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#thomas shelby request
padfootdaredmetoo · 1 year
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Hi Dear !
I love your work, like, it's so good !
Could you do one with a curvy reader x Thomas Shelby ? (And with short hair, like a Peaky cut, but longer at the top)
Like she is naturally nice and kind to everyone. But she would do anything to protect the family while always being nice (I mean, she don't use bad terms (sorry if it don't mean anything, English isn't my first language 😅)). Thomas love her for being so amazing
Thank you !
Love you ❤️
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Hey Anon, Thank you for waiting so long! Hope you enjoy this one. It's a bit on the darker side which I hope is alright.
Warnings: Reader is assaulted (not descriptive just unwanted touching) Violent murder of problematic peaky characters because I'm bitter.
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You kept the sides of your curly hair as short as possible leaving a very unfeminine angle to your facial features or at least that's what people told you. It was unsettling and created too much of a contrast with your very feminine curves. You rolled your eyes and looked at yourself in the mirror and thought about the last time your hair was shoulder-length...
You would have been about 13. Just barely a woman and no matter how hard you tried to stay away from them you would always find yourself back with the Shelby boys. That cold day down by the cut, one of the girls from school wanted to prank you and cut off a massive piece of your hair. Tommy being 4 years older and infinitely cooler, decided there was only one way to fix it. People never gave you a hard time over it knowing whose hand was responsible for the cut. 
Your initial reaction was burning hate,  but seeing that he liked it was enough to make you forget it. Soon enough the hair came with a very safe place amongst the boys and endless troublemaking. 
Fast forward what felt like a million years you sat on the edge of the bathtub in your fancy bathroom and lit a cigarette. 
Looking out the window the sun was almost down and it was just about time to get ready. You looked over the soft red fabric of the dress hanging on the back of the door. You tried to think of a way to escape the evening, but you wouldn’t leave Thomas or the family in such a state. 
After a few more drags of your cigarette, you finally put it out and got to work. It didn't take you too long to get ready looking in the mirror you were very happy with the way the shimmery fabric clung to your curves. Adding a large diamond necklace Tommy had gifted you it was time to get downstairs. 
You looked over everything satisfied with the arrangements. You gave a sigh as you looked over the room, for once the type of people it was built for would be in your home. You clenched your fists struggling with the task before you. Normally your role in the blinders was to do what you did best of all. Talk to people. You had a way of making people tell you all their secrets and fears. You’d been able to reason and care for people ultimately saving them from destruction. It annoyed Thomas more than anything and yet it was a skill that benefitted his efforts most of all.
A strong arm wrapped around your waist pulling you from your thoughts. 
“It’s just a room, love.” He whispered in your ear and you relaxed against his frame. 
“I don’t want to do this Tom.” 
“I’ll let you renovate it then, eh? Soon as this is over you can fix it -” 
“You know that’s not -” You whispered shaking your head. 
“I know.” He whispered in your ear placing a kiss on your temple. This was not the time to talk about the things weighing on your heart. He held you there for a moment letting you breathe. 
Then the chaos started. John and Arthur showed up looking grim and mildly annoyed. They were to be on the property but not at the actual dinner. 
“You look nice,” John said giving you a weak smile. Arthur’s eyes told you all you needed to know. They were as miserable and angry about this as you were. 
“We’ll make sure nothing bad breaks out,” Arthur said in a low voice and you gave him a nod of thanks. They went to wherever they were to be stationed for the evening. 
You took a deep breath, every body was human at the end of the day. You could save these people. Bring them to the light. Like everyone they just need a little kindness. 
They were a half hour late and you bit back your bitterness at the way his hands lingered on your skin. 
“What a lovely wife you have here Thomas.” His dark eyes studied you and there was nothing soft about his words. “Heard lots about you over the years.” Oswald then introduced his new wife. Diana looked too much like all of Grace’s worst qualities. Acid burned in your veins and you pushed it down to introduce yourself. 
They went right into business wasting no time on pleasantries. Something you were initially grateful for, hoping that it would speed up the meeting. 
Your initial plan of all anyone needs is some kindness and good words were thrown out the window when things moved to the sitting room. Oswald insisted on sitting next to you on the sofa, and you watched as Diana’s eyes devoured your husband. 
You would do anything for your family. You repeated the thought over and over hoping it would push the obvious sight from your mind. 
Listening politely and trying to find a way to get a word into the conversation your hand found a very lucky prize tucked into the couch cushions. 
Your fingers brushed the cold metal and you remembered Polly opening letters the morning before. It being there gave you the slightest bit of comfort. 
Then the obvious but also unthinkable happened. His hands were running up your leg towards your hip. In all your life, in all these situations this was one thing that was never a possibility. A man touching you in your husband's presence. 
The realization of the power these two had over him felt like a punch. Goosebumps covered your skin and you watched as Diana made her move on Tommy. 
“Your eyes look so surprised, surly you've done this before?” his mustache tickled your ear and something broke inside you. 
Thomas had led you through some dark things, but nothing so dark that your light couldn't shine through and remedy the situation. People in need always won the battles you and he staged. 
Did Thomas know this was the plan? You were hesitant enough about dinner, so why bother telling you this was where things were headed? 
Maybe he wanted to sleep with her?
All the horrid words that were spoken over dinner hit you in full force as his mustache tickled your neck. Wet lips slobbering on you. Without care if the world ended your fingers clutched the letter opener, and the next thing you knew it was firmly embedded in his neck. 
He made a terrible sound and you were covered in blood. A gun shot rang out and you abruptly stood up. 
“OH GOSH oh my - gosh - Mother of gosh - sweet freaking gosh. I - I Oh my gosh.” Arms were wrapped around you and you realized it was Arthur. He picked you up like you weighed nothing and carried you out of the room. 
“She almost cussed that time,” John said as if impressed. 
“FUCK SAKE - EVERYTHING IS F- FUCKED.” The sound of a lamp smashing was quickly silenced by the heavy wood of the kitchen door. 
“Stay here, love.” Arthur gave you a pat on the back and placed a bottle of whiskey in front of you. He made a phone call in the hallway before returning to your shouting husband. 
An unknown amount of time passed before you felt Polly’s weathered hands grabbing your shoulders. 
“Let's get you cleaned off.” All you could do was nod. 
Polly took you up to the room she claimed as hers when she stayed over and got you into the bath. She scrubbed all the blood off of you as you shook. Eventually, she rinsed you one last time before filling the tub up with clean water. 
“What happened?” She asked as she pushed the curls from your forehead. 
“Polly I-I-I can do it. You know. I’ve always been able to fix things and wow people. Try to bring them to the light, and change their minds about their horrible choices. In my head, we are always the good guys.” You took a few deep breaths. “But they were just. Really awful. I’d do anything for the family Pol I would and I have. I just - gosh -  his hands were all over me and she just kissed him.” You were still in disbelief that your husband would put you in such a situation. 
“That wasn't supposed to be the plan.” She whispered running her thumb across your cheek. Her eyes held a pain in them that you immediately wanted to take away.  
“then my fingers sunk into the space between the armrest and the cushion, and your letter opener had fallen through. I grabbed it and just snapped-” 
“You did what Tommy couldn’t. Don’t feel anything about it. He’d been after them for months, all of this was to set up some big event to take him out. Either way, he was going to die at the hands of a Shelby.” She shrugged. “Might as well have been my letter opener.” 
Tears started to prickle in the corners of your eyes. This wasn't who you were. You didn't kill people or deviate from plans - 
“Sometimes death is a kindness.” She kissed your forehead and you let the words sink in. Somehow you doubted that Brittian would miss him or Diana. 
Getting dressed you had a moment of realization. There was one other man that you knew relatively well… the man that dragged Thoams into this mess in the first place. 
You dialed the phone number and did what you did best. Chatted. 
When you came downstairs you saw everyone in the kitchen looking positively worn from the night's events. Thomas looked at you and immediately motioned for you to come sit on his lap. You stood at the head of the table. 
“Alright, once I was thinking clearly again.” You cleared your throat. “ I had the realization that a friend owed me a favor for something ages ago. Everything here is sorted.” 
“What kind of favor?”  - “Who?”  Tommy and Arthur asked at the same time. 
“Well doesn't matter what happened, but a while back I helped clear something up for Mr.Churchhill so I thought I’d ring him and see what he thought about all this-” 
“At this hour-” “You don’t call in favours-” John and Arthur started talking over each other while Tommy gave you a hard stare. 
“What kind of favor is that big?” Tommy asked in a low voice. 
“Like I said I can’t really say. All you need to know is everything is fine. People will be by in the morning for the bodies.” 
The thought of not having to dig holes in the middle of winter seemed to win John and Arthur over. Tommy looked put out over the situation and for once you enjoyed holding all the cards close to your chest. For once everyone else can drown in the mystery and do what they're told. 
You came over and sat on his lap. His fingers curl tightly into your skin. He had a lot of explaining to do before you would forgive him, but his grip on you let you know he wasn't happy with the situation. 
After drinks and everyone seemed sure you were alright the boys headed home and Polly went upstairs to bed. You expected his mood to turn sour and for him to cuss you out. Instead, he just rested his head on your chest. Without thought, your hand went to brush along the side of his head. 
His grip didn’t loosen and he gave out a shaky breath. Suddenly you realized that this had most certainly not been the plan, you got hurt, had to do awful things, and then go off and fix the situation. His plan failed and put you in danger. He was ashamed. 
Not something you’d ever noticed before. Part of you wanted to hear him say it, and apologize. Then you realized his embrace was enough. Knowing he was afraid and seeking comfort in you was enough. 
“I-” 
“Don’t I don't mind. It’s handled that’s the main thing.” You said firmly wanting more than anything to put this mess behind you. You expected that to be the end but he only nodded and went back to holding you. No other sound other than the fire crackling. 
You thought back over all the things the two of you had been through over the years. You knew that this would simply fade into the tapestry along with all the other hard stuff.
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garrison-girl-08 · 7 months
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love your blog, read everything you have posted. Can you please do a reader comforting Tommy from a nightmare? Thank you
Thank you ! Hope you enjoy your request x
Solace
Pairing - Thomas Shelby and Reader
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You had been in a deep sleep, your whole body relaxed. Mind closed off after a long day, just what you had needed. You had even been dreaming, walking through a meadow. The bright light from the sun, warming your face. Your husband beside you, walking with his horse.
Tommy had always loved horses. You remember him walking past your fathers bakery, with his white horse. Patting her nose, and talking to her in Romani. You had been seventeen then, and had the biggest crush on Tommy. You always had done, if the truth was known.
He was five years older than you, your father had warned you to stay away from men. No man, was to come near his innocent daughter.
You hadn't been so innocent, when you had let Thomas Shelby take you out. Taking you to pubs, taking you to the canal, taking you to his bed. No.... you hadn't been innocent at all. When you had given yourself, freely to him. And you had never looked back.
He treat you like a princess, worshipped you, provided for you. Loved you deeply, just as you did with him.
Feeling harsh movement in the bed next to you, you gasped. Sitting bolt upright, trying to catch your breath. It had been weeks, since Tommy had a nightmare. The darkness in the room suddenly felt heavy, with an eerie atmosphere.
You were still half asleep. Confused.
Turning your head, you found Tommy thrashing under the thin sheet. Beads of sweat rolling along his forehead. Hair damp, as he panted. Large hands flailing around, to grab onto something. You could feel the fear radiating from him.
To him this was so real.
He was back there.
Back in the trenches.... back in the war.
Reaching out a shaky hand, you gently touched his forearm. "Tommy," you whispered, "Tommy, wake up, you are safe,"
He was becoming more and more distressed. Head swiping back and forward on his pillow. Arthur had always warned you, not to suddenly wake him. Try to gently talk to him, to pull him back to reality.
But, you were scared, so worried for him.
Leaning out of the way of his thrashing body, you climbed from the bed. Biting your lip, as you stood at the end, unsure what to do. The whole house would be asleep, the whole of Watery Lane was quiet.
"Move," Tommy suddenly called out.
Going to his side of the bed, you touched his shoulder. "Tommy," you tried again, a tear rolling along your cheek. Your heart breaking, from seeing your husband like this. Grabbing your wrist, he sat bolt upright.
Eyes wide, like a scared animal trapped in a cage.
Pulling your wrist, he launched himself from the bed. Pushing you against the wall, "Get down, we need to get down," he ordered you. Looking around the room. The muscles in his strong shoulders flexing, as he held you tight.
"Tommy!" you shouted now, trying to get away from him. His weight crushing you, bumping into the drawers as the oil lamp fell onto the floor.
Smashing instantly.
Tommy's forearm moved to hold you in place, pushing against your neck. "Follow the order," he growled. Your delicate fingers now clawing at his arm, trying to break free. Fighting to catch your breath.
He was strong, too strong for you.
