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divinekangaroo · 3 months

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Monsters Vs Aliens (Giantess Premise) fusion Peaky Blinders, Tommy x Lizzie, for everyone who's contributed to the fanon that Tommy really likes tall women...

Music and chatter from the church fading, Ada pushed through the wagon circle, the parked cars. Tethered horses whickered uneasily in the shade of trees. A little further, buildings out of sight, she found a solitary white shoe, strap broken.

‘Lizzie!’

Months of conversations, mutual counselling, doctors and more months of balancing medications, a new house and a holiday just after Ruby was weaned. Ada might’ve had doubts still about her brother, but didn’t think Lizzie would run.

‘Lizzie!’

White flickering through the trees, deeper. Ada went as swiftly as she could in her own heels. If Lizzie hadn’t run, then maybe someone took her; certain people paid attention when politicians with certain backgrounds made unwary public announcements about looking forward to weddings and things like that.

Then Lizzie clawed her way to standing, kicking over a clump of mushrooms, long hair loose from the flower crown and now full of leaves, dress dirty, and both feet bare and stained brilliant green with the long lush grass she’d just come through.

‘Look at the state of you.’ Absconding or abduction off the agenda, the next crisis lined up: less than fifteen minutes to walk the aisle. ‘What the hell happened?’

‘I don’t know. I went for a walk, clear my head. What’s— Oh, my God. Ada. So dizzy.’ Lizzie sniffed, clutching Ada’s hands. ‘I didn’t miss it, did I? I didn’t fuck it up?’

‘Of course not. Come on. Do you have your other shoe? All right, Polly will work it out, and the hairdresser’s still here, it’ll be all fixed in no time.’ Fuck. Neither she nor Polly would have shoes that fit Lizzie’s giant feet. Ada gnawed a nail; maybe one of the Lees. She’d ask Johnny. ‘Are you all right, Lizzie?’

Lizzie looked at her, a little wild-eyed. ‘I’m fine.’

Arthur cleared his throat, again. Tommy tucked his watch away, again. He glared at his brother, ready to say something slicing about punctuality, when the string quartet finally raised their tune.

Instead of falling silent at the appearance of the bride, half the church whooped and hollered, wolf-whistling. The other half promptly joined in competition, petals, hymnbooks and pamphlets volleying both ways across the aisle, the opposite of hostility, as the canon drowned in the chaos. Johnny patted Lizzie’s arm and darted over to the string quartet, grinning, a chat and wide gestures. The four nodded, discussed, and immediately started – a fucking shanty?

Lizzie cackled, gleeful, as Johnny scurried back, hooked her arm again. The boisterous pews fell into line with the new tune, stomping and clapping, shouting in rhythm.

—wedding on the meadow, the finest ever seen—

Tommy watched wide-eyed as his wedding, his fucking wedding, everything exactly as Lizzie wanted and absolutely no hidden agendas, slipped entirely out of his hands.

—priest spake words as sweet as the breeze, ‘neath those ancient, whispering trees; blessings from t’fae and the leprechaun's smile—

Sauntering mostly up but sometimes down that aisle, casual as if at market, Lizzie waved and laughed, ‘Maggie, you made it! Donna-aa! Michael, look at you, all shiny!’ She paused multiple times to chat and embrace people, kissing cheeks.

Tommy stared at her feet, which were bare and grass-stained. Somewhere over his shoulder, he could feel Arthur nearly killing himself not to laugh. Charlie ran circles around Jeremiah that even Polly couldn’t contain.

‘S’good,’ Arthur said, conciliatory, as finally Lizzie reached the altar and everyone fell silent after a final spasm of stomping. ‘S’happy, see, brother? Remember happiness?’

Tommy stared past Jeremiah’s shoulder at the man suffering on the cross.

Eventually, they reached the part where they were supposed to face each other and speak the vows. Mind unacceptably blank, Tommy found himself hard-pressed not to reach out and cup Lizzie’s cheek, which would be a suitable stalling action. Brush whatever that little smudge of dirt or makeup was from the corner of her eye.

Frowned. He would have to reach up. A few inches here and there, all right, but she didn’t even have shoes on.

Much further up.

Tommy stepped away. ‘Lizzie. What’s happening?’

Her face fell in response to his. ‘Tommy? Why are you shrinking?’

‘It's not me. It’s you.’

Lizzie’s shoulders hit the rafters and she hunched in reaction, ducking her head, dress splitting down the seams. Tommy staggered, Arthur already with an arm around Charlie and pulling Tommy away from the near-radius of whatever this was, the flash of Jeremiah in his robes sweeping to the far wall. Ruby, Ruby – no, but she was all right, in Polly’s arms at the church rear. The nearest pews cleared in a rush, some screams, as Lizzie’s heel pushed through them, one knee down and the other knee tucked under her chin, dress and boned undergarments suddenly exploding in confetti shreds. The flower crown fell like autumn leaves, and Lizzie curled tighter to avoid any further damage to the architecture.

After a while, the screaming slowed. Stopped, deprived of the originating shock. Not to mention they were a fairly hardy crew, his and hers. Lizzie uncurled slightly, those huge green eyes wide. Fixed on him in horror. She must be so embarrassed, she was barely able to stay modest, curled like that.

Tommy could see straight up between her legs. He could—

Abruptly, Tommy turned and shoved Arthur’s head down, away from the view, Charlie already tucked faceless into Arthur’s shoulder. Jeremiah had his gaze politely averted. Back, to the shocked watching family and friends. To Lizzie, stunned and terrified.

‘Is that it?’ Tommy demanded. To the pews, threw his arms wide. Couldn’t stop pacing, turning, didn’t know what he was looking for. Answers weren’t likely to be had in a situation like this. ‘Is that fucking it? You lot, sit the fuck back down, on the floor if you have to. We're not done here. Jeremiah, what’s next? In front of the altar, man. Come on. We’re finishing this.’ Forward, he hadn’t come this far to—Jesus, those fucking legs, filling his periphery no matter which way he turned. ‘Everyone shut your fucking eyes! Not you, Lizzie. We’re fucking finishing this!’

No hope for the rings Arthur held out, one hand over his eyes. Tommy put his on, then forced Lizzie’s ring onto his little finger as far as it would go so it wouldn’t be lost, which wasn’t very far at all; such slender fingers she’d had. Then there was still the obligatory. Rapid and fruitless, multiple scenarios raced through his mind, scaling that ankle, climbing hair like a rope, settling for kissing any portion of abundant flesh in near reach, when Lizzie put an end to the mad loop in his head by gently lay her palm flat on the floor, lips writhing in some unreadable expression as their eyes met across the distance.

It was inevitable. Tommy climbed on.

Celebration at the wagons in full swing from the sound, Lizzie kicked her feet as gently as possible in the river, trying not to scream, or cry, or something. If she stomped hard enough, the whole river receded from her foot and showed the bare mud below: Moses parting the Red fucking Sea.

It was a dream, wasn't it? Some kind of queer nightmare. The thought might be the only thing stopping her from panicking.

That, and Tommy.

After the ceremony, he’d immediately launched into a rapid-fire debate with Arthur and Johnny deciding what would be cheaper to fix to get her out: the roof, the stained glass window or the wall. They’d decided the wall, then argued more on which wall was non-loadbearing. Johnny dragged in some cousin who did masonry work, and despite the pleas his speciality was dry stone walling in fields, forced him to make a call. Lizzie then pushed the wall out with all the ease of squashing a sandcastle.

They’d gone very silent at that, shrouded in masonry dust, Tommy with a look she’d never seen on him before.

Lucky she’d wanted a celebration in summer, more outdoors than indoors: no rooves or walls to deal with in the short term. Polly rousted the women, kinfolk and Lizzie’s old street friends together without any tolerance for comment or complaint, getting them working on unpicking multiple skirts and restructuring them into a patchwork dress, if barely enough to cover the pertinent bits. After that, Lizzie ate the entire wedding feast, given she’d not eaten breakfast or lunch out of nerves. Johnny rounded the men with an odd kind of glee, and they’d all gone out somewhere for a couple of hours and returned madly drunk with a fortune of live and dead animals, probably stripping the nearby farms, one way or the other.

Lizzie moved so she could see Tommy. He inched closer again.

‘Will we wake up tomorrow, and it’ll all be back to normal?’

‘Lizzie. How would I know?’

He didn’t sound upset in any way. Just steady.

‘You’re taking this very easily, that’s all.’

‘How else should I be taking it?’

‘I just can’t believe I’ve ruined it again. My perfect white wedding. Did everything right, every fucking thing. Ruined anyway, now and after. Wedding and marriage.’ She couldn't bring herself to ask why he'd gone through with it. He'd been almost tearing himself to bits with some kind of emotion in there, until they'd sealed it with that very strange kiss, him crouched on one knee and one hand down on her palm for balance as she'd lifted him, a position as confident and instinctive as if he'd done this before, then he felt along her lips with his hands, until—

After, he'd relaxed.

‘Yeah? How’s it ruined?’

‘Oh, come on.’

‘A bullet would ruin it. This isn’t a bullet.’

So quiet, maybe she wasn’t supposed to hear. Lizzie went quiet, too.

‘Need a bigger house, that’s all.’

Lizzie laughed. Stopped, desperately, before it could become hysterical. She moved again, trying to keep him in line of sight. She kept panicking she’d sit on him or something horrendous, but he stood so close, little feather-light touches on her shin or, when she was sitting, her thigh, here and there, as if trying to keep her grounded, and every time she moved away he’d inch closer again.

On cue, he inched closed again, that tiny tickling touch along her thigh sending goosebumps chasing all over.

‘Maybe mobile scaffolding.’

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Tommy?’

‘Yeah?’

‘What am I supposed to do?’

There was a long pause.

‘If you lie down,’ he started. Stopped.

‘You can’t—’

Lizzie caught his gaze. A beat.

He licked his lips. Cracked his neck, which had been craning to look up at her.

‘Oh.'

‘It’s a nice night, Mrs Shelby,’ Tommy said, almost absently, abstracted, and without any particular emphasis.

‘For sleeping out?’

‘Who said anything about sleeping?’

Checking to ensure she wouldn’t destroy a small civilisation in her shadow, Lizzie carefully lay down.

#peaky blinders #tommy x lizzie #my writing #possibly crack possibly kink #really the most crack is the idea they'd go to therapy and have a happy wedding #moses parting the red sea used frequently in fics for what tommy does in a crowd i thought; yeah perfect a crazy reason to use it #kids holiday movies: this movie.the Asshole Boyfriend really didn't know what to do with his Giant Lady but the animators definitely knew

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ghosttsar · 11 days

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CONVERSATIONS WITH THE ELDEST SHELBY IN — LAWS — ft. @critica1success / @fearstouch / @critica1neutra1

ARTHUR : I fell down the stairs...

EM : I hope you're okay.

TOMMY : Stop falling down the stairs.

ROWENA : How'd the ground taste ?

PERSONALS DO NOT REBLOG

#ii. ( visage ) : to leave a hemorrhage of violets in your wake #vi. ( peaky blinders ) : i've made myself a bird of prey #iii. ( thomas / critica1neutra1 ) : i'll look for you wherever the burn marks form #iv. ( &. thomas / critica1neutra1 ) : maybe i'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new #iv. ( &. arthur / critica1success ) : god forgives ; i don't #iii. ( arthur / critica1success ) : rage &. ruin ; sorrow etched into the space where bone meets muscle #iv. ( &. emilie / fearstouch ) : if i told you that a flower bloomed in a dark room would you trust it #iii. ( emilie / fearstouch ) : maybe we're just blood ; whatever that's for #i. ( crack ) : fey's guide to troubled bird #i. ( edit ) : what happens to anything beautiful #bringing back the greatest incorrect quote i ever made #and they all look so good in this psd it's wild

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shelbydelrey · 2 years

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who fucking made this??? 🤣

#the way this crack me up #the internet is a wonderful place sometimes #meme #memes #peaky blinders #peaky fookin blinders #tommy shelby

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scorpiussage · 1 year

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Tommy in Wonderland - part 1/?

Tommy wakes up in a wholly unfamiliar place and honestly he’s over it.

Tommy wakes up in a wholly unfamiliar place, which would be a concern in its own right, yeah? But it’s sort of overshadowed by the fact that he’s wearing a dress. It’s the kind of thing that his sister would wear when she was just a girl, a blue wool dress with a white pinafore over top. The bloody thing barely reaches his knees and some fucker has thought it funny to also put white stockings on him and pretty black ankle boots.

He’s going to fucking shoot someone in the face. He doesn’t know who, but he’s sure as fuck going to find someone regardless of if they’re guilty or not.

Standing up makes his face flood with rage and shame in equal measure, and he viciously tears at the dress he’s wearing until he has it thrown off. Underneath isn’t much better as it seems whomever has orchestrated this disgusting joke, has also dressed him in women’s underthings. The pretty silk bloomers and matching shift make him genuinely reconsider the dress he’s just abandoned on the ground.

