#peaky

[cheekypeakyblinder]

𝕋𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕪'𝕤 𝕝𝕖𝕗𝕥 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕕

Do you see?

If shits going down.

Arthur is on Tommy's left side and John's on his right side?

Every goddamn time

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders story #peaky blinder x fem oc #peaky blinders x oc #peaky blinder fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky #blinders #peaky fucking blinders #peaky blinders headcannon #peaky fookin blinders #Thomas shelby #Tommy Shelby #Arthur Shelby #Elizabeth grey #Polly grey #Aunt Pol #Aunt Polly #Ada Shelby #Ada shelby thorne #Ada thorne #Freddie Thorne #John Shelby #John fucking Shelby #The Shelby secretary #John Shelby x you #John Shelby x reader

[theshelbyclan]

Meet the parents

Summary: Your parents want to meet Tommy, after realising you’ve been sneaking off to see him, but you’re a little afraid of whether he’ll behave 

A/N: I just wanted to write the little piece, that’s literally all there’s too it XD Set around season 1, pure fluff and a little smut (Also, I’ve never written any form of smut before so be kind). Here we go!

Words: 2224

*****

“My parents want to meet you.”

Tommy blinked a few times, which made you realise you’d spoken out loud.

“It’s... Uhm...” you stumbled now, unsure of how to continue, “It’s just... I’ve been mentioning you, so they want to meet you.”

He smoked his cigarette in silence and finally said, “You’ve been mentioning me, eh?”

“They kept on asking, about where I went at night.”

“And what did you tell them?”

Somehow, his tone made you nervous, “That I was meeting up with a man.”

Suddenly, a sort of boyish mischievous glint came into his eyes, “And did you tell them what we usually do when we meet up?”

“No,” you blushed, “of course not.”

Tommy smiled and thought about how adorable you looked when embarrassed, “Better not.”

“So?” you asked again.

“So, tomorrow. 6 PM.” And with that, he’d put on his cap and walked out.

*****

It had only been a few months after the boys came back from France. You remembered that day so well: silently, they’d poured back into Birmingham, but they were like ghosts. So many boys who went off were absent now, but the men that had returned? They’d died too.

Your brother never made it back from France. Every day, you mourned him still, but life was too hectic for you to dwell on it. He’d told you, just before he left, “Remember to keep on living!” And so you did, with Thomas Shelby.

Without attracting too much attention to yourself, you walked through the lane, on your way to work in one of the shops. Before the war, and during of course, you’d worked in the factory, but Tommy didn’t want you to anymore. After he’d come back, he often decidedly little things like that for you, without many words. But you didn’t mind.

“Good morning,” you greeted one of your regular customers, who was already waiting by the door for you to open up, “I’ll be right with you, alright? I just need to sign this...” and you showed her the way into the shop.

You prided yourself on not being particularly noteworthy. You weren’t pretty, but not ugly either. You never had the best jokes or the most courage. Most people assumed you weren’t all that interesting and you definitely weren’t the most intelligent girl in Small Heath. But you were stable and practical, and a good cook. Or, at least, that was how you saw yourself.

Tommy entered the shops, just as your workday was coming to an end. When he looked at you, he saw something else entirely than your own self-image. From the second he’d seen you walk by, back when he was only fifteen, he’d taken note of you. To him, you were radiant. Not pretty and therefore easily replaced by some other pretty girl, not sassy or smart, trying to attract attention all the time, but you could light up the room without saying a word. And whenever you were near him, he felt calm. Maybe it was because you were so practical, but on Tommy it had the effect of him wanting to make an impression upon you, all the time. So he’d take you out, properly, he’d have gifts delivered to you and he would impulsively take you down to a special place near the Cut, just so you could be kids again, if only for a moment. You made him light, with all your simplicity. You made him at ease.

And so Tommy stood watching you, until you’d finished with a customer. Then he said, “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” you smiled, feeling his excitement radiating through those two words, “I’m not finished here yet.”

“Close up,” he urged, “We still have another hour before we have tea with your parents.”

“Tea?” you joked, eyes sparkling.

He smiled broadly and took you hand, but you protested, “I have to get changed first! Can’t meet them dressed like this.”

“Why?” Tommy furrowed his brows, “You’re perfect. Besides, your fancy clothes are only going to get messed up again, eh?”

Knowing exactly what he wanted then, you followed him out the shop, hastily locking up. Almost skipping, you followed him through the streets. He looked around to see if anyone was watching the two of you, but you didn’t care at this point. Your heart was beating in your chest for the excitement.

Under the bridge, he immediately pushed you up against the wall and went in for a deep kiss.

“Tommy!” You giggled, “What if anyone sees?”

“Let them fucking watch,” he growled in your ear and at once he made good on his statement by hiking up your skirt.

His hand made his way up your leg, around your thigh, searching frantically almost. And when he’d found your panties and touched you carefully, he grinned, “So, it’s not just me who’s been yearning for this all day...”

Like you’d been caught out, you blushed again. You’d felt yourself get wet the second he’d taken you from the shops and he was all you wanted now.

“Fuck...” he breathed, “All this, for some simple gypsy boy, eh?”

“You’re the most powerful man in Birmingham,” you replied, between moans.

“Yes,” he sounded a little breathless as his hand dipped into your panties, “And you fucking love it.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but as you did, he pushed two fingers inside of you, while rubbing your clit with his thumb. No words came out.

“Tommy...” you whispered, as you felt the stress and exhaustion of the day falling off of you. The warm sensation of pleasure seemed to engulf you, as he slowly moved inside of you. You opened your eyes for a second and saw him watching you.

For a second, he stopped and commented, “Fuck, you are beautiful.”

“That’s all well and good,” you replied, a little annoyed, but also not really, “but would you mind continuing?”

Tommy’s eyebrows shot up, “Very well.” And with that, he grabbed your legs, lifted you off the ground and draped them around his waist. You yelped out and the suddenness of his motion and he laughed along with you. And there he was again: the careless gypsy boy you loved so much.

With your back against the wall, he supported you with one hand and undid his trousers with the other. Meanwhile, he kissed you wildly, like he wouldn’t last another minute without it.

“Do you want me?” he questioned playfully in a low voice.

“Fuck, yes.” You were desperate for it now.

And so was he. Tommy pushed his cock inside of you, gently but certain. At once, a moan escaped your mouth. With a smug face, Tommy started bouncing you up and down in a perfect rhythm.

The sensation washed over you. Clinging onto his neck, you grabbed his hair and buried your face into his shoulder, to keep yourself from calling out. His movements were getting faster and you realised this wouldn’t take long. He did too, but always the gentleman, he took one of your hands and guided it down onto your clit.

“You first,” he ordered, as he traced a hand down your back. It felt like electricity running down your spine.

As you carefully rubbed your clit, Tommy adjusted his speed a little, not wanting to cum before you did.

But is wasn’t necessary. You felt the pressure building up in your abdomen and the familiar tingling sensation working its way down your legs. “Faster,” you ordered him about now, “Fuck, Tommy, make me cum hard!”

And apparently, just your words were enough for him. As he picked up the pace again, and you felt your orgasm take over, so did he. You arched your back and let your head fall back, as your muscles clenched around his cock. Another spasm went through you when he pushed in as deep as he could and ejaculated inside of you.

“Fuck...” he could only breathe, “Fucking hell, what are you doing to me? I’m like some fucking boy again, hardly able to fucking contain myself...”

“Me?” you laughed, after you’d gained your breath again, “What are you doing to me! I was a respectable girl once and now I’m being fucked under the bridge by a gangster!”

“Respectable, eh?” He smirked, after lifting you down from his waist and turning you around to hug you against his chest. Which was good, because standing was still a little hard at the moment. “There’s nothing much respectable about either of us.”

“Yes, there is!” you frowned, “Or there better be soon, because we’re expected at my parents any minute now.”

Tommy lit a cigarette and let his chin rest on your shoulder, “Or we could stay here. Go again. Your parents can fucking wait.”

“No, they can’t,” you said strictly.

He sighed in an almost disappointed manner.

“Maybe afterwards,” you smirked a little.

“Oh, well in that case!” He took your hand and marched off like a man on a mission, “Let’s go meet the parents! Come on, I haven’t got all day!”

*****

As soon as your mum had opened the door, Tommy had put on a big smile you hardly saw these days anymore. For a second, it had made you stumble for words. He’d introduced himself politely to both your parents and even told a few jokes to your younger siblings. He’d complimented the food, offered to help and had been an absolute gentleman throughout. You had no idea how to respond to any of it, but it wasn’t unpleasant by any means.

Only once, you got nervous. After dinner, your father asked, “We of course have heard of what you do, Mr. Shelby. Is it all true?”

Tommy cleared his throat, “People like to tell a lot of stories about me. Most are not true.”

“I don’t believe they are,” your mother reacted quickly, “You seem too sweet to be a menace.”

You send Tommy a look that said: Bravo, you’ve won her over.

Politely, Tommy smiled at her. But your father wanted to know more, “What is it that you do, exactly?”

“I’m just a simple man, a working man, just like you, Mister,” Tommy waved a hand, “And all I want is to make my business a successful one, and if I can make Small Heath a little bit safer in the process, that’s even better. You see, some people may call me a gangster or a criminal, but I look out for my own people. We’ve had it hard here, especially after the war, very hard. I want to make this place, my home, a better place and in doing so, I need to make sure some things change around here. We’ve had enough trouble with the big bosses and the police and petty gangs around here: I’m changing all that. And with Y/N by my side, her wisdom and down-to-earth guidance, I’m sure I can make a change.”

And just like that, he’d won your dad over as well.

After dinner was over, Tommy talked to your father some more in the front room. Your mum wanted to talk to you. She was as practical as you were, “Will he make an honest woman out of you?”

You looked over at Thomas Shelby for a minute and nodded, “I think he will.”

“Good,” she said, “And then maybe you can make him honest too.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you laughed a little, “Tommy does what Tommy wants, and there’s no one who can change him.”

“I think you can...” your mother mused, “But I think he already is a good boy, deep down.”

*****

It was still early when the two of you left the small house again. Tommy smoked silently and you walked alongside him.

“So, how did I do?” he asked casually.

“Not bad!” you complimented, “Mum even called you a ‘good boy’.”

Tommy shot you a look like that was one of the most offensive things he’d heard in a long time.

You smiled fondly at him, “I think she’s right.”

“Good boy...” he grumbled, “I’ll fucking show you ‘good boy’ in a second!” But he winked when he met your eye.

“It’s cold...” you complained a little.

Tommy took your hand, “Are your hands cold?” And he put both his and your hand into the pocket on his long coat. It was the smallest of gestures but it warmed you right up.

You leaned into him and whispered, “Let’s not go back to the bridge?”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to fuck under a bridge in the cold... do you want us to do it there forever? Always hasty?”

“Nope,” he said matter-of-factly, “When we get married, we’ll get our own house. And as my wife, I’ll fuck you on a satin pillow, every day, like a princess.”

“So, pretend we’re married already?”you ventured. Because honestly, sometimes it felt like you couldn’t wait another day to become Mrs. Shelby.

He locked eyes with you and pursed his lips a little. And you pressed on, “You’ve met my parents already. I mean, it’s practically done.”

Tommy stopped in the middle of the streets and thought about it for a while. Then he decided, “Alright. But I just need to make a small stop on the way.”

“What for?”

“To get a satin pillow!”

*****

Masterlist

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky #peaky blinders fandom #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders smut #theshelbyclan #meeting the parents #young tommy #cillian murphy

[jovialbirdballoon]

Poor Lizzie struggling to stay under that umbrella, almost crashed into the paps while he walks with indifference. And then there is him with Grace, so thoughtful and caring. His darling.

#tommy x lizzie #tommy x grace #lizzie shelby #peaky blinders #peaky #peaky fookin blinders #cillian murphy #peaky fucking blinders #thomas shelby #peakyedit #tommy shelby #grace shelby

[lovebitesimagines]

Delicate- Chapter One

I’ve never imagined how I would fall in love. Strange, I know. Most girls my age have already experienced the thrill of finding their sweethearts, with some having sampled a few of Camdens’ most eligible Bachelors, before settling for The One. Me? No. I’m twenty-five years old and kept under lock and key in my ivory tower. The difference is, no Prince Charming will ever be brave enough to attempt a rescue. That is asking for trouble. I might as well be handing them a shovel to dig their own grave. My father has often threatened to put a bullet in the skull of any man who dared steal a glance in my direction. I wouldn’t doubt that he would act upon his threats. After all, he is the most notorious gangster in Camden town. Lucky me.

 Being the only daughter of Alfie Solomons sure does come with its challenges. Don’t get me wrong, there are the odd perks. I can’t deny that I enjoy the luxury of having a vast selection of dresses at my fingertips, but what is the point if I can’t even wear them anywhere? It’s almost as if I have a wardrobe filled to the brim to appease the shadows on my wall. Not many know of my existence, only a select, well trusted few. I spend my days confined within the grounds of the Solomon manor, and even then, that still comes with its restrictions. Do not enter this room, do not enter that room, don’t even think about stepping into the front grounds. God forbid one of the mere mortals spot me, and ignite a spark of gossip so fierce, that it sets the whole of Camden alight. So, this is where I have spent the majority of my life, locked inside the cages of the prison my father has created. A prison risen from the ashes of his own insecurity and fear over loosing me, like he did my mother.

