I’m not even positive if I have any Romani blood in me. I don’t really know anything, still.”

Polly didn’t respond, instead sat there in silence as she waited for you to continue. 

“You told Tommy that I had a gift. All because of my tattoo and because I guessed the date of the end of the war—“ 

“That’s not the only reasons,” Polly added, your eyes shooting up to meet hers. “I read your leaves.” 

Your brow creased, “My, what?” 

She nodded to the cup in front of you. “Your tea leaves. It’s always been one of my gifts to read tea leaves.”

“Perhaps you should talk to Pol,” Tommy’s voice from the other night triggered your memory. “She’s always been more in tune with that side of things, she could offer you some guidance.” 

Your eyes drifted to the nightstand, where you knew the small box Madam Despoina had given you was buried beneath your clothes in the drawer. You hadn’t touched it since you put it there, but the square lump was the first things your eyes snapped to whenever you opened the drawer. 

“Wait, isn’t there like an official process to reading leaves?” You countered. Teas and tarot cards were some of the maneuvers your mother had tried to learn herself — but of course when she couldn’t come up with the outcomes she’d wanted, she’d go out and pay ‘experts’ to do her readings for her. Still, she never found what she was looking for. 

The years of built up distrust for anything divination relation was causing you to tense at the conversation, but you forced yourself to really listen to Polly. 

“You always swirl your tea before you finish it, haven’t you noticed?” 

You hadn’t — but now that you thought about it, you realized that you did. You hated the taste of the grains of leaves at the end of your cups, so you always absentmindedly swirled to try and get them to stick to the edges. 

“What did you see?”

Polly began to explain a few of her early readings, how every sign pointed to heavy seer powers and a deep concentration to the far future, though something was always just off about every reading. “They began to change after the war ended, once you’d met Thomas. His changed too.” 

You swallowed. “Tommy didn’t mention that.” 

“I didn’t tell him.” 

You asked why. 

She chuckled, “It wouldn’t have meant anything to him. He doesn’t believe anymore. Deep down he might, but not enough to have convinced him to let you continue working for the company. That your time with us, with him, weren’t over yet.” 

Despite yourself, you scoffed, “You sound like Madam Despoina.” 

Polly smirked. “Did you find what you were looking for with the Delphi?”

“Sort of,” your eyes moved down to your hands. “Madam Despoina believes that speaking to my mother will help.” 

“I thought your family—“

“Dead,” you answered. “Yeah. She gave me something she said can help me talk to her one last time. I haven’t — I can’t bring myself to do it.” 

Polly hummed as she sat back in her seat. “We do believe that those who have left us can visit. Some have the gift to see them, even speak to them. But it can be dangerous. Once you let the spirits in, any spirits, it can be difficult to get rid of them.” 

You nodded, taking her words to heart as you absorbed the information. “I— I’m not a fortune teller. But I do have some knowledge of the future. It’s— it’s complicated.” 

Polly’s chin and brow rose. “Have you told Thomas?”

“Yes. Everything that I can tell.” 

Polly nodded. “Then you’ve got nothing to worry about, love.” 

You took a deep breath. “Then what’s with the freeze out?”

“It’s his way of protecting you, I assume.” Polly picked up her paper again. “You did react quite poorly Christmas morning — and the boys weren’t even that banged up. Still surprised none of them were shot. You’re going to need tougher skin if you choose to continue with this life. And I wasn’t lying before, the boys have been nonstop since the holidays. Poor Martha can hardly handle it.” 

She lifted the paper between the two of you and you took the signal again to mean the conversation had ended. 

You ended the final book audit having only run through what Polly had said twice. She rose to leave and collected her things. You were curious if she was going to grab your cup, but didn’t give it another glance as she walked toward the door. 

She turned, “Part of tougher skin means defying Tommy’s orders every now and then. It’ll be just Martha and I tomorrow at the house with the kids. We miss you.” 

With that, she gave you a pointed rise of her brow and left. 

You smiled as the door closed, feeling rejuvenated. Fuck Tommy and his orders, you thought, lifting your chin up the same way Polly had. You had your pride, you had your own agency, and you could go visit your friends if you damn well wanted to. Two and a half weeks had been enough of a freeze out, you decided. 

Tomorrow, you’d go back to the Shelby household. And if he showed up, you’d confront Tommy and tell him exactly how you felt. 

>> next chapter

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#Peaky blinders #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby reader insert #Peaky blinders reader insert #Peaky blinders imagines #tommy shelby imagines #Thomas shelby imagines #Thomas shelby reader insert #Peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby x oc #cillian murphy #fanfiction #mine #time after time

[prettypeppermint]

the gift of silence. (how sweet the sound)

for t. shelby. a continuation of 'amazing grace.'

You weren't speaking to him. And it was slowly driving him up the wall.

Not that you were normally a chatterbox in the face of Thomas Shelby; you rarely spoke to him unless you needed something. You were always more of a looker; your eyes bore into his from across the room whenever you overheard something you shouldn't have; you studied his slight quirks and subtle movements and stared blankly at his handwriting when verifying papers; you looked when nobody else did. In a sea full of heads, your eyes were always turned against the tide--snowy sea glass amongst pebbles in a blinding summer's ocean. He noticed your gaze when you thought no one did.

Sometimes, wisdom lies in silence rather than words. You knew that above all others.

Come to think of it, that night was the most you had ever talked to him directly since he'd known you. It was the most candid he’d ever experienced you. And he was frightfully prepared.

It wasn't the fact you weren’t talking that bothered him--more so the absence of your voice--something he never thought to irk him until he realized just how much he wanted you to spare him a whisper. He wanted to see you all worked up the way women get sometimes; he wanted to watch you unravel. But you were always so tightly bound.

It's been days since he kissed you--touched you. Thomas was a man of self-control, and he knew it was both the first and the last time he'd ever be selfish with you again. He didn’t know it, but he yearned to wade a bit longer in the satisfaction of knowing you were at least a bit frazzled by him. But you seemed as much out of place as snow in December.

He didn't like how you were added to his long list of tasks and responsibilities. He didn't like how you weighed down his shoulders.

Even with all the help you gave around these parts, you were always just a burden to his mind--the way you smelled of a place far away, the coyly cold shoulders you gave and the moles on your hips. He didn’t like it one bit.

Because now he was the one staring at the back of your neck, at the way your ringlets bounced in a manner almost comical against your serious face. Everything about you seemed to be a paradoxical phenomenon: your coquettish features that rarely spared a smile for anyone, your soft eyes that revealed hardened thoughts, your bouncy curls and the ribbons that sometimes adorned your braids and the lacy little ensembles that complimented your loveliness.