With a snarl that ends in a cussing fit, he yanks the stupid dress back on and does not give any entertainment to the abandoned pinafore.

Crossing his arms over his chest (in some bizarre attempt to maintain dignity) he assesses his surroundings. He’s in some unfamiliar garden that has these tall, neatly groomed rose bushes that stand taller than him. (He pointedly ignores the thought that John would remark it isn’t a hard feat, that.)

Turning around he tries to start making a plan, whatever that may be, of what he should do. It seems he’s been dumped in the middle of this rose maze and with no visible injuries. He’s not sure if that makes him even angrier or not, that someone did this to him and didn’t even have the decency to break some of his ribs.

Turning around again, he catches a glimpse of a scarlet coat tail twisting around the corner. Victim found, Tommy storms after the figure, fully intent on beating whomever it is to death with his bare hands. As he races around the corner of one of the maze paths, he stops in stunned disbelief. Standing across the way and dressed in some horrendously gauche red suit, is inspector Campbell. You know, the guy who his aunt Polly murdered. The man is muttering to himself and staring down at his pocket watch. Oh, and he also has bunny ears.

Tommy sort of teeters back and forth if he should just turn around and go back to that little clearing he woke up in. He doesn’t rightly know if he has the mental energy to deal with whatever the fuck this is.

“Oh, I’m so fucking late,” Campbell mutters to himself nervously.

Deciding to just say fuck it, Tommy approaches him with threatening stomps of his pretty, black booted feet.

“Oi!” He snarls, catching the other man’s attention, “What the actual fuck is happening?!”

Campbell’s face pales and he takes off with surprising speed away from Tommy, “I’m fucking late!”

Standing there in disbelief, Tommy has a moment to wonder if perhaps he’s died and this is hell. If it is, he needs to have a talk with the costumer.

Chasing after Campbell, Tommy calls out, “Wait! Don’t fucking run from me you goddamn coward!”

As they race through the maze, Campbell never once struggling to find his path, it grows darker and darker as night approaches unseasonably fast.

Just when Tommy (winded and aching) considers giving up the chase, he sees Campbell jump down into some hole at the base of a tree. Approaching the hole cautiously, he peers down into the dark and hears the faint echo of Campbell’s voice declaring how late he is.

Looking back at the rose maze that never seemed to end no matter how long he and Campbell ran through it, he considers his options. Not only does he not know where he is, he’s unarmed and with the black of night having settled around him, he feels anxious in a way he hasn’t felt in a very long time.

The hole, however, poses its own trepidations. It looks and feels too much like the tunnels they dug in France and he swore he’d never, ever climb into another again.

As Campbell’s voice grows fainter and fainter, so too does Tommy’s window to make a decision. With a quick prayer, Tommy tilts himself forward and lets himself fall into the hole.

#basically a crack fic but im bored #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby imagines #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders fic #tommy shelby fic

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mydear-corinthian · 14 days

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Protection || Thomas Shelby x reader

Synopsis: You were protecting your son, Charlie when Billy Kimber's men ambushed your shared home. Pairing: Thomas Shelby x reader Warnings: ANGST w/ comfort, reader gets injured, gun violence, mentions of blood, swearing, Grace's being mentioned once - s2 spoiler Notes: Not proofread, grammatical errors, GIF is mine Click here to find the main masterlist. Click here to find the PEAKY BLINDERS masterlist.

As another regular evening took place, a sense of peace descended over Thomas Shelby and his wife's shared home. While Tommy was busy with his business and papers, you found yourself wandering the enormous area of the estate with your young son, Charlie.

Marriage with Tommy wasn't for the faint of heart. You were highly aware of the ongoing danger that accompanied his lifestyle, the circulating threats and enemies that followed your husband's every step. Despite the obvious risks your love for him remained strong. You treasured him not as an infamous gangster, but as the man who made you feel valued, protected, and appreciated.

There was nothing but silence in the huge home; you could hear the clock ticking and the curtains flapping as the breeze shook the cloth. It was a Saturday night, so the maids weren't working, leaving you and Charlie alone. Charlie's eyelids were going drowsy as you cuddled him, softly caressing his back and humming his favorite lullaby. Looking at the clock, you realized how late it was, and Tommy hadn't returned home yet.

You heard the main entrance door open with a loud bang. Although it seemed strange, you assumed Tommy was just returning from a stressful day at work. Charlie woke up from his sleep and let out a loud cry when you heard gunfires as you were ready to leave your shared room. You were so terrified that you thought your legs were paralyzed. Without wasting any time, you grabbed Charlie and put his little body against your shoulder, giving him a tight hug.

With Charlie in one hand, you dashed to the door, locked it almost instantly, and took out the Enfield No. 2 six-bullet handgun that your husband had given you as a birthday present from the nightstand's drawer. You grab the gun and duck into the shared bedroom's bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

The room was filled with the sound of the little Shelby's piercing cries, which seemed to come from every corner. You tried so hard to soothe him, cooing softly, but all it did was make his cries louder and more echoing through the walls. As you tried to calm him, your hands trembled with fear and your fingers stuttering, a sign of your growing terror running down your face. You felt powerless in the face of Charlie's constant tears, and you started to search for a way out of the mess.

You started nervously to pray while holding a child in your arms. Tears were beginning to fall from your eyes and the prayers were mumbling on your lips.

Charlie and you were found by whoever was in your shared room as you heard the door slam. Breathless, you lowered your son onto the empty, shallow bath tub behind you and spoke to him to stop crying. and that you will return quickly. When the toilet door opened, two armed men in a hideous black suit and a top hat appeared; they were Billy Kimber workers.

One of the armed men circled around you and exclaimed, "Aye look, it's Mrs. Shelby," as you aimed your handgun at him, your hands shaking with terror. You've never been skilled with a gun. Tommy giving you a gun like that surprised you. He would not stop stating, "You'll use that in the future."

and perhaps the future was today.

"Suprised a Shelby doesn't know how to use a gun. How about we gift Thomas Shelby the lifeless body of his dear wife?" the man laughed. You raised the gun without thinking, your hand steady from the rush of adrenaline pumping through you, and took aim at the man's skull. The bullet cracked sharply and shot out of the barrel, piercing the air and hitting its target with terrifying accuracy. With a bleak proof to your determination, fortune smiled on you as the bullet hit accurate, plunging into the man's forehead with fatal force and instantly taking his life.

Attempting to fire another shot to the other man, you missed.

Suddenly, you heard a bang go off but paid no mind. Attempting to shoot again, you finally succeded; three bullets all over the now lifeless man's torso. The sight of the lifeless bodies made you feel sick but you chose to ignore it as you dropped your used gun to go and grab Charlie and ask for help. You grabbed your son right away, immediately hugging him and kissed his little forehead.

Suddenly, you heard a familiar voice calling out your name; Tommy.

His voice reaching out for you made you sigh with relief. Your husband ran toward you as your legs found their way to the stairs to return to him. You embraced him, resting your head on his chest and taking in his manly scent as you exhaled. "Oh god, Tommy.."

She took Charlie out of your arms and gave you a minute to rest in Tommy's calming presence in Polly's comforting presence. Tommy's hand gently cradled the back of your head as you leaned into him, seeking solace from the chaos of the moment in his gentle, comforting touch. His voice, a comforting whisper that passed through the chaos, whispered, "You're safe now, love."

He felt a warm wetness on his dark blue vest, making him break the hug to see what it was.

Tommy's eyes widened in fear at what he saw, and he let out a gasp. Once an image of elegance, your immaculate white evening gown now had a scarlet stain of blood creeping across it, the color standing out against the fabric. The room seemed to spin in a dizzying twister, threatening to paralyze you as the color faded from your face, your face was pale and your vision seemed to spin like a twister.

"Did you get shot?" he worriedly asked. Confused by his question, you looked down at your stomach, seeing the color red slowly colonizing your white evening gown.

"I - I um.. Tommy, I feel dizzy.." your fragile legs gave up, his strong arms catched you almost immediately.

Your eyes were starting to drop, your body was slowly getting cold, your muscles giving up.

"T - Tommy, why is so cold..?"

Fuck, he mentally cursed at the sight that met his eyes. It was as if God had judged him once more. Grace - this seemed so familiar. His fingers were shaking with fear and worry, his eyes were beginning to water, and his heart had stopped.

"We need a medic!" Polly shouted.

He tries to calm himself down by caressing the strands of your hair before tucking it behind your ear. "Please, stay." he begged.

His frustration was boiling over and his impatience was burning in the way he spoke. He gave orders for the medics with a strong edge to his voice, desperation and anger infusing each word as he demanded their immediate presence.

"Tommy.." you softly called his name before darkness took you.

Your stomach hurt and your brain throbbed when you woke up. Beside you, you noticed your husband uncomfortably sleeping on the wooden chair. You noticed that the ash tray on the table stand next to you was filled with used cigarettes, indicating that you had been out for a while. You were trying to sit up and Tommy woke up to the sound of your pained moans. His bright blue eyes met yours. Eyebags developed under his eyes as a result of struggling to sleep due to the chance that you wouldn't wake up anymore.

"Easy, love." he said.

In an attempt to prevent him from harming you, he cradled your back so you could lie down peacefully once more—as though you were a piece of glass that would shatter the moment it was touched.

He deeply blames himself for what happened to you. If only he was there that night. If only he went home early, you and Charlie wouldn't be in this situation.

"Where's Charlie?" you asked right away, your eyes looking everywhere in the room to see if your child was there or not.

"He's with Aunt Pol, (y/n). He's safe with her, don't worry."

With both of his hands clasped around yours, he sobbed out loud in front of you, unable to stop himself from crying. He felt responsible, guilty, and like a terrible partner for failing to give you protection.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry.." he cried as he apologized, kissing your hands.

You smiled softly as you placed your right hand on his face for him to look at you.

"It's not your fault, Tommy. The good thing is that me and Charlie are safe." reassuring, you gave him a weak smile.

"I thought I lost you." he exhaled in exhaustion, standing up as he kissed your head.

"I would never leave you, Tommy."

"Please don't."

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #peaky blinders angst #angst with a happy ending #x reader

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your-nanas-house · 4 months

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I have an idea for a smutty dark/Dom Tommy fic if you're open to writing it! I'm not sure on a plot but involing him wearing and keeping on his leather gloves, thank you in advance!!!

Yessssss, love it. Thank you so much! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Not a virgin anymore

(credits to the owner of the gif)

◇ Pairing: Dark!Tommy Shelby X Finn's girlfriend!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, age gap (both off age), fingering, dry humping, mean Tommy

◇ Summary: Tommy checks if Finn's girl is as pure as he claims.

◇ Note: Sorry if it took me so long. A huge thank you to @mrkdvidal1989 that helped me so much, you helped me so much with my mood and the writing of this. Thank you 😭 Also It's pretty much a collab.

“I think I wanna marry her” Finn informed his brothers without being able to hold back a bright grin, his eyes scanning them as he waited for a reply, any advice or.. a comment of any kind at least.

He knew that he was quite young to think about marriage, since he hit adulthood just two years before, but the emotions he felt for this young woman were true.

As no one opened their mouths to say something, just continuing to glance at each other, Finn spoke up again ”I fookin’ love her” his mood still so eager and happy.. like a puppy in love.

Still nothing, everyone was mostly waiting for Thomas to say something, but the older man kept staring blankly at his younger brother, seated on his armchair.. legs open and arms resting there, supporting his head and cigarette as if he was lost in thoughts.

“Nothing to say?” Finn asked, getting impatient, his eyes glancing between the older ones, Tommy and Arthur.

As the youngest brother got clearly frustrated, Arthur cleared his throat.

“Hmm… you fookin’ know her for how long, eh? Nearly six months?” he reminded his brother, mocking him before being interrupted quickly

“SO? When John married he didn’t even know Esme’s damn name!” Finn quickly pointed out, already getting riled up by the situation.

Fin always did that. Hating how his brothers treated him because of the age difference, completely oblivious to the fact that he… was acting very childish too often for Tommy to see him as an equal to John or Arthur.

His poorly thought-out decisions and lack of discipline when it came to listening to orders of his older brothers were playing a huge part in how Thomas viewed him.

”Have you thought about the responsibilities that come with becoming a Shelby, Fin? Have you already introduced them to your chosen one? Risk Our ways and how we deal with things?.. Have you thought about that? Huh?” He pressed, leaning forward as his patience ran short with how snappy Fin was. Lack of respect was just another thing he despised in his younger brother.

”I-I…” The young man stammered out, looking for any line to defend himself.. unsuccessfully, making Thomas scoff while putting out his cigarette into an ashtray.

”What’s her name again?...” He rasped out, his now free hand tapping impatiently against the fabric of the armchair, his cold gaze piercing his brother's face without a hint of any positive emotions.

“Y/n..Y/n Y/l/n” Finn replied in a murmur, his older brother’s comments affecting him more than he wished they would.

The name kept repeating in Thomas’ head, before a cocky amused smirk cracked his serious expression.

“Now I get why yer want to marry her” he chuckled bitterly leaning forward, face to face with Finn.