 “Any tea today dear?” Louisa, my housemaid and in some ways my only friend, asked. She is, I presume, in her early fifties, with hair tilting on the edge of grey with peaks of her previous red strands still woven through. I’ve known Louisa since the moment I was born and have gained comfort from her soft Scottish accent on more than one occasion. She had chosen not to have any family of her own, stating that me and my father where the only family she’d ever need. She bustled into my room, expertly balancing a tray laden with a teapot, cups and a selection of cakes. I felt my mouth water slightly at the sight, hopping down from my seat at the windowsill.

 “I wouldn’t say no to a cup” I responded, a small smile playing upon my lips, as I made my way over to her. “And is that a lemon drizzle cake I see before me?”

 “Indeed, it is. I thought you would enjoy a sample” she laughed, placing the tray down upon my dresser. The China clinked gently upon the impact, Louisa reaching forward for the tea pot.

 “One may presume that this is some sort of deliciously cruel distraction technique” I supressed a laugh. Louisa paused briefly, only for a short moment, before beginning to pour the tea, the amber liquid splashing into the cup. I felt my heart stutter, as I struggled to subdue the excitement that gradually sprang in the pits of my stomach. “Louisa. Is it a busy day in Casa del Solomons?”. I attempted to make my voice appear humorous, injecting some form of jokefulness into my words, but even I could hear that my tone fell flat.

 “You know I have no insight into your fathers’ doings Adina” Louisa sighed as she spoke, placing two sugar cubes into the tea- just as I liked it. She picked up a spoon, absent mindedly stirring it as she continued. “However, I have heard there may be some important visitors arriving today. I’ve been given strict instructions to ensure you stay on the upper floor”.

 “I know, I know. Stay upstairs Adina, or people will see you. God forbid people see me Louisa” I muttered, as she gently pushed the tea into my hands. I took a small sip, enjoying the warmth as it slipped down my throat. A sad smile formed upon Louisas’ lips, as she awkwardly brushed down her apron.

 “I know child. I know” she placed a hand upon my arm as she spoke, her brown eyes looking into mine. I could see the sadness sketched upon the corners of her eyes, settling into the grooves. “Please listen to me today. Try not to give an old woman a heart attack before her time”. She let her hand fall to her side, her eyes giving a quick scan across my room, not that there was anything for her to sort. I had the usual pile of books placed precariously upon my bedside table, a dreamers’ perfect escape. And I was the best kind of dreamer. “I’ll be back up later to collect your tea things and take you down for supper”. Louisa turned her back to me, quickly making her escape. I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to be stuck up here too, if I could help it.

 I exhaled, picking up a slice of the lemon drizzle cake she had left. On any normal day- if you could call my mundane existence normal- it would have brought me joy. However, knowing that the World still moved on around me and I continued to be detained, no amount of my favourite sweet treat could subdue the despondency I felt. Holding both my cup and slice of cake, I made my way back over to my seat on the windowsill. Apart from reading, this was my favourite way to pass the time. One of my fathers’ many Golden Rules, was to not set foot in the front grounds. Yet he never said I couldn’t look.

 With my back pressed against the side of the window frame, I took another sip of my tea, my eyes scanning the outside. I had to admit, that it was impressive. Trees lined the driveway up to my house, casting shadows across the grounds. My father took pride in the flowers the gardeners grew, a scatter of rainbows across the cobbled stones. It was beautiful, but there was only so much beauty his money could buy. It was a rare day of sunshine in Camden, after a few days of rain, and my room was slowly becoming uncomfortably hot.  I placed my cup of tea on the ledge beside me, before prising open my window a touch, allowing a welcoming cool breeze to enter my room.

 I heard the commotion, before I saw it. The dull roar of an engine, the crunch of the cobbled stones as wheels drove over them. A black car moved into my line of sight, before coming to a standstill near the front entrance of my home. My fathers’ workers hustled and bustled below my window, ensuring that the illusion of perfection was maintained. These visitors must be important.

 I pressed my face closer against the windowpane, feeling the warmth of the glass against my forehead. I was desperate to get at least a glimpse of these visitors, these who had been deemed significant enough to receive an invite here. My fathers’ right hand man, Ollie, rushed to open the door to the vehicle. He was mere moments too late, before the door swung open, making him stumble slightly to the side.

 I watched as three men began to exit the car, one after the other. They were dressed in a similar fashion, as if they had agreed upon a uniform prior to arriving. I could see a peak of three-piece suits hidden underneath heavy overcoats. Their dark laced boots moved almost noiselessly against the cobbled stones, almost like they even brewed fear in the small slabs underneath their feat. Their uniform was topped off with newsboy caps, which cast small shadows against their faces, cruelly obscuring me from fully being able to identify these three strangers. Yet I could sense the darkness that shrouded the trio, who at this moment where being led in by Ollie, seemingly having recovered from his brief social faux-pax. They all appeared to be deep in conversation, although I could not quite decipher the words they spoke, their Birmingham accents floating up to my window with low murmurs.

 The third man began to trail behind, before pausing for a brief moment, halting just on the edge of my eyeline. I watched as he scanned his surroundings, almost as if a hunter would scan for his pray, his expression partially shadowed by the peak of his cap. I placed my fingertips upon the windowpane, as if I subconsciously desired to touch him. Who was he? I watched in anticipation as his eyes slowly moved up the building, before settling upon mine. A breath hitched in my throat, as our eyes met, a smirk springing upon his lips.

 Stillness enveloped me.

 His eyes where the shade of blue that drew you in under false pretences, the kind that lulled you into a flawed sense of calmness. Yet even from the distance that settled uneasily between us, I could sense the storm that brewed beneath his guarded expression, and I just wanted to dance in his rain. I wanted to breathe in all of his secrets and know every inch of the parts he kept cleverly hidden from the world. He lifted his right hand in a gesture of greeting, the smirk growing in prominence, before he made his way inside.

 Electricity coursed through my veins, as I stood up, ignoring the clatter of the crockery that fell to the floor as I stumbled slightly in shock. Who was he? I knew in that moment, that I just needed to find out. To hell with the rules and restrictions.

 I made my way towards my bedroom door, pausing in front of my dresser mirror, taking in my reflection. My eyes where glinting with childlike excitement, a rare flush colouring my cheeks and painting my chest with pink blotches. A man like him would never be interested in the girlish caricature I was currently portraying. I frantically brushed down my dress, giving the fabric a quick glance over- thankfully, it appeared that no tea had tainted the light green skirts. My hair was in its normal midday style, the blonde waves beginning to frizz slightly. It would have to do, I thought, attempting to convince myself that I had no interest in speaking to the stranger. I just wanted to get a closer look.

 I carefully lent up against my bedroom door, pressing my ear against the wood. I could hear nothing outside, but I couldn’t make the foolish assumption that it was safe. My hand gripped the cool metal of the door handle, turning it slowly as I pushed against it. I paused briefly, knowing that if anyone was in the corridor, I would soon be frantically hurried back inside my room. Stillness.

 I crept outside.

 I knew that the three strangers would most likely be in my fathers’ office, which was down a small flight of stairs, tucked away in the shadows of the foyer. I was aware of the risks that faced me if I was to continue with this, but I knew that the reward would far outweigh it. I needed to know who he was.

 I moved down the corridor, ensuring that I stayed close within the shadows. I muttered a silent thank you to my father, and his penchant for enjoying the darkest of finest things, which unbeknownst to him, provided me with many a hiding space. Maroon drapes were suspended against the walls, softly smothering the light which came through the few open windows. Dust particles danced in the rare streams of light which had escaped through the fabric, disturbed at me moving through their space.

 I made my way to the top of the staircase, the wooden floorboards protesting feebly under my weight. I could feel my heartbeat stutter against my ribcage, with each step downwards I made, before I made it onto the bottom floor. I halted at the final step, testing the safety of my surroundings, before creeping towards the direction of my fathers’ office. I was thankful again for my father in that moment, and the incomprehensible fear he instilled in his workers, for there was not a soul in sight.

 I paused at his office door, almost unable to believe that I had made it this far. I was riding on the coattails of luck, not daring to believe that it would soon surely run out. I could hear my fathers’ voice drift out from the small gap between the door and floor, as I brought myself down into a crouch, again pressing my ear against a door. I smiled slightly to myself. I had become quite a dab hand at spying. I listened to the mingling of three voices, as they melted together, each one fighting to gain the upper hand in the conversation.

 Three voices.

 Not four. Unless he was a silent observer, which judging by the glimpse I had procured of him, I very highly doubted it.

 Suddenly, it didn’t feel right to be where I was. I knew in that moment, my luck was slowly running out, slipping out of my fingers like the finest grains of sand. And in the moment, I felt a hand grip my shoulder from behind, I knew my luck had been non-existent in the first place.

 “Are you spying on me and my brothers?”

#peaky #by order of the peaky blinders #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #PEAKY FOOKIN BLINDERS #tommy shelby imagine #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x oc #Tommy Shelby imagines #alfie x reader #Alfie Solomons #alfie solomons #alfie solomons imagine

[creativepawsworld]

Silence - Chapter 7

Pairing = Thomas Shelby x Original Character

Summary = Anastasia finds out she isn't the only woman Thomas Shelby is entertaining.

Warnings = Language, self-inflicted pain, mild sexual references

Word Count = 3174

Waking up with the sun this morning, I couldn’t stop the smile growing on my face. My thoughts immediately went to Thomas Shelby, just like every other morning. He had worked his way in my mind like a parasite, becoming the first and last thing I thought about. The feeling of his lips against mine, the ocean blue colour of eyes, the countless freckles that decorated his perfectly defined face. He was what I considered to be the definition of perfect.

After breakfast I walked into the tailor shop behind my father, instantly noticing the shop was a lot warmer than the previous few mornings had been. The men had done an incredible job, fixing the window just like Thomas had promised they would. Walking around to my desk while my father busied himself with starting the fire for the day, his first duty in the mornings. I sighed happily to myself, my hands cupped together as I took in my surroundings, everything sitting exactly how I left it.

Taking my seat, I lifted up Polly’s dress that was resting in my basket, a square box grabbing my attention, that shouldn’t be there. I peered up at my father to see if he was watching me, but he had found some paperwork to busy himself with. Taking the box from the basket cautiously, I placed it on the ground, opening the lid, gasping at the contents inside the box.

“Everything okay over there Anastasia?” My father asked concerned at my sudden outburst. He was looking in my direction his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, eyes focused on me waiting for my response to his question.

“Perfectly fine father just got a cold shiver” I nodded, placing my hands on my upper arms and rubbing them acting as if I were in fact cold.

“Yes, well sitting next to that door doesn’t help, we must make some room over here. You are our newest tailor after all.” My father smiled a proud smile with a nod of his head. Thanking him I bowed my head, relishing in the fact I had made my father proud. “In fact, I have a job for you” He spoke up again, resting the paperwork on his desk and grabbing only a small sheet of paper next to his sewing machine, an almost giddy look on his face.

Sensing he was coming to my corner I used my feet to kick the box under my chair. Standing to my feet, I placed the dress in my hands on my seat, so the loose fabric hung down hiding the box. I watched as my father came towards me with a jacket, he had been tailoring for one of the Peaky Blinders, paper in his hand.

“I would like you to finish this suit. I have completed the jacket to Mr Shelby’s liking but maybe you could tailor the waist coat and trousers?” My father asked, a sincere smile on his face as he reached out to me, offering me the jacket and sheet of paper.

“Really father? You think I am ready?” I asked barely able to hold my excitement as I took the items from my father’s hands, clutching them tightly to my chest. Almost bouncing on the spot with sheer joy.

“Absolutely.” He grinned with a nod of his head. “Your mother and I don’t tell you kids enough but we are proud of the adults you have become.”

“Dad” I sniffed feeling overly emotional all of a sudden. Moments like this were had to find in our household. It wasn’t any fault of my parents not really, despite how much my brother and I had blamed them. They tried, but in these uncertain times work was hard to come by for everyone, which left our parents worried about keeping food on the table and a roof over our heads. It was something I never understood as a child, not until I witnessed first-hand just how hard being an adult was.

“Don’t get me started” My father chuckled reaching over wrapping his arms around me pulling me close for a tight hug. “How you handled Mr Shelby yesterday, with no fear was an inspiration, Anastasia. Truly remarkable” He nodded, a single tear threatening to fall from his eye. “Now no time to waste, get going on the suit and I will be sure to inform Mr Shelby who is responsible for such impeccable work.”

Forgetting completely about the box, I raced over to the fabric basket on the other end of the shop, choosing the wool blend my father had used for the jacket. I brought it over to my desk, drawing out my measurements and cutting the fabric to size. Threading my sewing machine, I set to work first on the waistcoat for John Shelby, the younger of the three main Peaky Blinders.

By late afternoon my brother had called into the shop asking me to go to the Garrison with him. My parents didn’t even bat an eyelid at his request but simply wished us a good time.