You were so ironically unapproachable. You never missed the quips and spare jokes about it: that people could sense your presence because the room gets cold, that a smile would sit prettier on your mouth than all those cigarettes.

You appeared unperturbed by the smog-capped skylines and rubble-ruined streets of Birmingham; all the sins of the city never wore wrinkles between your brows or sowed smoky wisps along your hairline. It was almost as if you were preserved in that eternal Kilkee ruralness--as if you brought a piece of the Irish coast with you to this Godless city. Farmer's daughter. Fisherman's treasure. You were outlasting and evermore. You were something of the sea.

"I said I needed fifty hand-copies of last month's inventory on my desk by this morning," Thomas breathed matter-of-factly, leaning against the door frame as you indulged in your morning smoke, an old whiskey in his hand. He liked the way your bare shoulders looked as they reflected the breaking dawn--the way the sun collected in your collarbones and made your hair shiny.

It was his turn to stand at the doorway. It was his turn to bear his weight at the threshold.

"I put them on your desk two mornings ago," you responded, matter-of-fact, “Perhaps you forgot to look under your arse, Mr. Shelby.”

Where along the line had he become Mr. Shelby?When did plain, old Thomas leave your vocabulary? He liked it when you called him that--just Thomas.

You never intended to sound so coy all the time. Aunt Pol like to say you were just a pretty girl with a sharp tongue and a sharper mind--sometimes to your own doom.

At that, Thomas tossed a hefty stack of unsorted paperwork on the coffee table you were sat at. He watched as your rosy elbows wobbled under the wood and ash flitted from your slim cigarette.

"You forgot these, Ms. l/n." he rasped blankly, trying to see through to your eyes from the back of your head.

Without looking at him or the papers, you stood up and took your time neatening them up before heaving the stack into your arms. As you passed by his figure in the doorway, you discarded your cigarette in his whiskey glass.

He was left staring blankly at the empty scene before him--one that was once fulfilled with your presence--a sense of longing boiling up in his core. It was out of character to be so subconsciously infatuated with the idea of getting a rise out of you. It was almost ridiculous.

Mr. Shelby seemed to be a master at pushing good things--good women--away.

"A bit harsh on the girl, don’t you think?" Aunt Pol piped knowingly from behind him, emerging from her watchful shadows once you had retreated to Thomas's office.

"No different than I've always been," he said, eyes still trained on the spot at the chair that was once yours.

"Don't take women for the fool that you are, Tommy. I see the way you've been eyeing her--picking her apart. I'll have you fucking another whore before you sink your claws into another girl with a bright path ahead of her."

"Her path ends here, Pol. No girl who ever got tangled up in Shelby business ever makes it to London."