“She’s as good as her mother, eh?” he asked mockingly, pouring himself a glass of whiskey “You don’t marry whores, you just tame them, Finn. Am I right?” he asked his other two brothers with amusement in his voice, not really expecting an answer.

His mischievous mood changed quickly as Finn suddenly got up from his seat.

“She’s not!.. She’s not like her mother.. She's a good girl, goes to church, helps around and works in the local bakery." The youngest Peaky Blinder informed them, narrowing his eyes at Tommy’s reaction. Watching with a clenched jaw as the older man hummed mockingly, gulping fast down the strong drink before he spoke again, not changing his attitude.

“A good girl, huh… I bet”, making the other laugh at Finn as well.

“It’s true! You… I’ll make you fookin’ meet her”

It took him just a couple of days to organise a meeting between them, inviting them all to her house. It was a pretty cosy, little, modest house settled in Small Heath. Nothing fancy but it was visible that the people living there were doing their very best to keep it nice.

The male part of the family of Shelby's stood on the porch on the agreed day and time.

Their expensive suits looking odd contrasting with the domestic and homey look of the building and little wooden decorations standing in the garden.

Finn was smiling, standing at the forefront of the group while Arthur and John kept joking back and forth, in front of Tommy, whose face remained serious and uninterested as he waited.

After knocking on the door, they didn't have to wait long before an old woman, probably in her 60s, appeared in the doorway. A friendly smile lingering on her wrinkled face that looked great accompanied by the dark pink dress she wore.

”Good morning, Mister” She spoke up seeing Finn, earning a polite smile from him. They clearly had met each other previously, so she wasn't very alarmed by the sight of four men in suits standing at the door. “Good morning, nana” Finn greeted, removing his hat for respect, cleaning his shoes before entering the familiar house, heading directly towards the living room.

John was the next to enter the house, along with Arthur, a smirk still on his face due to the jokes they were sharing previously

“Good morning, na— Mrs. Y/l/n” he corrected himself quickly as Arthur slapped the back of his head “Be fookin’ polite” he murmured under his breath, smiling at the older woman before kissing her hand as he bowed his head slightly “Good morning, ma’am, thank you for inviting us into your house” he stated, winking before following the direction Finn took, not noticing the weird side eye Tommy gave him as he cleaned his soles before walking in as well with the same unbothered expression.

”Mornin’” Thomas nodded, keeping his cap on. After all he didn't come here for a tea, he had his own purpose.

Purpose of proving Finn how wrong he was when it comes to little Y/n.

The older woman’s eyes widened as she felt the weird, intimidating aura surrounding the middle brother. Mumbling her greeting, she quickly disappeared into the kitchen, chatting with Arthur and John as she put the kettle on the stove.

As Finn tried to head towards the same direction, Tommy's calloused hand grabbed his shoulder roughly. Turning him to face him, he leaned to his level. The serious and business expression on his face.

”I’m going to have a chat with your little fiancé, eh? You stay there and entertain the old woman and your brothers while I check if she is who you say she is.” he stated harshly in a fierce voice, his eyes glancing at the older woman and back at him before messing up his hair as if he was still a child.

Ignoring completely the worried expression on his face, because Thomas was aware that Finn knew better than to ask questions.

The younger brother stood still for a moment before nodding with a resigned expression, turning around and slowly walking away towards the kitchen. Practically leaving his girlfriend in the lion's mouth.

It was Tommy’s first time in that house so he didn’t really know where to go, luckily for him Y/n’s soft voice led him to what it looked like a small studio. A pretty dark room, with only one window which was close, it was decorated with lots of books and a wooden desk where the young woman was standing behind, holding an old phone, busy talking with someone.

”Yes, aunty. I'll let her know” she replied with a smile, despite the fact that the person on the other side of the phone couldn't see it, her hand busy playing with the tiny golden chain with a cross. Her eyes moving from the spot she was staring at to move closer to the desk “I have to leave you now, we were supposed to have guests today.. I think they are here already” she informed her, glancing towards the door, getting startled by Tommy’s figure standing there as if he owned the place.

He didn’t say anything to interrupt her call, his gloved hands just woven together in front of him, his head tilted to the side as he watched the girl.

“I love you too, auntie. Bye” she murmured, hanging up the call to give Tommy’s her complete attention

“Mr Shelby— Welcome, I didn’t hear you come in…” she started, eyeing him suspiciously, her innocent girl facade. staring back at him.

“Nana doesn’t like when people wear caps inside of her house… it’s a way to show respect” she pointed out, already a bit annoyed by his attitude. Thomas chuckled hearing her words, as he adjusted the peaky cap on his head.

”Nana didn't offer me a cup of tea, which isn't really polite either, eh?” He spoke up with a hint of mockery before entering her room and closing the door behind, making sure to lock it.

“She’s probably still preparing it, we have fresh baked cookies, though.” Y/n pointed out as her expression softened. Her demeanour changed as she tried to keep her temper down. It should have been a calm day but a lot of things that set her off happened, so she wasn’t in the right state of mind to deal with Tommy fucking Shelby.

Be proper, Y/n thought just like she was always told. Plastering a small smile on her face, her eyes moving from Thomas’ face to the door and back. “They are in the living room, sir,”

Tommy chuckled at her words, walking slowly further into her room, looking around with a grin as he hummed.

“That's one way to decorate a girl's room, eh?” He scoffed, eyeing her suggestively, touching the colourful figurines standing on shelves. ”Definitely furnished to be a whore's own.” he casually pointed out, checking the books casually. “Guess they paid your mom good enough, huh? Family business it is, sweetheart?” the older man moved his gaze towards her standing form, smirking amused at her blank stare.

“Pardon?” she stuttered out through her utter shock, her head tilting to the side.“You here to disrespect a dead woman, Mr Shelby? If so.. You can fucking leave!” she spat out angrily, staring blankly at him for a couple of minutes before sighing and looking away, playing nervously with her cross while she headed to the door.

“My condolences… I’m here because of the sick idea you put in my little brother’s head” Tommy spoke in an emotionless tone, reaching for a pack of cigarettes in his pocket.. Lighting one without even asking for approval.

“Finn talked about you quite a lot lately, speaking about how pure, innocent, religious… and a good girl you are. You got him quite smitten, eh?” Thomas pointed out after inhaling deeply, his hand rubbing his chin “Well… what I was wondering about was how much of this is actually true.” He murmured, meeting her gaze with a smirk as he moved closer, hand reaching for her chin. “How much of a little saint you actually are, eh? Sweetheart.” he added, blowing out the smoke in her face, his fingers digging painfully into her skin as she looked into his empty, blue eyes.

Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed at his harsh tone, her eyes narrowing as her mouth remained shut. Struggling in his grip, she tried to free herself, unsuccessfully.

She was losing her patience quite quickly and it wasn't something that happened frequently… but there she was, angrily standing in front of what was the most feared man of Birmingham.

“I am.. I'm.. intact, if that's your concern, Mr. Shelby” She informed him in a sarcastically pleasant tone, a hint of harsh arrogance clear as day, caused by how annoyed she was by the conversation they were having.

Her small hands curling into fists, squeezing tightly when Tommy just nodded almost mockingly, his icy stare moving across her body slowly, carefully measuring each part of her body. Not worried about gentlemanly manners, Thomas stared, as if he was checking her out.

“Sure” he simply said, the tone of his voice intact, but the look in his blue eyes wasn't trying to hide how little he believed her. Putting out his cigarette, he threw it on the floor while keeping eye contact, showing disrespect to her words and the place she lived. Simply because he could.

Y/n gasped at his behaviour, quickly moving towards his silhouette as she pushed her finger against his chest, threatening.

“I fucking am, fucking check if you don’t believe me.” she whispered yelled, staring in his eyes boldly as he looked down at her, not a single emotion visible on his face. Almost like he was a statue carved from stone.

Tommy’s eyebrows raised slightly, his cold stare piercing her own, before lowering down to her chest which kept heaving with her deep breaths, caused purely by the anger she felt.

His hand moved to the edge of her dress, grabbing onto the fabric as he tried to raise it up, making Y/n realise his intention quickly and act impulsively… her hand made an impact with his cheek suddenly, throwing his face to the side slightly. Only after a second she realised what she's done, eyes widening in fear at the sight of his skin turning red.

The loud noise echoing in the room, as Tommy’s, now, dark gaze met her fearful eyes. Not a word was exchanged as his hands grabbed her roughly when she tried to escape from him, manhandling her smaller body harshly against the wooden surface of the desk. One hand kept her body flat against it, pressing painfully on the centre of her back, while his other gloved hand pulled up her dress.. revealing her white panties to him.

A hum of approval escaped his lips as he kneaded her flesh, ignoring her whimpers and pleads to stop. The view in front of him, so strangely innocent and pure, made his cock hardening in his pants, in a quite painful way.

Lowering his icy eyes with his hand he moved her thighs apart, rubbing slowly two thick fingers against her clothed folds.

”Look at that, already wet” he cooed mockingly as he moved his fingers, spreading her wetness by using the fabric of her panties.

His left hand digging in the flesh of her covered back, to hold her down and to keep his urges under control. It took much more self-control than he thought it would, not expecting that a girl that pretty would take interest in his inexperienced little brother.

Her eyes were tightly shut, forcing her mouth to stay closed, to make sure she wasn't making any noises. Her mind was a mess as his hands travelled down her heat, touching the places that nobody else ever saw.

As soon as his thumb pressed on her clit, her hips involuntarily jerked forward as she bit her bottom lip, trying to muffle the sigh that so desperately tried to escape her lips.

”So needy, eh? What would your grandma think?” Thomas chuckled, feeling how her body tensed, her hands trying to reach him, and push him off, unsuccessfully.

The young woman was so focused on trying to make him stop that she didn’t notice the moment when he pulled her panties to the side, allowing the cold breeze of the room to hit her wet bare pussy.

“No, please– sir!” she yelled in a moment of panic, Tommy’s free hand quickly covering her mouth as he toyed with her folds, opening her so that he could take a look that sent shivers down his spine. That sure was a pretty pussy, he thought while daring to move his index finger to her entrance.

Her sweet nectar wetting his gloved hand, making it even more noticeable “Look at you, sweetheart” he cooed mockingly again, as his finger pushed slightly deeper, in need to find out the truth.

Angling it slightly to the side, with a tip of his digit he could feel the thin barrier that was in the way of her tight tunnel.

Shaking his head, he leaned towards her, his wet lips brushing against the shell of her ear.

”So innocent, aren't you? Such a small, untouched cunt.” He breathed out, the urge to fuck her becoming increasingly stronger.

Letting out a breath, he pressed his index finger inside without even warning her… just grunting quietly into her ear, as she bit down his hand because of the pain.

So tight and warm, he thought. Tommy could feel how wet she was as he moved his gloved finger against her walls, biting on his bottom lip as he kept going further.

By the way she was moving it looked like it hurt her, as if she was feeling the burning sensation. One felt by a pure woman when her cherry was about to be popped.

“I guess you were right, honey” Tommy hummed, now circling her clit with her gloved hand, his middle finger helping his index one to feel her hymen before pressing against it harshly. Leather covering his hands caused his fingers to appear even thicker, stretching her pussy out so much that they both had to fight the urge to groan at the feeling.

Tommy's cock was fully hard at this point, leaking with precum into his underwear as his fingers explored the depths of her virgin pussy.

His eyes daring to close, so that his mind could wander in places it shouldn’t. The mere thought of his thick cock wrapped and squeezed for dear life by her pussy was driving him wild, making his finger start to thrust faster as he moved his hips against nothing, just unable to fight the fantasy that he was inside of her precious cunt.

“Fuck, that’s it, honey” he praised, moving his wrist in a quick motion, leaning closer again. His hot breath hitting her neck with each exhale. ”I knew you were a little slut.” He rasped out in a shaky voice, struggling to keep his composure while feeling her pussy clench down on his fingers like a vice.

“Can feel your filthy cunt squeezing my fingers. Yer fookin’ close, aren’t ye?” he growled in a low tone, parroting back mockingly her noises of pleasure.

Y/n cried out at the humiliation and the overwhelming feeling in her lower belly. Despite her desperate attempts to not give into it, she couldn't fight it as he kept fucking her with his thick, gloved fingers.

”Give it to me. Stop fighting it.” He commanded through his teeth, as he felt his cock throbbing impatiently in his pants, demanding attention.

”N-no!” She pleaded quietly, trying her best to suppress the tension that pushed her on the edge of her first orgasm. Breathing deeply, she caught his wrist, trying to stop him, but Tommy just laughed quietly.

”There you go” He whispered, leaving a small kiss on her temple before shoving his fingers knuckle deep, fucking her with hard and quick strokes, curling his fingers up to hit her g spot with each thrust.

His other hand was clamped over her mouth, which she ended up biting as he made her cum so hard, that just a couple seconds into the orgasm, her body shook and vision went blurry as her juices shot out on his hand, wetting his glove when she squirted for the very first time in her life.