Normally my parents would be wary of me going to a place like the Garrison even with my brother because they thought I couldn’t handle myself, until now. Leaving with Thomas yesterday had shown my parents that I wasn’t the naïve little girl anymore. I was a grown woman.  

Packing up my workstation, I grabbed my coat walking with my brother through the streets of Small Heath towards Garrison Lane. Children were out playing, screaming at their friends as they ran around so carefree, no fear of the dangers the street. They were simply used to it.  Upon entering the pub, I could immediately feel a different energy, it didn’t feel as tense as it had the previous afternoon. It felt almost relaxed.

Guiding me over to a booth where a brunette girl sat with a male, she smiled brightly at my brother as we approached. James introduced the girl as Martha, the lady he had been seeing and the male as his friend Samuel who he worked with at the factory. Sliding into the booth next to Martha, I felt an instant click with her as we spoke about our passions and hobbies in life which included shopping, mainly window, books and the cinema.

“Oi, oi Harry where is blondie? No songs for us tonight?” A fellow patron shouted at the solo working barman who was pouring a pint for an awaiting customer. His shout interrupting everyone’s conversation, rendering them silent as everyone awaited Harry’s answer.

“Er day off mate” The barman responded, finishing off pouring the pint, handing to a red-haired man who placed some money on the bar countertop. “No songs tonight” He confirmed, the bar filling with groans of the grown men, their free entertainment for the evening cancelled.

“I heard she was at the races with Thomas Shelby” Samuel commented on the conversation that was shouted across the bar, but he kept his voice quiet so only the ones in the booth could hear.

“I would say she is she had her eyes on Tommy since she started working here and he her” Another friend of James’ spoke his name was Colin. He had joined us about twenty minutes after we sat down. He too had finished work for the day.

The three men were talking about the races until the question of the barmaid was shouted across the room, their conversation quickly changing to the Shelby’s. “I would come in after work sometimes, the sexual tension between the two was unbearable, couldn’t enjoy me pint”

Feeling uncomfortable with the conversation but also listening quite intently I had sunk back into the leather of the seats. The boys talked about how good looking the barmaid actually was and how much of a lucky man Tommy Shelby was getting to fuck her. The vulgarity of their words had me feeling sick to my stomach.

“I’m just glad he is fucking the barmaid and not me sister. He was seriously eye fucking her when he came to the shop last night.” James spoke up bringing me in the conversation and to the attention of his work friends, albeit not in a way that I felt was respectful. “In front of me mother and father to, no shame.”

“One thing is for sure; Tommy Shelby has a good eye for women.” Colin smirked with a wink, nudging me with his arm. “Where have you been hiding this sister of yours Jamie boy?”

“Don’t even think about it” James advised, pointing a warning finger at his friend. “She can do better than a fucker like you”

“Everyone can do better than him” Samuel cackled along with my brother, Colin simply rolled his eyes at his friends telling them both to ‘fuck off’ as he got off his seat going over to the bar and ordering another drink.

“Are you okay?” Martha asked quietly when the conversation started returning to that of horses and racing once my brother made it clear I was off limits to the likes of his friends. Something, he would never have to worry about, his work friends simply disgusted me.

“Fine” I told her tight lipped, no longer feeling like being in this bar.

 I felt like such a fool. Of course, Thomas Shelby wouldn’t be interested in a woman like me. He was probably only interested in my virginity, something he could hold over me like a trophy. Stake his claim, ruin me for every other man and add further shame to my family for being stupid enough to get mixed up with the Shelby family.

“Something happened between you and Tommy, didn’t it?”  Martha inquired, leaning closer to me, so no one could here. Snapping my head over to her, my eyes wide as she looked back at me, sympathy on her face.

“How did you…”

“I recognise this…” She gestured to how I was currently feeling with a wave of her hand “I went through something similar before I met your brother. I was used by my first love, he took my virginity and left for another woman. He broke my heart. I still have to see him almost every day, but you get through it once you remember your worth.”

“I’m not in love with Thomas Shelby” I defended; it was too soon.

“But you liked him” She stated as I looked down at my fingers, trying my best to fight off the tears. The last thing I wanted was my brother to see me upset, he would push and push until I told him the truth, something we both didn’t need right now. “It hurts just as bad. My advice, move on. He most definitely isn’t worth your time or your tears” She smiled sweetly at me.

For a girl I had only meant, I felt comforted by her words. Nodding my head, I thanked her for the advice knowing exactly what I had to do. Excusing myself from the table, telling my brother I would see him at home. I made my way out of the Garrison, holding my head high until I reached the black door of Watery Lane, I was looking for.

Walking into the betting shop, the tears threatening to fall from my eyes as I found the one person I was searching for. Polly Gray was in the middle of the shop inside the cage counting the money she had laying on the desk.

I had rudely ignored the employee who was walking after me telling me the shop was closed as I made my way towards the cage, Polly looked up using her hand to dismiss the employee just as he placed a hand on my arm, no doubt ready to throw me out.

“Anastasia what do I owe the pleasure?” Polly smiled opening the locked cell door, allowing me to enter as she walked around the desk towards her chair. “Tommy isn’t here if you hoping to make any more lucky bets” She winked in my direction, her hands folded against her chest.

“I’m not here to make any bets. I’m here to return this.” I explain reaching into my purse and pulling out the large sum of notes.

“Where did you get money like that?” She snapped, throwing herself forward her eyes focused on the cash in my hand. “You haven't been stealing from your parents, have you?”

“Of course not. Thomas gave it to me on the night of the bonfire. I don’t want it, so please take it” I tell her with a shake of my head. I would never steal from my family, or from anyone. It was immoral.

“The bonfire was four nights ago, why are you returning it now? What has happened?” She asked exhaling loudly, her eyes holding my own, sympathy on her face as she waited patiently for my response.

“Nothing has happened. I just no longer want the money. I don’t need it. It has become an unwelcome burden.”

“By the look of your shoes you do need the money Anastasia but that’s not what this is about. So, what has Tommy done?” She smiled surprisingly softly at me. The dig at my shoes was merely to prove her point, there was no malice in her words.

“Polly please. Just take the money, spend it, bet it or give it back to Thomas I don’t care. I just don’t want it on my person anymore.” I pleaded a single tear falling from my eyes, I reached up quickly batting it away before she could see but she wasn’t stupid. She knew. Sighing loudly Polly stood from her seat reaching over and taking the money from my hand.

“You're not going to tell me what happened?” She asked, eyebrow raised. Shaking my head at the Shelby family matriarch she nodded her head, swallowing thickly deciding not to push the situation any further. “Okay, I won’t force it, but you listen to me now Anastasia. You are not an option when it comes to men. If they can’t see what you have to offer and try to find whatever it is elsewhere, they’ve done you a favour”

“What does that mean even Polly?” I asked feeling exhausted, the emotions I was feeling from the minute I got up were eating away at me, only to intensify when I realised how stupid I was, gushing on about how perfect Thomas Shelby was.

“You are a catch love. You should be the first and only choice in a man’s eyes. Remember that” She spoke with such confidence, such elegance I felt compelled to believe her. Thanking her with a nod, I turned on my heel, walking out of the betting shop and into the street of Watery Lane, her words running through my head.

“Where have you been? Did I just see you leave the Shelby betting shop?” My father voice spoke suddenly, breaking me from my thoughts as a strong hand wrapping tightly around my wrist. “Please tell me you aren’t caught up in their business Anastasia?”

“I’m not father, I swear.” I whimper as I tried to remove myself from his vice like grip. Sensing my discomfort my father immediately let go of my wrist, panic falling on his face as he inspected the damage he caused under the dimly lit streetlight.

“I’m so sorry Anastasia, I didn’t mean to hold so hard. Are you alright?”  He asked, his hand rubbing the redness on my wrist hoping it would disappear. “What were you doing in the betting shop at this time of the night?”

“I was returning money to Mrs Gray; she left it with me for safe keeping when we went out yesterday lunchtime” I lied not wanting him to know the real reason I was there. If I told him the truth, he would probably have a heart attack right in front of me.

“I see. Try not and do that again Anastasia we just had that Inspector Campbell round for a visit asking if we knew anything about those missing guns.” My father sighed, running his hand along his forehead something he had been doing quite often now he was constantly stressed.

“Why would he come to us?” I asked confused. Everyone knew we mostly kept to ourselves and as far away as we could from the Shelby family. Despite the few encounters we did have with them, especially over the last few days.

“He said you have been seen getting close to Mr Shelby, Thomas Shelby. I told him it simply wasn’t true. It’s not true right?”

“No of course not father” I bite back my tears at the mention of his name. It may not have been the exact truth but after tonight it certainly would be. Thomas Shelby was not stringing me along with another woman, I wasn’t an option like Polly said. I deserved a man to love me through and through, not look elsewhere for something he believed me to be lacking.  

“Good, that’s good. I’m off to find your brother although I am sure he is staying well clear of the Shelby’s. Are you going home love?”

“Not just yet, I need to walk, clear my head.” I tell him wrapping the coat tighter around my body hoping to trap in some heat inside.  

“Alright, be careful” He nodded, stepping forward to place his arms around me for another hug. It was strange my father being this affectionate towards me, two hugs in one day. I didn’t want to complain, this was the attention I had been craving from my parents for years only to come up empty handed. What had suddenly changed?  

Deciding I had enough on my mind, I bid my father a goodnight allowing my feet to carry me through the puddles, soaking my feet as I walked. The events of today ran through my mind like a comic strip you’d find at the back of the paper. From waking up, thinking Thomas Shelby was the one for me to learning quite quickly that he was just as manipulative as my brother had warned.

As I was walking the sound of a car drew my attention, looking over towards the Garrison, I recognised the peaked cap and the blond hair of the barmaid. It was Thomas and Grace, returning from their date at the races.

Not wanting to be seen, I slipped into an alleyway hiding in the shadows not wanting to witness whatever might happen in the car. Collecting myself I noticed I was in the alley I had my first kiss. Wanting to scream out in anger, in pain but withholding because I didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention, I kicked the wall. I needed an outlet, a release so I kicked my foot out, kicking the wall in front of me. The pain I felt was unreal. My eyes widened to the size of saucers as the pain throbbed unforgivingly.  Could I have been anymore stupid?

Taglist

@shelbyteller @seleneshelby

#thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #peakyblinders #peaky fucking blinders #peaky #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy #thomas shelby fanfic

[tommyshelbyswh0re]

maybe i am just not enough- Thomas Shelby

based of the song ‘I’m not the only one’ by sam smith.

summary- you’re engaged to tommy but he still has unfinished business with grace.

warnings- vvvvv angsty. grace

you and tommy have been together for a few years. you live in a beautiful home and everything you ask for, you get. on paper, it seems like you are living the dream however, in reality, everything feels so empty. you met tommy just after grace left for america after they had found out she was a spy. you had just moved to small heath and had seen an ad for a job as a secretary at his betting shop. at first, he was extremely stand offish. you couldn’t seem to do anything without receiving suspicious looks or strange questions. you didn’t understand it until another secretary there had told you all about grace. eventually, he seemed to dial down the glares abit and it lead to small conversations here and there. this lead to longer conversations in restaurants and eventually a proposal. in the beginning of your official relationship, there was no doubt in your mind that tommy loved you. he showed it in any way a man like him could. however, after a year of being together he started to distance himself. it was impossible to understand what was going through your fiancés mind. one day, you walked into his office without knocking and found him staring at an envelope.

“hello sweetheart. what’s this?” you asked him, curiosity deep in your tone.

“a letter” he shrugged.

“well yes i can see that. but why are you staring at it like the second you open it you’ll set on fire” you chuckled.

“because it’s my past. the past is no longer my concern”

“well read it tomorrow, i have a surprise for tonight” you smiled sitting in his lap.

“yeah? and what’s that?” he asked with a smirk.

“i am going to cook us some food, and then you’ll see. so get your arse up and let’s go” you pulled him up by his arms and started dragging him out of his office.

—

the distance only seemed to get more as the days went on. it was 1 week until you’re wedding and you wanted to make sure he really wanted this before you and him were officially married.

“tommy?” you asked him from the couch in his office.

“what?” he grunted

“why are you being so distant?” you decided to just bite the bullet.

“not now y/n” he shook you off and went back to his work.

“i just need to know. the wedding is in a week” you reminded him.

“y/n. i said not now” he warned.

“well then when are we going to have this conversation?” you really needed an answer.

“never” he sharply replied before getting up to get a glass of whiskey.

“thomas” you warned.

“y/n” he deadplanned.

“im not marrying a man that won’t communicate”

“then don’t.” he shot his whiskey back. this made you gasp.

“are you being serious?”

“y/n if you don’t want to marry me then don’t” he looked you in the eye.

“im not the one doubting the wedding, you are” you answered back.

“what the fuck made you think that aye?”

“YOU thomas. you’ve barely looked at me this past week never mind have a conversation with me” you could feel tears welling up but you were not about to cry infront of him. “do you really want to marry me thomas? no riddles, no changing the subject, be honest” you asked him.