Aunt Pol glared at his nape before leaving him there, sinking in his own wallows.

~~~

"Where're my copies?"

"I threw 'em out."

A moment of silence pulsated through his blood and rose to his brain. He had found you sitting and smoking in your usual spot, merely thirty minutes after his most recent orders. He slowly walked up to your lax frame, still dawned in your silky, lacy little thing of a nightgown.

"I trust that you know those were Mr. Kimber's papers, Ms. l/n," he rumbled lowly--dangerously, "Papers I won't think twice about having you dig through the trash for on the street in nothing but your slip."

"You've done worse," you responded calmly, taking another draw of your cigarette. Recently, you've been blowing through more than your daily 6, and he never failed to notice the little things.

He stepped even closer, his hands buried adamantly in his pockets so they wouldn't reach out for you. Why was loving Grace so easy, and loving you felt like a sour seed in his stomach? As if it would burrow holes in his organs and infect his blood until you did something about it?

"You're gonna get me those papers or I'll have you thrown out to the streets after happy hour."

With that, you stood abruptly from your chair and walked with brisk strides toward the wastepaper bin at the leg of the center table. You plunged your hand into it and pulled from the depths of millions of cigarette butts Thomas's precious Kimber papers. You slapped them on the table riddled with ash and peanut shells and flipped through each page for him, fully filled out and stamped with fresh ink.

Then you climbed atop the table, standing precariously on the splintering wood in your dainty, red dance heels so you could have the upper hand for once.

"You don't get to disrespect me because of your fragile, faulty, little boy of a heart. You don't get to disrespect me because I have an ounce of self-preservation in the face of a man with the power you have. And you don't get to disrespect me, because I am y/n l/n, and I don't work for men who lead with the brain in their cocks." It came out eerily steady, unlike any rage he'd ever been at the receiving end of before.

It was like a flash of soundless lightning; you were gone as soon as it happened, having stepped down from the table to retreat to your sun-spotted, smoke-stained corner. And he was left with the storm that came afterward, soaked in an alien feeling that hadn't made itself quite known to his heart yet.

But much like how most things rear their ugly heads at night--drunkards emerging from their taverns and whores from their brothels--Thomas Shelby's ugly little things were no exception.

Night changes a man; it shrouds him in regret and urges forced down throughout the day and lust unravished.

Night made Thomas hungry.

And so he found himself watching over your sleeping form folded at the waist and draped across the table you've been sitting at the entire day, where you've done nothing but stare out the window and let the smoke abuse your lungs. Your cigarette, now a measly stub, was still haphazardly pinched between your tired fingers. He found that smoking didn't suit you--it tainted your rosy face that otherwise emulated an ethereal countryside purity. The Irish foreshore was still fresh on your cheeks.

In sleep, you reverted to the girl you were born as: simple and lovely and kind as a bird.

He felt the sour seed growing.

He slipped his hand around your wrist and maneuvered your body onto his back with ease before carrying you to his room where he set you down on his sheets. His hand instinctively reached for the pipe on the nightstand, but it trembled before tightening into a fist that fell limply at his side.

What he hadn’t known was that you both experienced night terrors, but as he lay awake on the floor next to his bed with your writhing and moaning frame, it became abundantly clear.

He wondered what was haunting your conscience and digging its way into your sleep. Maybe you've been through a few wars of your own. None that men would know, anyway.

As his mind continued shifting and shuffling, he felt a warmth press into his back; you had stepped off the bed and laid down on the cool, dry planks next to him--back to back and facing away from each other. He could feel your silk stick to your sweat. Time froze, and within that time, so did the nightmares.

Seconds drawled into minutes before it all became a blur as shadows morphed into stories on the moonlit wallpaper. It stretched and stretched.

"Do you want to know what I dream of at night?" you slurred, breaking the industrial silence. Your voice was thick with an unrestful break from the world.

When Thomas didn't respond, you continued: "I dream of my home in Ireland: its salty mist and green softness all around. I'm standing there, on a plain, looking out over the ocean. I'm smiling. And each time the tide hits the rocks and recedes back into its basin, I see something emerge from the salt onto the rocks. They're people--bodies--their skin so bloated and fermented from the salt I can't even recognize them, but it feels like I should. Like I know them. And I'm stuck on this plain, trying to make out the faces of my mother and sisters and brother as they keep piling up. Over and over and over. I can't stop it. Because the tide always ebbs. It gets closer and louder, and I'm still smiling. And I pray I wake up before it gets to me and I'm the one on the rocks, rotting and unrecognizable. And I feel awful for it."

Another silence spanned, and Thomas realized he was foolish to ever wish it away. Because silence was how you both communicated. Silence was the language only the two of you were fluent in. Silence bridged the gap that words created. Silence was what he wished for when he heard the shovels chipping at the wall night after night.

"Thomas, you love me." It was a mere whisper, as if you too were scared of ending the silence--the gift of time.

"I love you," echoed Thomas. It was so low and so guttural, as if sprouting from that very sour seed that--within the span of the night--had grown into something pulpy and bittersweet instead.

With that, you both dozed off. And Thomas woke up without the sound of the shovels.

x.

#x #prettypeppermint #bittersweet #love #thomas shelby #fem!reader #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby angst #peaky blinders angst #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby ff #thomas shelby imagines #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x fem!reader #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby fic #cillian murphy #cillian murphy thomas shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder headcanon #thomas shelby hcs #thomas shelby headcanons #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders ff #peaky fucking blinders #tommy shelby #cillian fic

[zapreportsblog]

The BarMaid

➥ summary: The Garrison Pub gets a new hire and Thomas feels an attraction towards them

➥ one shot

The dimly lit room of the Garrison Pub was filled with the sounds of clinking glasses and boisterous laughter. Thomas Shelby, the charismatic leader of the Shelby family and the Peaky Blinders, sat at his usual table, his mind occupied with the day's business. The recent expansion of their operations had kept him preoccupied, but tonight, something changed.

As Thomas glanced up from his paperwork, his eyes were drawn to the entrance of the pub. There stood a woman, (Y/n), a new barmaid recently hired by Polly Gray, Thomas's aunt and a crucial member of the Shelby family. Something about her caught his attention—a spark of mischief in her eyes and a confidence in her demeanor.

(Y/n) moved gracefully through the pub, serving drinks with ease. Her presence commanded attention, and Thomas found himself unable to tear his gaze away. There was an air of mystery surrounding her—a certain allure that fascinated him.

One evening, as the pub started to fill with patrons, Thomas decided to take a break from his work and approach (Y/n). He sauntered up to the bar, his eyes fixed on her, and a small smile playing on his lips.

"Evening, (Y/n)," he greeted, his voice low and smooth. "You've settled in well. The patrons seem to enjoy your company."

(Y/n) looked up, a playful glint in her eyes as she leaned against the bar. "I aim to please, Mr. Shelby," she replied, her voice tinged with a hint of mischief.

Thomas was intrigued by her confidence. He leaned closer, lowering his voice to a husky whisper. "Tell me, (Y/n), what brings a woman like you to a place like this?"

She chuckled softly, her gaze meeting his with an intensity that sent shivers down his spine. "Perhaps I'm drawn to the thrill, the danger, the men who run the show," she replied, her words laced with a daring undertone.