Y/n’s eyes rolled in the back of her head as she trembled, muscles relaxing as the feeling got… way too much. She was too long gone in her pleasure to notice at first the sound of his belt clicking open, the zip of his pants being pulled down with the fabric, so that his cock was finally free.

After licking his gloves from her wetness, he grabbed a hold of her hips, pressing his rock hard cock against her flesh, hsi eyes fluttering shut when he started to move his hips. Grinding at an animalistic pace, his main goal his own pleasure.

He needed to rub his cock, keeping it squeezed tightly between their bodies, for a couple of minutes to finally shoot his load on her lower back.

As they both breathed heavily, he moved carefully away from her, gathering his cum with his hand to shove it in her mouth before fixing his suit and walking out of the room without a word.

He walked followed with the same powerful aura, at a fast pace towards the front door

“Let’s go” Thomas ordered his brothers while walking to the front door, patting Finn’s shoulder with a serious expression

“She’s not a virgin… anymore” he informed him as he stole a cookie and walked out, nodding at the old lady with a crooked grin.

Taglist:

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911 notes · View notes

moneypriestess · 1 year

Text

tommy : “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Y/N: “Why, are you seducible?”

_________________________________________

finn: “Hey, tommy ? Can I get some dating advice?”

tommy : “Just because I'm with Y/N doesn't mean I know how I did it.”

_________________________________________

tommy : “What, in the name of sanity, have you got on your head?”

finn: “It's a fez, I wear a fez now. Fezzes are cool.”

Y/N: *snatches the fez, throws it in the air*

tommy : *shoots it*

_________________________________________

*tommy is laying on the floor with their eyes closed*

finn: “ey, are they sleeping or dead?”

Y/N: “Hopefully dead, I hated them.”

finn: ”Yeah, me too.”

tommy , sitting up: “First of all, fuck you guys.”

_________________________________________

finn: “Bet you can’t eat 15 crayons!”

Y/N: “Bet you I can!”

polly: *sips coffee, checks to make sure 911 is still on speed dial, and goes back to reading the paper*

_________________________________________

finn: “The best part of an oreo is the cookie part, not the frosting. Deal with it.”

Y/N: “Darkness without light is an abyss. Light without darkness is blinding. You cannot have a coin with one side.”

tommy : ”YO SOCRATES! IT'S A FUCKING COOKIE!”

#thomas shelby #peaky blinders #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders x reader crack #peaky blinders incorrect quotes

386 notes · View notes

lovelybucky1 · 9 months

Text

Dirty Money- Tommy Shelby x Reader

masterlist

warnings: very mild dub-con, guns, canon-typical violence, dom/sub dynamics, humiliation, degradation, clothed sex, office sex, semi-public sex, name-calling, unprotected sex, mentions of prostitution, rough sex

The chatter from the party room (if this occasion could even be called a party) lessened as you made your way down the halls of the Shelby house. The Peaky Blinders were having a celebration- another shady business practice gone in their favor, earning them a large sum of money. You are just a pretty face to the Blinders. You get in close with the arrogant, sleazy men who the Shelbys often have dealings with, get information, and maybe pickpocket occasionally, but that is the extent of your duties.

Your position means you don’t get any of the money they earn from deals; all they provide you is free drinks at the Garrison. The Blinders are just a stepping stone along your path. You knew they had money, and if you could get an in with them, then you could have access to some of that money. And really, who would notice if a small fraction of that money was taken?

Your dress flows at your feet as you creep down the hallway towards the boss’ study. When you reach the door, you press your ear to hear any voices; when you deem it safe, you twist the handle and push it open.

Thanking God the hinges don’t squeak, you shut it behind you and take in your surroundings. The room is dark, the light filtering through the windows from the street is barely enough to see by. You approach the solid oak desk that likely took the whole family to move into the office. Atop the desk are a few letters, a pen, a set of lamps, and a figurine of a horse. The rest of the office is similar; sparse with decoration, but bits of Thomas’ personality shine through.

You don’t know much about your boss, despite interacting with him frequently. You’ve been his date on various occasions, all with ulterior motives, of course. Even when he is acting vulnerable, you know it’s a farce. Everyone knows Tommy Shelby is all about business, and he never takes a day off.

You walk around to the other side of the desk and pull at the top drawer. Inside, only stationary, so you close it and try the second drawer, which is locked. You take a pin from your hair and bend it before inserting it into the keyhole. It’s been a while since you’ve picked a lock, but you eventually get it open without too much difficulty. When you open the drawer, you find two stacks of money sitting next to a gun and a pack of smokes.

You pick up one of the stacks and flip through it. Two stacks, each one thousand pounds. You’d be set for life with this amount of money. You could get out of this shit, smog-filled city, buy yourself a nice house in the countryside, a car. You could have everything you’ve ever wanted and more, and it was all in your hands at this very moment.

You were jolted from your fantasy about your future life by the lamp near the door clicking on. You whip around, money still in hand, to face the door. Illuminated by the golden light stood your personal grim reaper, the very man you were stealing from.

Tommy has his hands on his hips, eyebrow raised, and his weight leaned onto one leg. His stance screams what the fuck do you think you’re doing? Your stomach drops when you meet his piercing blue eyes, and a wave of fear washes over you. Tommy stares at you until the weight of his gaze makes you tremble, and only then does he speak.

“I’ve had many people try to get close to me for their own gain,” Tommy pauses just to make you sweat. “But none of them have ever been stupid enough to steal from me in my own home.”

“It’s not what it looks like,” you say as if there weren’t stacks of money in your hand.

Your voice cracks when you speak and you’d curse yourself for your lack of composure, but it’s hard to remain calm when you’ve just gotten on the bad side of a man who wouldn’t hesitate to kill you.

“No?” Tommy asks. “That’s a good thing then, because if you were stealin’ my money, then we’d have some problems.” Tommy stalks forward toward you, eyes never leaving yours as he crosses the room. He takes the money from your pliant fingers; you have enough sense of self-preservation to not put up a fight right now. He places the money back in the drawer and when you look down, you see his fingertips brush against the gun- a reminder. When you look back up, his face is inches from yours and he is looking down the bride of his nose at you like you’re nothing but a pathetic animal. “So why don’t you tell me what you’re doin’ in here, eh?”

You inhale shakily as you try to come up with a convincing lie. You figure that he will see through any of the bullshit you say, but it’s better than admitting your crime. “I lost my ring and I thought I might have left it in here.”

“You might have lost your ring… in my locked drawer?” He asks, tone suggesting he is simply humoring you.

“If you found it and thought it was valuable, I thought you would put it in a safe place,” you explain, trying your best to look innocent.

“I see,” Tommy says, putting his hand on the desk next to your hip and leaning on it. “Now, if you’re done lying, I’d like to hear the truth.”

You swallow thickly as you resign yourself to the fact that you were caught. “I was taking money from your desk.”

“I’m not fuckin’ blind, am I? What’s the money for?” Tommy asks, voice even and steady, though you know he must be simmering with anger.

“For me.”

“Two thousand pounds, all for you? You have no affiliations?” you shake your head. “You’re not working for anyone?”

“No, sir. I wanted all of this for myself,” you confess.

“Hm,” he considers your words. “I’m surprised you were able to put together this little plan, so I doubt you’d be able to pull off bein’ a double agent all this time.” The way he talks down to you makes you want to hide your face in shame, but in the position he has you in, you have nowhere to go. “What were you going to do with all this money?”

“Move out of the city. Find a place for myself. Start a new life. A good life,” you say. Your tone must have been sincere enough for Tommy to believe you because he seems to relax a little.

Tommy shifts on his feet and he looks distantly over your shoulder as if he is lost in thought. You stare at his face, waiting for the other shoe to drop. You wouldn’t be surprised if he killed you, he’s killed others for much less.

“So,” he starts, “You’re not working for anyone else, but you’re still a thief and a traitor.” His intense gaze is back on you and your skin crawls with anxiety. “I don’t think I have to remind you what we do to thieves and traitors.”

You shake your head, knowing full well the fate that all who have wronged the Blinders have met. They’re not deserving of a quick death; they beg until they are too swollen to beg, they pray until God has been beaten out of them, they break until there is nothing left whole, they bleed until they’re dry. A traitor to the family suffers. They’re a spectacle to keep all others in line.

“But that would be such a waste of a pretty face,” Tommy says, the unexpected compliment makes your heart stutter in your chest. “You always did do good work for me. The races, the parties I went to with you on my arm. Sometimes I wished they were for leisure rather than business.”

You furrow your brow slightly at the admission. “What do you mean, Mr. Shelby?”

“I quite fancied you,” he says with a slight smile. “But then I caught you in my study with my money, and I came to my senses.”

He stands up straight and reaches into the drawer, taking out the gun. You take a step back, frightened once again. He doesn’t point the gun at you, only holds it, but you are still no less threatened.

With a sigh, he speaks again. “I don’t trust you not to bring down the rest of us if I turn you in to the coppers. So because I held such a soft spot for you, I’ll let you pick. I could cut your hand off to make sure you won’t steal again, I can send you far away without a single penny to your name, or I could give you over to the Italians as a peace offering.”

Your stomach drops when he lists off your options. For some reason, you thought he was going to let you get away. But seemingly despite his soft spot, business comes first, as usual.

“Please, Mr. Shelby, there has to be something else,” you say, voice watery with held-back emotion.

“What kind of businessman would I be if I let my employees steal from me?” He asks eyebrow raised mockingly.

Feeling desperation cloud your mind, you take a step forward, despite the gun. You reach out and place your hand on his shoulder, the rough material of his suit jacket rubbing against your skin. He looks down at you, his face a mixture of shock and amusement.

“I will do anything, sir,” you say, voice vulnerable and weak, hoping that will appeal to his baser urges. You know it’s a bold and risky move, but you don’t have many other options.

A laugh escapes Tommy’s throat, a rare and usually pleasant sound when it’s not being directed at you. “Are you looking to add prostitution to your list of crimes?” he chuckles.

“No, sir. I am not a whore.”

“You’re offering yourself up to me like one,” he smirks. “Why don’t we make a deal, then?”

“What are the terms?” you ask, trying to add strength to your voice that you’ve lacked since you saw him in the doorway.

“You let me fuck you like the whore you claim not to be, and you get to keep your job with us,” he says casually like he’s talking about the weather.

“That’s it?”

“Well now, don’t sound so ungrateful. If you’d prefer, I could give you away to those animals out here,” he gestures towards the door. “I’m giving you a chance to keep that pretty smile of yours.”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “I am grateful, sir. Thank you.”

Tommy puts the gun down on the top of his desk and closes the space between you. His hard chest presses against yours as he brings his hand up to gently stroke your cheek.

“Greedy little thing,” he says, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. Your lips are parted just so, looking soft and pliant, just the way he loves. Tommy’s hand trails from your face down to your throat, where he plays with the simple goal pendant that rests against your skin.

Tommy leans in and brushes his lips to yours, making your heart stutter and your breath catch in your throat. You can feel a slight smile on his lips before he presses them together in a claiming kiss. He smothers you, stealing the breath from your lungs.

When you part, his lips are pink and glistening with a mix of your saliva. His light eyes are blown with lust and you feel small in his arms.

“Are you clean or am I going to have to fuck your mouth?” he asks, the dirty words a sharp contrast to his gentle hands on you.

“I’m clean,” you say, voice no more than a whisper.

The only response you get from him is a shark-like grin. He grabs your hips and pulls you flush to him. Even through the layers of your dress, you can feel the hardness in his pants.

It’s almost hard to believe that right now, Thomas Shelby is hard for you. You’ve imagined this countless times; when you were his arm candy, when he’d drink with you at the pub, and even sometimes in your own home. You never thought you’d actually get to have him in such a way, especially not when it wasn’t for business.

“What are you waiting for, dear?” he asks, looking into your eyes and then down at his trousers.

You lean back, putting enough space between the two of you to undo his belt and unbutton his pants. You take out his cock and give it a few dry strokes. The size makes you nervous; you’re no virgin, but you’ve been so caught up with work that you haven’t been seeing anyone.

Tommy shrugs off his jacket and tosses it haphazardly onto his desk chair, clearly unconcerned that he is wrinkling a very expensive suit. Taking his undressing as a hint, you ask “Should I take off my dress?”

“It’s not our fucking wedding night,” he huffs. He grabs your waist and pushes you towards the desk, You brace your hands on the surface and look back at him while he hikes up the skirt of your dress. He piles the bunched-up fabric on your lower back and bends down to admire the view. “Though these knickers suggest otherwise,” he chuckles, slipping his finger under them.

It’s humiliating to be bent over your boss’ desk while he looks at you like you’re a piece of meat, As much as you wish you were more upstanding, that this whole situation repulsed you, the burn in your abdomen is undeniable. You’re getting off on whoring yourself out to your boss.

Tommy grabs the waist of your knickers and pulls them down, letting the white satin pool at your feet. Now bare to him, Tommy inhales deeply, taking in the scent of your arousal. He swipes his thumb through your folds, gathering your wetness and smearing it on your thigh.