“ofcourse i do y/n. it’s just been a stressful week that’s all” his eyes softened and he walked round his deck to give me a hug.

“are you sure? now is your only chance to get out of it without having your suits set on fire” you warned him.

he laughed at that. “im positive” he kissed you. “by the way, i’m heading off to ada’s in london for the evening tomorrow” he told you.

“okay but be safe. can’t be a widow before i’m even married” you hugged him.

—-

it was the day of your wedding and you were anxiously waiting for polly to help you get your dress on.

“oh there you are. thought i had been stood up” you laughed trying to joke.

“y/n sit down” she said with a straight face and sympathetic eyes.

“okay” your furrowed your brows in confusion. “polly what’s going on?”

“we can’t find tommy” she blurted out.

“what do you mean you can’t find tommy? is he okay? i told him not to do any business last night before i left. did something happen?” you asked with concern laced in your voice.

“no it’s uhm- it’s nothing like that. john rang me. he told me that they were having a whiskey before they set off here when tommy just stormed out. they assumed he’d be here but he’s not showed up” she rushed out.

“well you need to send people to find him. god knows what’s happened to him.” you said with your eyes watering.

“we will y/n i promise we will. for now go home and wait for the phone. we will ring you if we find anything” she pulled you in for a hug and kissed your forehead.

—

you were sat at home worried out of your mind. you kept staring at the phone as if it would randomly start ringing. it must of worked because the 147th time you stared, it finally rang. you ran to the phone almost slipping about 6 times.

“hello. what’s happening?” you said out of breath.

“y/n”

“oh thomas thank god. are you alright?”

“i couldn’t do it y/n”

“do what?” you asked.

“marry you.” he whispered. you’re heart split in two.

“that’s okay. we can get married another time i know things have been stress-“

“no y/n. i cant marry YOU.” he sternly said.

“tommy can you just come home and we can talk about it?”you asked him, hoping that whatever you say in person was enough to change his mind.

“yes.”

—

after half an hour of pacing and crying, he walking through the front door. you went to go and hug him but he held his hand in front of him. “don’t y/n. because in about 15 minutes your going to hate me. you’re not even going to be able to look at me” he said shakily, walking towards his office and gesturing you to follow him.

once you were in his office he sat on the couch and you followed suit.

“tommy what’s going on?” you asked him with tears in your eyes.

“i slept with grace” he whispered. you felt like your whole world stopped spinning.

“i love her. she loves me-“

“stop”

“i want to marry her-“

“tommy stop” you warned.

“i couldn’t imagine a life without her-“

“THOMAS STOP JUST STOP” you screamed.

it went dead silent for 3 minutes whilst you were trying to process the information. you felt numb.

“i fucking knew it” you turned to look at him.

“i told you to tell me the truth. i practically begged for the truth. you told me you wanted this” you pleaded.

“i know. i thought i did. when i went to london, i was actually meeting up with her. i had every intention of getting her hopes up and then telling her that i had moved on-that i had found you and that me and you were getting married in 6 days”

“then what changed” you asked him. tears streaming down your face.

“everything. i looked into her eyes and remembered how i always loved her eyes. and then i remembered how much i loved her. so i took her out, had a great time and then slept with her” he put his head down in shame.

“and you couldn’t tell me before i was about to put my dress on. you couldn’t tell me the day after” you shook you’re head at him. “tommy i thought you’d been fucking hurt” you raised your tone.

“what the fuck is wrong with you. you’re a fucking coward” you sobbed.

“y/n-“ he put his hand on your shoulder.

“if you want to keep your hand thomas i highly suggest that you move it” this made him sigh and move his hand instantly. you put your head in your hands.

“what the fuck am i supposed to do. where the fuck am i suppost to live. i sold my fucking house” you hysterically cried into your hands.

“i spoke to pol. she said you can stay with her until you find a job” he replied to you.

“you want me out so quickly. is she moving in?” you took your face away from your hands and looked at him. in reply, he cringed.

“oh my god she is. fucking hell tommy, the sheets are still warm. this was supposed to be our house. we were supposed to have children here and redecorate” you humourlessly laughed.

“im sorry y/n” he looked sincere.

“no you’re not. if you were you would have told me the day you came home instead of pretending that all was fine. you would not have let me embarrass myself by entering that church knowing you had no intention of waiting for me at the end of the isle. and you most certainly would not have kicked me out to let her move in” you shook your head in disbelief. “this is ridiculous. un-fucking-believable” you whispered under your breath before turning to look at him.

“there’s nothing i can do to make you want me more than her is there?” you looked into his eyes.

he hesitantly shook his head. “no” he whispered.

“maybe i’m just not enough” you let a tear pour down your face.

#Spotify #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby angst #grace shelby #peaky blinders imagines #shelby imagine #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby x f!reader #peaky #peaky blinders

[peakyblinderswhore]

A/N: new hiatus record: almost 3 years. Happy 1.2k!

W/C: 1.8k

Warnings: Smutty at the end but no intercourse

It was ten minutes past the hour and the dimly lit room was shrouded in an air of anticipation. Tommy was impatient and not ready to wait any longer, he had a business to run, you see. Behind him, the soft, seductive notes of a saxophone filled the space as the black curtain slowly rose before his eyes, revealing a sultry stage bathed in a single spotlight. You stood there, hidden behind a veil of crimson silk, your heart pounding in rhythm with the music.

With slow, deliberate movements, you let the silk scarf slip from your fingers, allowing it to cascade to the floor. Your eyes, framed by long lashes coated in midnight black mascara, sparkled with mischief as you batted them at the audience. The soft sighs and hushed whispers of desire filled the room. Tommy was holding back on a small groan of pain from withholding himself.

Your dress clung to every curve, its deep V-neck plunging down to reveal your ample cleavage, while the slit up the side showcased one of your long, sculpted legs. Your fingers danced lightly over your exposed skin, tracing a path from thigh to hip, drawing attention to the lacy garters that held up sheer stockings hidden underneath.

The saxophonist's melody grew more insistent, mirroring the pulse of desire in the room. You turned slowly, trying to disguise the fact that you were looking for him, hips swaying sensually, the dress following your every move. The audience was captivated by you, the enchantress, on stage, unable to tear their eyes away.

Your gaze swept across the room, searching for him. You knew he was out there, watching you with rapt attention. A sly smile played on your lips as you licked them, the bright crimson lipstick drawing his eyes like a magnet. Tommy was windswept with emotions, unable to control them much longer. His legs were splayed apart, hand resting between them on his crotch area, slumping back on his chair. He had the best seat in the house.

Reaching for the hem of your dress, you let it ride up your thigh, revealing a tantalising glimpse of what lay beneath. Gasps of excitement and desire rippled through the audience as you teased them, then just as quickly dropped the dress back down, leaving them hungry for more. You had yet to spot him in the crowd but you just knew Tommy wouldn’t be able to resist such a cheeky move.

Your body moved like a seductive melody, a dance of desire that left the audience spellbound. Every sway of your hips was a tantalising invitation, drawing them deeper into your sensual web. Your legs, long and sculpted, glided gracefully across the stage, accentuating your every curve.

As you turned, your dress clung to you like a lover's caress, revealing hints of your bare skin before concealing them once more. Your hands, gloved in black satin, became extensions of your desire, tracing delicate paths along your exposed thigh, up to your hip, and back down again. It was a tease, an erotic game of hide and seek that left Tommy yearning for more.

Your lips, painted a bold crimson parted slightly to reveal a glimpse of your pearly teeth as your tongue traced their contours. You knew the power of your mouth, the promise it held, and you used it to perfection, drawing their gaze to your every wordless invitation.

Your eyes, smokey and mysterious, held a secret that only the lucky few would ever truly uncover. They smouldered with a fiery intensity, locking onto your chosen spectator, a silent promise of passion and pleasure.

When you leaned down, your legs spread apart, revealing the lace-trimmed edge of your lingerie, the audience gasped collectively. It was a daring move, a deliberate provocation, and they revelled in it. You knew how to manipulate their desire, to make it your own.

Searching one last time, the blinding lights no longer stopping you as you step forward, you manage to spot him in the front row. He was hardly hiding the fact that he was most certainly aroused. You pretended not to notice and calculate your next moves carefully.

You approached the front row, your eyes locked on him. He couldn't hide the longing in his eyes, the way his gaze traced every inch of you. You spun away, your fingers playing with the delicate clasp that held your dress together. With a seductive smile, you faced him once more, making sure he knew that every move was for him alone before spinning away in a sultry manner.

With a final flourish, you let the dress fall open after unhooking the clasp at the front revealing a minimal, barely-there corset that left little to the imagination. You spun, arms raised above your head, letting the dress twirl around you, teasingly covering and revealing her. Your eyes locked onto his, and you mouthed, "For you."

The dress slipped off your shoulders and dropped to the floor. You stood there, wearing nothing but the alluring corset. The room's temperature seemed to rise as you ran your hands over your body, accentuating your curves.

With a sultry smile, you moved to the centre of the stage, reaching out to the band behind you, and then toying with your hair, your fingers deftly rearranging the dark curls. You swayed and undulated, your body a mesmerising dance of desire and temptation.

Your final act was a slow, deliberate strip-tease, shedding your corset and revealing your bare skin. The audience watched in breathless anticipation as you bared yourself, your movements a seductive crescendo to the intoxicating performance.

As the music reached its climax, you let out a throaty, satisfied sigh, standing there fully exposed, bathed in the spotlight's glow. The room erupted in applause and cheers, but you were only interested in one set of eyes—the ones that had been on you from the beginning.

With a lingering glance at him, you blew a sultry kiss, a promise of things to come, before strutting off the stage, leaving the audience in a feverish frenzy of desire.

After the electrifying performance, the backstage was a whirlwind of emotions and anticipation. The audience’s applause still echoed in the air as you slipped away from the stage, heart pounding with the knowledge that you had captivated not only the crowd but also him – Tommy.

In the darkness backstage, you found him waiting, and without a word, you succumbed to the irresistible pull you had both felt throughout the performance, both of your desires finally merging in an explosion of passion and longing.

Tommy was unforgiving, as always, pulling you into your dressing room and slamming the door shut, barely managing to lock the door. He was too preoccupied with his mouth on your neck, breasts, clavicle, neck again and jaw before reaching your lips. He was breathy – like the first time he had sprinted through the damp and groggy lanes of Birmingham for you when you had both been much younger. 

He paused, momentarily and without a word, he was closing the distance again, his hands reaching out to gently cup your face. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine. Looking into your eyes, he saw a reflection of his own desire. How could you possibly resist?

“Tommy,” you whisper, voice barely audible with the bustle and bustle of the backstage chaos behind the closed door.

Of course, he didn’t need words. The kiss you shared spoke volumes, a passionate and hungry embrace that left you both breathless. It was a kiss born of desire, a longing that had been building for far too long.

As you pulled away from each other. Your foreheads touching, he spoke in a low husky voice, “I can’t stay away form you, love. Your performance tonight… it’s like you were dancing just for me.”

A sly smile plays on your lips as you trace a finger along his jawline, his electrifying blue gaze waiting and watching.

“That’s because I was. Every move,” you pause, taking a small breath in, chest still rising and falling rhythmically, “was for you. On that stage, I’m always struck by your stare.”

His grip on you tightened, as if he never wanted to let you go. “You drive me mad, you know that?”

You chuckled softly. Fingers tangling in his hair, “And you; the same to me, Tommy.”

Hidden away in your cloakroom, Tommy had suddenly been captivated by you and could no longer resist your allure any longer.

The dressing room was cloaked in shadows, the only illumination coming from a single dimly lit lamp. The air was thick with anticipation as Tommy and you stood face to face, your desire for each other palpable.

Tommy's hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, his finely tailored suit brushing against your bared skin. Your lips met in a searing kiss, a union of longing and passion.

You tasted like temptation and desire, your mouth warm and inviting. His tongue danced with hers, a slow and sensual exploration that left them both breathless. As you kissed, your bodies pressed together, moulding to each other's contours.

Your fingers found the buttons of his shirt, deftly undoing them one by one. The soft material slipped from his shoulders, revealing the expanse of his chest. Your lips left his for a moment, trailing kisses along his jawline and down to his neck. Tommy's eyes fluttered closed as he relished the sensation of your mouth on his skin.

He reciprocated, his hands roaming over your body, tracing the curves and contours that had tantalised him on stage. The lace of her lingerie was a delicate barrier that he couldn't wait to breach.

With practised ease, he unhooked your bra, letting it fall to the floor. Your breasts, full and inviting, were bared to him. Tommy's fingers brushed over your sensitive flesh, eliciting a soft moan from you. He bent down, capturing one taut nipple in his mouth, suckling gently as you arched against him.

Your hands continued their exploration, sliding down his chest to the buckle of his belt. With trembling fingers, you undid it and then the button of his trousers. You could feel his arousal pressing against her, a promise of what was to come.

As your clothes fell to the floor, you stood before each other, exposed and vulnerable. The dressing room was a sanctuary of desire, a place where their long-held fantasies could finally be realised.