Feeling someone pull him away, you gasped. "Stand down, soldier," Arthur warned, holding Tommy at arms length. Falling to your knees, you fought to fill your lungs. Throat still tight.
Blinking against the small light, Arthur had turned on. Tommy found his brother in front of him, and you on the floor. All he could remember was climbing into bed. Drifting off, with you in his arms. He was safe with you.
“What? Eh… what happened…” he trailed off, wiping the sweat away from his brow. “Y/n?” He asked, his eyes shooting to Arthur for an answer.
When you remained silent. Trying to recover.
“It’s ok,” you whispered, pulling yourself up from the floor. Using the drawers to help you, feeling unsteady. “It’s ok ...Tommy,”
Arthur frowned, “You had a nightmare, Tom. A bad one,” Stepping towards you, Arthur tried to inspect your neck for injuries. Tommy still so confused.
“I’m fine,” you managed to smile, “Thank you, Arthur we are ok now,”
Patting Tommy on the shoulder, Arthur left the room. Holding Tommy’s bicep, you tried to guide him back to bed. His baby blue eyes staring up at you, looking so innocent. So childlike. His chest rising and falling rapidly.
Reaching for his smokes, he one across his full lips. Hands shaking too much to light it.
"What did I do?" he whispered, gazing up towards you, as you lit the match for him. Running your fingers through his hair, you stood in front of him. Watching him inhale deeply.
"It's ok Tommy, you are safe now," you soothed him, pressing his head against your torso. Feeling a rush of love for him. He was so tortured by the past. So tortured by the events of the war.
Placing the cigarette between his lips, he met your eyes. Hands slowly holding your hips, thumbs rubbing against your nightie. "What did I do? Did I hurt you, love?"
"No Tommy, you could never hurt me," you reassured, pulling back to let him inhale the smoke. "You were asleep, it wasn't you,"
Standing, he flicked the ash into a cup. Blowing the smoke away from you. Holding your face, he observed the red mark on your neck. "But it was," he whispered, slowly kissing where he had held you. "I'm so..."
"Stop," you warned placing your hand on his chest, "Don't you apologise, I know you would never hurt me on purpose. Let's get you back to bed, get some rest,"
Eyes flicking to the bed, Tommy looked back at you. You knew he was scared. Scared it would happen again. Encouraging him to lay down, you lay with your head against him. Listening, to the now steady beat of his heart.
"I'm here with you Tommy," you reassured, "Just us, I will be here when you wake up,"
Letting his fingertips run across the skin, of your bare arm. You heard him sigh, "I love you, Y/n. For now and forever,"
"For now and forever," you repeated, entwining your fingers in his. Hoping, he would now be able to have a peaceful sleep.
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warnersister · 15 days
Text
Peaky blinders headcannon ->
“the boys finding out the reader is a virgin”
Find the request here
Tommy🪖
🪖Tommy had been courting you for a good few months now; much longer than he would any other woman. But he quite liked you so he was more than willing to make an exception for the lovely young lady that had just moved to the area.
🪖You’d moved for a fresh start, away from your past and to Birmingham. You’d packed your bags and left home and got on the train - taking it as far as it would go and got out when the conductor pleaded with you to disembark as they’d start the journey back to your beginnings.
🪖You’d accepted the job at The Garrison, noting the sign in the window as you aimlessly wandered the streets, mindlessly questioning your intentions. The sign in the window was almost a call from God and you hurried inside, being greeted by the bar man and a few raised eyebrows at the young girl with her life in a suitcase and hair all tangled. “Y’alright love? Look like you need a drink.” You shook your head. “A job is what I need. Still hiring?” You asked and he looked you over once. “When can you start?”
🪖So eleven months deep with a flat and a job you were quite happy in Birmingham. Your specialty straying away from being a barmaid and more towards being a hostess and front of house staff. You’d seat people and prepare the hotel lodgings upstairs, and arrange rooms and port for pesky business when it came down to it. And in the process you’d captured the attention of a certain blinder who believed he had no business interfering with the life of a young maiden just getting back on her feet, but you entertained him so who was he to be so austere and deny himself such pleasures?
🪖You were shutting shop on a Saturday night, footfall substantial and you’d finally managed to kick all drunkards out of the pub after much struggle and a bit of help from John Shelby, who’d tipped his hat and went on his merry way. You’d grabbed your coat of the hanger, hearing the door bell chime behind you “we’re closed” you announced, pivoting on your heel “I know.” That all familiar voice sounded and you peeked your head. “Alright, Tommy?” You ask, getting your bag and fastening your coat; preparing for a cold winter night in Birmingham.
🪖He stepped closer and you, in turn, stepped backwards until you were trapped against the bar. “This has gone on for long enough,” he says gruffly, staring deep into your eyes and studying your face. You’d raised your brows “what has, Tom?” He shook his head and chuckled slightly. “You and I; ‘m so sick of seeing you and not being able to have you for myself.” He tells you, right arm wrapping around your waist and head dipping slightly.
🪖Your hand came up to hold him where he was and he stopped, in question. “Not like this Tommy.” You say, looking away but he grasps your chin gently to pull you back to face him. “Not like this?” He hums “Thomas, I’ve never..” you lead off hoping he’d understand what you were implying. He thought for a moment before it clicked. “Never?” You shook your head “never.” His Adams Apple bobbed as he swallowed a lump in his throat “never.” He mumbled. “And how should I go about this the right way?” He asked, settling his hands on your hips and smiling slightly.
🪖“Dinner and a nice walk.” You say and he nods with a hum. “How’s tomorrow?” You shake your head “not leaving Harry to deal with your lot on a Sunday.” “When you next off?” He asks “Friday.” “Then we’ll go out on Friday.” You nod and smile, but point a judging finger at him. “No guns” he smiles “yes sweetheart, no guns.” “And no peaky business” he shakes his head “no business.” “No fighting either, at all” you warn and he chuckles “I promise” you lean your hand up to caress his face and he leans into your touch. “Take that bloody razor blade out of your cap too.” He raises a brow “how do you know about that?” “You underestimate the amount of times I’ve carried Arthur out of this bar and nearly sliced my hand on that thing.”
🪖“I want to see Thomas. No Shelby.” You say and he blinks. “Then Thomas you shall have.” “May I walk you home?” He asks and you smile up at him “you may” and he offers an arm to walk you to your house, looking forward to taking the last of your innocence the following Friday.
Alfie🧸
🧸Alfie recently started attending his local synagogue, at first yes: to reconnect with his faith, but now it was to see the young woman who attended every day, volunteering as your father was the rabbi. Albeit that sounding wrong, Alfie thought the rabbi was bordering on ancient and you were younger than him, but you were nearly twenty six so that wasn’t too bad.. right?
🧸“Ah Mr Solomons, back again I see” the rabbi commented, noted the recent inclination of Alfie’s presence at the house of God. “Well, been trying to reconnect.” He told his superior. “With God or with my daughter?” The rabbi asked and Alfie’s brows rose. “E-excuse me?” He choked on his words. The rabbi smirked with a slight twinkle in his eye “I’m not stupid” “no, of course you’re not-” “I’ve seen how you’ve been eyeing her.” Alfie quietened for a moment. “Well, y’see she’s a lovely young lady” “I agree, that’s how I raised her.” “And I’d like to ask her for dinner, with your blessing, f’course.” Alfie began to ramble but his elder cut him off.
🧸“Not with the business you’re in, Alfred.” And his mouth ran dry. “For her I’d get out of it, move to Morecambe, open a bakery, marry, have kids, y’know I’d raise them proper.” Rabbi Kaplan again hummed “but that sort of business isn’t the kind you can get out of, is it?” “You did, Abe.” Alfie corrects him and there’s a moment of contemplative silence. “You’re right I did. But no one hurts a rabbi.” “Then I’ll get ordained.” Alfie shrugged. Abraham looked at the man before him. “Gods punished me enough. He knows how much physical pain I’m in. And ‘m not gettin’ any younger. Neither’s she. ‘nd I never wanna be in this business anymore. Wanna settle down, dogs, kids, grandkids, the works.” Alfie says and Abe’s tongue protrudes from his lips to lick his dry lips as he thinks.
🧸“If I allow this, he’s watching.” The man looks up “I know.” “And if I allow this, she calls all the shots.” Alfie nods “wouldn’t have it any other way” “as in she says no, means no. She wants to go for a walk at two in the morning, you take her. She wants to come here, you bring her. She wants to get married, you wed her.” The man took two steps closer so him and Alfie were closer than any Rabbit should be with his child “she tells you to jump of the docks, you jump.” Alfie’s eyes don’t falter. “Done.” Abraham closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face “alright, you have my blessing.” Alfie nods, trying to suppress his glee, shaking the rabbi’s hand and walking towards the front of the synagogue where you were sat counting donations.
🧸“Excuse me missus” Alfie clears his throat and you look up at him, swallowing with a lump in his throat “yes?” “I was wondering if you’d like to go for an eat to bite, I mean a bite to eat, I mean-” you giggle at him “yes Alfie I’d love to go out with you.” Alfie sighed in relief and smiled down at you noting how the rabbi had wandered off elsewhere. You sealed and locked the cash box, storing it where I belonged and Alfie held his arm out for you to take “shall we?” You grin back at him “we shall”
🧸You’d been seeing Alfie for going on several months, and today he’d arranged for a restaurant to be shut down in order for the two of you to enjoy some peace and quiet together. You’d enjoyed a lovely romantic meal, accompanied by a bouquet of white tulips and a sneaky kiss to Alfie’s cheek, which he was grateful that they were covered by a large beard - disguising his beat-red features.
🧸Alfie was walking you back to his house, as you’d both previously agreed that you’d stay for the night and head towards Morecambe Bay the following day: to pick out a cottage on the seafront.
🧸You had some clothes at Alfie’s house, for events such as this where you’d decided to stay or go elsewhere the following day without needing to drop back home for anything. You were uncoiling your hair, and your gentle giant came around to hug you from behind, kissing up your neck until you giggled from being tickled, turning to kiss his lips.
🧸Your eyes surveyed one another’s for a moment, him leaning back down to kiss you in a more seriously insinuating manner - sciatica obviously not bothering him today as he managed to pick you up and lead you to his bed. “Alfie wait,” you say quickly and the man immediately stopped “what’s wrong treacle? If y’don’t want to we’ll stop here ‘nd-” “no it’s not that” your left hand fiddled with the rings on your right “what’s wrong flower?” He caressed your cheek gently. “Alfie I’ve never done anything before.” You say and his brows form a line in confusion. “Y’what?” “Alfie I’m a virgin.” You say and time almost stands still, Alfie nearly felt sick as he’d been handling you like a woman of the night and not a dignified young lady of whom was vastly inexperienced. “‘M sorry alf.” You say, looking down. Alfie grasps your chin and forces your eyes to connect with his “it’s me who should be apologising, sweetness. Your old man didn’t know. ‘V been handling y’ like ‘y know what you’re doin’.” He says gently. “And if y’ don’t want to, we don’t have to.” “No Alfie I want to.” And you could swear you could see the hearts forming in his irises, lenses constricting into something unnatural but simultaneously not animalistic. “I’ll take good care ‘f y’ love, just lay down for Alfie and let ‘im work his magic, yeah?” He says, laying you back gently on the bed, vowing to handle you like a porcelain doll in a box of feathers.
Arthur🍺
🍺You were several years younger than Arthur, he never felt like you were - he was as immature as any lad two decades his senior, but with you he never felt his age.
🍺The peaky blinders had been invited to a lavish banquet, black tie, chandeliers, live orchestra, the works. And Arthur never shied away from an opportunity to show his lover off, especially when that dress hugged you perfectly and your matching black gloves made you look so dainty and proper. He was proud to waltz into that event, feeling almost smug with ‘such a babe’ on his arm.
🍺The evening began wonderfully, three courses, all of which Arthur found laughable as he questioned the waiter why his entree was only a piece of rocket and slice of undercooked stake. Drinks were flowing and he was happy to get tipsy while to congregated with Polly and Ada, smitten to see you engaging so well with his family and them requiting his adoration for her.
🍺You’d stood at the bar, trying to gain the attention of the bartender to order yourself another rum and coke and your date an umpteenth pint. “Hiya can I just have a rum and coke and an apple juice?” You ask the man and he raises an eyebrow. “He’s so drunk I don’t think he’ll tell the difference.” He laughs and nods, heading off to get the top of shelf rum Arthur had requested he’d serve you earlier.