“Mr. Shelby, please,” you whimper.

“What’s the matter? You don’t like me teasing?” he chuckles.

He rubs his hand over your pussy, his cold fingertips burning from the heat of you. You wiggle your hips a bit, silently begging him for more, and in return, he gives a sharp slap to your cunt.

“You forget this is a punishment. I could leave you here desperately and wet for hours and there’s nothin’ you can do ‘bout it.”

You let your head hang between your shoulders with a sigh. You don’t doubt his threat; Tommy can be a cruel man and you wouldn’t put it past him to torture you in such a way. No matter what, though, this is better than the alternative.

You feel a long, thin finger prodding at your entrance and you force yourself to relax. Tommy slowly pushes his middle finger into you, and from behind you, a quiet groan can be heard. He pulls his finger out only to quickly replace it, along with a second digit. The fingers inside of you slowly work back and forth to loosen you. Despite Tommy’s rough exterior and degrading words, when it comes to the act, he’s more caring than you anticipated.

The slow drag of his fingers makes you dizzy, desperate for more to fill you as you open up. Seemingly have read your mind, Tommy pulls out his fingers and places his wet hand on your ass.

For a long moment, nothing happens. Tommy stands behind you, both hands on you, but unmoving. You look back to see him watching you expectantly.

“Do you think I’m just going to give it to you?” he asks. You furrow your brow, not understanding what he’s getting at. “Clearly you’ve never been properly fucked,” he huffs. “Beg me for it.”

Of course, how could you be so stupid? A man like Tommy Shelby loves power and control. He wants to own everything and everyone, especially his conquests. You’ve already submitted yourself to him, but he wants you to relinquish the rest of your pride for him.

“Please, sir, I want it,” you try, the idea of begging for sex unfamiliar to you.

“Surely you could do better than that, eh? I’ve heard the things you’ve told our associates. I know your mouth is dirtier than your pretty white knickers let on.” The smirk is evident in his voice and it makes you burn with shame. The things you tell whatever man you were ordered to seduce were all acting. You separated yourself from it, from them, but now you were doing to be deep in it.

“Please fuck me like the whore I am, Mr. Shelby. I’m yours to do whatever you want with. I want you to forgive me.”

The words feel foreign on your tongue and Tommy seems to recognize that. The grin on his face tells you the begging was more for your embarrassment than his enjoyment.

“That’s better, my little whore,” he says as he grabs ahold of his cock and rubs it through your folds. He pushes in slowly but steadily, easing you into it but not hiding his desire until the head is inside. Like a gentleman, he lets you accommodate the stretch before seating himself fully inside of you.

You lay atop the desk limp and pliant, like you’re a toy for Tommy. He grabs your hips tightly, possessively, before he starts to rock his hips against you. The friction of your ass against his hips doesn’t do too much to satisfy your sexual need, but the feeling of his skin makes you burn from within.

“When you first joined,” Tommy speaks up, “I had to make a rule. Don’t fuck the other members. Never had that problem before, but I knew the boys would tear you apart the second they got the chance.”

Tommy’s fingers press into your skin as he begins to slowly thrust into you. As he did with his fingers, he makes the drag of his cock slow, ensuring you feel every inch of his length. Your pussy gripped him like your body knew you were made for him.

You let out a small, involuntary hum when he reaches the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl. You had fantasized that Tommy would be a good lover, but you never imagined that he’d light all of your nerves on fire.

“Fuck, Tommy,” you moan as his steady pace builds up the pressure in your abdomen.

“It’s Tommy now, eh? Where’d those manners go?”

“I’m sorry! Fuck, I’m sorry, Mr. Shelby.”

You’re certain Tommy is going to kill you, despite your deal after you disrespected him. Maybe he’d be merciful since you let him have you… or maybe that would make torturing you even better.

“Say it again,” he says, voice gruff with lust.

“What?”

“My name. Say it again.”

“Tommy,” you whisper, hesitant.

His blunt nails dig into your skin, leaving crescent-shaped indents behind. The speed of his hips increases slightly, but he doesn’t slam into you like some previous partners have. He seems to understand your body; to be rough in some ways but caring in others.

“If I punished every thief like this, I’d have far fewer enemies,” he muses as he slides his right hand up your back, then rests it on the base of your neck. “But you’re lucky.”

The hand on the back of your neck moves to the side of your head, where Tommy presses down. There’s not much force behind it, but your head is pinned to the desk. It’s degrading to have him hold you down, preventing you from seeing what’s to come. His fingers twist in your hair and his trusts become increasingly irregular.

“Tommy,” you whine.

“This cunt’s divine,” he says, and for the first time, his voice has an edge of desperation to it.

“Tommy,” you say again.

“What?” he breathes.

“Fuck me.”

With an airy chuckle, Tommy pulls you closer to him by the hips so you can meet each of his thrusts. Your body jolts each time his thighs slap against yours, completely at his mercy while he fucks into you. You feel him shift behind you and suddenly there is a weight resting on your back. Tommy is leaning over you, holding you impossibly close with his mouth next to your ear.

“You’re my fuckin’ whore,” he says, his hot breath and gravelly voice making your skin break out in goosebumps. “You understand me?”

All you can do is nod, but that answer seems to satisfy him because he is standing back up and fucking you sloppily, a stark contrast to his steady pace from earlier. After a handful of strokes, he pulls out and you’re left cold and gaping on the desk, brain lagging to catch up with reality.

You hear a strangled moan from behind you, and then you feel drops of scorching liquid hit your thighs. You squirm on the desk once you realize what has happened. Tommy Shelby has just come on you, effectively claiming you as his own.

He rests his hand on your back as he catches his breath, chest heaving with exertion. He steps back, out from between your legs, and wipes the sweat off of his forehead with his sleeve. You look back at him with lustful, half-lidded eyes and he gives you a soft smile. You push yourself up so you can stand, and when you turn to face Tommy again, he looks confused.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“We’re done, aren’t we?”

Tommy chuckles and steps forward again, picking your skirt back up and pushing the bunched fabric into your hands to hold.

“You poor thing,” he says. “You haven’t gotten yours.”

His words surprise you. You wouldn’t say Tommy is a selfish man; self-interested is a better term. You expected this to be over once he was finished, but it seems that equal satisfaction is of importance to him.

He reaches between your legs and slips two fingers into your cunt, then rests his thumb on your clit. You gasp when he touches your bud, which is extra sensitive from the lack of attention. Tommy’s other arm wraps around your waist to hold you close, his lips brushing against your temple.

“Tommy,” you whimper when he curls his fingers inside you.

“So fuckin’ good for me. Guess all it took was a cock to keep you in line. God knows I would’ve done this ages ago if I knew. Think about all the times I could’ve had this sweet cunt when I settled for some whore,” he says, voice thick and sweet. “But now you’re mine.”

His possessiveness, combined with the perfectly placed touches under your dress, makes your head spin with pleasure. You let your head drop forward to rest on his shoulder and he pushes his face into your hair. You reach up to grab at his vest, needing something to ground yourself, lest you collapse into a puddle of pleasure on the office floor.

“I-I’m close, sir,” you struggle to get out between moans.

“What do good girls say?” he asks.

“Please.”

“Cum for me, dear,” he whispers.

As if he pulled a trigger, your release washed over you. Your muscles tighten and relax as the waves of pleasure rock you. Tommy rides you through it, not giving up his assault on your soaked pussy until you are squirming and pushing his hand away.

You lean back to rest on the desk as you find your breath and let your skirt drop down to the floor, covering up the mix of cum that wets your thighs. You watch as Tommy straightens out his clothes and fastens his belt, feeling slightly disappointed that you didn’t get to see more of him.

He joins you by the desk, reaching into the formerly-locked drawer and taking out the pack of smokes, as well as a matchbook from his pocket. He lights the cigarette and tosses the burnt match into his ashtray. He holds it with the two fingers that were inside of you and takes a drag, exhaling a plume of white smoke that swirls in the air in front of you. Tommy offers the cigarette to you but you decline with a shake of your head, and he doesn’t press.

“Do you smell that?” Tommy asks, breaking the silence. You sniff the air, mainly smelling smoke but there is the underlying musk of sex, as well as the intoxicating scent that Tommy wears. “That’s business,” he says, answering his own question.

“What do you mean?” you ask, turning to face him.

“We had a deal. I fuck you and you get to stay here, all your limbs intact.” You nod slowly, not quite understanding what he’s getting at. “I’d like to offer you a promotion.”

You perk up at that. Not an hour ago you were certain Tommy was going to shoot you where you stood, but now he’s offering you a higher-ranking position within the Blinders.

“I want you to be my personal assistant,” he says, a slight smirk on his lips. “No dirty work, no men. It’s an easy job, making my breakfast and bringin’ me whiskey, sorting my mail, writing my letters. Making appointments for me, keeping track of my calendar, making small talk with incredibly dull people I can’t be bothered with.”

“So I’d be your maid?”

“If maids get the added benefit of fuckin’ their bosses, then yes, you’ll be my maid,” he grins. “And you know what the best part is?” You shake your head. “You don’t get to lay a finger on my money.”

You look away from him, embarrassed. Tommy grabs ahold of your chin and makes you look back at him, his blue eyes boring into you once again.

“You can live in my house, I’ll buy you fancy things or whatever the fuck you wanted to do with two thousand pounds, and the only thing you’ll have to worry about is cleanin’ the blood from my shirts.”

You pretend to think over his offer, but really, there’s no question. This is better than any life you could attempt to start on your own, and you have the added bonus of being in the boss’ favor.

“I accept your offer,” you say with a smile.

“Good. Now let’s get out of here before you find another thing to steal,” he says, placing his hand on your lower back and leading you towards the door.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders fanfiction #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader

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works-of-fanfiction · 9 months

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The Love of Another - Part One || Cillian Murphy x actress!Reader

Summary: After meeting on the set of Peaky Blinders, Cillian and Y/N struggle to keep their relationship professional.

Warnings: Swearing, cheating (loose mentions of Cillian being divorced).

Word Count: 3.8k

a/n: I’ve been wanting to write for Cillian for a while, so I hope this reaches the right people! My blog has always been mixed so why not include some more fics with more people?

“I miss you too.” She sighed, sinking deeper into the bathtub with her phone balancing on the ledge. Dipping her head underneath the water, she missed her husband’s next words and came back to the surface with a small splash. The tub was filled just an inch too high, suds lapping over the edge and wetting the bathmat below. “I didn’t catch that last bit. What did you say?”

“I asked if Cillian had stolen my wife yet.” Her husband chuckled, the laughter trailing off when she didn’t immediately respond. “Y/N?”

She sighed, this time in frustration, as she reached with a wet hand to grab the phone. “I can’t even tell if you’re joking anymore.”

There was silence. Then a stutter. “What? Obviously, I’m kidding!”

“Are you though? These so-called jokes about Cillian are becoming a little too frequent…” She looked up to the ceiling, mentally recounting the three previous occasions in that week alone that he’d felt the need to bring her co-star into the conversation. “You call me to check in, but it feels like you’re really calling to see if I’m with someone else.”

“Y/N…”

“Don’t ‘Y/N’ me. This isn’t the first time you’ve been weary of one of my co-stars. I’m not here on holiday, I’m working.”

“I know – “

“So, please stop calling me and accusing me of something you know I would never do. I married you.”

As much as her husband had always supported her career, he’d never gotten used to seeing her play alongside different men. Kissing and romantic scenes made his skin crawl, and now she was a regular on one of the country’s most loved shows and spending a lot of time around the same man, his suspicions only grew. He was well-known to jump to the wildest of conclusions.

He mumbled an apology, and Y/N made an excuse to cut their call short, tossing the phone onto the pile of laundry on the floor. Huffing, she sank back below the bubbles and turned the tap with her foot, adding more hot water. “Marriage…” She muttered to herself, sniggering before closing her eyes and dunking her head beneath the water once again.

She scrubbed at her scalp, relieving tension from the day, and loosening the insane amount of hairspray that had been holding her hair down since eight o’clock that morning. Holding her breath, she stayed underwater for a moment, savouring the few minutes a day she could spend in silence.

The hot water showering her feet stopped and she sat up, pushing her wet hair out of her face. “What was that about marriage?” A familiar voice asked, and she opened her eyes, vision adjusting to the figure sat on the edge of the bath looking down at her. “Let me guess… It’s not all it’s cracked up to be?” He laughed, tugging at the knot in his tie. His hair was fluffy and messy from wearing a hat all day, his collar slightly dirtied from the face powder the make-up team had spent the evening reapplying beneath the hot, harsh lights of the soundstage. Still, he looked like he’d barely done a day’s work and the way that suit hugged his body made Y/N’s stomach flutter.

“Definitely not when your husband doesn’t trust you.”

“And what reason would he have not to trust you? Because…” He stood, slipping off his shoes and pulling the tie off, letting it join her clothes in the corner. “I can’t think of a single one.” He shrugged his jacket off and hung it on the door handle, unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling them up to his elbows.