With a hunger that could no longer be denied, you both surrendered to the pull of your bodies, entwined in a sensual dance that left you both breathless and sated. In that intimate moment, it was no longer Tommy and you instead, you were two souls consumed by a fiery and irresistible passion that neither of you could bear to deny for a moment longer.

#peaky blinders #littlemissshelby #peaky #blinders #pbw #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fluff #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby smut #shelby x reader

[lavender-romancer]

Tired of Me

Part Five

Tommy Shelby x Reader

CW: angst

Neither of you are strong enough to talk about your problems, you coexist in a state of sleepless nights and last chances but can any of that change when you start visiting a therapist?

”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

previous part

You and Tommy entered his office he sat at his desk and you stood Infront of it,

"Not like this Thomas, feels like a fucking meeting and I'm you're subordinate." You looked into his eyes as you leant onto his desk with your fingers.

"Alright, sit on the fucking sofa then." He sounded so tired already and you didn't know if you could deal with this, but you sat down anyway.

"I'm not- we're not… alright." You rested one arm on the back of the sofa and Tommy followed, resting his hand on top of your arm. The contact surprised you even though five minutes ago you'd been fucking in the studio.

"I know that, but we can't be apart. You know as well as I do that we'd just come running back to one another." Tommy looked into your eyes and rubbed his thumb back and forth over your forearm.

"I don't want to be apart from you, Thomas… and I don't want to separate or divorce or anything but, I can't do it like this anymore." You lowered your gaze.

"When you call me Thomas you remind me of Polly giving me a bollocking." Tommy placed his other hand on your thigh.

"Maybe you deserve one, an almighty one for the way you've treated me in the last few years." Your eyes were steely.

"I know, I fucking know alright. We're not in a good place," he went silent and you presumed he didn't know what to say because he was just stroking your arm.

"Sometimes I look at you, Thomas…and I feel nothing. Sometimes I look at you and I can see on your face that there isn't the same passion as there was before because you're like a shadow that grows over a person. I've grown comfortable with that darkness but fuck, when you won't even let me through your barriers what's the point?" You asked, averting your gaze from him because you couldn't take how sad his eyes would look.

"Fuck," he muttered and you could sense how torn he was between sorting this out and running away like usual "I don't even know where to start with it all, I mean you know me almost too well. I can deal with any professional challenge that is thrown at me but when it comes to you," he touched your face "I can't handle disappointing you."

"But, Tom being away is what disappoints me." You looked up at him and he looked so sad.

"I don't know if I can be the man you want," he paused, seeming to be pondering on what to say next "I don't know if I'm what you want."

"Don't do this, Tom. It's an easy way to get out of this by feeling sorry for yourself and just accepting your bad actions and I'm not putting up with it anymore. You come back you fuck me and you leave, I'm just a body to you now. I'm not a person and I'm not seen by you as worthy of your attention." You were trying to be firm but you just wanted to melt into his touch and forget about it all.

"Do you think I don't fucking know?" He asked it so calmly it was like the calm before a storm that would decimate a whole population "Every moment I spend away from you I miss you so intensely it hurts my fucking heart, you think I don't love you. Well I fucking do, in this moment and in all others I love you." Tommy's eyes weren't crying but you felt that inside he was.

"I would do anything for you Tommy, that's the problem. I'm tired of it, I'm tired of doing anything I can for you and getting nothing. I deserve love, you deserve love and neither of us can give it to each other." Your eyes were so angry as you truly expressed the thoughts you'd been repressing for years.

"You're right, you do deserve it. Distancing myself means you don't have to see the lack of love I give when we're together." Tommy said it in such a matter-a-fact way that you didn't quite know how to react and just stayed silent.

Tommy's hand retracted from your face to stroke your arm again in a silent sign of support. He didn't know what to say now, Tommy was never lost for words but what could be said? How could he comfort you when he knew that nothing would change and nothing would get better for them? It would be disingenuous of him to say he was going to be there for you more, he would be a better husband, he would show his love for you in more ways than materialistic things because, it wasn't true. You'd gone from such close friends into obsessed lovers and now there was such a deep dark separation between you that it scared Tommy beyond belief.

You were like strangers, you'd both changed so much over the course of knowing one another and it didn't feel the same. Tommy still loved you, you loved him but apparently that wasn't enough anymore and it made Tommy regret so many things he'd done in the last four years, one of those being when he married you. He'd trapped you in this relationship, when he proposed he knew you'd say yes and he knew you'd want to get married soon. Tommy didn't manipulate you, not technically but he knew how you'd react because he knew you so well and he couldn't escape from the thought that he'd consciously done it so you could never leave him.

"I need you, Thomas." You finally said with a frown because he wasn't saying anything.

"I…" he trailed off and looked at the floor.

"Please, can you tell me you'll try to see me more than you are?" You asked with a sad expression.

"I will, I'm going to try," Tommy looked up at you and leant forward to kiss you on the cheek "I'm sorry."

"I know you are, sometimes I need more from you and I need you to listen to me." You smiled at him, putting your palm on his face he leant on it and closed his eyes. He was so at peace with you and he often forgot about it.

You shuffled forward and Tommy leant onto your chest, pulling up his legs and wrapped his arm around your stomach, he closed his eyes and you existed in silence for as long as you could remember silence that was comfortable. Before it was tense, with so much anger behind it that you couldn't enter a room he was in without getting stressed.

Tommy hugged closer to you, not wanting to leave your embrace or the way you smelled, the way your hands felt on his hair and the way your clothes were so soft against his skin. He didn't want to leave again, he didn't want to go on another business trip or to another meeting and be apart from you. But, fuck, he knew he had too. Tommy knew he had so many fucking responsibilities that he didn't want, so much on his shoulders he didn't want but he couldn't go back on it now. There was so much he had to do, so much he had to think about and organise but he didn't want to leave your arms, your touch. Tommy wanted to be with you forever and he decided on that day he wasn't going to let his work ruin your marriage.

Your whole marriage had broken promises on both ends but mostly him and he knew it. He wouldn't come home for weeks even a few days after your wedding he was unreachable and no one would tell you where he was, it ostracised you from the family. The Shelby's didn't always seem to treat you as another Shelby, you were Tommy's business, Tommy's wife and his alone. It was only Ada you had a close relationship with and Polly had been extremely special to you before her death. Tommy had got so scared of marriage, scared of love and how he was marrying you for you. He wasn't marrying for some kind of business move or because you were pregnant and it was the right thing to do. Tommy wanted you, and you alone and it scared him to death that he couldn't be near you. He couldn't endanger you because you were so precious to him.

A few hours later you and Tommy were in bed together, at the same fucking time and you felt like you were dead because only heaven could allow you and your husband to have such peace. You weren't even speaking, like laying on each other and feeling each other's bodies softly. Your head was leaning on Tommy's chest as used your finger to outline the tattoos on his chest, he was running his hand up and down your arm to your shoulder. These soft displays of affection made your stomach flip like the first time you kissed each other. It all felt so juvenile and innocent, the voice in your head was at bay, your head felt still for the first time in a while with no doubt entering your brain. He was there in this moment with you, feeling everything he could be feeling and he still didn't run away.

"I've missed you so much." You whispered and Tommy smiled, kissing the top of your head.

"I know, I've missed you too." Tommy said in a low tone, running his fingers up your arm into your hair.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" You asked him, turning your head to rest your chin on his chest and smile at him.

"I need to go into the city my love," he looked at you with a sad expression because he could see how your smile fell and you turned your head so you weren't looking at him.

"I'm going to go to sleep now," you said quietly as you turned around and turned off the lamp that was on your side of the bed.

Turning on your side away from Tommy you allowed your eyes to grow wet and prickly with no noise coming from your mouth. You didn't want him to know that you would cry over him more than you liked to admit. Tommy was like an anti-christ sometimes and God the next, a man of lawlessness unburdened by guilt and sorrow for his actions who simultaneously made you feel so fucking alive and loved like you couldn't breath without him. How could the two of you have such tender small moments with you and be gone in a few hours? Why did this disgraced angel have to fall into your arms and make you love him so?

Why couldn't Tommy have let you be and marry some other demon that wouldn't hold so much resentment toward him? Your pillow was growing wetter and wetter as the darkness crept into your bed, consuming your body to chew you up and spit out a damaged version of yourself. The darkness was inevitable, the voices were inevitable, the loneliness was inevitable, it was all…predetermined for you. You felt like you had no free will, no right to change the course of how you lived in this life regardless of how dearly you wanted to escape and be free you couldn't. You couldn't leave Tommy and only God knows why because fuck, you didn't deserve to feel so tired of yourself.

Tommy didn't know what to say, he didn't know how to comfort you or make you feel reassured because he never kept his promises to you. He was always so fucking switched on business wise that switching off when he was around you was generally impossible, even when he was being honest with you it felt like a transaction. Tommy hated to admit it but trying to focus on what was going on in your life felt so dwarfed by his own responsibilities and issues. He was dealing with fucking murderers and politicians and you got stressed sometimes, at least that's how he pessimistic brain saw it- he'd never admit that to you. How could you ever understand his issues and what he was going through when you had no concept of it? Tommy had lied to you so much that he didn't even know what was real anymore, keeping track of all the cover ups and the deception was so hard he considered coming clean so many times.

As he lay back, looking up into the darkness, Tommy could only hear the tree branch knocking against the window loudly interrupting his thoughts. The knocking became incessant and Tommy couldn't deal with the noise, he glanced toward your still sleeping form and got up quickly. He walked toward the window and thrust it open, reaching to the branch he tried to break it off but felt a cold hand around his strong grip around his wrist. It made Tommie's breath catch in his throat and his heart stop as he looked up and saw your face, neck slit and blood pouring down your arms onto his wrist. The blood was ice cold and travelling along his body.

"Why did you kill me Tommy?" You asked.

"I didn't kill you, what's happening?" Tommy exclaimed as he tried to turn his head to the bed but he couldn't break out of the grasp of the cold figure toward him.

"You wouldn't let me in, you wouldn't let me in!" The figure repeated the mantra over and over in a loud yell as the blood drained from your neck.

"What are you talking about! What happened to you?" Tommy asked in a strained voice as tears formed in his eyes and threatened to fall.

"Let me in!" You continued to scream as you got closer to his face and Tommy suddenly threw his hand away from the cold figure, falling down on the floor. He ran over to you on the bed and turned you over. Your throat was cut and the blood was seeping into the perfect white of the sheets as Tommy held you close to his body and sobbed.

Waking up with a start and in a sweat, Thomas couldn't see anything and his put his hand on your hip, unable to speak but he needed to wake you.

"Thomas, whats-" you said turning over and Tommy dived to cuddle you close to him as he breathed extremely rapidly.

"I'll let you in, I'll let you in, I'll let you in," he whispered into your shoulder and whilst you didn't understand you just let him hold you.

You didn't know what had happened, you didn't know if things were okay but Tommy holding you the toughest he ever had made you feel that he was scared. He was terrified of something that had happened and it was scaring you in a very real sense because your husband wasn't afraid of anything. What kind of monster could have scared him so?

Tommy was terrified, he didn't know what he'd do if his constant was gone. You met so young and knew each other for so long that being apart made him die a little inside each hour it happened. He didn't like to admit how much he loved you or how much he needed you because it made him have a weakness. One moment off the ball and you could be gone, he was finally seeing that that eventuality was very much realistic whether it was through your death or you leaving him and this house forever.

next part

”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

Taglist:

@kathrinemelissa @wolfieellsworld @archivallyfound09 @hopefulinlove @globetrotter28 @buttercup32sstuff @teamfreeavacados @just-a-blackhole @sabbbyn @sillyfreakfanparty @lovelyreader22 @leaked-adrenaline @ghxst-heart @esposadomd

Peaky Blinders Taglist:

@queenofkings1212 @severewobblerlightdragon @cl5369 @fairypitou @stressedandbandobessed7771 @shadow-of-wonder @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns @curled-hair-red-lips @lucystivinsky1315

#love #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #john shelby #arthur shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby x you #peaky fucking blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby drabble #tommy shelby drabbles

[vesper93]

#by order of the peaky blinders #peaky blinders #peaky #blinders #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #cillian murphy #shelby #polly gray #bbc #bbc iplayer #poll

[cheekypeakyblinder]

The Peaky brothers and children are making my ovaries explode

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders story #peaky blinder x fem oc #peaky blinders x oc #peaky blinder fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky #blinders #peaky fucking blinders #peaky blinders headcannon #peaky fookin blinders #Thomas shelby #Tommy Shelby #Arthur Shelby #Elizabeth grey #Polly grey #Aunt Pol #Aunt Polly #Ada Shelby #Ada shelby thorne #Ada thorne #Freddie Thorne #John Shelby #John fucking Shelby #The Shelby secretary #John Shelby x you #John Shelby x reader

[theshelbyclan]

Merry Christmas, Thura 😊 I know it’s probably not happening and you don’t have the time, but could you maybe just for me, as a small Christmas present, write a few lines about Teddy and the Shelbys during Christmas? 😍😍

Thank you sweet Anon, and I wish you all the best too and a blessed Christmas! Just for you, here’s a small bit (just don’t expect too much of it). This takes place shortly after the war, so Teddy’s like 8 in this.