🍺“Gorgeous night, isn’t it?” A voice asked from beside you and you peer left, a young gentlemen with slicked back black hair asked as he knocked back the rest of the whiskey he’d been nursing for a while, requesting another as well as your drinks being on him. “Yes lovely.” You say shortly. “Well I was just thinking-” he begins smugly, before hissing and you look back at him quickly to see whatever is the matter. His finger was drawing blood as the new glass he’d been given was chipped on the end, in turn slicing the edge of his finger. “Oh dear, here let me help” you grabbed one of the inscribed handkerchiefs from the pile and applied pressure on his finger, only noticing your proximity when he chuckled. “What a first acquaintance” you laugh and agree. “You’re good at this” he hums “nurse in the war.” You say, not really wanting to reflect on the past.
🍺“May I buy you another drink for your troubles? Or possibly dinner?” He inquires with an up quirked lip. “No thank-” “I think she’s quite happy with the fella she’s got, son.” An angered voice quipped from behind you through gritted teeth, an arm snaking around your waist as the boy’s face ran pale. “Mr Shelby, sorry she didn’t say-” “she shouldn’t have too. Now fuck off before I kick the living daylights out of ya.” Arthur threatens and the previously smug man makes himself scarce.
🍺“Arthur,” “c’mon. We’re leaving.” He says, dragging you through the crowds of people and hailing a taxi, still gentlemanly opening the door for you but clambering in beside you, the smoke billowing from his ears fogging the windows. “Fucking little boy thinking he can talk to my fuckin’ woman, fuckin’ bastard” he reiteratively mumbled under his breath until he reached his house, roughly taking you from the car and throwing a wad of cash at the driver.
🍺As soon as you entered the house you were trapped against the closed door, his lips attacking yours unexpectedly as you struggled to keep up with his might. “I’ll show him who you fuckin’ belong to” “Arthur” “little boy makes up nothin’” “Arthur” “scream my name so the little bastard will fuckin’ hear me” “Arthur I’m a virgin” the man stopped immediately, expression stopping form angered to a more gentle one. “Y’what love?” He asks quietly, tight grip on your trapped wrists loosening “I’ve never had sex before Arth, sorry for not telling you.” You could see him visibly sobering up. “Oh my darlin’ m’sorry I didn’t know.”
🍺This was the only time you’d made Arthur feel his age, his lover a virgin. “I’ll take good care of you sweetheart, if y’let me.” “Show y’ what you’ve missed out on” he chuckles and you laugh, allowing him to pick you up to carry you up the stairs and into the bedroom.
John🥃
🥃Waking up this morning and getting married to a stranger wasn’t on your bingo card. But here you are. Kneeled at the alter beside a smirking young lad who was in a similar situation. “By the power invested in me, I now declare you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” The stranger smiled and you and kissed your lips sweetly.
🥃The reception was just as hazy. Drinks were flowing and laughter was heard. Your father and Thomas Shelby seemed at peace for once and all was right with the world. When slow dancing, John had held you close and embraced you like you were young lovers wed, not total strangers at the chapel. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear and smiled as you giggled back at his remarks, fighting with icing on the cake and having an overly fun time with one another’s families after the initial shock from the morning. After all, he was incredibly charming and you couldn’t get out of a gypsy marriage that easily. Not in post-war Britain.
🥃You headed back to the Shelby Manor in a car strung with cans, attached by young children earlier in the day. You looked out the window to the vast house, feeling a hand tugging gently on your hair, the owner tucking it behind your ear as you looked at home. “Glad we’re married cause I could never pull you if I tried, gorgeous.” He comments and you laugh. “You’re joking. One drink and I’d be a gonner.” “At least we got to skip the funny business” he took your chin between your forefinger and chin “cause your all mine now, darling”
🥃He’d hurried you to your room quicker than anticipated, giggling like school children up to no good. He’d kissed you tenderly once inside, behind closed doors and away from the interference of all other prying eyes.
🥃He spun you gently, hands dropping to focus on the details of the backing of your dress; unthreading and untying the intricate lacings applied to keep the gown tight to your person. The dress fell and pooled at your ankles, him attacking the now bare skin with open-mouthed kisses and gentle pecks to the untouched skin.
🥃Coming to your front, he cornered you backwards in small steps until your legs hit the bed and you fell backwards onto it - him on top of you, kissing down your bodice animalisticly. “John?” He stopped and looked up with a hypnotic gaze in his eye “yes love?” “I’ve never had sex before.” You say shakily and he stops all movement. He falters for a moment, before climbing slightly higher in order to be face to face with you “never? You’re a virgin?” You nod back and he swallows the heavy lump in his throat as his briefs tighten.
🥃“Well then what an opportunity to consummate the marriage, aye darling?” He smirks “if you’ll let me that is” you smile and offer a kiss to his lips, him getting the green flag and go ahead to give you the absolute night of your life.
Bonnie🥊
🥊Bonnie was an old fashioned lad. From a young age he drempt of the stereotypical traveller lifestyle - never a singular home, him the homemaker, wife on his arm and umpteen kids running wild. It sounded like heaven. And from the moment he’d set eyes on you Bonnie had decided that that was your role - destined to be by his side. You weren’t a gypsy yourself, but he was certain he could sway you but either way he was happy to compromise as long as he had you.
🥊Tonight was one of, if not the, biggest night of his life thus far. The largest and most important fight he’d ever partake in, not only against the reigning champion which would secure his fate of being the new ruler, but also performing in front of the Peaky Blinders - prove himself to the trust Tommy Shelby had bestowed upon him. And most significantly, you were watching.
🥊He was stood in his changing room, allowing you to gently wrap his hands while his father gave him a pep talk. “Five minutes son.” His dad said, patting his back and nodding at you as he left to give you a minute alone before his spotlight moment. You finished wrapping the cloth around his palms and took his face into your hands, forcing him to look at you. “How we feeling champ?” You ask, trying to wake him up from his dystopian trance. “‘m scared m’love.” He mumbled as you frowned slightly. “Why’re you scared? Talk to me Bon, get it all out. You scared about the Shelby family? I’ll kick ‘em out-" “scared ‘m gonna disappoint you.” He says and you falter.
🥊“Bon you could never disappoint me, why would you think that?” He sighed, looking away before beginning to admit his desires. “Just wanna make you proud. I want to marry you and give you my children and travel as a family. But if I lose you won’t want to do that.” He grumbles. You chuckle slightly. “You’re such a dafty, Bon.” You say and his eyebrows crease. You lean into kiss him as he happily requites the gesture. “Bonnie of course I want to be with you either way. I don’t care if you loose, hell I don’t care if you don’t want to fight and walk out, I’ll walk right out with you.” You say.
🥊“I never knew you felt like that but I’d love to marry you Bon and have your children and I’d be willing to travel with you. I just need you to stop fretting and go win this. I love ya Bonnie.” You say, leaning your forehead against his. “You mean it?” He asks, giddily. You nod “I do”
🥊“God if I win this we’re gonna get started on those kids.” He says, getting riled up as the minutes tick down. You laugh at him “anything you want, Bonnie. Always wanted my first time to be with you.” You say and time stops. His father knocks on the door to hail his son out to the ring.
🥊“BONNIE!” “You’re a virgin?” “Yes” “BONNIE COME ON!” “And you want me to take your virginity?” “Yes Bonnie I trust you. Now go.” He hurries out of the door reluctantly, all riled up and heading for the ring.
🥊The knockout was inevitable, his opponent out cold in a matter of rounds, blood flowing freely from Bonnie’s nose as he celebrated by raising his hands victoriously above his head, father and Blinders crowding him to pat him on the back and exchange congratulations. But none of that mattered. It was just faint ringing in the background. All he could see was you stood a fair way back from the celebrating men climbing over the limb body on the ground no one had seemed to care too. He looked upon your innocent doe eyes and soft smile staring back at him as he blew you a kiss; and never has he been so desperate to get away from his own party.
🥊And after a good few hours and countless attempts to get you all to himself, you were back in Bonnie’s humble beginning: laid on your back as your boy thrust into you gently, trying not to hurt you while simultaneously trying to adhere to his desperation for you. “Faster Bon, please.” “Wanna give me a child? Is that it?” He asks and you nod meekly, as he quickens his pace desperate to bed his maiden in his own place called home.
Isaiah♟️
♟️Isaiah had been trying to get to you for many many years. Countless attempts proving fruitless from not only your rejections, but also your elder brother’s: Finn’s. Any time Isaiah had any suggestion on courting you he was shot down by his friend, who’d smack the back of his head and scold him for thinking such things. “I’ll cut your dick off and shove it in your ear if you keep thinking about my sister with it” he’d tell him.
♟️But tonight, oh tonight. Darling you looked ravishing. The Blinders were celebrating a grand festivity at Shelby Manor, someone was getting married.. or someone was dead, Isiah needn’t have cared less. Because when you cascaded the stairs, Mary Jane’s on foot and tight black dress clung to your bodice, Isaiah had to physically refrain himself from grabbing you from the get go.
♟️Sure, he’d mingled with others and drank freely with the brothers; but not once did he stray his eyes away from your figure, never letting you out of his sight. Not when you looked so delicious and drinkable, mouth running so dry he’d have to reiteratively lubricate it with whiskey. A bit of the good ole’ ‘Dutch-Courage’, aye?
♟️Finally noticing an opportunity when you brother wasn’t lingering over your shoulder, scolding you for wearing such a gown, Isaiah made his move. He slivered to the bar beside you, where Harry was offered a well-paying job serving for the evening and told him to get you another of whatever it is that you were drinking. “Your brother lets you wear a dress like this?” He questions, knocking back the rest of his whiskey and hailing for another.
♟️“No. But I am not Finn and he is nor I” you tell him, nursing the edge of your glass with your finger absentmindedly trailing it. He leant closer. “Tell you, if you were my woman that dress would be on the floor of my room right about now.” He promised and you shivered at the thought. “But I’m not your woman, am I Isaiah?” You rhetorically ask, sipping and please to feel the alcohol running down your throat.
♟️“Oh god if you were.” He said, trailing off. “I’d have you married, knocked up, never not pregnant. Have your last name Jesus. My dad would do the ceremony, y’know. Get you a nice little bouquet and pretty white dress I get to ravish you in afterwards.” He said “well you’ve got it all planned out, huh Mr Jesus?” You snort but you are backed against the bar, two hands either side of your waist as your belittled by the taller between you.
♟️“Believe me I’ve dreamt of the day since I first saw you, just your fucking brother wouldn’t let me.” You eye his lustful expression. “As I said, Isaiah. I am not my brother, nor is he I.” You repeat slowly, relaying that your older sibling(s) had no say in what was going on at that moment. “You’re playing with fire, little girl” he warned “then let me get burned” you say, batting your eyelashes doe-like and innocently, as you dared him to make the move your core had been dying for for decades.
♟️His nostrils flare as you wrap his tie around your hand and yank at it harshly, bringing an ear close to your lips to offer a promise never before foretold. “Isaiah I’m a virgin” you whisper, before releasing his tie and straightening his suit. He follows the lump in his throat before surveying the room once and looking down at you, grabbing your hand to drag you through the crowds of people and into the safe proximities of his bedroom for newly discovered events.
♟️The evening died down and the chatter faltered, as Thomas Shelby announced a new betrothal in the family. However he was unable to promise the two, because the bride and groom were missing.
Michael🎱
🎱Oh god I’ve been waiting for this one. Michael absolutely eats that shit up.
🎱You and Michael were first acquainted when himself, Thomas and John travelled to the Cotswolds in order to engage in some legal business with the Wentworth family - Tommy spoke business with the ceo of the family, while John entertained the mother and Michael; the daughter.
🎱Michael was an old fashioned man with old fashioned views. He liked his women obedient and untouched and willing to listen to his every word - just like they were supposed too.
🎱They were welcomed into the home by several butlers, two to open the grand doors - three to take their caps and the others to lead the family to their guests. “Thomas Shelby.” They heard, and a dignified gentleman descended the stairs, an unnecessary cain in one hand, the other wrapped around his wife as they descended the central staircase to the visitors, a young lady trailing behind.
🎱“Archibald Wentworth.” Thomas smiled at the man and nodded out of respect. The man walked up to him and shook each of their hands firmly. “How longs it been old chap?” He asked Thomas. “Too long, old friend.” Thomas replied, and they engaged in friendly conversation as neither had seen each other since their fathers dealt with similar business in their own youth. The elder woman approached John who kissed the back of her hand and she curtsied, him remaining respectful as their shared introductions. You however, approached Michael who looked back at you fondly. You curtsied to him and he bowed slightly. “It’s a pleasure Mr Gray.” You say, voice soft and unbroken. He took your hand and kissed the back of it gently. “All mine, Miss Wentworth.”
🎱“And please, do call me Michael.” He told you, smiling gently. “Well in that case you’re compelled to call me Yn.” Michael studied your face; never in his twenty one years of existence had he seen such beauty before. Your skin was fair and undamaged - soft to the touch. Your nails were clean and manicured with a neutral colour. Your hair was cascading down by your ears, as if instructed to sit perfectly, framing your face. You eyes were innocent yet appeared all-knowing - your mouth formed into a graceful smile. And you carried yourself with such proper dignity; it was admirable.