She giggled as he lifted his foot and stepped into the bath, most of his clothes still on. The water lapped over the side and soaked the floor as he clumsily knocked the shampoo bottles over. She squeezed her legs together and he knelt over her, lowering his upper body towards her, but keeping a hold of the tub to steady himself. “Cillian!” She squealed, watching the water seep into his shirt and trousers.

“Sorry, love. Forgot to ask. Can I join you?” He smirked, cupping water into his hand and dampening his hair with it. With flushed cheeks, whether from the humidity in the room or Cillian’s presence, she smiled at him, reaching out to run her fingers along his jaw.

“Wardrobe are going to kill you.”

“It’s a good thing they’ve got two more suits just like it then, isn’t it?”

“Hm, it feels weird seeing you dressed like that, sounding like that.”

“Would you prefer I talk like this, Mrs Shelby?” He adopted his signature Brummie accent from the show, instantly snapping into character and gazing at her through furrowed brows. She stifled back a laugh, unable to take him seriously with his soddened shirt and hands slipping along the bathtub’s edge. “You’re not supposed to be finding this funny.” His accent melted back to normal through the sentence, a smile creeping onto his own face.

“Sorry, I just don’t see Tommy Shelby diving into a bath on top of his missus.”

“That’s because he’d probably be the one on the bottom.” He teased, dipping a hand into the water and settling it on her waist.

“Don’t get too comfortable. Believe it or not I was enjoying my bath before a fully clothed hooligan decided to jump in.” She propped herself up and fiddled with his buttons, her wet fingers making it a little difficult. She started from the bottom and he gave her a hand up top, before he peeled the damp garment off his body.

“Is that better?” He quipped, as she stared at his character’s tattoo which had started to smudge from a mixture of water and sweat. Nodding, she ran her fingers over his chest, smearing the design even more. “Are you going to wash me? Is that it?”

“Well you need it. You’ve got more makeup on than I’ve had all series!”

“Then let’s get these trousers off too, eh?”

Lying on Cillian’s chest, Y/N listened to his breathing and heart beating. The low light in the bedroom made her eyes feel heavy, but she wasn’t tired enough to sleep just yet. His hand absentmindedly played with her hair, gently massaging her scalp with the very tips of his fingers, being careful not to scratch her. These moments behind closed doors away from prying eyes were their most cherished. They spoke about their days, the hours spent together and apart. Y/N praised Cillian for his performance in a scene earlier that day, and he tried his best to deflect the compliment and switch the subject to her scenes instead. “Will you ever accept my compliments?” She teased, poking him in the chest.

“I will accept your compliments if…” He started, stopping to think. She sat up, looking at him in anticipation. “If you let us finally talk about your birthday.”

“Cillian…”

“You know the studio are going to go all out. You can’t avoid it.”

“I’m turning thirty. I’m ancient! This is not something to be celebrated.” Covering her eyes, she shook her head and groaned. Cillian laughed, lightly swatting her hands away from her face.

“If you’re ancient, then what am I?”

“Men age better, you don’t count. Just let me enjoy my last few days of being twenty-nine.”

His chuckling made her frown twist into a smirk which she tried to hold back. Gazing at her with sleepy blue eyes, he scooted closer cupping her cheek in his hand. “I seem to remember your birthday being rather special.” He cooed, his thumb lightly stroking the soft skin below her eye. She sighed, remembering the moment like it was just days ago.

Thinking back to it with such fondness was wrong. She knew that. One moment on her twenty-ninth birthday snowballed into something so much bigger, and the lingering thirtieth celebrations reminded her just how badly things had gotten out of hand. The lapse in time made it impossible to take everything back. However, selfishly, given the chance, she knew she wouldn’t change a thing.

“Cillian…” She whispered breathlessly, his face still close and mouth still hot against hers. He drew back, his hands remaining on her cheeks, fingertips brushing the skin below her earlobes.

As her eyes fluttered open to meet his, he suddenly let go, catching his head in his right hand. “I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry.” He stumbled over his words, looking around the room in a panic, eyes darting to the door that was still clearly open, wide enough for anyone to walk past and see what he did. What they did.

“I shouldn’t have done that. Fuck, you’re married! What the hell is wrong with me?”

She stood there, hands trembling by her sides as she watched his gaze jump across the floor, his feet struggling to stay still. Her lips tingled and stung from the contact, almost desperate to kiss him again, to feel his hands on her body. They’d kissed a hundred times on set; playing husband and wife meant that physical contact was just another part of the job, but he’d never kissed her like this. So tender. So slow. Their onscreen kisses were robotic in comparison.

“No one has to know.” The words spilled out of her mouth before her brain could catch up, her arm reaching out for him. He dared himself to look back up to see her flushed cheeks and freshly kissed lips, plump and pink, glistening and hungry for more. Something twisted inside his stomach, and her lashes fluttered innocently in his direction like they were two teenagers in love. She felt as if she couldn’t breathe, like his stare could burn holes through her body.

“No one – has – to know.” She stepped closer with each word, her body making the decisions for her. This feeling and attraction towards Cillian was certainly nothing new, but she never thought he’d return her affection.

Cillian searched for reassurance in her eyes, making sure she really meant what she said as her fingers traced the stitching along his sleeve. Sensing his apprehension, she slipped her hand into his. He sighed, the heat from her fingers sending electricity through his veins, a feeling that felt so right despite how wrong it was.

“We should get back to your party.” He breathed, the muffled sounds of voices and music somehow growing louder as if they were getting closer to the door, closer to finding them together. “Your guests they… Well, you don’t want to keep them waiting.”

“Cillian.” She uttered quietly, pleading for him to look her in the eye and tell her she hadn’t just dreamt the past few minutes. She needed something, anything that would serve as confirmation that she hadn’t imagined it. That she hadn’t imagined his hands holding her face, pulling her to him, their bodies moulding together as their lips met for what felt like the very first time. This was no rehearsed kiss inside four cold white walls; this wasn’t in front of a crew of ten men with cameras zooming in on their faces. This was between the two of them. Raw and real.

Defeated, she dropped his hand and headed to the door. Gripping the handle, she went to pull it towards her until Cillian pressed a firm hand against the wood, slamming it into its frame. He cornered her, his intense stare making her neck hot and her cheeks visibly pinker.

The kiss was hesitant at first; their movements staggered and filled with doubt yet fuelled by longing and the sheer desperation to feel each other again. Once each were confident that the other wanted the same thing, they melted into one another’s grasp, Cillian’s hands tangling into her hair, Y/N’s fingers clutching onto his shirt as if he could disappear at any moment. It was feverish, like a craving had finally been satiated for them both. They knew there was no going back now. They were in this, and they’d have to spend every waking moment hiding it from everyone they knew, both mutual and individual.

“That means it’s been a year since…”

“Since this started.” Cillian waved his finger between himself and Y/N, a reminiscent smile on his face. She never knew how to react when they actually sat and talked about their relationship. It was undoubtedly easier for Cillian, being divorced and completely free to do and see whoever he wanted, but Y/N was still very much married and playing a dangerous game. Every day she lied to her husband’s face and made fun of his insecurities surrounding Cillian. Little did he know, he had every right to be worried about his wife’s co-star, considering he was the one who wound up in her bed at the end of most days.

Cillian opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself. He knew diving into the specifics of their affair made Y/N uneasy. She didn’t like to talk about her marriage; she preferred to pretend that what she and Cillian had was healthy and real. If she didn’t think about her husband, she could convince herself she wasn’t hurting anybody.

“We should get some sleep.” He said comfortingly, wrapping an arm around her as she laid back on his chest. Y/N knew he was trying to distract her from her thoughts, and she was all too willing to escape them, so she closed her eyes and begged for sleep to come quickly.

“Happy birthday!” The cast and crew cheered, clapping and whooping as Y/N stepped onto set. She grinned in faux surprise having been pre-warned by Cillian that they were planning something. A table littered with cupcakes and cookies stood at the side with some crew members already lingering, hoping for an early treat.

“Thanks guys! You shouldn’t have done all of this for me.” Y/N smiled, hugging various people and receiving more birthday wishes as she made her way around the room. Cillian stood by the cameras pretending to look busy, trying not to draw attention to himself. To the outside world they were just castmates, friends at a push. People praised them for their work and chemistry onscreen, unaware of the true feelings below the surface, and the two had grown very good at playing acquaintances around others.

Reaching Cillian, he gave her a quick side hug and a friendly smile. “Happy birthday, Y/N.” He said politely, pulling a small card out of his pocket. “It’s nothing special.” He raised his voice to purposely reach those around them.

“Thank you, Cillian. I’ll add it to the pile.” She beamed, knowing she definitely wouldn’t be adding his card to any pile for anyone else to see. She didn’t know what he’d written, but judging by the glint in his eye, it wasn’t a decoy card to keep up appearances. It was the real thing, and he was playing with fire bringing it into the studio in the first place, but she’d chew his ear off about that later.

When everyone broke off for lunch, Y/N rushed off to her trailer, Cillian’s card burning a hole in her pocket. Throwing the door open, she was surprised to be greeted by a large cake on the counter, iced in her favourite colours with an obnoxious ‘30’ in the middle made from chocolate.

“It’s hazelnut. Your favourite.”

She spun around, confused, only to find her husband sprawled on the sofa behind her. “Surprise.” He grinned, opening his arms for her. She gulped, taking a step forward and leaning down to hug him. He shifted on the sofa, giving her enough space to sit in his lap as he squeezed her tight, feathering little kisses on her cheek.

Her body felt stiff in his arms from shock. It hadn’t even crossed her mind that he would show up, but it made perfect sense. It was her thirtieth birthday, of course he was going to come!

Glancing out of the window over his shoulder, she saw Cillian engaged in an animated conversation with the producers, throwing his head back with laughter. She sighed, wishing there was a way out of this situation, wishing she could run out of the door and disappear with him, leaving the guilt and the pain behind. Hugging her husband felt wrong. She felt ashamed to be dreaming of another man whilst the one she’d sworn her love to was right there in front of her.

“Are you OK?” He asked, moving so they could sit side-by-side.

“Yeah, I’m just surprised!” She lied, her voice high-pitched and shaky. She felt Cillian’s card crumple in her back pocket, but she thanked her lucky stars she didn’t have it on show when she walked into the trailer.

“I had to come and see you on your birthday. What shall we do tonight?” His arm around her shoulder made her feel suffocated and she hoped the ground would somehow magically swallow her up. She shimmied out of his grasp, standing up.

“The crew have organised a night out. I can’t let them down.”

He stood up, his hand settling on her upper arms. “Then we’ll both go. That sound fun?”

Nodding, she closed her eyes, cringing as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I have another scene to shoot this afternoon. Will you be alright hanging in here for a while?”

“What? I can’t come and watch?”

“I don’t think it’s a scene you’d want to see.” Another lie. The scene was a simple conversation between two characters, no drama or romance involved, but it was easier to let him believe it was something he’d find unsettling. The first time he watched her kiss Cillian in a scene, he couldn’t shake the sickly feeling in his stomach all day. As harsh it was to use his insecurity against him, it was far easier than the truth.

I’m having an affair with my co-star who I repeatedly told you not to worry about, and you being here is complicating things further, so I’d rather not spend any more time around you than I have to.

Yeah… Lying was certainly easier.

“I guess I’ll just uh… Stick a film on then.” He shrugged, sitting back down.

“It shouldn’t take too long.” She hovered for a second, then remembered Cillian’s card again. “I’m just going to use the bathroom.”

“OK.”

Locking herself behind the toilet door, she ripped open the card, stuffing the envelope into the small bin beside her.

‘Meet me in the wardrobe department at 1. I’ve got something for you.

Happy birthday, Mrs Shelby.

Yours,

Cillian x’

Her heart fluttered, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she re-read it a second time, then a third. What started as a joke between them became somewhat of a term of affection; calling each other Mr and Mrs Shelby. Cillian could certainly be corny when he wanted to be, but she was no better.

Checking the time on her phone, she had ten minutes to get to the wardrobe department and see Cillian before their lunch hour was over. Remembering her company outside the door, she counted a few seconds before flushing the toilet and rinsing her hands in the sink. She hid the card, pulling her shirt over her trousers so her husband couldn’t see a bump in her pocket.

“I have to go to wardrobe and get into my next outfit.” She muttered, fixing her hair in the mirror and rushing around to avoid making eye contact with her unwanted guest.

“Your lunchtime isn’t even over! Come on, babe. Sit down, let’s chat.”

“You know me, I like to be punctual.” She flashed him a weak smile, pulling out her phone to show him the time. “Plus, we both know how long it can take me to get ready.”

“Fine. But I’m buying you your first birthday drink tonight.”

“I’d be mad if you didn’t.”

He stood to hug her, but she dashed out of the door before he could even get close. Speedwalking to wardrobe, her mind raced back and forth between her husband and Cillian. She was supposed to be happy that he’d traveled all this way for her birthday. She was supposed to jump into his arms and declare how much she’d missed him over the past couple of months, not pray for him to go away. No matter what she did, she couldn’t get Cillian off her mind. He consumed her, emotionally, physically, in every way possible. She never meant for it to go this far, to feel this way, but she couldn’t control it.