*****

In the bleak midwinter

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan…

It was the day of Christmas Eve and Tommy stood outside their house at Watery Lane, quietly smoking a cigarette. He looked up at the sky, where thick grey clouds were gathering: snow was coming in. That was all he needed.

The Shelby’s didn’t celebrate Christmas this year and, if he had anything to do with it, they never would again. They’d celebrated before the war, but after the war, there was no Christmas anymore. The fields of Flanders hadn’t allowed it, Small Heath didn’t allow it and most of all, Tommy no longer allowed it.

Christmas was dead. No more hope and no more light. All there was left now, was: in the bleak midwinter.

Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone…

Arthur came approaching and Tommy looked up. He knew it before he’d opened his mouth: there was trouble.

“There’s been some trouble at the Garrison, Tom,” Arthur explained, “Couple of boys tried raiding the place, knocked Harry about, broke half the bloody bottles in there too.”

Tommy nodded slowly, “So what is it you want from me, Arthur, eh?”

“What do we do, Tom?”

“You know what to do,” he flicked his cigarette away, “Cut them.”

The oldest Shelby nodded, but the hesitation was written all over his face.

“What is it?” Tommy demanded.

“They’re just kids.”

“Kids who fucked with us.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s just…”

“For fuck’s sake, Arthur! Just get on with alright? Just grow a fucking backbone for once and get it done.”

“Alright, Tom, we’ll get it done.”

“I don’t have time for fucking soft sentiment, alright?” Tommy growled.

Snow was falling, snow on snow, snow on snow…

Meanwhile, John was working over the books. He tried to get as much done as he possibly could during the day, before he got really drunk.

He looked out the window and saw some children playing in the snow. He looked for Finn and Teddy amongst them, but couldn’t find them.

One boy threw a snow ball at a factory worker, who then slipped and fell over. He cursed loudly and all the children ran away and laughed. John couldn’t help himself and stifled a laugh too.

But then he remembered the bodies piled up in the snow. And somehow, he could see the blood mixed in with the whiteness in Birmingham too. In seconds, the moment had lost all its purity. Now it was just death and decay, hidden in ice.

He took another swig and continued his numbers.

In the bleak midwinter, long, long ago.

“Church starts at nine.”

Tommy coughed a laugh and looked up at his aunt, but her eyes seemed set.

“Arthur and John are coming too.”

Probably not by choice, Tommy thought. And he added, “I have no business with church, Pol, and nothing to discuss with God.” He practically spit the last word.

Polly shrugged, “I’m sure he has one or two things to say to you. You’re going, end of discussion. Teddy is singing.”

Tommy looked up in surprise, “How the fuck did you manage that?”

“I bribed her. Be there at nine.”

What can I give him, poor as I am?

And so the Shelby’s turned up at the church at nine. Not because they wanted to, but because the holy saint Polly Gray, enforcer of all things fearful, had ordered them to. At least Arthur had brought the bottle with him.

People piled into the church slowly, but they left the front most pews empty for the Shelby’s.

Tommy sighed deeply. He had better things to do. They had business to do and money to make. There was no way he was going back to poverty. There was no way he was going to let them walk all over them again.

Because, when they were in the mud, where was God then?

If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb…

John elbowed Tommy and pointed, big grin on his face. When he followed his gaze, he saw one very pissed off little girl in a white dress, standing off to the side near the altar.

Teddy was not happy, and it showed in every way she held herself. Tommy couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“Polly must’ve offered her some money…”

“Better still,” Arthur whispered lowly, “She promised her a horse.”

“She always knew how to bargain,” he said not without pride, “Innocent as she may be, she knows how to get whatever the fuck she wants.”

“Innocent?” John laughed, “She’s about as innocent as a wolf in sheep’s clothes. She changed though, Tommy, after we left.”

“Yes, she did. France fucked her up too, even though she’s never even been away from Small Heath.” Bitterness crept into Thomas’ voice.

He never wanted any of that for her. He wanted her to stay small and sweet forever. But he knew that was gone already.

If I were a wise man, I would do my part…

“Move over,” Ada hissed, as she unceremoniously joined them in the pew. “Now will you look at this, the whole family together at church. What the fuck.” Sometimes it was like Ada was physically incapable of speaking without sarcasm.

“Then why are you here?”

“Teddy’s singing. She hates it, so I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” And when her brothers stared at her reproachfully, she added, “Just doing what any good sister would do.”

They were quiet for a little while, but then Arthur leaned over John and told Tommy, “Tomorrow at 11, we’re meeting with that importer I told you about. Charlie’s yard.”

Tommy nodded.

Arthur opened his mouth to talk, but one slap from Polly made him close it again. “No business at church.”

“Why not, aunt Pol?” Ada challenged, “Looking at the size of those golden statues, they’ve done some pretty good business themselves.”

“Ada…” Polly warned.

“Oh I’m sorry,” she continued in her bored tone of voice, “Isn’t that what Christmas is all about? The rich not giving to the poor, but instead celebrating no longer having to?”

Tommy lowered his head to hide his grin. He never liked to admit it, but he had a soft spot for his sisters. They were smarter then all the men he knew combined and they always, always, had something to say.

Life would be incredibly boring, without his sisters doing their part in making his life hell.

But what can I give him? Give him my heart.

The service finally started and the whole procession of pomp and circumstance started. One by one, the Shelby’s sighed deeply and resigned themselves to the next hour.

But after all of that, Teddy stepped forward. She shuffled around a little, uncomfortable, and pulled on her robe that apparently got stuck behind the altar.

She looked back at Finn, who got roped into being an altar boy, and he nudged her forwards again.

Tommy made eye contact with her and nodded. Teddy sighed and rolled her eyes.

“I’ll bet you a pound she’s going to bolt,” John giggled.

“Shut up,” Tommy replied, “I want to hear her.”

And he actually did. It was strange how all his grumpiness and pessimism seemed to have fallen away. And he looked over to John and Arthur, both sending Teddy reassuring smiles. They looked nothing like the bored bastards they’d been only seconds ago. And even Ada, sarcastic detached Ada, fixed her slouch and leaned forward in anticipation. Maybe this is what Christmas was after all: in the middle of the whole fucking chaos of the world falling down around your ears, dropping everything, because your little sister has to sing. And actually feeling warm about it too.

So Teddy breathed in deeply and started to sing, in perfect pitch and angelic voice:

In the bleak midwinter…

#peaky blinders #teddy shelby #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fluff #Tommy Shelby #John Shelby #shelby!sister #ada shelby #sister shelby #finn shelby #thomas shelby #arthur shelby #peaky #peaky Christmas

[jovialbirdballoon]

Do (some) people really think Tommy’s love for Grace was not real?? She was an idea or something?

I mean you watched all six seasons, right?

With Steven Knight’s brilliant writing and Cillian Murphy’s exceptional acting, you conclude this?

How??!!

#cillian murphy #peaky blinders #peaky fucking blinders #peaky #peaky fookin blinders #peakyedit #bbc peaky blinders #steven knight #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #polly gray #tommy x grace #tommy x lizzie #lizzie shelby #grace shelby #ada shelby

[ilovefinncole]

POV: your polly gray

#polly gray #helen mccory #polly #pol #aunt polly #peaky blinders aesthetic #peaky #peaky blinders

[creativepawsworld]

Silence Chapter 1

Pairing = Thomas Shelby x Original Character

Summary = Anastasia Adler, the youngest daughter of Edith and William Adler, where the tailors of Small Heath, Birmingham. Today, on her birthday she is hoping for a brand-new start for her life. Helping her brother may just lead to that new start but will it be what she really wants?

Warnings = Mentions of violence and gang related activity, language. Minor Do Not React

Word Count = 2175

Today I felt like a princess, I had finally finished a personal project I had been working on for the past two months. I was only ever able to do it at night when the tailor shop was closed. During the day, I had other commitments. Inventory, paperwork, the general running of the store for my parents. They were the tailors; I was only a trainee.

It was a beautiful, celestial linen, blue skirt that reached two inches below the knee. It was fitted to my waist but as it fell from my hips it expanded slightly, I added a few pleats to create an almost ballgown effect, so when I walked it felt as though I was floating. Matching the skirt with a part silk, white buttoned blouse with a high collar. My upper chest was decorated with lace and from my breasts down simple white lines finished the garment with long sleeves that were simply white covering my arms.

It was a rather elegant especially for around these parts, but today was a special day for me. Pinning my hair up at the base of my skull, before checking my make up in the mirror. It was the basics, my grandmother always told me I didn’t need any, I was beautiful the way I was. No need for all the paint.

Walking down the stairs to the living room which was empty but off to the left in the kitchen, I noticed my brother sat at the table his nose deep in the newspaper while my mother tidied away a few things from breakfast. My father was always the first to wake up and leave in the morning. He would go next door to open the tailor shop and get everything ready for the day.

“Good morning, mother, James” I bid with a smile towards them both as I pulled out an empty chair which was in front of a piece of bread and water, breakfast.

“Good morning sweetheart, that skirt is beautiful. You’ve done a really good job.” My mother smiled at me once she turned to look in my direction. “Give me a twirl before you sit down” She beamed. Feeling rather giddy myself I couldn't help but giggle as I held onto the skirt spinning in a tight circle before giving a little curtsey and taking a seat. “You’ve come a really long way” she said as she lay a hand on my head, placing a peck on my cheek.

“Thank you, mother, I’ve had the best teachers.” I smile referring to her and my father, stealing a glance at my brother who was biting his lips nervously across the table from me. The next thing, my mother had taken the paper from him, hitting him on the back of the head with it, an angry look on her face.

“How many times James? You are not allowed to gamble. Your father and I are still trying to come back from the last gambling debt you made with the Shelby’s. We will not be doing it again.” She reminded him throwing the paper in the bin, throwing the used lard from last night’s dinner on top so the paper wasn’t salvageable.

“Sorry mother” James mumbled under his breathe, his nervous behaviour not stopping. He had sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth, his eyes cast down at the table, avoiding all eye contact with me. My mother didn’t notice, neither of our parents would notice unless it was bluntly obvious. That was the kind of people our parents were, business first. As long as there was food on the table and a roof over our heads, we were considered fine, lucky even.

Growing up my brother and I had always been close. Our parents held little to no interest in most things in our lives. If it didn’t revolve around making money or tailoring, they didn’t have the time to listen or patience to indulge. So, we indulged each other. We became best friends.

A few months ago, my brother James had got himself into trouble with the Shelby family who ran an illegal betting shop along Watery Lane, a few streets from ours. There was an illegal boxing match in a factory workshop one night. To make things interesting, odds were drawn, and bets were made. James had bet on the wrong man. Arthur Shelby had won the fight. My brother didn’t have the money to pay him right away, so in return he was beaten by the older Shelby brother who demanded his money.

Upon returning home in a battered and bruised state, my parents immediately cleared out their savings from the family safe. My father ran as fast as he could over to the Shelby's shop paying off the debt, with interest and the promise of free tailoring services in exchange for sparing his son’s life. It was the one time our parents showed that they truly cared about us. A night that was never forgotten.

I had only heard stories about the Shelby family through their reputation of fear, violence and respect. Their lack of humanity proven by how beaten they left my brother over money, something they were never short of. Only my parents would deal with them whenever they made appointments for their garments. I was told to go home every time before they arrived, for my own protection my father would say. However, on one occasion the family matriarch Polly Gray came to the shop completely unannounced while my parents were visiting my grandmother in Artillery Street.

At first, I didn’t recognise her. I thought she was just another customer until she removed her hat, I remember feeling instantly terrified as those dark almost soulless eyes starred into my own.

Tears pricked in my eyes, as I felt a crippling fear consume me with every step, I took towards her. She watched my every move until I was standing in front of her, my head bowed to show her I was no threat and that I meant no harm towards her, the actions making her chuckle.

It was that day, I realised she was only scary if you were on the wrong side of her. We talked about how she admired the clothes I was wearing and how she wanted a few pieces for herself. Something I was only too happy to provide for her.

From that day, she would call to the shop occasionally to discuss potential designs that she had liked and whether or not I would be able to execute her ideas and bring them to life. Each request was finished, beyond her standards, proving to not only myself but to my parents I was ready.

It made my parents both uneasy allowing me to take full control over Polly Gray's wardrobe not because I wasn't capable but because of who she was. But seeing the repour I had with the woman, they handed me her custom, making Polly Gray my first official client as a tailor.

The Shelby men however, I had never met. I only knew what they looked like through various descriptions and stories told by my family and customers coming into the store. Identifying the men however wasn't hard, they were always well dressed in their tailored suits and peaked caps. The leaders of the Small Heath gang, The Peaky Blinders.

Whenever I was walking in the streets, I would sometimes catch a glimpse of them, their faces always hidden underneath their peaked caps, however. They always walked with a purpose, with meaning. Seeing them however, I would turn and walk away as wherever a Peaky Blinder went, trouble was sure to follow.

As my mother bid both James and I goodbye, her voice breaking me from my thoughts, I waited two minutes before tilting my head to the side as my brother stared in my direction. Silently watching each other, waiting for the other to break. He knew I knew something was wrong, but I wouldn't be the first to break. He would have to talk first.