Thomas was captivated. There was something magnetic about (Y/n), something that made his heart race and his senses come alive. In that moment, he realized that he wanted to know her more, to unravel the mystery that surrounded her.

As the days turned into weeks, Thomas and (Y/n) found themselves drawn to each other like moths to a flame. Their interactions grew more frequent, filled with subtle glances and stolen moments of conversation. They discovered shared interests, a connection that went beyond the walls of the pub.

One evening, as the pub emptied and the atmosphere grew quiet, Thomas found himself alone with (Y/n). He mustered the courage to express what he had been feeling, the vulnerability he seldom showed.

"(Y/n), there's something about you that has captured my attention," he admitted, his voice tinged with a mix of hesitation and sincerity. "I find myself drawn to you, in ways I can't quite explain."

She regarded him with a soft smile, her eyes reflecting warmth and affection. "Thomas, I've felt it too. There's a spark between us, an undeniable connection. I've been waiting for you to say something."

Thomas reached out, his hand gently cupping her cheek. "Then let's explore this connection, (Y/n). Let's see where it takes us."

(Y/n) nodded, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "I would like that, Thomas."

In that moment, their worlds collided. The lines between business and personal matters blurred as they embarked on a journey of love and passion.

“Tell me (y/n), humor me if you will; but would you like to go out on a date?”

“Hmm in suppose I can humor you by agreeing.”

•••

The sun began to set over the gritty streets of Birmingham as Thomas Shelby meticulously dressed for his long-awaited date with (Y/n). Tonight was the night he had planned to show her a different side of the city—a side filled with elegance and sophistication.

As Thomas waited for (Y/n) to arrive, he couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. He had meticulously planned every detail of the evening, determined to impress her and create a memory that would last a lifetime.

Moments later, he heard a knock on the door. Opening it, Thomas found (Y/n) standing there, her radiant smile filling his heart with warmth. She looked breathtaking in a carefully selected dress, her eyes shimmering with excitement.

"Good evening, Thomas," she greeted, her voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. "I must say, you clean up quite nicely."

He returned her smile, his eyes glimmering with admiration. "And you, (Y/n), look absolutely stunning. Shall we?"

With a nod, (Y/n) took his outstretched arm, and together they made their way towards a sleek black car waiting just outside. Thomas had arranged for a private driver to take them to their destination—a prestigious restaurant known for its exquisite cuisine and intimate atmosphere.

As they entered the restaurant, the scent of fine food and the soft melodies of a live jazz band enveloped them. Thomas led (Y/n) to a private table, tucked away in a secluded corner. Candlelight flickered, casting a warm glow on their faces as they settled in.

Throughout the evening, they indulged in delectable dishes, savoring each bite while engaging in conversation that flowed effortlessly. The walls they had built around themselves began to crumble, replaced by a genuine connection that left them yearning for more.

Between courses, Thomas reached across the table, gently taking (Y/n)'s hand in his. "You know, (Y/n), I haven't felt this way in a long time. Being with you feels... different. It feels right," he admitted, his voice filled with vulnerability.

(Y/n) met his gaze, her eyes filled with understanding and affection. "I feel the same way, Thomas. This night, this moment, it's something I never expected, but I'm grateful for it. I'm grateful for you," she replied, her voice filled with sincerity.

Their fingers intertwined, creating an unbreakable bond—a connection that defied the chaos of their respective lives. In that moment, nothing else mattered except the undeniable chemistry between them.

As the night wore on, they exchanged laughter, shared stories, and danced to the gentle rhythms of the jazz band. Each moment deepened their connection, solidifying their newfound love.

When the evening finally drew to a close, Thomas escorted (Y/n) back to the car, his arm protectively around her. The night had been everything he had hoped for—a magical experience that had brought them closer.

As they stood outside her door, Thomas looked into (Y/n)'s eyes, his gaze filled with tenderness. "Thank you for tonight, (Y/n). I can't remember the last time I felt so alive, so content. You have brought light into my life," he expressed, his voice filled with gratitude.

(Y/n) smiled, her heart swelling with affection. "Thomas, this evening has been incredible. I'm grateful for the moments we've shared and for the person you are. I look forward to what the future holds for us," she replied, her voice filled with hope.

With a gentle kiss on her cheek, Thomas bid her goodnight. He watched as she entered her home, her smile lingering in his mind. As he walked away, a newfound sense of purpose filled his steps. He knew that, with (Y/n) by his side, anything was possible.

#x reader #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders imagines #thomas shelby #Thomas Shelby x reader #Thomas Shelby imagine #Thomas Shelby imagines

[multific]

Late Nights

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Thomas wouldn't call himself the best husband, but he was trying his best.

Given his jobs, he had flaws, too many in fact, but he did love you.

Thomas wasn't the best with soft words. He wasn't the kind to write poems about your beauty or songs. But he admired you very much.

And since he wasn't the best with words, he decided to show his affection and love through action. 

One of which was, he would bring you flowers. 

He would arrive home, late, only to find you in the living room by the fireplace reading. A beautiful bouquet in his hands.

"Oh, Tommy." you said as you placed the book down and headed over to him. 

He met you in the middle while holding the beautiful bouquet of tulips. 

"For you." he said as you got the flowers from his hands.

"Thank you love." you kissed him softly before going to put the tulips in some water. "I made you dinner." you said as you placed a plate on the table for him when he sat down. He started to eat, thanking you.

Yes, you loved him and the flowers he gave you, and you knew better than to ask where did he get fresh flowers from in the middle of the night.

"How was your day?" he asked as you sat down in front of him once you found the perfect place for your newest bouquet.

"I had a great day thank you. I went shopping, and got us food for days, I was thinking I will make some steak but I didn't want to make them when you are late, so..."

"I'll be home tomorrow for dinner then. Wouldn't miss your lovely steaks for anything." you smiled.

"Do you think...would it be too much to renovate our home a little?"

"Why?"

"Well, I was thinking and the furniture and our bed... I was thinking the house needed a more fresh look. But if you don't want to or we don't have the money, I'm fine with it. Just an idea." Tommy assumed this idea came to you because you stopped working after you two married. The Shelby name was well-known. And he was afraid people would hurt you if you worked.

And a house wife, without children might start thinking about changing the furniture and such.

"I'll arrange a car for you when you want to go. I trust your taste, My Love. Spend as much as you please."

"Thank you, I promise I won't overspend." now you knew that might be a stretch. But you also knew that if you won't get the things you like, he will know.

He wants the best for you so it was natural he didn't mind the money being spent on your happiness.

"I was also thinking about your old office upstairs. The one with the boxes?"

"What about it?"

"We could make it into a nursery. Now, no, no, I'm not pregnant. All I'm saying is that when I will get pregnant, it would be easier to do the rooms now rather than later."

"You are a smart woman, and when do you plan on getting pregnant?" he smirked as he finished his food, leaning back in his chair.

"Whenever my lovely husband decides to give me his seed."

"Now, I'm pretty sure I do that almost daily. Didn't know you wanted children."

"You never asked. And I didn't want to bring it up after your last wife. Sorry."