Entering the room, she spotted Cillian’s shoes through the racks of clothing. She could hear him mumbling something to himself, but it wasn’t quite coherent. Once he spotted her, his face lit up, eyes twinkling as he gazed at the birthday girl. “Hi.” He whispered, edging closer to her.

“Hi, Cill.”

“I see you got my message.”

“I had to come and see what all the fuss was about.” She smiled, noticing a box on the table behind him. “Is that for me?”

“Impatient, aren’t you?”

“Just curious.” She teased.

Taking her hand in his, he fidgeted with the wedding band on her finger. It wasn’t hers, but her character’s, and Cillian wore a matching one in his role as Tommy. Looking down at their hands, Y/N couldn’t help but think about the ring that was usually in its place, or should’ve been had she not taken it off weeks ago. She thought back to her husband, sitting in her trailer watching some straight to DVD movie on the TV, counting down the minutes until he could finally spend some time with the woman he loved.

Cillian stole her attention, tilting her chin up with his thumb. “There’s something I need to tell you. You’re going to tell me I’m cheesy for saying it on your birthday but - “

“Cillian.”

“No, let me speak, please.” He went over his words again in his head, and Y/N began to panic as his eyes explored her face, pupils dilating. “Y/N, I love - “

“Cillian, my husband is here.” She blurted, exhaling a deep breath. His gaze didn’t leave hers, but the adoration in his eyes quickly switched to shock. His hand fell from her face, and he awkwardly gripped onto the hem of his jacket, rubbing the fabric between his finger and thumb as a distraction.

“…What?”

Next Part >

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy oneshot #peaky blinders #cillian murphy

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pacifymebby · 4 months

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Christmas Morning

Congrats on 2k follows 🫶🏻

For the Christmas asks what do you think each of the Peaky Blinders men would get for their partners? How would Christmas morning look for them when they’re opening their gifts?

Tommy

🌿 I think for Tommy he's torn between feeling like Christmas should be a totally sacred day for family and family only...

🌿 the football match in the trenches on Christmas is probably something he holds dear and so he believes that Christmas is a day of peace and goodwill to all men... After many Christmases alone, Christmases of loss and sorrow

🌿 But he's also all too aware that not everyone else honours the day in the same way as he does, especially his enemies... so Christmas is a half and half kind of day to him, he wants to spend it with his family relaxing and being in the arms of everyone he loves, but he also knows he can't afford to put his schemes on hold, can't afford to drop his guard...

🌿 so he still sleeps with a gun beneath the bed on Christmas Eve and he still lies awake listening for the sounds of intruders, paranoid as he is... You tease him, "who's that for? Father Christmas?" And he lets you get away with your teasing because it's Christmas...

🌿 Tommy doesn't sleep well, but he knows half of the fun of Christmas morning for the kids, is that it's the only day of the year they're allowed to wake mummy and daddy up as early as they like...

🌿 so even though Tommy would usually be up at the crack of dawn, on Christmas morning he forces himself to go back to sleep, or at least to pretend to be sleeping until the little ones come bursting in jumping on the bed to wake him up..

🌿 he's usually so relieved to hear their little footsteps down the hall, and most of the time he wakes you when he hears them so that their jumping on you doesn't come as a sudden scare... Sometimes though he can think of nothing better than to let them make you jump... Because when they do and you squeal and get that little fright, it's the perfect excuse for him to wrap his arms around you and play your protector as he gathers the little ones up for cuddles too.

🌿 He probably pretends to have some order on Christmas morning, pretends he's going to make the kids wait until after breakfast to open their presents, but really he likes to see them be wild and excited...

🌿 he didn't get so many of these childish gleeful Christmases as a boy and he wants to give you and his children the loveliest Christmas mornings...

🌿 Tommy gives the servants the morning off on Christmas, he makes breakfast and tries his hand at remembering where he came from... Plus he enjoys the two of you getting to spend time together in a domestic way like that, with the kids sitting waiting impatiently for their breakfast.

🌿 he definitely thinks he's being low-key with his gifts, "oh that's just a little something from me angel..." as you unwrap a little box which rattled when you shook it.. and of course it's something beautiful and divine, something you can't believe was crafted on earth and not in heaven...

🌿 Tommy kissing the back of your neck as he scoops your hair up and helps you put the necklace on you...

🌿 he spoils you with so many pretty things, dresses, a silk kimono style dressing gown, glamorous and pretty things, pearls, jewellery but also does like to get you more low-key things, the thing he'd be most looking forward to giving you is an old first edition of your favourite book, your favourite poets latest work, a record, music he's seen you swaying with yourself to as you hum the melody.

🌿 and when you tell him he shouldn't have he just smiles, cups your cheek and leans in, whispers the words over your lips "prettiest girl in the world deserves the prettiest gifts doesn't she?" And with his nose nudging yours you're not about to argue with him. Him lacing his fingers with yours as the children interrupt jumping up onto daddy's knee to show him what father Christmas bought them...

🌿 After Christmas Lunch Tommy suggests a little stroll through the snowy gardens down to the stables where another gift is waiting for you... A beautiful horse which you adore... Her sleek black mane, her calm eyes... Tommy promises that this year he'll take more time away from work and teach you to ride.

🌿 I reckon Tommy's more devoted to the "father Christmas" thing than you'd expect him to be, I feel like he'd think it was really important, that's kids need that kind of magic in their little worlds...

Arthur

🍂 Arthur definitely gets quite flustered around Christmas, he worries that he can't think of the perfect gift, he begs and begs you to just tell him what you want, "really darlin please, don't care it it's expensive or if I have to go fuckin Timbuktu for it it'll be easier than this bloody guessing game!" "Arthur if I knew what I wanted I'd tell you but I don't..." "Please love!* You'd be giggling at his despair as he starts reeling off guesses and you keep telling him they all sound lovely, that he should just get you whatever he thinks of...

🍂 "but y/n what if I get it wrong!" "Arthur Shelby for the last fuckin time you won't get it wrong! You've never been wrong before..."

🍂 and the reason he's never been wrong before is that he really does just buy you everything he can think of that he thinks you might like, and sometimes things he's heard your friends ask their husbands for... he buys so much in the hopes that you'll like at least something...

🍂 But really all you want for Christmas is to be with him, that anything he gets you is perfect to you because it will be a sign from him that he cares about you and that he put thought into your gift.

🍂 he's always a little worried he's going to ruin Christmas in some way, he worries that he'll get too drunk or that he'll end up fighting with one of the reletives it guests... and when he's anxious and stressed out he'll have a drink... so he gets pretty merry on Christmas...

🍂 but most of those things he worries about are irrational worries... Arthur cares so much about the whole family getting together for Christmas because he sees himself as the head of the family, and he because he cares he tries really hard...

🍂 he's everyone's favourite flustered uncle and poor Arthur is unfortunately the kids favourite uncle to fuss around... they find it so funny seeing him a little red in the face going slightly crazy trying to make sure everything's going well... always asking you if you think the days going well, if the kids are happy... "look at em Arth, they're having the best time you dafty..."

🍂 He's so nervous watching you open your presents and you're kind of conscious of that so you're always making sure you're extra grateful and that you smile and say thank you for every single gift, and that you tell him he definitely isn't to buy you so much next year...

🍂 because apart from anything else you'd be self conscious about giving your gifts for him, because there's no way you've bought him as much as he's given you...

🍂 and so many of his gifts are so thoughtful too, there'll be a bottle of wine you'd tried to describe to him when you'd come back from a little weekend away with Ada, you'd been telling him how divine it was and how you'd love to drink it again (you were drunk when you were telling him about this) but you couldn't remember it... Arthur had gone to an unhinged extreme and visited the hotel to find out and then buy you a crate of the stuff...

🍂 You'll be really surprised by the levels of thought Arthur's put into your gift and when you stop beneath the mistletoe to thank him for all your gifts he'd cup your face in his hands and tell you that he wanted to make your Christmas perfect... "Was always gonna be if I got to spend it with you Arth..."

🍂 and then he'd get emotional, Arthur definitely gets a bit misty eyed after all the fuss of Christmas, because it's so important to him to see the whole family together, as a family... It wasn't like that when he was a kid and he's always wanted to give the family the kinds of warm happy Christmases they all wished for as youngens.

🍂 he definitely dresses up as Father Christmas for the little ones and brings in their sack of toys... Lets them clamber all over him and doesn't complain once even when in their excitement they're a little rough...

🍂 exhausts himself and falls asleep on the sofa after lunch, cuddled up with you of course...

Alfie

🐻 grumpy when you wake him up early... "You youngens spare no thought for us old men do ya? Wakin us up at the first sign of light over that godforsaken horizon just because its bloody Christmas Day..." you pouting, telling him you're sorry, trying to be convincing but he sees your smile and mirrors it

🐻 "No you're not..." he chuckled pinching your cheek, pulling you up into his lap and trapping you there, demanding compensation for the inconvenience of being woken up at such an ungodly hour in the form of s good morning kiss...

🐻 "This ain't what jesus woulda wanted darlin... Reckon Jesus yeah much like myself right, was probably quite fond of a little shut eye, yeah I reckon he was you know..."

🐻 but of course its mostly just an exaggerated act he's pulling, and mostly he's only grumbling so much because he loves the sound of your giggling, loves the way your laughter leaves you wriggling in his lap trying to escape him when he starts grumbling again...

🐻 he will force you to lie back down, your head on his chest whilst he gets a little extra sleep. He kisses your forehead and tells you to go back to sleep too... "Got a big day ahead of us my little ziskeit, an I wouldn't want my pretty poppet wearing herself out before she's even had her breakfast right... So me and you yeah, we're gonna lie here just a little bit longer right... And I know you can manage waiting right because I happen to know you're a very good, very patient girl... Ain't you ziskeit?"

🐻 Alfie drags Christmas morning cuddles out for as long as possible and insists that all presents are opening in bed... If you've got little ones they drag their stockings into the bedroom and climb up into bed with mum and dad to open their presents too.

🐻 Alfie would have quite a low-key chilled out Christmas I think, you'd have lots of cute little personal family traditions (like the aforementioned opening presents in bed). He'd want there to be as little fuss as possible and a quiet but cosy Christmas by the fire would suit him best ...

🐻 that being said he always tries so hard to be charming and polite when your parents come over for christmas lunch...

🐻 he can't get down on the floor to play with the children so instead he sits in his arm chair and invites them up to play in his lap, letting them make their toy horses and soldiers climb up his left arm, conquer his right shoulder in battle and then claim victory over all on top of his head.

🐻 has a deadly sweet tooth and eats more dessert than Christmas dinner...

🐻 you mix Christian and Jewish traditions on Christmas day and Alfie spends a lot of time in the kitchen with you on Christmas Eve preparing babka and other treats from his own cultural background to share with the family...

🐻 modern Alfie would absolutely threaten deal or death on anyone who even considered reading a christmas cracker joke to him...

🐻 he spent the run up to Christmas being a big mard arse, threatening you with the naughty list every time you said no to him or didn't do as he'd asked. Whenever you were cheeky or sarcastic with him he'd told you you he wasn't bothering with gifts this year, telling you not to bother getting him anything...

🐻 But of course Alfie would never neglect his little ziskeit and come Christmas morning you're unwrapping the loveliest gifts from him... mostly music... the best gift Alfie has bought for you however can't be unwrapped and certainly can't be given to you in bed... it's waiting downstairs in the lounge... a new piano with the most gorgeous intricate design engraved in the body.

🐻 Alfie is terrible for spoiling the kids far too much too... Every year you end up getting them more and more between the two of you, but that's because for as cynical as Alfie is about the whole Christmas ordeal as he calls it, he does know the joy it brings to children and he does believe wholeheartedly that children should be able to have perfect happy childhoods.

John

🌼 Christmas with John is chaotic from the second the sun rises to long after it has set...

🌼feral children everywhere, and one adult man who isn't much better.... John loves to see the children excited and so he'll do anything to feed the fire, ramping up the excitement at any opportunity...

🌼 definitely a chocolate for breakfast household...

🌼 but before the sun rises, before the kids wake up and start shaking the house down... You're woken up by John, his arms wrapped around you, nuzzling into your hair, kissing your neck from behind you...

🌼 because it might be Christmas but he isn't sacrificing cosy, sleepy morning sex for anything and this his own special way of wishing you a merry Christmas...

🌼 so when the kids come bursting into the bedroom you're already awake, cuddled up with John making the most of the last few moments peace before the big day really starts.

🌼 And once the children are up that it, you're both being dragged down the stair to the living room where the children's stockings are full of treats and toys galore... And John's gifts to you are much the same

🌼 John buys you gifts which bring out your inner child, your favourite sweets, dancing frocks and feather hair bands to match... Chocolates too.