“I fucked up Ana”

“I can tell James, just tell me it’s nothing to do with the Shelby’s. Mother and Father haven’t recovered financially from that since the last time, and I don't think they ever will.”

“It’s not the Shelby’s” James replied, the words that left his mouth should have given me some kind of joy, but it didn’t. The way he said it, had a dark shiver running through my body, a chill throughout my spine. “It’s Kimber”

“Kimber?” I repeated, the name sounding familiar before it clicked. In Small Heath the Peaky Blinders were in charge, it was theirs. Their territory. However, Billy Kimber and the Birmingham boys owned everywhere else in the city. They were in charge, nothing happened without their say so, without their consent. Getting involved with them was simply a death wish. “William Kimber? Billy freaking Kimber James?”

“It was a sure bet; I was guaranteed to win the money I had lost to the Shelby’s and a lot more. I would have been able to pay mother and father back.”

“Then what happened?”

“I lost, ten times, a guinea each time” He mumbled causing me to choke on my own saliva. My eyes widening at his confession. A hand flew over my mouth as a strangled whimper left my lips. I tried to regulate my breathing as I looked at him, shame and guilt filled his eyes as he stared at me. The gravity of his mistake sinking in.

“Where did you even get that kind of money?” I whispered harshly as if someone was listening to the conversation and would report back to our parents.

“Does it matter? I got it, I lost it and now am fucked. If mother and father find out…”

“If mother and father find out we would have to sell the shop, sell our home, live on the street and even then, that wouldn’t clear your debt. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I could finally get out of this fucking place. Away from mother and father, away from the Peaky Fucking Blinders, away from Arthur Shelby who never lets me forget that he owns us now.”

“And away from me leaving me to deal with whatever other mess you've created?”

“No, I would never put that burden on you. Never you.” James insisted watching the tears fall from my eyes. We weren’t stupid, growing up in Birmingham we knew debts had to be paid. Either with money or your life.

James knew he couldn't run, if he ran Kimber and his men would come for his family. He knew Kimber would just kill our parents and take me for himself. Everyone knew he loved his women. He didn’t care if they went forced or willing, they were his to do as he pleased. Objects, nothing more.

“What do we do?” I whispered trying my hardest to stop the tears. I couldn’t go to work with my parents with puffy red eyes, they would know something was wrong the minute I walked through the door. They would find out what was going on and that would be the end of Adler’s tailors and our life as we knew it. I had to keep my emotions under control as best I could.

“I need you to do something for me.” James spoke lowly, getting up from his chair and kneeling in front of me on the kitchen floor. He was begging. “I need you to go to the betting shop and place a bid for me”

“Are you serious?” I asked my voice raising as I stood to my feet. My brother loses his balance and falls on his behind as I walked into the living room, my hand on my head. Today was supposed to be a good day, I finally finished my skirt. I was a princess. Today I was 26 years old, a new year of my life. A new start, a new beginning. It was supposed to be different.

“It’s the only way, I’ve definitely got a sure bet this time”

“You were told that the last ten times you betted and now look where we are, £100 in debt never mind the interest.”

“Please, this is my last and only chance” James pleaded, literally crawling over to me on his knees as he held a guinea in his hands. Tears in his eyes as he looked at me, pleading with everything he had in him to help him. Sighing to myself, I avoided eye contact with him as I reached forward taking the guinea from his hands. “Thank you, thank you. The horse's name is Monaghan Boy”

“I pray you are right” I tell him stiffly, still refusing eye contact, turning on my heel, taking my beige coat from the coat rack at the front door and wrapping it around myself as I opened the front door, walking into the dirt and grime that is Small Heath, Birmingham.

#cillian murphy fanfic #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x reader #peaky fucking blinders #tommy shelby #OC #PEAKY #originalcharacter #thomashelbyxcharacter #thomas shelby fanfic #peakyblinders #gangster #birmingham #tailors

[interstellargatorskinboots1812]

Chapter 13: The Rush of Blood

Alfie feels sweat trickling down his back, his eyes lacerate into the interloper in front of him, who dirties and taints the elegant hall as if by osmosis.

Michael McCleary. To Arabella, just a name scrawled in Tommy’s handwriting, but now here he stands, a short and stout man with filth escaping his every pore.

‘You’ve been ignoring my calls and letters, Solomons.’

His Scouse twang echoes strongly in the affluent surroundings.

‘Yeh well there’s a very good reason for that, ain’t there?’

Alfie’s stiff shoulders and heavy-set back, wrap an unwelcome presage around Arabella, as if confirming Tommy’s suspicions that the High Rip gang have prior dealings with her fiance.

Swiping a cocktail from a reluctant waiter, Michael smirks and downs the alcohol. He bites aggressively, with what few teeth he has left,  into the cherry that decorates his glass.

‘I don’t like being ignored you see. It gets me all angsty.’

He putters the cherry stem.

‘Maybe I need to get me a good looking tart like yours? Bet she helps relieve the tension at night, doesn’t she?’

With a filthy leer, Michael flicks the tied stem down Arabella’s cleavage. Reacting almost before Alfie has the chance to form a fist, she pulls back his hand.

‘Stop, think where you are and who is around you. It’s just what this fucker wants. Don’t play into his hands.’

Alfie grunts a response, the blood bouncing in his veins in abundance.

‘She speaks a lot of sense, you should listen to her’.

‘She has a name, you know’.

Michael’s laugh fills the darkening space.

‘Oh I know your name, Ms Arabella Shelby. I know all about you and your family. Modern day Romeo and Juliet, you two are. Star-crossed lovers from opposite ends of the trotting tracks.. .  and well  . . . we all know how that tale ends’.

With a calming composure, Alfie’s bulky shadow casts shade over the Liverpudlian’s pockmarked face.

‘You might be better served expressing your profound views on literature to someone who gives a fuck, mate. You waltz in here thinking you’re a brave lad, when we all know that the only reason you are still stood vertically, thieving my oxygen is because I am choosing not to put a bullet in that thick skull of yours. Now tell me what you’re ‘ere for and then you can fuck off or I will  stick my boot so far up your arse that you’ll fly back to Liverpool and hit the Mersey with a breathless sense of having tumbled like Icarus from the sky’.

Michael’s delusive grin cultivates his face, Alfie’s resolute words land beside him like a grenade with the pin still attached. The malodour of old garbage fires thrives from their unwelcome guest and as foul in her nostrils as it is, Arabella inhales deeply in an effort to slow her breathing.

Michael’s drawing quite the crowd.

‘Alfie is right, make your point and then fuck off’.

‘Bad words from such a beautiful broad- be careful none of these toff-nosed Jews hear it. You wouldn’t want to give the game away.’

Alfie’s eyes slice like the ambiguity in Michael’s rhetoric.

‘Oh don’t worry Solomons, your secrets and skeletons are safe with me. . . for now anyway’.

The twine possessing Alfie’s composure splinters and with a constricting grab of an upper arm, he whips Michael away from prying eyes, with Arabella’s plea of his name falling on death ears and Rubin hot on their tail.

At the main entrance a huddle of elderly Jewish women’s discussion on knitting patterns is firmly interrupted by a grapple they look shocked to be witnessing.

‘Now, don’t you worry about this ladies, I’m just taking out the rubbish’.

Alfie’s tone is jovial, but Arabella can see every vein in his body is amplifying to cardinal proportions.

Taking a sharp right, he hurls them into a deserted back alley, before ricochetting Michael’s back off the cold and damp bricks, making Arabella wince and Michael bellow breathlessly.

Years of fighting and taking back meant dealing with dregs like McCleary was almost autonomous. Despite his incensed demeanour, his brain remains utterly calm, firing off a lightening series of automated responses. A continuous of experience distilled into substance.

A multitude of action happens simultaneously and all before anyone has time to anticipate.

Arabella isn’t sure where he pulled it from, but Alfie is now pivoted firmly in front of Michael, a Webley Mark revolver held unwaveringly on his trigger finger.

‘My boy, no!’ Rubin clamours out as Arabella surges to the end of the alley surveying the surroundings.

‘Shit!’

Her panicked expletive reaches the ears of a well-to-do couple dressed in all their finery. Casting her a scandalised look, the lady tuts an ‘oh really’ under her expensive furs.

Arabella swallows her bottom lip. There is no way a gunshot is to go unnoticed and uninvestigated in these surroundings. She makes a dash back to Alfie, tugging at his arm once again.

‘Alfie, Alfie. . .Alfie, put the gun down’.

His eyes pirouette with torment, his fiance's pleas sequestering to the background. He gently bats away her arm.

‘Sweetie, you might want to stand well back for this one, because when I drop this bullet from it’s resting place the blood and matter that will ascend this little cunt to the heavens will deflect itself all over this pigsty. Now green and red just don’t go together and I’d hate for that dress to be ruined.’

‘Alfie, you need to stop. If anyone hears that thing go off and calls the police . . . he’s not worth that’.

‘My dear boy, Ms Shelby is right, put away that weapon. A man like this is not laudable for the ammunition’.

Ignoring Rubin entirely, Alfie addresses Arabella without ever leaving his attention from the snivelling creature caught firmly in his cross-hairs.

‘Treacle, since my resurrected partnership with your brother, I have no need to worry about the old cop shop. It’s all justifiable housekeeping.’

Arabella glances across to Rubin. Beads of sweat interspersing his forehead catch the oppressive luminosity of the gas light.

Alfie lurches forward pushing the weapon straight into Michael's windpipe with force.

‘Now McCleary, don’t ever think you can come into my world, and take an upper-hand. That ain’t ever gunna happen is it? Did you think I’d let you get away with it, what you thought you’d sensed a weakness in the Israelite?’

‘No need for senses when there’s certainty’.  Michael splutters  through the cold constriction of gun metal. Alfie’s eyebrows shoot up, the lines in his forehead increasing with magnitude.

Driven by instinct, he pushes the barrel of the gun under Michael’s chin as his eyes twitch at his adversary’s cool composure and audacious words  His heart races but his mind is icy.

‘Talk to me about this certainty of yours’. The clicking of his gun cocking into place and his detached tone sounds almost deafening to Arabella in this confined space.

‘Alfie stop! He’s winding you up!’ Her voice going an octave higher.

‘Your uncle, Charles Solomons. He’s an interesting fellow isn’t he? Or at least he has some very interesting cargo that comes through Liverpool docks’.

Arabella hears the gasp Rubin drops at the name Charles Solomons. Alfie’s eyebrows lower and pull even further together as his lip curls.

‘You see Alfie, you might have a hand at what goes through Camden Lock and thanks to this new allegiance with Lady Muck there, you have a finger in the pie at Poplar, but Liverpool and the Albert Dock? They’re mine. I control them and with  no foot hold there for either of your little gangs, I have a lot of leverage in way of your Uncle Charlie’s cargo from Boston.’

Alfie catatonic eyes continue staring at Michael, looking straight through him.

‘Charles Solomons’ business has nothing to do with me!’

Spittle flies from his mouth along with his indignant rumble of words.

‘Funny that because his business of bootlegging, narcotics and the like has certainly bank rolled a lot of your warehouses and labour. How do you think he’d feel knowing his own nephew had a hand in the fallout of his empire eh? Because between me and my lads, we could make it very difficult for his goods to make their destination points’.

The barrel of Alfie’s gun collides with Michel’s cheekbone, splitting the skin wide open. Michael grabs the wound with his hand shouting a series of expletives.

‘Lets say I shoot you right here, right now. In the fucking face. I’d be doing everyone a fucking favour then wouldn’t I? Including my Uncle Charlie.’

‘You can kill me now, but it wouldn’t make a difference. There’s not just me in on this’.

Alfie swallows, the saliva bounding down his throat like poison. How did this fucker, this scruffy backstreet gang member know so much of his business? Alfie didn’t want this fight but it has come looking for him and battle it, he will. His finger tightens on the trigger, snatching at it. But by now, galvanised by the chaos, Arabella steps into the fold.

Alfie turns his head sharply at her, but she doesn’t react. In that second panic sets in. He didn’t panic ever. Panicking got you killed. A straightforward equilibrium. But, just like panic, distraction gets you killed and when he sees her step into the combat zone, his focus goes to keeping her safe. Already, she is becoming detrimental.

Unfazed by the weapon and the weight of the situation, Arabella looks Michael up and down, her eyes set to a primitive gaze.

‘So, that’s your leverage is it?’

‘Arabella, go the fuck back inside!’

Rubin wrings his hands behind them.

‘Ms Shelby, perhaps Alfie is right and you should. .’ Rubin’s attempts to mediate are cut off by Alfie’s growl.

‘Fuck off Bella, Now!’

‘I’m going nowhere! I want to know what Mr McCleary is using Charles Solomons as a bargaining chip for?’

Nursing his bleeding cheek, Michael winks at Arabella salaciously.

‘I mean, you ask all the right questions don’t you babe? If she’s half as good at emptying your balls, Solomons then she’s too worthy for you.’