"You can talk about her, you know. Yes, I loved her but you are my wife now, so I love you, I plan on loving you until my last breath and yes, a child fits into my future with you." 

You smiled as you grabbed his plate and glass, heading to wash them.

"We will talk about it more once you have some free time. It's quite late, go shower and we can go to bed." he headed over to you, hugging you from behind, kissing your shoulder and neck with one last kiss to your cheek, Thomas was off to shower.

Later, he held you close as you slept, warmth pooling around you as you doozed off and so did he.

These were the kind of evenings you liked the most.

Nothing else mattered but the two of you. No business, no guns, only you and your Tommy.

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~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

             DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

#Thomas Shelby x reader #Thomas Shelby x you #Thomas Shelby imagine #Thomas Shelby imagines #Thomas Shelby #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders x reader

[fallatyourfeet]

Good For Business (Jealous Tommy Shelby x Female Reader) Part 2/2

Completed

Summary: There is still no doubt that you're good for business, but maybe you're a little too good. And Tommy can't handle the consequences.

Reacquaint yourself with part 1 or read it for the first time here.

Word count: 1838

Warnings: Swearing. Jealousy. Reader being disrespected.

A/N: This was a long long long time coming. It was written in patches over a long period of time. So, I really hope it doesn't feel too disjointed. It’s actually the first thing I've posted in 5 months, FIVE, but I do hope it's not so long before I post another.

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

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

Tommy sat in his favourite restaurant, at his favourite table, with a tumbler of his favourite whisky residing in the palm of his hand, marveling you. You really were, good for business. The man sitting across from him, a man renowned for being nearly impossible to deal with, was like putty in your hands, and you weren’t even trying to turn on your charm. It was just you.  

Bringing you along to this business deal was not an easy decision. Since that glorious day in the office of the Garrison, you had virtually lived in each other's pockets, but that didn’t mean he wanted you getting involved in his shady day to day business. Working at the Garrison as a paid employee was one thing, but getting directly mixed up in his business deals, well, that was an entirely different matter. But leaning back in his chair watching you unravel this tightly wound and notoriously difficult man, with a simple smile, was something to behold.  

This very lucrative deal was for all intents and purposes, legal. However, Tommy’s long-term intentions were not exactly above board, and the very difficult and strait-laced, Joe Robertson, knew it. On multiple occasions he had refused to meet with Tommy on the account of his reputation, so when he finally agreed to sit down and talk, Tommy did his research. Not wanting to take anything by chance and blow the only opportunity he might have of securing a deal with this man. He left no stone unturned, barely falling short of knowing what he ate for breakfast. And boy, did Tommy pull out all the stops. But Joe was seemingly unimpressed, and Tommy thought all opportunity was lost. All until it was time for you to join them at the restaurant.   

They were already sitting at the table; drink in hand, barely exchanging words with the contract lying forgotten on the table. Then you breezed through the door, instantly catching Joe’s eye. And that was the moment Tommy wondered, if maybe the only moral weakness the honourable Joe Robertson had, was you. A string of beautiful, well-dressed women had filed through the restaurant door for the past 45 minutes and he barely even noticed them. But your warm inviting smile and natural charm, had his features flickering to life and suddenly expectant when he realised you were being ushered towards them. 

Both men stood up when you stopped at the edge of the table, Tommy offering you the seat between them, making introductions as he did so. “Joe, this is Miss Y/N Y/L/N... my better half... Y/N this is, Mr Joe Robertson.”  

Tommy’s palm gently caressed your back as he guided you to your chair, noticing how the contact seized Joe’s attention, his eyes lingering on Tommy’s hand with a touch of jealousy. And yet, he nodded politely and greeted, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Y/L/N... I see Tommy’s good taste isn’t restricted solely to tailored suits and fine whisky.” 

Your answering smile was stunning, and your words playfully disarming, “Yes. It seems his good taste also extends to future business partners too.” 

Joe laughed, the effects of your playful flattery showing in the redness of his cheeks. Clearing his throat, he took a breath, “Well, we’re not quite there yet, but the evening has suddenly taken a more promising turn. Tell me, Miss Y/L/N, do you often accompany Mr Shelby to his business meetings?” 

Tommy leaned across the table, reaching for the bottle of champagne he lifted it from the wine cooler and poured a glass. Handing it to you, he found himself holding back a smirk when you took a sip, savoured it, and replied, “No. But if the champagne is always as good as this, then yes, I do believe this meeting will be the first of many.”  

Tommy relaxed back into his chair and lit a cigarette, happy to take the back seat while you worked your effortless magic. And the man was instantly under your spell.  

With a nod of his head, Joe leaned towards you, his voice lowered just a little, “Well then, I’ll make sure to have a bottle of the finest champagne waiting for you whenever Mr Shelby and I arrange a meeting.” 

Taking another sip, you settled into the curve of your chair and smiled. It was warm and genuine, and the hum leaving your lips formed a distinct appreciation for the champagne, before tipping your glass towards him, and replying, “Then let’s not leave it too long between drinks, Mr Robertson.” 

The normally hard features of the strait-laced businessman were suddenly soft and pliable when he connected the edge of his glass with yours, “Let’s not.” And Tommy found himself butting out his cigarette to once again, sit back and appreciate his whisky, whilst marveling you.  

And before long, you had done all but secure his signature across the dotted line of the contract. And yet, Tommy grew uneasy. Yes, Joe’s features remained soft and pliable as he soaked up every smile and word you spoke, but as the evening progressed, Tommy felt his upper lip tighten when Joe gazed a little too long across the silky skin of your bare shoulder. Fought the impulse to narrow his glare when he admired the soft curve of your bust with a little too much appreciation. And found himself rapping his cigarette case a little too forcefully against the tabletop, when the man, renowned for his unrivalled morals, failed to disguise the growing vile thoughts in his eyes. But Tommy endured it. All he needed was Joe’s signature and he would never have to see you spend another moment with the man. Surely, he could endure it for that long. Surely. 

Dessert had just been ordered, and Tommy had managed to remain civil, when you stood up and brushed your hand across his shoulder, reaching for your clutch you excused yourself, “Gentlemen... excuse me a moment, while I disappear to powder my nose.”  

Nodding his head, Tommy smiled, watching your retreating form as you made your way towards the ladies. Turning his attention to Joe, he found him doing the same, the hungry look in his eyes doing nothing to lessen the tight grip Tommy had around his tumbler. When you finally disappeared behind the door, Joe picked up the contract and reached inside his jacket pocket for a pen. “I think we have a deal, Mr Shelby. My lawyer has already combed through the contract you sent him and gave me the green light to make my own decision. However, there’s just one condition I’d like to add.” 

Penning down an amendment to the contract, he skipped to the final page and signed it before pushing it across the table to Tommy, speaking as he did so. “I had no intention of signing this today or making any kind of deal with the likes of you, but I am willing to make an exception... if... you accept my ‘additional’ request.” 

Not liking the edge that Joe’s voice suddenly carried, Tommy took a long slow breath in a calculated effort to calm himself. Yet, the strain still showed at the edges of his mouth, his voice harder than he intended, “an ‘additional’ request?”  