🎱“Yn my darling?” Your father spoke from beside him and you turned to face him on command - trained to do this. “Yes father?” “Please will you accompany Mister Gray into the living area? I’m sure you’ll both be quite comfortable in there.” You nodded once at the man. “Certainly, father.” “It was a pleasure to meet you gentleman, and see you again Mister Shelby.” You say to the other two, before leading Michael into the living area - which was nothing short of double the size of his childhood home.
🎱“May i offer you some tea?” You ask, as you settle in the room. “That’d be lovely, thank you.” You nod as the maid by the for stepped out to grab tea. “Normally I’d make it myself, however it is improper to leave your company unaccompanied.” You joke and he laughs in response. Soon, the tea arrived and you served it for Michael, who took the cup and saucer thoughtfully and nodded in thanks.
🎱“It’s a lovely home you have.” You smile up at him. “Thank you, I’m sure my father works tirelessly to afford it.” “You’ve no job?” He asked, awaiting the words that he was utterly and totally in love with you. “No, I’m trained in etiquette - to be polite, to cook and to clean.” Michael listened to you thoughtfully. “So you’re kept awfully busy then?” You nod. “Busy however I don’t mind it, I get to live in this glorious building with a loving family and life skills. What more could a girl want?” You confirm and he was sure his eyes were forming hearts.
🎱“And I’m sure you have quite the line of suitors with your beauty.” You giggled but tried to compose yourself. “No sir.” His eyes widened in mock surprise. “Surely you’re already married, how has a man not captivated a lady such as yourself. I’d do it myself if it wasn’t for the line of men ahead of me.” You looked down, blushing, before looking back up at Michael. “There is no line and there are no suitors. It is simply me, myself and I.” You tell him.
🎱“And you Michael? Have you a wife?” You asked, batting your eyelids. “No, in your words it is simply… ‘me, myself and I’.” “And what business do you do yourself, Mr Gray?” You ask. “That is not the sort of information for a lady’s ears. It is not good business.” He almost scolds and you nod. “Oh I understand, my father is not too dissimilar. Staying safe in your business, I hope?” He basked in the way you simply understood, didn’t pry. “Not quite.” He said, raising an eyebrow. He rolled up his left sleeve slightly and you gasped. “Oh you poor man,” you say. “You must treat these with oil, that way they shall heal better.” You scold, touching his skin gently. “Well if you were my wife you could sort it out for me.” “Oh certainly Michael, I wouldn’t allow you to come home damaged as such without properly patching you up.” You say, seriousness written all over your facial features.
🎱“And what do you do with the rest of your time, this afternoon per se?” He ponders, sipping his tea. “Well as you said yourself I’m quite a busy person regardless of what I occupy my time with.” You peer down at the dainty wristwatch wrapped around your wrist, Michael estimated the small device at a hefty sum. “At two o’clock I have etiquette lessons.” You say “and at three?” “At three I read in my library” “how about four?” “At four I have a date.” His face dropped. “A date? With who?” “William Wordsworth.” You giggled at his expression which sighed a breath of relief. “Oh I see, she lives the poems she could not write.” He says, quoting the famed poet. “More like she writes the poems she could not live.” You reply, and Michael notices a longing stare as you probably imagine the life you would have, if not the heir to an infamous delegate.
🎱“And no man has yet compared me to a summers day.” You admit. “You have not yet met your Shakespeare.” You smile, enjoying how he understood your references. “Nor my Victor Hugo” “ah but you have not yet died so nobody may quote ‘Demain, dès l’aube’.” He spoke matter-of-factly. “For I am always the poet, never the poem.” You speak; in words of your own. And Michael cannot stop himself from reaching up with his free hand to caress the soft skin of your cheek gently. “It is impossible. How can a man write anything short of a novel about a maiden so fair?” He question, and you find yourself absentmindedly leaning into his light touch.
🎱“You’re a charmer, Mr Gray” you speak, voice barely above whisper “I’m no charmer, just a man who knows what he wants” he leans to whisper in your ear “is it working?” He meets your eyes with a cheeky grin on his face. “Certainly.” You both finished your tea and the trolley was taken away, miscellaneous chatter arising from each of your lips.
🎱“Madam?” A voice squeaked from the door behind you both. You spun on a pivot to look at the young maid by the entrance. “Yes Beth?” “Mister Wentworth has requested you and Mister Gray return to the foyer” she said, avoiding your stare. “Thank you Beth, we shall be there shortly.” The woman nodded before clicking the door shut behind you to allow you to make your own way there along with the company. Michael’s face contorted: annoyed, but relaxed it when you faced back to him.
🎱“I believe it is time for us to depart.” You tell him. “When may I see you again?” He asks, holding your hands in his own. “Whenever you wish, Mister Gray; should my father allow.” You tell him, before slowly leading him back to where you originally met. There, the rest of the men along with your parents stood as you’d left them - engaged in unwavering chatter. “Ah, Mister Gray - treated well I hope?” Your father asks and Michael nods at the man. “Certainly.”
🎱After some goodbyes and a hug for your father’s old friend Thomas, Michael smirked at you and kissed the back of your hand and whispered promises that you shall meet again.
🎱The men walked back to the car in silence, Thomas lighting a cigarette once inside. “How’d you like her?” He asked, eyeing Michael before nicotine smoke billowed from his lips. “She’s a lovely young lady.” Michael tore his eyes away from his cousin and back to the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of you as you drove away; but to no avail.
🎱“She’s a gentle lass. Innocent and proper.” Thomas continued and Michael squinted at him, wondering what the man was getting at. “Doesn’t need corrupting.” “I know that Tommy, what you on about?” “We’ve come to a business agreement with Archibald Wentworth. They in exchange for protection and a good deal of Shelby business, his daughter would marry a gentleman.” Thomas stubbed the last bud out on the leather of the car. “I trust you can fit that role?”
🎱Before either of you really knew it the two were being wed on the great estate of the Wentworth Mansion, both smiling at each other at the end of the aisle like giddy school children with a secret. Within the hour you were husband and wife and Michael had the life and wife he had so hoped and dreamed for.
🎱The reception was a glamorous event; dancing and drinking and the celebration of you being safe, and the Shelby name moving up in the social hierarchy of local reputation. Yourself and Michael had snuck off for a moment alone with one another, to discuss the whirlwind of a day and plans moving forwards together. “May I say my darling you look absolutely divine.” He comments, taking your hand to make you do a full 360 turn to display your attire to him. He swore the dress was adorned entirely in Tiffany crystals. “Thank you, you are too kind.” He tuts “I can never be too kind to my wife.” He smiles.
🎱“And may I be so reckless to say I cannot wait to get this dress of you either” he smirked and you raised your brows as your cheeks reddened. “If that is no problem of course, my lady?” He confirms and you nod. “I apologise for my experience, for I have never before been with a man.” You admit, bashfully and his mouth ran dry. “Never?” You shook your head in confirmation. “Never, Michael.” You say and he gleefully picks you up to spin you around as you laugh at his response. “Well my darling, I hope you know I am prepared to take more than good care of you this evening. And of course continue the family name.”
Finn🎞️
🎞️You were the first girl Finn really cared about. Sure, he’d been on dates and hired whores to satisfy his desires. But he’d never really given much thought into actually taking his time with a girl. Until he saw you working at the bookshop two streets in the wrong direction from the Garrison.
🎞️Him, Isaiah and Bonnie were basically being little shits on the streets of Birmingham when he’d saw you organising shelves through the window, brow furrowed and tongue slightly protruding from your lips as you struggled to place an old hardback on the top shelf. The other two lads had carried on walking whereas Finn had stopped, the other two halting a few ways down to road to figure out where their third had gone, turning to see him awestruck at the bookshop window.
🎞️They hurried back, laughing at the boy who was notably illiterate. Finn could not read, nor write but was staring into the bookshop. “What y’ doing Finn? No picture books in there!” Isaiah joked, straining to see what Finn was so intently staring at. “Ah the girl” Bonnie elbowed him. “She won’t want you mate.” Isaiah informed him “she’s got Shakespeare and Wordsworth. You don’t even know who I’m on about.” And Isaiah was right. You did look dignified and well read because you were. And he was just Finn.
🎞️But he found himself two street in the wrong direction every day nearly, at least when he could find time to slip away. And Isaiah and Bonnie were sick of their lovesick friend ditching them to stare at a stranger awkwardly through a window. Then one day, when the three were repeating their galavant from the first time they saw you, Isaiah shoved him in the door.
🎞️The bell chimed and you turned from your stepladder “just a minute!” You climbed down and approached the disheveled boy at the door. “Can I help you?” You ask “book” he says and you crease your brows “…book?” Isaiah chimed in behind him “he wants to buy a book” he confirms as he smacks Finn around the back of the head. “Any book in particular?” “My first alphabet!” Bonnie exclaims, and the two boys begin cackling loudly and Finn grits his teeth and pushes the two out of the door.
🎞️“Eh what do you recommend?” He asked, scratching the back of his head and his eyes wander on all the paved backs of untouched literature. “What do you like? Fiction? Non-fiction?” Finn looks at you gone out. You look around for a simple poetry book you know is easy to understand “here, try this it’s one of my favourites” Finn nods and turns the book over in his hands and has a quick flick through. “How much do I owe you?” He asks, pushing his hand into his pocket. You shake your head “just come back and exchange it once you’re done.” Finn nods. He could do that. He thanks you and begrudgingly heads out the door to his friends who were still hounding him for the situation and he just smiles at you through the window.
🎞️Finn was getting ribbed week in and week out by both his friends and older brothers, Arthur drunkenly questioning in front of everyone why he hadn’t hired any whores recently and why books were appearing by his bed when he couldn’t read. The family laughed as his face reddened, Isaiah explaining that the lovely young lady down the bookshop had his interest peaked.
🎞️“Y’got her in bed yet?” John asked with a smirk and the younger boy elbowed him sharply. “No.” He mumbled. “No? Ol’ ‘just want a shag’ here hasn’t gotten a lady in bed?” His brother joked. “No she’s not the kind of lass I want to put off.” “Ah” Tommy ruffled his hair. “She’s the real deal then?” He smiled while lighting up another cigarette. Finn thought for a moment before nodding. Yeah, you were the real deal.
🎞️“Date” Finn said as he crashed through the door of your bookshop. You raised a brow at him. “Date with me, please.” He says, panting. “Finn are you alright?” You ask, placing a hand on his back. Me nods, heaving and placing his hands on his knees. He’d just ran here from being with his family. “Do you want to go on a date with me?” He asked when he’d finally gotten his wind back. You smiled and nodded. “Yes I would Finn, when?” “Now.” You raise your brows. “Right now?” “Yeah. If you’d like.” You look down at the dainty wristwatch you were wearing and decided it was wishful thinking if you thought that you were going to get any more footfall in the next hour before you closed. You hummed and nodded. “Sure, let’s go.”
🎞️Finn took you to one of the nicest restaurants in Birmingham in walking distance, waiter seating you quickly after he noticed who Finn was, handing the two of you two open menus. You looked over the options, but was soon distracted by Finn’s conflicted face. “You alright, Finn?” He nods. “What’s up?” He ponders for a minute before mumbling something. “Sorry?” “I can’t read and this has no pictures.” He admits sheepishly, averting his eyes from yours.
🎞️“You can’t read?” You ask, mulling over the past several weeks where you’d be too-ing and fro-ing with Finn with your book recommendations. “But you’ve been borrowing books for months-” “just to see you.” He says, looking down as a smile began to grew on your lips. “I understand if you want to leave. You’re smart and pretty and I’m just an illiterate gangsta.” He says, mentally readying himself for your leave. You placed your hand on top of his where it was laid on the table. “Finn that’s so sweet.” His brows shot up. “You did that for me?” You ask, biting your lips as he affirms your question. You place a chaste kiss to his cheek as you realise just how much the blinder truly cared about you.
🎞️“Let’s get out of here.” You say, breaking the silence. “Seriously?” He asks, moving closer for a more private conversation. “I’m serious. Let’s go.” You say, “really? We don’t have too if you don’t want too-” “Finn Shelby. Let’s go.” And you didn’t have to tell him again, running back home like two giddy school children, hiding away in his room for the rest of the evening, ended by you laying on his bare chest while he drew shapes into your relaxed shoulder.
🎞️“That was better than I expected for my first time.” You admit, staring at the ceiling. It takes a few minutes for Finn to clock onto what you’d just said. He looks down at you, movement of his thumb faltering. “You were a virgin?” He asks, lump in his throat growing as he forced himself to swallow it. “Yeah.” He smirks.
🎞️“Nice.”