Alfie’s anger hits crescendo and just as the adrenaline spikes to manipulate his limbs, he feels the soft skin of Arabella’s hand entwine with his around the gun. With a firm grip she pulls the focus of the barrel between McCleary’s legs.

‘I’ve got more than one method for draining balls, now get the fuck out with what it is you want’.

‘Alright sweetheart, as it’s you. You see, us up North we haven’t got it as good as you bastards down here. You Southern ponces have it perfect, business must be booming with everyone’s love for trotting spectacles’.

Arabella rolls her eyes.

‘Fuck sake, you men and your fucking horses! All this is about the tracks!?’

‘The tracks that have got you were you are standing now, love. Well, me any my lads are feeling a bit left out and we reckon it’s about time you did some sharing’.

Alfie pouts at the fanciful fucker in front of him. That thick-lipped mouth of his on display, that Arabella notes makes him look amenable and cordial, hiding the steel that lays beneath the easy smiles.

‘Carry on down the road to Little Italy and you can discuss all this with Darby Sabini -we hear he is in need of allies at the moment’.

Michael grins wide, oozing more blood from the gash to his face. He likes her, shame really when he considers his end game.

‘Oh no Miss Shelby, I’m not in this to share or be a worker bee for any Italian mob cunt. We want space and pitches and with those we will agree to a truce at the Liverpool docks and no more trouble with the cargo of a Mr C Solomons as well as a new trade network at my end.’

‘Fuck your truce! I don’t do fucking truces mate! Don’t think for a single second of your measly,  miserable existence that I would work with a cunt like you. You, yeh, are the lowest and most de sanctified piece of scum and I don’t do deals with men willing to kill the rats that live among them by biting them’.

Either McCleary was mentally deficient or he has more up his sleeve that he can pull out when he wants. Arabella was yet to decide which.

‘Look, how many good-natured businessmen have you lot bullied, hounded and baited for pitches? That’s how it works. Now don’t come the incensed with me when the same thing happens to you’.

Alfie works his way closer into Michael’s space, the gun pushing further into McCleary’s gut with each step.

‘Now, I’ve been very patient of you, considering the circumstances but now your just getting on my last fucking nerve. You come ‘ere to seek me out, you know the road, you know I offer a deal or death. Un-fuckin-fortunately for you mate it’s no deal’.

The sound of a cocking gun fills the expanse around them. Alfie’s eyes knit together as his gun was already rearing to go.

A cold chill fills his body.

As quick as a snake he whips his head in Arabella’s direction. A tall and lanky man with a soot covered face and eyes like piss holes in the snow looms behind her. The same revolver as his own sequestering into the parting of her hair.

‘Well, I did tell you I wasn’t in this alone. What’s say we call a truce that you famously don’t do?’

Alfie’s tongue darts out across his lips to add moisture to his acrid mouth.

‘Take that gun from behind her head now or so help me I’ll paint this alleyway with every ounce of your intestines’.

‘Alright, calm yourself will yeh! Take this gun out of my ribcage and I’ll ask me mate here to throw back your princess once we’ve discussed our bookmaking arrangements for Kempton and Earls Park. We can discuss Epsom when . . . ‘

Smug words drown out to the ear piercing shriek of agony, followed by a gunshot.

Alfie can hear the blood swilling around his ears as they ring. A cold sweat like the ones he experienced in France drapes around him.

Rubin, who has ducked down, cowering like a child to avoid the fired bullet, turns to look at the damage inflicted to the brickwork behind him.

Alfie’s eyes search with frantic need. Never has he felt relief like the kind her green scowl is bringing.

Arabella’s provoked patience melded into fury and flashing her hand from inside her cleavage she had retrieved a flick knife.

McCleary’s cadaverous assailant falls back, nursing his eye socket. His muck filled knuckles struggle to contain the cascade of crimson.

Alfie spots a blood stain growing on the young man’s upper arm. One flow of movement from her had caused the damage.  Alfie didn’t know if he was turned on, worried or infuriated- the dilemma was nauseating. He quickly pulls her arm a little too roughly, placing her behind his frame, an action that makes Michael sneer.

‘There’s part of that weakness of yours, Solomons. A devil always protects his angel’.

‘You are pushing your fucking luck mate!’

Alfie bellows the last three words as they spark a fire in his eyes like every demon and monster laying dormant inside him is suddenly awakened.

‘She’s fucking blinded me, you stupid fucking bitch!’

‘That is just a scratch. Rest assured that I think before I act so had I wanted to blind you then that eyeball would be on the end of my knife edge.’

‘Yeh and make another sound and both your fuckin eyes will be in my next batch of rum, mate’.

Michael keeps his eyes on Alfie. Watching him warily and attempting to second-guess what his next move will be, irritating Arabella to no end. She points at him with the tip of her knife, dripping with red.

‘Let me explain a few things to you. For one, I am not in anyway some hapless princess that gets what she wants through the strong-arming of her brothers. Secondly, should you wish to know where my brothers get their violent tendencies from, it’s from having to try and fight back at a sister who has always been two steps ahead of them. As for the devil, well, even the devil doesn’t know where an angel sharpens their knives’.

Despite the situation Michael’s countenance lifts into a smile that reaches his eyes. He knows he’s playing a dangerous game with Solomons, but now he understood that this broad is more strife than he has given thought to. The only thing left to do is see everything through and watch who would be the victor.

Alfie transfixes a snarl to Michael’s assailant who is using his flea invested blazer to wipe away the blood. He reaches into his pocket sending all eyes to his actions with cautious worry. Pulling out a white handkerchief, he condescendingly tosses it across.

‘Why don’t you wipe yourself the fuck up and then the pair of you can trot on down to the end of this road and fuck off from where you’ve crawled from?’

‘Alright, we’ve said what we need to say, no need to labour the point’.

Alfie’s shoulders hunch. Going without a fight seems suspicious and he can almost feel the charge coming off Michael as he pushes the still drawn pistol in the bakers hand out of his way to saunter to his mate.

‘This isn’t a finished conversation though, Solomons. Earls Park races start in a fortnight and we want in on the pitches and not the shitty cheaper rings that you Jews have been used to before now. We can discuss another meeting in the coming days. Don’t ignore my telegrams this time- I’d hate to come back for your princess’.

‘And she would hate to come back for this fucker’s other eye’.

Arabella spits out through gritted teeth as Alfie once again finds himself squaring back up to Michael with all the menace of a mad man. A dense darkness spiking in his eyes forcing devilry to dance in his pupils. Arabella watches warily through the silence. Maybe all the schemes of the devil were nothing in comparison to what this man could muster up.

In one swift blow, Alfie’s knuckles collide with Michael’s conspirator. The sound of bones crunching fill the space as the gangling lad plummets to the concrete,. Rubin gasps in shock and turns his head to the side, scrunching his eyes as if it would remove him from the situation.

‘That there yeh, is just for starters. Consider it a warning to both of you that children do not belong in a man’s world.  No fucking deal. No fucking meeting. Take your friend and fuck off.’

Alfie steps over the body below him, barging into Michael's shoulder in the process. He holds out his hand to Arabella, which she accepts as they walk off down the narrow space.

‘Before you go anywhere there’s something else you should know’.

Alfie spins around, his expression dripping with malice.

‘What’s that old saying- an eye for an eye? You might want to check on your little right hand man. He got in our way when we were looking for you at that warehouse you use belonging to her brother. Not sure how long it takes to bleed out from a leg wound but he’s already been there quite a while, so I wouldn’t leave it too long.’

Alfie’s brain feels like it’s in overload. They have got to Issiah. He drops Arabella’s hand. With hunching shoulders, he storms back onto the thoroughfare of the street. He needed to get to Issiah and get to him fast. Everything else could wait.

***************************************************************************************

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[lxve-and-lxght]

funny honey

pairing: thomas shelby/ reader

warnings: afab! reader, jazz, booze, murder, all that fun stuff. eventual smut perhaps?? slow burn?? mean! tommy.

a/n: hyperfixating on chicago and peaky blinders at the same time. also this is not proofread so i'm sorry for any mistakes.

pt. 1

the long night that followed your arrest at the garrison, could ONLY be described as tedious. inspector campbell was nothing but a ruffian with a badge. no better than tommy, but unlike tommy, inspector campbell really did have no fucking manners. you were a heathen whore in his eyes despite the fact you were a married, working, woman. wasn't that enough? of course it wasn't.

you'd spent the night being interrogated by campbell.

"i've already told you, i don't know," you said to the inspector and sergeant moss, a man who'd been on the peaky blinders payroll for quite some time now if you were remembering his face correctly. "i must've blacked out, i don't remember a thing."

"so you don't remember taking a bloody gun into the garrison tonight?" sergeant moss asked, an eyebrow quirked at you.

"i have no idea what you're talking about..." you were stonewalling them. what did it matter if your sister and bastard husband were dead? it's not like they had money or power, just a poor couple of suckers who'd gotten the kinder end of the deal in your opinion, truthfully you would have much rather been dead than stuck here listening to these fucks debate your innocence and whether or not you were as good in a bed as you were on stage.

after enough time had passed and campbell could say he at least tried to pull a confession out of you it was the wee hours of the morning and you were taken back to a cold, grey holding cell till the bus could take you to a women's jail, apparently only god knew how long that was going to take. so you lied on the hard, uneven, concrete and waited.

did you really have to shoot them? yes. when you found them together in the hotel bed that the money you earned paid for, you saw white. your sister was a dummy for thinking charlie was smart enough to avoid getting caught and charlie was just the same for assuming that of her.

all that time busting your ass, working as many shows as you could, travelling all throughout europe with them. how many times had they done it? how many times had he kissed you after he'd had your own fucking sister in his mouth? stupid son of bitch, you thought. how you ended up with such scum you'd never know.

"l/n! time to go." you sat up from the ground and saw sergeant moss standing with john shelby through the bars. your brow furrowed. moss opened the cell door and gestured you up.

"ya'd better move if you wanna make it to the garrison before tommy leaves." john said. you stood up and walked to him, he had a coat to cover up your show dress. "christ, you're freezing." your dress was covered in whatever dirty muck had been on the floor and your stockings were torn from the brawl that transpired at your arrest. " go on." john nodded.

you walked a couple feet away, peaking over your shoulder to watch moss and john share a sly handshake. john withdrew first and approached you, putting his arm over your shoulder. the two of you didn't speak till you were out of the jailhouse and settled into the motorcar.

"be honest, john, i'm fucked aren't i?" you said quietly, eyes darting to his.

"agh hell, don't ask me, y/n. i'm just the driver." he chuckled, blowing smoke out the window. "but we both know tommy prefers you to that bastard inspector. you make us money."

"great," you sighed, arms crossed in disdain. "now i owe the shelby's a debt."

"that you do, love." john laughed.

when the car finally stopped in front of the garrison john didn't waste anytime pushing you out to the curb.

"he's still in there." john called out as he pulled the car away. you bit down on your tongue in frustration and then stepped inside the pub. it was still so early, it must've only been harry and tommy in there.

you didn't even have to ask after him, the second you were passed the threshold, the private room's door opened and thomas stood waiting for you. he didn't say anything. just nodded his head, telling you to step inside.

"mr. shelby--"

"stop." tommy spoke finally, putting a hand up to silence you. "what'ddya say to him?"

"... nothing." you said, "i blacked out, i don't know what happened." thomas choked on his cigarette when he chuckled.

"and that's what you've told him? that you don't remember?" you nodded. a little blown away that he was laughing in your face about the situation.

"mr. shelby, i can't go back to him," you said firmly, talking about campbell, "he'll string me up or he'll make me a whore. i refuse to do either, so cut him up or cut me."

"ya want me to cut you?" he asked, taking a seat at the table.

"it's not about what i want, it's about what i don't want, and i don't want that pathetic excuse for an officer to have any say in my future."

"well sweetheart, you've managed to create a cluster fuck of problems for me in a matter of a night, i've already lost one of my showgirls because you seem to have a fuckin' temper and now i have to find someone to pin her and your husband's murders on."

"why?" you scoffed. "what good would that do you? or me for that matter? they already think i did it."

"that's cause you did do it." thomas said snidely, taking a sip of whiskey. "and i can't afford to have harry looking for new acts while i'm trying to conquer london. he needs to mind the pub and you need to mind the crowds of men that come here to gawk 'atcha."

you bit down on your tongue again.

"do we have an understanding?" he asked. you sat with it for second, thomas was offering to get you off the hook for damn near free, it was too good to be true.

"i'm not working for free." you countered.

"course you're not, you're working to dig yourself and me out of the hole you've put us in."

"three shows a week." you said. yeah beggars couldn't be choosers, but that didn't mean you had to starve and sleep on the streets especially because if there was one person who could get you the fuck out of this mess, it was thomas shelby. his eyes narrowed at your half-assed attempt to negotiate, like he was at least pretending to think it over.

"five shows a week, you get three hundred and i keep your bonny ass out of the jailhouse." he said finally. you sighed and sat down to shake his hand. tommy put his cigarette out and shook your hand. "you better get ready." he said. you nodded going to leave till he spoke again. "and i'd take a bath, love, you've got a show tonight and not even the soldiers will want to touch you smelling like that."

you scoffed. what a fucker.

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