Gripping the sides of his glass, Tommy’s fingertips turned white, his resolve almost shattering when his free hand sifted through to the amended page of the contract. There it was. Your name. Written in the ink of Joe’s messy scrawl. ‘A whole night with Mr Thomas Shelby’s better half, Miss Y/N Y/L/N.’  

‘FUCKING WHAT?’ Tommy screamed the words inside his head. 

Staring blindly at the page, the single sentence blurred into a mess of blue ink, the typed black font of the contract all but invisible to him. Clearing his throat, Tommy closed the contract with unnerving calm, though his internal dialogue was ropeable, ‘The fucking gall of this man. Who the fuck does he think he is? Does he fucking realise who he’s dealing with?’  

While it was true that Tommy’s virtues in the muddy world of business deals, were at best, questionable. And all he needed was to scribble his name right beside Joe’s signature, and the deal was done. Somehow, the thought of sharing you to secure probably his most lucrative deal to date, left him seething. Not to mention the poor whisky residing in his hand at risk of spilling across the table, if the crystal tumbler finally succumbed to his choking grip.

Lifting his head, he stared coldly into Joe’s eyes. This man. This so called, ‘moral honourable’ man, was requesting a night with you. One whole night to do with you as he pleased. Did he think you were some cheap common whore? With a deep breath, he raised his brow, his voice low and threatening, “Y/N is not a commodity of the Shelby Company, Mr Robertson. She cannot be bought sold or bartered with. And she is certainly, no whore” 

Joe shook his head casually, “I’ve never been interested in whores, Mr Shelby... I’m interested in the lady currently powdering her nose.” Then leaning across the table, he tapped at the contract a few times, before offering Tommy his pen, “If you want this deal to close, you’ll sign this paper now... I will not consider any other deal.” 

It took all of Tommy’s strength to keep from tipping the table over and grabbing the smug fuck by his collar. Wanting nothing more than to roll his hands into fists and break the man’s jaw. Would render so much gratification from seeing his smug pompous eyes roll around in his head. But Tommy had bigger plans, now. Forget the fucking contract. He didn’t need it anymore. 

Taking Joe’s pen, he slipped it inside the pocket of his jacket, and stood from the chair. Emptying the whisky into his mouth, he grabbed his cigarettes, before taking the contract and rolling it up like a newspaper. Handing it to a passing busboy, he tipped him generously, before instructing, “Burn these worthless papers in the kitchen, eh?”  

Standing there a long silent moment, Tommy watched the boy rush off towards the kitchen, just as you made your way out of the ladies. It could not have been more perfect timing. Turning his attention to Joe, he calmly smoothed over his jacket, before buttoning it up, then leaning towards him spoke with a cold and steely voice. “You’ve just made a big mistake... one big fucking mistake... You’ve disrespected the wrong woman, Mr Robertson. This is not going to end well for you.” 

Taking you by the arm, he could see the confusion in your features, and the questions spilling from your eyes, but you said nothing. Nor did you even look back at Joe when Tommy spoke his farewell. “Apologies for the early departure, but I’m sure you’ll understand. I have a whole night to spend with this lovely lady... and I’d rather not waste any further of our time with you... Good night, Mr Robertson.”  

#thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfiction #thomas shelby imagines #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby imagine

[berrypockets]

Voiceless | Shattered Trust

Tommy Shelby x Reader

As Polly, Arthur, John, and Ada stepped out of the office, the heavy door closed behind them, creating a brief cocoon of privacy for the wounded couple.

Tommy, urgency etched on his face, hurriedly began to explain, "Y/N, you have to believe me. Those rumors with Grace, they're not true. She's trying to stir up trouble. It's all lies."

Y/N, with a skeptical glance, scoffed and rolled her eyes, an unmistakable expression of disbelief. She turned away, her silent demeanor screaming a refusal to accept Tommy's words.

Yet, as Y/N started to walk toward the door, a sudden, cutting remark from Tommy triggered her. "You always let your insecurities ruin everything good in your life," he retorted, unknowingly adding fuel to the already blazing fire of Y/N's emotions.

In an instant, Tommy's eyes widened with the realization of his hurtful words. "Wait, Y/N, I didn't mean that. I'm sorry. Please forgive me," he pleaded, genuine regret washing over his features.

Without a second thought, she grabbed the nearest object—a delicate, expensive figurine—and flung it at Tommy with a force fueled by frustration and hurt.

Tommy's instincts kicked in, and he narrowly dodged the projectile. "What the fuck, Y/N? You almost killed me," he exclaimed, his voice a mix of shock and irritation.

The room fell silent once more, the shattered figurine a stark reminder of the fragility of trust. Y/N, her eyes ablaze, faced Tommy with a mix of defiance and wounded pride, leaving the air thick with unresolved tension.

Undeterred, Tommy continued, his desperation palpable. "I swear on everything I have, Y/N. I've been loyal to you. I don't know what's gotten into Grace, but you're the only one for me. I can't imagine my life without you."

Y/N, on the verge of walking away, halted at the sincerity in Tommy's voice. The raw emotion painted across his face began to pierce through her walls of hurt and doubt.

Tommy, sensing an opportunity, approached her cautiously, his words a plea. "Don't go, Y/N. I need you. I don't know how I'll survive without you. I can't lose you over something that's not true. I love you."

Silence hung in the air as Y/N wrestled with conflicting emotions. The room, once filled with tension, now resonated with the desperate plea of a man unwilling to let go.In that vulnerable moment, Y/N turned to face Tommy once more. Her eyes, still clouded with pain, searched his for a trace of sincerity. Tommy, his heart laid bare, awaited her response.

With a heavy sigh, Y/N's stern expression softened, and she nodded, signaling a reluctant acknowledgment of Tommy's words. The room seemed to exhale, the tension gradually dissipating.

As Y/N reached out to wipe away a tear that lingered on her cheek, Tommy gently caught her hand, an unspoken promise to mend what had been broken. They stood there, the weight of their unspoken understanding binding them together, determined to weather the storms that threatened to tear them apart.

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagines #cillian murphy #peaky blinders imagines #thomas shelby imagines #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby #thomas shelby angst #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x you #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian x reader #cillian x fem!reader

[calummss]

Change Of Witness | Thomas Shelby

masterlist

summary: coming home earlier from work you see your father with a noose around his neck and hear the sound of a clocking gun behind you

pairing: fem! reader x thomas shelby

words: 800

a/n: inspo kill boksoon; tw short description of abuse; NOT PROOF READ

You never were one to talk much. You rather kept to yourself; alone, surrounded by nothing but thought and memories. Working in the store was a constant reminder that you weren’t a people’s person.

‘Y/n,’ one of the female workers called. ‘Can you take over my shift today?’

‘I can’t,’ you replied dryly. ‘I have a reservation for tea with my mother.’ You didn’t.

‘Oh okay. Have fun.’

‘Thank you.’

Walking over to where your personal items where you went to grab your bag when your sleeve rose, revealing a dark purple mark that kissed your skin, visible to anyone who took a glance at your arm. Quickly pulling your sleeve back down, you made your way out of the shop hurrying along the roads of Small Heath to get home. Wanting you to curl up in bed and deal with life the next day.

‘Look at me when I’m talking to you!’

A sting pained your face as your head turned sideways, impacted by the force of a steady hand.

‘Do you have no respect for me!’

Another sting. Another whip of the head. Your neck muscles are close to cramping as you fell to your knees.

‘Do you have nothing to say?’

You stayed silent.

With a swift motion he held your wrist, forcefully pulling you up as you winced, ‘Please stop,’ you cried out quietly.