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Text
on your knees ~ thomas shelby;peaky blinders
word count: 2563
request?: yes!
“hi! i was wondering if i could request a tommy x reader? where reader and tommy have obvious and undeniable attraction to each other, but she refuses to be with him/kiss him unless he explicitly gets on his knees and beg her too but since tommy’s pride makes him refuse, she uses flirting with his brother john to help change his mind.”
description: when he tries to make her jealous, she decides to return the favor with the help of his brother
pairing: thomas shelby x female!reader
warnings: swearing, smut (oral, f receiving)
masterlist (one, two)
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His eyes were on me. I could feel them, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how annoyed this was making me. That’d just be letting him win, and I was not about to let Thomas Shelby of all people win.
It was the worst kept secret in all of Birmingham that Tommy and I were in love with one another. To be fair, neither of us exactly kept it a secret from anyone, much less each other.
Early on in our partnership, Tommy brought me into his office and told me he had feelings for me. One would think I would be over the moon to learn that considering I had feelings for him too, but I knew Tommy wasn’t telling me this for our mutual pleasure. He told me because he wanted to arrange for us to be married, or at least for me to be his fuck toy while he explored other options that would be more “favorable” for the business.
Most other women in Birmingham would’ve jumped at the offer, but not me. I was too proud for that. I had some self respect. If Tommy wanted to be with me, he would have to honestly tell me he wanted to be with me. He’d have to get on his knees and beg for me.
But Tommy was also too proud, and thus we were stuck at an impasse.
This impasse included one of us trying to get the other to cave. On this specific night, Tommy was using the new barmaid to try and make me jealous.
And, oh, was it ever working.
Grace was all over Tommy, her face bright from the wide smile as they talked to one of Tommy’s business partners. Tommy, on the other hand, was giving me his full attention. I wasn’t sure if Grace had noticed this yet or not, or if she had I wasn’t sure if she really cared. She was the one on Tommy’s arm, not me.
I leaned against the bar and ordered myself a strong drink. I wasn’t going to get through this night sober.
“Whoa, take it easy, (Y/N). The night is young.”
I looked over at John after downing my drink. He had a playful smile on his face and his tone was light.
I liked John. He was different than his brothers. He had a heart that he actually wore on his sleeve instead of hiding it in fear of being “weak”.
I smiled back at him. “I know, but I want to be smashed before the night ends. So much so that I won’t remember in the morning.”
John gave me a sympathetic look. “Does it have anything to do with Tommy bringing Grace as his date tonight?”
In response, I ordered myself another drink. John chuckled and ordered one for himself.
We spent a long while at the bar, ordering drink after drink and just talking. I didn’t realize how much the alcohol was hitting me until I tried to stand and ended up stumbling into John’s arms.
“Shit,” I slurred. “Sorry.”
“I think you need some water,” John said.
I smiled up at him before looking over my shoulder. I had forgotten all about Tommy until I saw the enraged look on his face. I didn’t understand what he could’ve possibly been upset about, until I felt John’s hands on me, placing me upright again.
An idea popped into my intoxicated brain and I turned to look at John, a smirk on my face. I put a hand on John’s arms and looked up at him through my eyelashes.
“You’re so kind, John,” I told him. “You’ve always been so nice to me. You treat me like a person.”
“Everyone treats you like a person, (Y/N).”
“Not everyone. Some treat me different because I’m a woman. I appreciate you treating me like an equal.”
I leaned against him, using my intoxication to my benefit. If John ever brought this up in the future, I’d tell him I was too drunk to remember. I liked the friendship John and I had built, so I didn’t want to fuck it up by making him think I was really trying to flirt with him. Or to have him think I was just using him to get back at Tommy for trying to make me jealous.
Which, I guess that was what I was doing, but at least I actually cared for John. There was no way Tommy had any feelings for Grace, so him using her was much worse than me using John.
I think.
John put a hand on my waist to steady me again. I could see in his face that he was confused by the way I was coming on to him, but he wasn’t pushing me away just yet. If he was uncomfortable, I’d stop. I wasn’t going to push his boundaries. But so far, it didn’t seem like I had reached the boundaries, so I kept going.
“You’re so sweet and so handsome,” I continued, running my hand through his short hair. “Not all men are so lucky to be the full package like you. Your wife was very lucky to have a man like you.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that,” he said.��“You’re not too bad yourself. Obviously you’re a stunner, but you are also a great person, even if you don’t show that side of you too often. Tommy’s a fool for not falling to his knees in front of you and begging you to be his.”
I grinned and took a sip of the water the bartender had brought for me. “I know. You’re much smarter than Tommy in that regard.” I leaned into his ear to whisper, “I’m sure if you were in his shoes, you’d be on your knees for me the moment I asked. Wouldn’t you?”
John tensed and I worried I had gone too far. I pulled away to see he had a blank look on his face, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at something behind me. When I turned around, I saw Tommy making his way through the crowd toward us.
“Shit,” I muttered. I didn’t expect him to make a scene with his own brother over all of this.
“(Y/N),” Tommy said once he reached us. “I have to talk to you.”
I made a gesture with my hand as I took another sip of my water. “Go on then. Talk.”
“In private.”
I looked at John over my shoulder. We shared a knowing look before John turned back to the bar and ordered himself another drink. He winked at me, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips before he turned and disappeared into the crowd.
No hard feelings, I thought to myself. John really is a great guy.
I was brought from my thoughts as Tommy grabbed my arm and started pulling me through the crowd. I tried to tug out of his grasp, but he just tightened his grip on me. I could see tinge of red on his ears and cheeks from anger. I was partially delighted to find out I had gotten this reaction from him, but I was also partially worried about what his reaction was about to be.
He kicked open the door to a nearby bathroom and, after checking that it was completely empty, closed it and locked it behind him. When he turned to face me, I could still see the anger in his eyes.
“What are you playing at here?” he asked.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I responded with an innocent shrug. “I was just trying to have a good time. You’re the one who demanded to speak with me and dragged me away.”
“You were all over John.”
I shrugged again. “Maybe I was. What’s the problem with that? You had Grace all over you.”
“That’s different.”
“How so, Tommy?” I challenged. “You brought a date here tonight, one who clearly is enjoying the attention you’re giving her. Or rather, the attention you’re supposed to be giving her. I came alone. If I want to leave here with whoever my heart desires, that is none of your business.”
“It is my business when it’s my own brother. He is off limits, (Y/N).”
“You don’t get to dictate who I flirt with, Tommy. You’re not my boyfriend or my husband. You’re just my friend, remember?”
Tommy opened his mouth to say something else, but then just sighed and turned away from me. I could see he was frustrated, and I was too. He was getting upset with me for doing the same thing he had been doing with Grace. The same thing he had been doing to me for so long. It wasn’t my fault that he wasn’t willing to put his ego aside to give me what I had been asking for since the beginning.
“How long does this continue to go on?” he asked, finally turning back to look at me. “How long until we finally let all of this go and just be with one another?”
I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow at him. “You know what I want before that happens, Tommy. I’ve made myself very clear from the start what you have to do in order to make me yours.”
He groaned. “God, (Y/N), why can’t you just make this simple - ”
“Because, Tommy, I want some proof that you’re asking me to be yours because you seriously want me that way,” I cut him off. “The first time you ever told me how you felt for me, the way you worded it was all business, Tom. It’s always all business with you. You told me you wanted to ‘make an arrangement’ with me given our feelings for one another. Do you know how degrading that is to hear? That, even though you have romantic feelings for me and you know I feel the same way for you, the only way you view me is as another arrangement for you.”
When he was silent, I continued, “That’s not what I want, Tommy. I don’t want ‘arrangements’, I want to be with you. I want to be your lover, I want to be your only lover. I want to be your wife eventually. But I want that because you want it, not because it’s another business arrangement you’ve come up with.”
The silence hung thick in the air. I was starting to feel a bit too sober and was longing to go back to the bar for another drink before leaving this shitty party and going home. I didn’t want to be in Tommy’s company anymore.
He ran a hand through his hair. “You’re right. What I said to you back then wasn’t right.”
This confession surprised me. Thomas Shelby rarely admitted when he was wrong. Of course, Thomas Shelby never believed he was ever wrong.
"But it wasn’t just about the business,” he admitted. “I wasn’t trying to make arrangements because I thought it would be best for my public image. I was trying to do it because I thought that if I didn’t make some arrangement, you wouldn’t want to stay in my life once you see what it’s really like to be a Peaky wife. Being a member of the Peaky Blinders is one thing, but being the wife of one is a whole other.”
“I think I could handle it.”
“I’m sure you could.”
Then, Tommy took me by surprise again and got down on his knees in front of me. For a moment, I thought he was going to ask me to marry him, until I realized he was giving me exactly what I wanted: him on his knees, begging for me.
“Give me a chance, (Y/N),” he said. “Be my girlfriend, and eventually my wife. I promise, I’ll do whatever you want.”
I couldn’t help but smirk down at Tommy. “I like the look of you on your knees.”
He mirrored my expression. “Yeah? I could get used to this view of you as well.”
He put his hands on my hips and slowly backed me to the wall behind me. Once my back was pressed against it, he reached under my dress and put my leg over his shoulder, hiking my dress up around my thighs. I was already breathless when he lowered his head to my core, pressing his lips against the thin clothing that stood in the way of what he really wanted. I let out a gasp but quickly covered my mouth, remembering there was a room full of people on the other side of the door.
Tommy made quick work of literally ripping my panties off, leaving me completely bare in front of him. I shivered as the cold air touched my naked skin, the cold shiver immediately turning to one of pleasure as I felt Tommy’s tongue against me once again.
I had heard the whisperings from the women in town who had been with Tommy intimately. I had heard many stories about what he was like as a lover. I had fantasized about being with him numerous times, but I never could’ve imagined how gentle he truly was. Each stroke of his tongue was long and gentle, almost agonizingly so. He was taking his time with me, making sure I felt every jolt of pleasure that ran through my body when his tongue connected to my clit.
My hands grabbed at his hair, tugging on it in pleasure as my head rested against the wall behind me. I bit my lip to keep from moaning too loudly, but even then it was hard to keep myself quiet. I had never felt so good before, and this was just from Tommy’s tongue. I couldn’t imagine what he could do with his...other appendages.
“S-Shit,” I breathed. “T-Tommy, I’m c-close already.”
He hummed in response, sending another jolt running through me. My eyes rolled back into my head as I felt my orgasm hit me quick and hard. I put a hand over my mouth to muffle the loud moans that I couldn’t control. My body was trembling as Tommy continued to lap up my juices, riding me through my orgasm. I could barley stand right when he finally put my leg back on the ground and stood up himself.
His chin was glistening from me and it was enough to turn me on again.
He grabbed a nearby towel and wiped his mouth and chin before walking over to me. I looked up into those captivating blue eyes before I felt his lips on mine. I leaned into him, still trying to find my balance, as he wrapped his arms around me and held on to me.
“Take me back to your place,” I whispered against his lips. “We should finish what we started here.”
His grinned at me and took my hand. Tommy pulled me along through the crowded room once again. He ignored anyone who tried to speak to him, waving a dismissive hand every so often. As we got closer to the door, I happened to notice a familiar blonde looking at us in horror and hurt.
I shot Grace a triumphant smirk before the door to the party closed behind us.
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fandom-puff · 5 months
Note
Smutty blurb idea:
You’ve been begging for attention all day and Tommy finally gives it to you with facesitting and overstim 🥺
🫡🫡🫡 haven’t written for Tommy in AGES!! Enjoy x this turned into a bit more than a blurb lol
Attention
Warnings: contains overstimulation, light sim/sub dynamics, facesitting, oral sex,fem!reader
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!Reader
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You had read the same paragraph of your novel about six times now, and ‘read’ was being generous; rather, you had skimmed over the print, the words blurring and muddling as your eyes drifted to your husband, Tommy.
It really wasn’t fair, the way he sat at his desk, shirtless, smoking and sipping his whisky as he scanned over his paperwork.
Watching the way his muscles twitched as he moved, you let out a longing sigh, but Tommy had made it quite clear that he had to sort through his paperwork before giving you any form of attention- and he had warned you not to be a brat. Brats don’t get any attention at all.
As the clock crawled forward another half hour, you closed your book, setting it aside as you admired your husband.
“What?” He said, feeling your gaze burn through him.
“Oh nothing,” you said, leaning forward slightly. “Just admiring my husband, and willing him to hurry up so he can ravish me,”
Tommy cracked a small smirk. “I’m almost done, love,” he said gently, knowing how work often got in the way of pleasure.
**
True to his word, Tommy was pulling you upstairs ten minutes later, and you couldn’t keep the grin off your face.
Entering the bedroom, you made to get on the bed, but tommy grabbed your wrist. “Get undressed,” he told you, his hands already coming to the buttons of your blouse as he pressed kisses to your neck.