🌼 the best gift of all however arrives in an excited bundle of fluff and fur... A bright eyed puppy John had been keeping hidden in the kitchen, a gift not just for you but all the family... The children are over the moon, all shouting names to call her, and you're overjoyed too.

🌼 There's music on the gramophone and John's been mixing you Christmas cocktails since breakfast time, he dances you around your living room and picks your daughter up to dance with you too. Letting the kids dance with their feet on his feet, playing all sorts of silly Christmas games with them too. John is the life and soul of Christmas and there isn't a second goes by without laughter and general merriment on Christmas when John is around.

🌼 trying to gather the children (including John tbh) up to visit his brother's at Arrow House is a nightmare and you definitely all arrive late to Christmas lunch... Not that anyone was expecting you all to be on time... John and the children put the feral in festive?

🌼 He drives Tommy insane all day and you finally get a little peace and relief sipping gin by the fire with Ada and Polly.

🌼 And John definitely still makes time for you, stealing you away when the children are worn out from playing all day. Everyone's a little sleepy in the afternoon, even the puppy is dozing by the fire. John catches your hand and steals you away to a shadowy corner of the house to steal a Christmas kiss from his very own Christmas miracle.

Bonnie

🍀Going to bed on Christmas Eve, the smell of smoke from the fire, cinnamon and citrus from the little garlands of oranges and holly sprigs that you made and hung up around the vardo... In the morning when you wake there's fresh frost on the window and you can feel the chill in the air...

🍀so you snuggle in closer to Bonnie and he wraps his arms around you a little tighter than before. Youre cuddled up together beneath layers of blankets, listening to the birds outside, the hush of Christmas morning before the children wake up... with your eyes closed you're just enjoying being wrapped up together in the arms of your love...

🍀his scratchy morning voice and lilted accent as he kisses your cheek, nuzzles in closer and says "merry Christmas little dove..." "merry chrismas Bon." You whisper against his neck, your breath tickling him as you press a kiss to his skin.

🍀Christmas day is always busy and a little chaotic at the camp, many families all gather together for a huge celebration, which means brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents and old friends all gathered together with a fire and feast... Children running round with their new toys, snowball fights, all the little girls making snow angels and getting little ice crystals in the tangles of their long wild hair.

🍀And one day Bonnie can't wait to watch his own children running around all rosy cheeked on Christmas morning, scoffing chocolates and treats from father Christmas...

🍀but for now it's just you and him wrapped up snug and warm inside, sharing a little peace and tranquility before the chaos of Christmas

🍀Your stockings would be quite small, humble little things, but you'd have filled them with sweet little gifts, many of them handmade, for one another.

🍀You have carved bonnie a gorgeous new knife, it's engraved beautifully with little woodland vines along the handle. He's really pleased with it. And Bonnie has carved you something just as beautiful, a hair slide adorned with dried white flowers... It takes your breath away. Bonnie's gifts would be a mixture of practical and pretty....

🍀And because he has big dreams of wealth and riches Bonnie would have saved all the money from his boxing winnings to buy you something stunning and expensive... Something he definitely shouldn't have bought you! A necklace or a set of earrings made with your birthstone.

🍀 Bonnie would definitely get very broody and sentimental at Christmas, especially after a drink and having spent a lot of the day looking after some of the youngens. You'd be feeling the same too after watching him teach the younger lads to box, watching him dance with your younger sister around the fire and give her piggy backs when she's tired.

🍀And he'll want to dance with you too, there'll he no escaping him and you won't be able to keep the smile off your face when he's swaying you slowly to a softer Christmas song. He'd be singing it softly to you as you danced.

Isaiah

🐀 After a wild Christmas Eve you'd both be very tired and perhaps a little hungover... So you'd wake up tangled between the sheets together, sore heads and sleepy eyes... And that's where you'd stay for as long as possible.

🐀 you wouldn't have any Christmas commitments until it was time for Christmas dinner with Isaiah's father so you would drag the morning out in bed with a cup of tea, both of you feeling lazy...

🐀 When you finally wander downstairs you'd both be wearing Isaiah's pyjamas, him wearing the bottoms and you wearing the top. You'd sit together under a blanket to exchange gifts by the tree...

🐀 Deciding to cure your hangovers with another drink

🐀 luckily for you Isaiah has gifted you a cocktail shaker and set so you can mix up a cure for your Christmas morning hangover.

🐀 he's also bought you some truly gorgeous lingerie, red and lacy and he can't wait to see you in it later...

🐀 It would be quite a relaxed Christmas, you'd probably just about manage to be on time to Christmas Lunch, just about manage to look presentable and hide your hangovers from your parents.

🐀 Cheeky kisses under the mistletoe at every opportunity, you having to remind Isaiah to behave himself in front of your parents... He gets amusingly shy about having to wear a party hat on his head and take his turn in charades... He's actually blushing!!

🐀 You'd end up reengerised by the evening and you'd be back down the garrison come the night to meet with Finn and some of the other Peaky lads, music turned up loud, dancing and getting up to no good. Isaiah knows him and Finn will get a bollocking from Tommy when he comes back to the city but he doesn't care, anything to impress his girl.

Michael

☘️ With Michael Christmas morning is luxurious, it's slow and relaxing but it isn't low-key by any stretch of the imagination...

☘️ Tea and breakfast brought up to your room by the house keeper. The two of you eat breakfast in bed, sharing a peaceful good morning cuddle beneath fresh white sheets...

☘️ You go downstairs wrapped in your silk house coat and you exchange gifts beneath the tree, the fire burning in the place, the peaceful crackling of smouldering wood a tranquil soundtrack to your morning.

☘️ Michael has spoiled you, he's bought you a dress which is truly divine, a beautiful shade of jade green, you know he wants you to wear it today... He wants to show off his riches and also his girl... It's probably an attempt at making Tommy jealous... And you're determined to aid your man in whatever he desires so you make a note to do your make up perfectly, a little extra smoulder to your eyes shadow, a little extra rouge on your lips...

☘️ He's also tries to spoil you with the most modern, trend setting gifts... A state of the art gramophone, a home video camera which you're excited to use later to record the Shelby family Christmas.

☘️ Then you and Michael take a hot, steamy bath together, relaxing in eachothers arms, washing one anothers hair, closing your eyes and enjoying the peace, making the most of it before you have to visit the rest of the family at Arrow House...

☘️ Michaels a little begrudging about having to spend the day in Tommy's shadow so you do your best on Christmas morning to stroke his ego and give him the self esteem boost he needs to face his older cousin...

☘️ He's also paid for a trip to New York, he's been many time on business but he wants to take you with him and spoil you, show you Broadway and the skyscrapers which have stolen his heart.

☘️ Aunt Polly meets you at the door to arrow house and takes you under her wing, introducing you to everyone else and stealing you away with the women to drink whiskeys in the kitchen whilst the men play with the little ones who are running riot in the snow covered garden.

☘️ Michael has to rescue you from them because he catches them giving you the third degree, trying to work out if he's going to propose, trying to work out if you're pregnant.

☘️ if he was planning on proposing I think Michael is most likely to propose at Christmas.

Luca

🪽 Christmas starts at midnight when you're attending mass together, recieving communion, you resting your head on his shoulder as your lips move sleepily to the melody of another hymn.

🪽 Luca is never particularly impressed by mass in England, he always scowls and shakes his head, give you an earful on the way home about how the English are all uncultured heathens...

🪽 you just shake your head and smile, stroke his cheek as he's driving, place a cigarette between his lips and light it for him, you plant a kiss to his cheek to calm him and he settles down, remembering that it's Christmas... a happy day, a day of peace...

🪽 Luca has always found Christmas time to make him a little more romantic than usual and when he pulls up the car in the driveway he lifts you out of the car like a bride and carries you over the threshold as if it were the very first time. Smothers you in kisses as you make your way up to bed.

🪽In the morning when you wake it is to his low husky singing, an old hymn from his homeland which sounds all the more lovely for his lethargic tone. He strokes your hair from your face and brushes a kiss over your lips wishing his darling a merry christmas...

🪽 He lights your cigarette for you and you lie back against your plush set of pillows feeling like a princess, and you look radiant with the Christmas morning light streaming through the windows.

🪽 Luca can't resist you in the mornings and finds it impossible to keep his hands off you, slipping beneath the covers to wish you a merry Christmas in his own special way.

🪽 When the children wake they're full of excitement, bubbling over with Christmas spirit as they drag you and their Papà from your bed to go downstairs and open their gifts...

🪽 Now of course the children have been spoiled rotten as always, new toys and enough sweets to rot their teeth in under ten seconds... But you... You're Luca's Angelo, every gift he's given you is addressed to "cuore mio" (my heart) and every present is more beautiful than the last.

🪽 he spoils you with classy gifts, a string of pearls, a new gramophone and a collection of your most treasured records...

🪽 but his main gift to you plays towards Luca's dramatic tendencies, his need to show off and shower you in all the adoration his wallet can give... In the driveway with a red ribbon tied around the body is a flash sports car just for you.

🪽 "But... I can't... Drive..." "Not yet cuore mio, but don't worry, you'll have the best teacher..."

🪽 tickets to the opera and the most gorgeous black velvet dress for you to wear when he takes you into the city for an evening of luxury and music.

🪽 Luca dotes on you throughout the whole of the festive period, he dotes on you normally but in December and early January he really layers it on thick, all day Luca makes sure your every need is attended to... He is always the one to top up your wine glass, always planting little kisses to your hands and fingers, using any excuse to touch you...

🪽 Helps you get ready in your finery to greet your guests before dinner, Luca combs your hair and helps you into your dress, fastens the clasp of your necklace and can't resist peppering your neck in teasing kisses...

🪽 He doesn't mind playing host to his huge family, it's an excuse to show off after all, but he tires of social interaction quickly and you can see him growing impatient as the day draws on, you stop to massage his shoulders beneath the mistletoe and then you let your kiss linger on his lips, "not long now tesoro," you remind him, "then it'll be just me and you and the children, you'll have us all to yourself..." "Trust me cuore mio that moment can't come soon enough..."

🪽 When you try to pull away and return to the dining room Luca drags you back for one last kiss and really makes the most of the little moment of peace he gets to have with you.

Aberama

🥀 There was a time when Christmas was a particularly lonely time for Aberama, a time when he remembered all that he lost when he lost Bonnie's mother.. he used to find the winter season to be a harsh, cold, long and lonely winter...

🥀 but with you in his life things are finally beginning to thaw out, he has hope again for the first time in a long time. Your sweetness makes him feel warm despite the winter frost on the ground...

🥀 So now Christmas is a time when Aberama finds himself feeling grateful, more than anything else. He finds himself reflecting on his life and how much his family means to him, finds himself reflecting on you and all the joy and peace you've brought to his conflicted world.

🥀 His favourite part of winter is going on long walks through the frosty countryside with you tucked up in one of his big coats, seeing your little head poking out of a scarf he's wrapped tight around your neck to keep the chill at bay, your little rosy cheeks, is one of the prettiest sights he's blessed with amid the grey of December...

🥀 On Christmas morning he wakes up before you to prepare the fire and to start brewing tea and preparing breakfast... You're a little younger than him and he has a tendency to dote on you at the best of times, but on Christmas morning in particular you look so adorable, so at peace tucked away beneath the blankets that he can't bare to disturb you...

🥀 so you awake to a slight breeze tickling your cheeks, the sound of fire crackling, the hiss of the kettle coming to boil... And when you join Aberama by the fire you're still hazy with sleep. He opens his arms to welcome you into his embrace and lets you sit between his legs on the floor as he carries on attending to the fire.

🥀 As the camp slowly comes to life and everything gets busier he keeps you tucked away nice and close to him... With his own children grown up there's a little less chaos around his vardo and so you are both able to watch the festivities from a slight distance... You know it won't be long before you're swept up in it all however, you know it won't belong before one of the little ones comes running to show you their new toys...

🥀 and so you make the most of the peace whilst the children are distracted by their stockings to exchange your own gifts by the fire...

🥀Aberama is a practical and sentimental gift giver, he gives you a huge cosy woolen jumper, one to keep you snug and wrapped up in the cold months ahead, new boots for riding and accompanying him on those long rambles through the woodlands, he's also bought you a new pony, shes gorgeous and your heart swells with pride at the knowledge he'd have needed to pull a mean trick to get you a creature so beautiful, the thought you're worth that much to him almost brings you to tears.

🥀 Definitely takes a lot of pride in preparing the perfect Christmas feast and he keeps himself plenty busy in the morning with some of the other men and women preparing a fine spread for everyone to share... Definitely saves you the best carving of meat and the best looking potatoes.

🥀 Honestly despite the fact his children have grown and that even his youngest is an adult now, I thinn Christmas time makes Aberama a little broody, a little nostalgic for the days when his own little ones were running riot playing with their new toys... You might find he starts talking a little sentimentally when he's had too much wine, that when he's dancing with you by the fire in the evening he pulls you a little closer than usual...

Merry Christmas to all of my lovely lovely followers I hope you've had a lovely day <3

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