‘Now you fucking talk?’

‘Please stop.’

‘I will stop once you act right!’—

‘Excuse me,’ the lady you bumped into apologised kindly.

‘No, I’m sorry.’ You said but she was long gone.

Arriving home you opened the door, leaving your bag at the front a stayed completely silent for a few seconds, trying to figure out if you were alone or if you had to expect him to be home. But something felt eerie. A weird sound sounded from further in the house. Walking towards the living room the sounds got louder, clearer, like someone’s voice was being hindered. When you stepped into the living room you stood still, taking off your hand as you watched your father stand on a small wooden stool with a noose tied around his neck, a scarf tied around his mouth that muffled out the shouts he was trying to get past the fabric. You stood there eyeing him, unsure of what had happened when the clocking of a gun suddenly sounded behind you, something touching the back of your head.

‘You’re supposed to be at work.’ The man’s voice sounded husky.

‘Are you here to kill my father?’ You stared straight ahead, not daring to turn around, trying to sound out your father’s cries for help.

‘Your father is killing himself…’ He said in a raspy tone, his tone weirdly pervasive. ‘After killing his own daughter.’

Pressing your lips together you stared at the noose that held your father’s life, ‘I really should’ve taken that shift.’

You pulled your shoulder together when you noticed that the man had taken hold of your hat, the quiet sound letting you know that he had most likely placed it on top of the piano. ‘Nice hat.’

You cleared your throat.

‘How old are you?’

‘Twenty-two.’

‘That complicates things,’

‘In what way?’ You asked gently, your feet starting to cramp with how still you were standing.

‘You’re basically a child. I have younger siblings so I don’t kill children. That’s my rule.’ He said with his same monotone voice, the pressure on the back of your head releasing when he withdrew his gun.

‘I see that your job isn’t just for bad people then?’

‘Are you always this reckless?’

‘Defining someone as a child is really vague.’ You told him, staring at a picture that stood on the coffee table next to the small stool. ‘Rules should be clearer. You should say you don’t kill minors. But I’m a grown woman with a job.’

‘Child or woman, letting a witness survive—hey.’

Before he could finish his sentence you stomped over to the chair, kicking it from underneath his feet as you watched him wiggle and cry out. You turned around facing the man that had come to your house to do what you had done, recognising his face as Thomas Shelby who you have seen around Small Heath occasionally.

‘Now you are the witness.’ You stared at him, a slow smile forming on your lips as you could feel the grips of your wrist loosen as the muffles grew quieter. His breaths stretching out before stopping completely. ‘Are you still going to kill me, Mr. Shelby?’

#tommy shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby headcanon #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby blurb #tommy shelby fluff #period drama #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagines #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby blurb #thomas shelby blurbs #thomas shelby headcanon #thomas shelby headcanons #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby fluff #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby angst #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x reader

[fandom-chic]

Please Please Please: Chapter 13

Summary: Y/N is only a child when she and Tommy Shelby meet. The two quickly become best friends as they grow up in Small Heath. As the years go by, Y/N and Tommy know there may be more to their friendship than they originally thought.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Y/N

A/N: Final chapter my friends! Thanks for reading this, it means a lot to me. Enjoy <3 Also for those who are curious, the title of this fic is based off The Smiths song, "Please Please Please, Let Me Get What I Want". Give it a gander if you haven't.

Previous chapter

Year: 1924

Her curls did not want to sit properly on her shoulders. Y/N had been standing in front of her mirror now for twenty minutes, focusing on the strands of hair that would not cooperate. They seemed to be skewing and frizzing in directions she could not control. Even running a comb to loosen the curls did not seem to do the job. Finally, Y/N sighed and let her hands fall to her sides, accepting that this was the mess that was her hair that day.

She just wanted to be perfect. She had to be. 

A day like this is one that sticks in someone's mind for a long time and she must leave a favorable impression. Or at least pass as somewhat graceful, especially in the wake of what has happened.

“Mummy!” Her daughter’s shout reverberated through the house, interrupting Y/N’s racing thoughts. It may be for the best that she approached this day with her mind as a blank slate. That was what this day was, blank and with zero expectations. If it was anything else to her, it couldn’t be. One may say that was cruel and unfeeling. Y/N didn’t really know anymore.

“Coming sweetheart,” Y/N shouted back, dabbing a final blot of red lipstick upon her lip before heading out of her bedroom door. When she entered Jane’s room, she saw the little girl in her PJs still, holding a doll in each hand. Jane looked up at her mother, using the doll to gesture towards her.

“Play with me, Mummy.” Y/N let out a sigh before heading to her daughter’s bed, holding up the dress she laid out for Jane. 

“Janey, I told you to put this dress on,” Y/N said, annoyance mixing into her voice. Jane frowned, fixating back on her dolls.

“I don’t want to,” Jane stated, as if the conversation was over. 

“Well, you have to.” Y/N retorted tiredly, not wanting to argue with her five year old daughter. 

“No,” Jane whined, standing up and throwing the dolls to the floor. 

“Yes,” Y/N responded, “We have to leave in ten minutes or we’re going to be late.” 

“I don’t want to go,” Jane screamed, the tantrum on the precipice of beginning. Y/N could feel frustration simmering in her gut as she bent down to her daughter’s height. 

“I know you don’t want to, love, but there’s no one to watch you,” Y/N said, placing a hand on her daughter’s arm, “Plus, you don’t want Mummy to be alone today, do you? She’s going to miss you so much.” Her daughter’s face softened immediately, as if the idea of her mother being all alone was the worst thing imaginable. Jane quickly shook her head, grabbing the dress from her mother’s hands. 

“No, I don’t want you to be lonely.” Y/N nodded at this, feeling that with each day that goes by, she is becoming more and more like her own mother. The guilt tripping was beginning early. Y/N helped pull the dress over Jane’s head and took her daughter in. She truly was the best thing in your life. 

“Ready to go?” Y/N asked. Jane answered with a nod. Y/N gave her daughter a smile before taking her and leading the two of them out the door. It was too nice out today to drive, so Y/N decided to let them walk. It wasn’t the farthest walk in the world, only twenty minutes away. The weather seemed to put Jane in a better mood as she began skipping down the road of Small Heath. Looking down at her daughter, Y/N couldn’t help but see herself. This was about the age she was when she moved to Small Heath. This was the age she was when her life changed and she still isn’t sure if it was for the worse or the better. Regardless, William would be so proud of their little girl. 

The walk went by quickly and soon they were there. It was a small funeral, smaller than Y/N expected, especially since the deceased was a well loved member of town. Y/N and Jane went into the church and were greeted by a closed casket as well as a beautiful portrait of her, Grace. The barmaid from that day all those years ago. Y/N stood and examined every inch of it, taking in the soft blue eyes and the quaffed blonde hair. Tommy did pick a beautiful wife. 

To be honest, Y/N still wasn’t entirely sure why she was here. She and Tommy hadn’t spoken since that day five years ago. It was probably for the best, even if Y/N had spent many nights dreaming up conversations with her best friend. She played back that last night in her head, wondering what would’ve happened if she let him stay. She sighed to herself, squeezing her daughter’s hand gently.

Deep down, Y/N knew why she was here. He was her best friend and, even if he wasn’t there on the worst day of her life, she had to be there for him. A tear pricked the corner of her eye as she pushed that thought down as people began to file into the church. 