Your blouse fluttered to the floor, soon followed by your skirt, stockings, bra, and finally, underwear. “There she is,” Tommy hummed, his knuckle tracing the outline of your body. Goosebumps sprung under his touch, and you leaned into the hot firmness of his chest.
“How do you want me?” You breathed, not caring if he wanted you from the front of from behind, so long as he just took you.
“On top,” Tommy smirked, shucking down to his boxers and laying down, head propped against the plump pillows. You nodded, waiting for him to lay down, before moving to straddle his hips. “Not like that, love,” he said, and you cocked your head to the side. You had tried reverse cowgirl a handful of times, but it wasn’t your go to: Tommy liked to grasp and slap and suck at your tits, and you liked to bury your head into his neck as he lifted your hips up and down. But still, reverse cowgirl gave him the opportunity to pay attention to your arse, slapping and grabbing it. You began turning around, but tommy grabbed onto your hip. “No… up here, YN,” he said, and he grinned at your confusion. “Come sit on my face,”
Your face went from confusion to shock, your mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ shape. Of course, Tommy had licked you out countless times before, and you had sat on his face a few times- but they were mostly so that you could suck his cock at the same time. It had been ages since he had you ride his face.
“Come on, love… thought you’ve been waiting for some attention all day,” you bit your lip for a moment, before shuffling up towards his face, straddling his head.
Tommy groaned lowly at the sight of your cunt, just hovering above his face. Despite your hesitation, it was clear to him that you were desperate for his attention, in more ways than one. Fed up with your hesitation, he grasped your thighs, fingers squeezing at your arse, and pulled you towards his mouth.
As his tongue darted out to lick and suck at your clit, trailing up your slit as he lapped at your wetness. Your hands flew to the headboard as your hips bucked, rutting against his face. Shyness dissipated as hot, addictive pleasure flooded your being, and your cries of pleasure muddled with the lewd slurping between your legs, filling the room as Tommy brought you over the edge.
Your hips jolted and shuddered in his hands as you rode out your high, grinding against his tongue. But Tommy did not relent, and as you began shaking and whimpering and squirming away from him, he grasped your thighs tighter, holding you firmly to his face. He was openly moaning into your cunt now, his nose nudging your oversensitive clit as his tongue prodded into your cunt, drinking in your release like it was his lifeline.
“Tom,” you gasped, “Thomas!” One hand grasped at his hair, your nails scratching into his scalp. “‘S too much,” you moaned, but your body betrayed you, hips continuing to circle against his mouth. “Gonna- tommy-fuck! Gonna come again,” you cried, and tommy moved to suck firmly on your clit, pushing you screaming over the edge once more.
Tommy drew one more orgasm out of your overworked cunt, and if your head wasn’t addled with pleasure, you’d have been embarrassed with how quickly you came. Slowly, almost unwillingly, tommy moved you up from his face, helping you lay down as he moved on top of you. “You okay?” He asked, and you stared up at him, smiling dumbly as you nodded. “Good,” tommy smirked, his hand trailing between your legs, making you squirm. “Because I’m not done yet,”
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red-riding-wood · 3 months
Text
Devil, Devil - Part I
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Pairing: Tommy Shelby x F! Reader
Fandom: Peaky Blinders
Summary: The seal of your fate, to a man falsely crowned. And to your devil, your soul was bound.
[Inspired by this request for a jazz/vaudevillian performer and the song Devil, Devil - MICK]
Warnings: Dark!Tommy, dubcon/noncon themes, noncon touching, little bit smutty but full smut in future chapters, stalking/unhealthy obsession, manipulation, blackmail, mentions of domestic abuse, blood, mild choking, mention of prostitution
WC: 5277
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It was all because of that damned Peaky devil.
You cursed him for the gaudy pearls strung around your neck, for the corset that pinched your stomach so tight it would be a wonder if you’d be able to hit your lower notes. You cursed him for the waver in your stride every night you stepped onstage, for the heat beneath your skin when that frozen gaze seemed to douse you in fire, for the quiver in your tone when you sang – for you sang from your soul, and your soul trembled in the sights of the blue-eyed Devil.
He’d started arriving for your performances every night, attracting the attention of the dancers and the waitresses, the owner and the local hoodlums, but he paid no mind to any of them but you. He always sat in the second row, shadowed by the establishment’s collection of antiques. He’d light a cigarette and blow a halo for a crown, lurking in the darkness but staring at you from eyes like twin beacons, his pinewood throne framed by the black coat he never relinquished and his sharp features hallowed by the candlelit fires of Hell.
“He’s trouble, that one,” the locals had said. “Managed to turn a backwoods razor gang into an enterprise, but make no mistake; he’s got cursed blood in him. Shelby Company Limited, they call themselves now, but the Peaky Blinders they’ll always be. Thomas fuckin’ Shelby comes up from Birmingham, thinks he owns everything he sees. The Devil, some say; if you’ve crossed paths with him twice, them say it’s too late for you, when the Devil’s set his sights on your soul.”
If he’d truly set his sights on your soul, you wondered why he tormented you like this, why he never said a word but only devoured you with those frigid blue eyes, as if you were all his and you possessed not even a fraction of him. Last you’d checked, legend had it the Devil traded for souls, so what could he possibly think to grant you? The man had brought you nothing but misfortune. It was because of him that tonight you were expected to join the dancers, because your act had been slipping beneath that coldfire gaze and smoke-ring crown. Your manager claimed it was by popular customer request, but you knew better. You were a songbird, not a peacock; while the other girls of your troupe flared their feathered skirts and tasseled corsets, you were an instrument in their symphony. You got up on that stage not because you wanted to show off, but because when you sang, your soul came alive, and amidst the velvety sounds of the trombones and saxes and the lurid displays of flashing colours and lights, you were at peace.
Until he came along and ruined everything.
“I do not run a charity,” your manager had said. “I run a business. And this business, it has an image to maintain. Before our contract ends with this club, we need to show these Londoner pricks that we are not just another travelling circus with cheap whores and fake magic tricks. Nobody is questioning your ability to sing, Y/N. We just think you could be bringing a little… more.”
As you stepped onto the stage that night, and immediately felt yourself impaled by the icy hooks of that piercing gaze, you wondered if the Peaky devil also wanted a little “more”. As if you could give him anything more than what he’d already taken: your soul, your peace.
Your breath came shaky against the microphone as the lights illuminated the stage, blacking out all of the club’s customers except for one. One, whose mouth you could swear quirked into the slightest of smiles around his cigarette, whose gaze roved across your new ensemble like you were a piece of meat. Your corset already hitched your breath in your chest, and anger flared within you, frustration eating at the hollowness of your ribs as your voice came airy and light.
But this rage that had flickered to life inside you, warm and whelming like the oil lamps that cast darting shadows across the white tablecloths, it spurred a growl in your tone that surprised yet thrilled you, and as your nails curled around the microphone, your shoulders carried to the bright of the music, the dark of your tone made you feel like you were something dangerous. That perhaps a devil dwelled beneath your breast as it did the man with the eyes of death.
Feathered wings and headdresses whirled around you as the girls began their choreography, and your heart seemed to escape the heavy constriction of the corset to pound in your throat, your skull, joining the chorus of sounds that resonated deep in your bones. You sidled your hips from side to side, slowly, sensually, the way your dancer friend, Sally, had taught you, your heels beginning to click to the beat of the song.
But your flesh was burning up beneath that icy stare, and sweat prickled at your neck, and though you sang with fury, your voice still felt limited, unable to utilise the full breath of your stomach. Irritation clawed at your buzzing flesh, and your lip curled over your teeth as you attempted to belt your notes.
Damn you, Peaky bastard, you nearly breathed, hating the way his eyes seemed to gleam as you moved your body. He had no damn right to look so smug.
You tried to focus on channeling this frustration into the movements of your body and the snarl of your tone, the pearls along your chest clacking together as you twirled, your head growing dizzy as you battled for breath. It wasn’t the hoots and hollers nor the cat calls that spurred you on, but the icy hooks of the Devil’s gaze. No, he did not look at you like a piece of meat. He looked at you like you were a goddess.
Breaths coming shorter, you yanked at the laces of your corset, your irritation reaching new heights and the incense and music and cheer drowning out the voice in your head that usually kept you from doing anything stupid.
As your corset tumbled to the stage, cold air sweeping across your sweat-dappled flesh, your voice sprang free of its cage, notes pulled deep from your belly and your fury masking the tremble in your tone. The pearls pooled between your breasts, the feathers of the pasties still scratching your flesh but no longer grinding so painfully against the fabric of the corset.
The Blinder’s smirk seemed to fall, jaw clenched, bright eyes darkening and drinking you in between minacious glances at the men in the crowd who cheered, kicked at the tables, shouted obscene comments that were only half-drowned out by the smooth shrill of the trombones. Your lips pulled into a wicked grin round your teeth, and you became lost in the music as you danced and sang, not caring anymore that your breaths were short or that you didn’t hit every note just right. The look on his face made it all worth it.
And as the final notes died in your aching chest and the stage was swept by dark, and the saxes unleashed their final, wailing cry, Sally swept a sheer robe round your shoulders and ushered you from the stage and to the dressing room. Her excitement was contagious as blonde curls bounced over her bedazzled headband and she whispered praises to you, but her words seemed to muddle together as you heard, distinctly, the chanting of your name behind you like a sordid prayer.
---
The muffled notes of piano still hummed past the walls of the dressing room as you applied another coat of cherry red lipstick, a coil of smoke rising from the ash tray beside you and clouding your head as you attempted to filter out the excited chatter of the girls. Sheer gown now fitted properly around your arms, your skin had the chance to breathe without existing under the ogling eyes of the rambunctious men who had been chanting your name.
“I still can’t believe what just happened out there!” Sally’s voice cut through the throng of the rest, mostly because she had leaned over to squeal into your ear. “Did you see that gentleman at the front? His jaw practically dropped along with your corset.” She giggled, and you popped your painted lips, chasing away the smile that threatened their corner. You hadn’t noticed any man in that crowd but the blue-eyed Devil. Those twin blues were practically burned into your skull, so much so that –
You stilled, blood turning to ice in your veins and your heart freezing over in your chest. The lipstick clattered to the desk, causing Sally to jump back with a yelp that if not from her, could’ve only come from a Chihuahua.
Blue eyes stared back at you in the smudged mirror.
A sharp breath filled your lungs as the ice around your heart shattered and it began to beat again, hard, against your ribs, and your head spun from the sudden flood of cigarettes and incense. You could’ve feinted as you stood, whirling on your heel, nails splintering the wooden grain of the desk with how hard they dug in to ground yourself. Your gaze narrowed, and your heart fluttered as you found it was met with the same intensity.
The dressing room fell silent with a hush, and as Thomas Shelby sauntered in, snubbing out his cigarette in the nearest ash tray, a fearful reverence seemed to coagulate in the air, until it became so thick you could scarcely breathe.
A few of the girls darted out behind him as he drew closer to you, smirk playing at his lip and that darkness colliding with the bright of his eyes in a twisted, glittering dance. But he held out a hand before the rest could vanish, even the high-spirited Marla, who seemed dismayed but didn’t challenge him. Though not of a very tall stature, Thomas Shelby was an intimidating man, and it was evident that the name he carried made him untouchable. Your brow furrowed, teeth grinding together as you tried to work out exactly why he didn’t want the girls to leave when it seemed obvious he had come here for you and you alone. And when that icy gaze settled on you again, the bright of it glittering with mischief, and his smirk tugged higher with unmistakable pride and that insufferable smugness, you figured you were beginning to work it out. He wanted to make a statement, and whatever it was he planned, he wanted them to see.
The statement, perhaps, that your soul belonged to him. And only him.
Shoving his hands in the pockets of his trousers, he closed the gap between the two of you with an agonisingly slow stride, as if time revolved around him. The gold chain of his pocket watch glinted in the harsh lights, and you might’ve used the word “dashing” to describe his prim, collared, snow-white shirt, had you not wanted to smear the contents of the ash tray across it out of spite, or perhaps douse his black suit in some of the gold glitter the girls brushed their skin with.
Perhaps, some part of you wanted to print your lipstick along the rose-white flesh of his neck, to match his striking red tie.
Forcing such conflicted, intrusive thoughts from your reeling mind, you cocked your head, glaring at him expectantly. 
“Quite the performance.” His voice was not shrill and grating as you had anticipated, but low, rumbling like thunder over a black horizon yet pooling like soft honey between your thighs. “Tell me, songbird, do you usually win the crowd over with such provocative displays?”
Already amazed by his sheer fucking nerve, you stifled a scoff. As if you hadn’t caught him staring, lurking in the shadows of every performance.
“You tell me, Mr. Shelby,” you purred out your words, but cocked a brow in challenge. “To what do I owe such keen interest?”
The bright of his eyes glinted, and his smirk hooked his lip. “You’ve heard of me.”
“Everyone in this city knows your name. It seems to spread like some sort of plague. I’d prefer it never have crawled from the sickening bowels of the Birmingham streets, but... here it is, on my lips.” You rolled your shoulders upward, leaning against the desk, head tilted to one side.
“And yet, you wear it well.” Thomas’ gaze darted to your parted lips, snaked his tongue between his teeth as if to taste the cherry. “Don’t fret, little bird…” He spoke in a hushed baritone that still managed to reverberate through the diminishing space between you, as if the faint hiss of his whisper would mask his words from everyone but you, like clouds gathering over distant thunder. “… you’ll be saying it more often.”
A burning, whiskey-tinged breath fanned your cheeks, stirring the wisps of hair from your face. Tension mounted in the room, the girls turning into porcelain dolls as they held their breaths, but they didn’t exist outside of the threads that pulled taut between you and the Blinder.
He smelled of gunmetal, of old books. Of charcoal and wood smoke. Like blood and hellfire.
“Will I, now? Think you own these lips, is that it? Think you own my body?” You didn’t even need to take a step to bring your figure to his, your breasts brushing his chest through the sheer fabric of your robe, the chain of his pocket watch tickling your stomach.
He smelled of earth, of sacred rituals. Of frankincense and myrrh. Like dug graves and lost religion.
And like a candle, the bright of his eyes was snuffed out by the dark, and the smirk fell from sharp outlines. “You haven’t heard?” he said. “Some say I own everything the light touches…” His fingers brushed your side, the heat of his blood beneath his skin sending cold shivers along your flesh, and you cursed yourself for wishing in that moment, in which his fingers dragged reverently down the curve of your hip, that his touch would burn away the fabric between you. “Some say I own everything the light is too fearful to touch.” The pressure of his touch increased, thumb tracing your navel, and suddenly, his grasp was anything but gentle – possessive, demanding, as his fingers curled between the parting of your thighs and his nails burned against your skin. A breath hissed from your teeth and you swatted his hand away. You were surprised when he returned his thumb to his pocket, his devious smirk reappearing. Could he hear how fast your heart was beating for him, could he smell the lust that brewed beneath your flesh, could he feel the heat that had pooled like poison between your legs?
Did he know that he haunted your dreams? That you could not drift off to sleep anymore without thinking of those soft lips trailing down your sternum, of his teeth leaving bruises across your flesh?
He made you want to be worshipped, and ruined. 
“Some say you’re nothing but a Gypsy bastard.” Your voice rose, breathy and high, like a falsetto note. “A false king, with no crown.”
“But a king nonetheless.”
“A devil, the witches say. Have you come to bargain for my soul, Mr. Shelby?” Your voice dipped back into your sensual alto as you regained some vestige of control, forcing your words to rise deep from your fluttering stomach.
“Oh, I’m here for more than your soul,” he breathed, closing the sliver of a gap between the two of you again, backing your spine against the wooden desk until you could’ve sworn blood welled beneath the sheer robe. “I’m here to offer a proposal, little bird. You’re going to sing for me, at the Eden Club. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. It’s far more prestigious than this seedy place. Your pay will be tripled, and you will never know a fabric rougher than silk or taste a wine younger than a lifetime.”
Though his offer would be tempting to most anyone, you did not sing for money. Pride, it came easy to you, and you did not appreciate the condescending way in which he spoke to you, looked at you, breathed in your direction.
“I’m under contract.”
“What, this?” He chuckled, pulling the slip of paper you’d signed a year ago from the deep pocket of his trousers. The material crinkled beneath his fingers, so close you could’ve reached out and grabbed it. But you didn’t. You watched, seething, as he lowered the contract to the candle beside your lipstick, an orange tongue lapping at the corner of the ivory paper, the ink of your signature bleeding into the open flame. Out the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Sally, her shoulders furling inward just as the edge of the paper did before it was swallowed by the flame, the blackened remnants of the contract smudged into the floorboards with the toe of the gang leader’s boot.
“Everyone can be bought with the right price,” he said. “Your boss’s wife, she likes diamonds.”
You shouldn’t have expected any less of your manager. Like most in the entertainment business, he was shrewd, frugal, ruled by greed. The idea of his wife wearing diamonds was laughable; Thomas must have been a bloody saint in her eyes, because the most you had ever seen that man gift her was a silver locket that had been put in lost and found at one of your past gigs. He must’ve sold you out before Thomas could even pull his mafia card. And then milked you for one last performance.
You hated them. You hated them all.
“Well, I will find new work. The crowd seems to love me,” you pointed out, recalling the jealousy you’d seen darken the Devil’s eyes as he’d watched over your performance. Butting shoulders, you moved to stalk past, but a vice grip latched round your forearm and you froze, a puff of startled air escaping your lips as your gaze swung to meet his.
“I haven’t told you my terms,” Thomas said, and if it was out of fear or that devilish itch between your legs that made your body acquiesce, you couldn’t be certain, but damn it all the same. He shoved you back against the desk, fire igniting in his icy eyes as his shoulders pressed to yours, his figure solid against your own, denoting no escape. “So long as you work for me, you will not dance for another man…” He had the courtesy, at least, of releasing those icy hooks from your soul, the sharp line of his jaw brushing a flushed cheek to let his breath pool against your neck as if whispering sweet nothings to a lover. His fingers, ghosting the pulse of your throat. A breath hissed between your teeth and your eyes flared as they dragged down the vulnerable flesh, demonstrating his strength in a squeeze at the base of your throat.
“They so much as look at you, I will personally take their eyes.” A kiss, placed to the crook of your collarbone, like a promise. His lips were as soft as you had imagined, and you half-expected his tongue to be forked like the legends, but it was supple and rounded as it wet your flesh. Your bottom lip caught in your teeth as you stifled a moan, your body betraying you in a slight rut of your hips. A chuckle rumbled against your ear; he knew what he was doing to you, and apparently the feeling was mutual, for the scarcely-clothed heat between your shivering legs brushed against a firmness in his slacks as your hips rolled forward.
“You see…” He paused to inhale your scent, to drink you down like the whiskey on his breath. “I’ve done some research… you like to move around so much because you have a husband, in Sheffield, who very much misses your company.”
The racing tides of heat that rolled beneath your flesh gave way to a cold sweat, and you shuddered, your blood turning once more to ice in your veins. Your heart, stolen from your chest, leaving your lips parted in a gasp. His fingers traced the hollow shell of your ribs, nails digging in where your heart should have been. His, you thought, wretchedly.
When he pulled back to assess your reaction, to witness the fear bloom in your eyes, the smugness was gone from his face, replaced by an intensity, a darkness that seemed to wrap its shadowy tendrils around your soul. His nose brushed yours, and you noticed, for the first time, that his face was freckled. Kisses from God, you’d heard them referred to as once, and if the breath had not been stolen from your lungs, you would’ve chuffed a laugh at the demented irony.
Dark lashes crowned the blue eyes that raked down your chest, his thumb continuing its snaking little path from your heart to the lip of your breast, slipping beneath the fabric of your robe. “A year ago, you spoke with a solicitor about his tendency to… well, overexpress his love.” A jolt rocked your body, accidentally sending your hips back against his, drawing a groan from his chest that managed to be irresistible despite the discomfort of the scar he perfectly traced with his forefinger. Pain exploded beneath the surface of your flesh, as if his fingers was made of glass, like the smashed bottle that had struck your side all those years ago. You shuddered beneath his touch, the alcohol on his breath suddenly foul, and for just a moment, the way the light reflected off his eyes betrayed a sliver of green in seemingly pure blue.
“The solicitor told me that you showed him this – this, that was not his to see. Not his to touch.” Your lashes batted beneath his furious breaths, but you dared not close them, dared not let this man turn into a ghost of your past. To your relief, his fingers retreated from your scar, only to cup your cheek in his palm. “You offered him one night in exchange for freedom, and by morning, he did not honour his word. Do you know what I did to the solicitor?”
Thighs damp with arousal, palms clammy with fear, you trembled, breaking, cracking at your seams. The splinters of the wooden desk pierced your flesh as you sought its support, feeling like your knees might buckle beneath you and somehow knowing that he would catch you, but that that would be worse than falling to the cold ground. Because he wanted you to break, wanted to be the freckled angel who caught you when you fell.
But somewhere, from the shattered remnants of your chest, festered a darkness, a thirst, a satisfaction as you imagined the bloodied face of the man who had tricked you, as you imagined his eyes turned pale, pale as death.
Your pain didn’t break you; it kept you standing, fractured but whole.
“To you, I may be the Devil, but the Devil keeps his bargains.” His thumb swept across the ghost of the kiss he’d left on your skin. “And when you work for me, I will ensure that your darling husband never bothers you again.”
You could not banish the tremble from your limbs, nor the ireful rise and fall of your chest. And when you spoke, your hate, it seemed, was not even for him but for ghosts, “You’re every bit as vile as the rumours say.”
“Oh, I’m worse.” He smiled, almost sweetly. “Much worse.” A clear-blue eye winked, before studying you so intently you wondered if he really could read your thoughts, your sordid desires. Your sins. “But I don’t see disgust in your eyes, little bird. I see intrigue.”
Breathe, you told yourself. Breathe.
You were most at ease when you sang, and in your moment of need, an old melody you’d heard once travelling west came to you, and with it, the curl of your lip into a wicked smirk.
“Cannot buy me, Devil, Devil,” you half-sang, half purred, the notes that found your voice carrying undertones so dark, it almost did not sound like your own.
And in this moment, you found power, in the way his thumb seemed to still against your jaw, in the way his eyes locked to yours, mesmerised, his tongue catching between his teeth. In this moment, at last, he was yours. In this moment, he was just a boy, lured in by a siren song. As the notes died in your throat, his eyes darted to your lips, something softer than lust forming in oceans of melted ice. Your fingers fumbled for the first drawer of the desk, stabilising yourself now on the ivory handle.
And the emotion vanished before you could make sense of it, frozen over by a wall of ice.   
“In life or in death, I will take your soul.” His teeth grazed the lobe of your ear, and his hand drifted to your scalp, sinking into the wild locks of your hair. “I will take everything.” Another hand closed around your waist, squeezing your ribs, bunching the fabric of your gown. “It is your choice, little bird. Because, you see, I made certain your husband knows of your infidelity. It’s a great dishonour, to a man of his station. And what sort of things does a man of his station do when he finds himself with a problem like you, eh?” Your chin was pointed sharply up, suspended by two fingers, your lips a hairsbreadth from his own as he stared you down.
“Now, I don’t think your friends will like to see what I’m going to do to you, little bird.” A growl grated the thunder of his tone, and he bit his lip. “I’m going to be a gentleman, and let you decide if you’d like them to give us privacy.”
And gone was the whiskey of his breath, the fire of his touch, the sharpness of his teeth. Thomas Shelby took a step back, smoothing out his waistcoat as if nothing had happened between the two of you. One of the porcelain dolls came alive, skittering back on her shaky heel to make way, but he paid no mind to her. He only awaited your command, as if trying to give you some false sense of control.
The silence that stretched between you was impossibly thick, like gasoline ready to ignite from one heated breath. You remembered to breathe, in, and out. And you began to sing.
“Clever Devil, Devil…”
His eyes narrowed, fixating so intensely on you that you were convinced nothing else existed in this moment beyond your dark melody, your cherry lips, your siren song.
Trembling, behind your back your fingers pulled gently at the drawer handle.
“How quickly do they sell their souls…”
He blinked, slow, enraptured. Yours.
Your fingers clasped the familiar stock of the 1911, flesh kissed by cold metal.
“… for the feast and the promise of gold.”
Time itself fractured; Thomas barely stirred as he watched your lips, your wrathful eyes, your brow sewn by ruthless will. He did not watch the gun you pulled on him, nor did he seem to hear the rack of the slide that split the quiet of the dressing room. 
“But Devil… that won’t be me.” Your velvety singing turned to words of steel in your throat, and you glared at him down the sights of your weapon. Only now, did he seem to take notice of it, with a fleeting, unconcerned glance at its gaping black maw. He could have turned it on you, but he didn’t. He just smiled, bright blue eyes shining down a silver-moon barrel to meet yours.
Stepping back, leisurely, fists buried in his pockets, he promised, “I’ll be back, to claim what’s mine.”
Your finger loosened from the trigger yet trembled as the sight of Thomas Shelby disappeared past the doorframe, nothing left of him but the soft thud of his dress shoes down the hall and the ghost of his burning touch on your skin, the dampness on your neck from the promise he’d made you. The shameful cling of the sheer robe to your slicked thighs, the cold sweat that sent shivers of winter, death, and all things barren along your flesh.