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s take a seat.” At that, the woman and her daughter went to one of the back pews and took a seat. The two of them observe the service from afar. They weren’t family and they were barely friends anymore. 

Loved one after loved one spoke about Grace, remembering the wonderful woman that she was. The event seemed to almost drag on until Tommy finally rose. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as he looked out at the crowd. She hoped he wouldn’t see her as she tried to hunch into the pew. 

He cleared his throat of tears before speaking, “I didn’t think this day would come. The day I would have to say goodbye to my Grace,” His voice wavered slightly but he continued, “But here we are. Grace, I love you beyond words and I will miss you for the rest of my life.” At that, he was done and he was seated. It was short but sometimes that’s all you can say when your spouse suddenly dies.

Soon after this, everything came to a close. Y/N and Jane rose quickly and began to head out. Tommy didn’t need to know she was here. As she’s about to make her way out the door, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She froze, not sure if she should look at who was behind her.

“Hello, love,” she relaxed at that voice. Arthur. She turned around and brought the man into an embrace.

“Arthur Shelby, it’s been too long,” she felt his hands go around her waist and hold her close. He then pulled away, putting his hands on both her shoulders, taking her in.

“Each time I see you, you just get more and more beautiful,” Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his comment. His gaze then moves to the little girl attached to her mother’s hip. He bends down, going eye to eye with the child.

“And you must be Jane, you look just like your mum,” Jane, usually not a shy girl, hides in Y/N’s skirt. Y/N gave a small chuckle as she looked back at Arthur.

“She’s not usually like this,” Arthur shrugged.

“It’s not every day a little girl has to go to a funeral.” Arthur stopped himself short before he could say anything else. He looked into Y/N’s eyes to see if he touched a nerve and noticed the slight sadness that entered and left her face. It was just a moment, but anyone who knew Y/N would’ve noticed. He cleared his throat awkwardly before continuing, “I’m sorry again about William.” 

Y/N’s gaze immediately went to the corner of the room. This was a discussion she was used to having at this point. It had been three years since she lost her husband, but the wound still hurt. It was like the scab got peeled back and slowly picked at until blood started to flow. 

Y/N let her hand fidgets with her skirt as she tried to look back at Arthur, “It’s alright, it’s been years now.” Arthur takes her hand from her skirt. 

“That doesn’t make it any less awful,” He gave her hand a squeeze, “The least I can do is ask you back for drinks at Arrow House. I’m sure the rest of the family would want to see you.” 

“Arthur, I’m not sure-”

“I won’t take no for an answer.” Y/N sighs, considering what the next part of her day would look like. Before she knew it, she was on the grounds of Arrow House. It really wasn’t a house though, a mansion was a more apt word for what this estate was. Even though the home could’ve fit hundreds of people in it, only a couple were there now. Family and Y/N and Jane, but Tommy nowhere in sight.

Everyone seemed to disperse around the house, including Jane who went off with Ada’s boy, Karl. Y/N tried to schmooze with the Shelby family, but couldn’t help her eyes from wandering. She had to find Tommy. She knew he was somewhere in this mansion. There was no way he wasn’t. So, when people seemed distracted, she left the crowd and began searching. It didn’t take a lot of exploring before she noticed a door with a light peaking through the bottom. Her curiosity didn’t allow her to knock; she reached for the doorknob, pushing the door open. 

Y/N was correct in her assumption because there Tommy was, head in his hands as he sat hunched at his desk. She knew she should make her presence known. She knew the least she could do is say hello. It would force him to look up and acknowledge her. But that’s not what she did. She couldn’t because all she saw was the boy with the baseball from all those years ago broken into millions of pieces. Her feet led her right to him and her body did what it had to. She scurried over, taking him into her arms.

His instinct was to twitch away, even try to swat at the random hands but then he saw her. Even though it was years, he couldn’t help but lean in. He knew it could’ve been decades, even lifetimes and he would always lean into her touch.

“Y/N.” The word came out in the timbre of a whisper, but Y/N heard it. It was her Tommy, how could she not?

“Tommy.” His arms wrapped tightly around her waist as her hand went into his hair, stroking it. “I’m so sorry.”

She waited for Tommy to respond, but he didn’t say anything. He just held her. So she let him. She let him take her in like she had so many times before and she felt a semblance of peace. Maybe for the first time in a long time. Minutes ticked by like this before Y/N felt Tommy move. She looked down at him to see him rising to his feet. Soon, her hands were on her cheeks as he gazed into her eyes.

“I can’t believe you came,” he whispered. Y/N couldn’t help but lean her forehead against his. He let her.

“You’re my best friend, Tommy,” she responded, her voice quivering, “it’s what best friends do.” She felt him twitch at that, knowing she may have accidentally hit a nerve.

“You can’t say that, Y/N,” the volume of his voice began to rise, “when William died I was nowhere to be seen. I left you alone like a fucking coward.”

“Don’t say that,” Y/N soothed, but Tommy pulled away.

“No, I will,” Tommy said, running a hand through his hair in frustration, “Your fucking husband died and I couldn’t put my ego aside long enough to see you.” 

Y/N stood in silence, watching him, taking in his words. At the time of William’s funeral, Y/N was half a woman. Not even, she was not even one percent of who she used to be. She was all alone with a toddler and a restaurant, unsure of how the next day would go. And despite all of that, she wished she could cry in Tommy’s arms. She also wanted to punch his chest in frustration. 

When she received the news of Grace’s death, she was ready to stay home. To spend a day like any other day, until she got a knock at her door. When she opened it, Polly stood before her, more sullen than Y/N had seen her in years.

“Polly, what are you doing here?”

“Hello, Y/N,” she said, letting herself in. She took off her gloves and took in the home quickly, before continuing, “I wish I could’ve come with better news but…” she trailed off before continuing, “Tommy’s wife died.” 

Y/N’s hand instinctively flew to her chest, “Oh god, that’s awful, what happened?” And Polly explained the series of events of the last few years and the rise to power the Peaky Blinders had come to which, inevitably, led to Grace’s death.

“I’m so sorry Pol, what a terrible thing to happen,” Y/N said, “Please send my condolences to Tommy, I’m sure he needs it more than ever right now.” Y/N had expected the conversation to be over now, but Polly didn’t move.

“He needs you, Y/N. More than ever.” Y/N averted her gaze from Polly. The last thing she wanted to do was see Tommy.

Y/N let out a sigh before saying, “Polly, I’m not sure that’s a great idea. Besides, he didn’t come to William’s funeral and that was-”

“I know, but you have to realize he couldn’t.” Polly’s hand went to Y/N’s, giving it a squeeze, “He may seem like a man who is invincible, but with you… it’s different. He becomes that little boy again. You’re more than he is and I think he knows that.” 

And those words stuck with Y/N, especially here in Tommy’s office. She didn’t care about his ego anymore or the jealousy or any of that bullshit. All she knew was he needed her. So she reached out to him, hoping he would come.

“It’s the past now, Tom.” The words shocked him and seemed to surprise her as well, but anger had to leave at some point. “You’re my best friend, you always have been and you always will be.” 

So he goes to her, pulling her into his arms. Even after all this time, they still fit like puzzle pieces. True, they were a bit more jagged now, but they still were perfect matches. 

“I love you, Y/N,” She knew those words were real.

“I love you too.” And slowly, they knew that one day, they could heal. 

End

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