For one, gut-twisting moment, all eyes were on you. The suffocating festering of fear, the sickening crawl of disgust, the heart-wrenching trace of reproach all culminated in the air around you, cast to the incense and smoke by bright eyes and slacked jaws, crossed arms and furled shoulders.
And the girls began to scurry from the dressing room, skirts and dresses and tassels streaming behind them like streaks of lightning that followed the rumble of the storm, like rivulets of rain chased by the hurricane.
Marla was among the last to leave, her eyes wary and wild and a sneer curling her lip as her eyes traced up and down your trembling form. Only when she left did you lower your gun, sliding the hammer back in place.
That left two. Sally, and the woman who claimed herself a witch.
“I’m sorry…” you breathed, not knowing what to say. “I’m sorry you had to witness that, I – I had no idea that was going to happen.” Shifting your attention fully to your friend, you reached a tentative hand for Sally, as if to ease her anxiety. Poor thing was shaking like a furled leaf and quiet tears streaked the freckles of her heart-shaped face.
She flinched away, and your heart clenched, hand withdrawing. You set aside your gun, hoping that might settle her nerves. “At least, let me give you this back…” you untied the bedazzled choker from your neck. “It looks like this was our last performance together. Thank you, for lending me it.”
But she sprang back like a jackrabbit when the fabric brushed her knuckles, and she shook her head frantically, tears shaking free of her spidery lashes like dew falling from painted webs. “You can keep it,” she spoke, her tiny voice cracking in her chest. “Just stay away from me.”
Something bitter worked its way into the fracture of your chest, the cruel fist of rejection squeezing the remnants of your shattered heart tight. Your fist curled, hard, around the choker, so hard that when you opened it, the jewels had left red impressions on your palm, and your thanks turned to bitter ash on your tongue as the laces of the choker slipped between your fingers.
The witch, Clementine, watched you from dark eyes always shrouded in an enigma, but today, held the slight trace of unease. A foreboding weight sunk her shoulders, and when she spoke, the raspy tones of her voice were those of lost souls, crying from strangled throats to warn you of something truly grave on the horizon,
“You’re marked. You’re marked by the Devil, you are, girl.”
Your brow furrowed, and the chime of her jangling bracelets seemed to mock you like laughter as she pointed a hooked claw to your loins.
Pawing aside the fabric of your robe, your fingers swiped across the nail marks Thomas had left along your inner thigh, wrathful and red and weeping. Your fingers came away with a veneer of blood, pooling in the rings of your skin like a wax seal.
The seal of your fate, to a man falsely crowned.
And to your devil, your soul was bound.
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Part II coming soon!
MASTERLIST • REQUEST
Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed to any of my taglists and notified of new works!
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Taglist: @emotionalcadaver @zablife @shelbydelrey @look-at-the-soul @brummiereader @mrkdvidal1989 @fiercelittlemouse @ohwellthatslifesstuff @minaethrym
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alicent-targaryen · 8 months
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TOMMY & ALFIE ▸ Peaky Blinders, 4.4
requested by @raincoffeeandfandoms
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noforkingclue · 4 months
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I warned you it's brain rot. It's Tommy Shelby brain rot-
But Tommy Shelby has a nurse who knows not to ask too many questions, who lets injured Peaky blinders into her house and helps them quietly. He's been there himself, so has Arthur, John. Finn once, too, but for a scraped knee on the street.
And Thomas has always regarded her as one of his-his men, his assest, whatever. And he's been slowly learning about her-she talks when she works, to distract, put them at ease, and it lets him learn more about her-she likes horses, for instance. Where she grew up, the basics of how she ended up here-and he pays her well enough, and she doesn't seem fool enough to turn coat.
But there are moments...moments where he's injured, where it's her and him in the room, smelling of blood, of pain and that soft voice and comfort-and he knows in those moments she's not just his nurse. Not just a healer he wants to keep around because her stitches are clean and neat, and her mouth shut.
So when Grace the fucking barmaid squeals about her to the coppers-he's not exactly a happy man. And Tommy Shelby angry is a sight to behold.
Note: requests are currently closed
Of course anon! I hope I got all the details in the request as it was a long on!
Enjoy!
Title: Vengeance
Warnings: descriptions of violence against women
Peaky Blinders tag list: @stylesofloki, @ohshititsfenharel, @lenaskyler02, @elenavampire21, @swordofawriter, @zablife, @cillmequick, @polishcrazyone, @nataliewalker93
Thomas Shelby tag list: @alreadybroken-ts, @darlingdevil, @lyrxbz, @watercolorskyy, @notyour-valentine
Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee
“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Arthur growled, “once we find out who did this their going to wish they hadn’t been fucking born.”
“Arthur-“
“They fucking hurt y/n,” Arthur said, “Y/n? What has she ever done?”
“She fucking helped us,” said John, “how many times have you been to her?”
“Not as much as you fucking have.”
Tommy was looking into the main bar, smoking silently. He had remained quiet while his brothers discussed what happened and their plans for your attacker. Well, Arthur and John had. Finn remained quiet and very pale, clutching a glass of whiskey so tightly that Tommy thought he was going to break it. That would only add to their problems seeing as you wouldn’t be able to pull the glass out. Tommy had seen Finn wiping his eyes but subtlety was never Finn’s strong points.
“Boys.”
Polly stood in front of Tommy. He glanced over her shoulder and looked at you huddled in a booth. Polly pushed her was passed him and Tommy shut the door behind her.
“How is she?” asked John
“What a fucking stupid question,” snapped Polly before sighing and running a hand over her face, “how do you think? She needs time so, don’t-“
“You need to leave.” Said Tommy
“Excuse me?” said Polly, venom in her voice
“I’m going to speak to her.”
“She doesn’t need that at the moment, especially from you.”
Tommy looked over and locked eyes with Polly.
“I need to speak to her.”
“Tom-“ said Arthur
“Fuck off.” Tommy said as he left the room
Your head jerked up when you heard the door open but you seemed to relax slightly when you realised it was only Tommy. He sat down opposite you and was vaguely aware of his brothers and Polly leaving. Neither of you spoke for a while. You ran a thumb over the rim of your glass and Tommy lit a cigarette and offered it to you. You took it with shaking hands and his eyes dropping down to the cuts on your hands. Deep scratches along the palms of yours hands, knuckles had the skin scrapped away. When he looked up at your face he felt the familiar bubbling rage resurface.
Your left eye was an ugly purple colour and swollen shut. Your bottom lip has been cut open and starting to scab over. Your nose was now slightly crooked and he could see the traces of blood around your nostrils. From the way you drew deep shaking breath, wincing every so often, he guessed that your ribs had been broken.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “this shouldn’t have happened.”
You took a deep drag of your cigarette and said,
“I knew that this could happen when I started helping.”
“You didn’t deserve it.”
“I work for the Shelby’s.”
“Which is why we’re going to find out who did this and kill him.”
You blinked in surprise and smiled bitterly.
“Never knew you cared.”
“Why wouldn’t I? You’re one of us.”
And maybe it was because Tommy liked you a bit too much. You always helped him and his men, probably more often then you should’ve. You stayed up late, humouring an old (and secretly lonely) man. Telling him stories of your life before the Blinders, telling him about your day and in return getting some small snippets of his life in return. In the dark of the night, in a room that smelt of blood and alcohol, the two of you grew closer.
And it was this that had sealed your fate.
“Love, you need to tell me what you can remember.”
“I… can’t.”
“Anything.”
“They blindfolded me.”
Ah.
“But, he had an accent.”
“Hmm.”
��Irish, I think.”
“Irish,” Tommy let out a chuckle, “think I know who you mean. He’d hate for you to call him Irish though.”
“Huh?”
You jumped when there was a clink by the bar. Tommy looked over at it sharply and saw Grace by the bar. A tense silence fell over the room before Tommy said,
“And how long have you been there?”
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thomashelbyswife · 23 days
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Tommy Shelby - Peaky Blinders S1E1
requested by: @runnning-outof-time 🤍
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peakyblinded · 2 years
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TOMMY + SMILING requested by anonymous
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zodiyack · 1 year
Text
Closed Doors
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x (nonship)daughter!Reader, Shelby family x (nonship)Shelby!Reader, Best friend character x fem!reader lol
Warnings: slight angst, fear of homophobia?, fluff, mention of drinking
Words: 414
Request: Hi! I was wondering could you do a pesky blinders fic where the reader is Tommy’s daughter and is gay but too afraid to come out until he finds her making out with her best friend one day (much like your Tommy’s son fic but with a lady?)
Note: oh god i haven't been able to write for a while, and im posting this on mobile (also meaning it'll take a bit to put it on my master list) regardless i hope it's okay. I also forgot who all is on the taglist now, this is just the taglist from when i saved this as a draft. Hope you enjoy!
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Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @simonsbluee, @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @jenepleurepasbaby, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @stuckysslag, @psychkunox, @i-love-superhero, @marquelapage, @peakyxtommy, @stydia-4-ever, @babylooneytoonz, @livlaughquinn​, @bubsonnobx​
Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist
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Tommy walked along the street, pointing out random boys and joking with his brothers. "Wonder what kind of lad Y/N will end up with..." Not that he'd accept just anyone in his daughter's life.
Arthur snorted, "any guy out here would have to go through me. John and you too, no doubt."
John and Thomas nodded with a hearty laugh. "They'd have to fight that friend of hers too, she never leaves her side."
The men continued to bicker and chortle on their walk to the house.
"Hello Mr. Shelby!" Sonia chimed. Sonia was always welcomed, Y/N's best friend. She never had to ask, simply walk through the front door. He greeted her back as she sped up the stairs to Y/N's room, closing the door behind her.
After a few hours, and after the rest of the company went out, Thomas decided he wanted to go to Garrison. As he was the only one home, aside from the two girls, he made his way up the stairs to notify them of his absence.
The courtesy of knocking escaped him as he pushed her door open, the payment for such action taking a gasp from his parted lips. Before him was the sight of his daughter and her best friend, lips upon each other's, quickly separating at the sound of the door.
"Dad-" Y/N's eyes welled with tears, crushing Tommy's heart, and seemingly Sonia's as she looked to her friend with concern.
"Mr. Shelby, I promise-"
"Don't." He looked down and leaned against the door frame. "Why do you feel the need to hide away? Why couldn't you tell me?"
"I'm sorry..." She sobbed quietly.
"Don't be. It's who you are, what is there to be sorry about?"
Sonia perked up, "you're not mad?"
Thomas let out a genuine chuckle. "Why would I be?"
"My parents...they weren't too fond of my attraction to Y/N. We feared that you'd feel the same." He felt empathy for the shaking girl, her gaze averted in shame.
"I take pity that your parents are ignorant. You cannot control who you love. In this case, it's my daughter. My only asks, are that you treat her well..."
The girls looked hopeful, staring at him anticipating his continuation. "And?"
"And that you keep the door open when you're in her room. I trust that you can respect these requests. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to go to the Garrison and have a drink."
-
Bonus:
"do you think he's drinking because of us?" Sonia asked fearfully.
Y/N chucked, "no, he just likes to drink."
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padfootdaredmetoo · 1 year
Note
A tommy with a wife with a big libido part two please? Or perhaps a story of them rather than a headcanon?
Dear Anon,
This is a story one. Hope you enjoy it!
Warnings: Description of shit parents, Reader getting bruises from being held too tightly by her mother. kinky office sex during a party. Slight dom/sub vibes.
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Tommy hated seeing his wife in such a state. It was the unfortunate time of the year when an obligatory visit with the inlaws was unavoidable. Her parents were…. Complex. Always loved to brag about the man her daughter married all the riches, fancy parties, and massive house, but when they would come around as family it was a very different story. 
Always rude about Gypsy traditions, hesitant to touch the silverware, and always comments about her weight. They learned a couple years ago not to talk about the children in his presence. Doesn't mean she doesn't call you up to give you nonsense advice. This was not the house for modern ways. 
He watched as you hosted the small gathering. His eyes caught the look on Esme’s face as your cousin tried explaining something in a shrill voice. He almost laughed at the dead expression on her features, she was a lucky find for the family. For a moment he thought about how she was always at your side no matter what. A small pang of guilt for how he had treated her in the past. 
Bloody woman making me turn soft. 
He shook the thought off as your father approached. 
“So Thomas.” He was a plump man with an awful mustache. The tone of distaste in his voice never faltered when addressing him. “Looks like it was another successful year.” 
“That’s generally what happens when you're willing to work hard, Harold. How did the deal with the Carrey family go?” He asked in his usual uninterested tone despite knowing the answer.
“They decided to go with another idea. Pity really, but not everyone can afford the best.” He puffed out his chest. Thomas wondered why he decided to make this relationship so difficult, especially on his only daughter. 
He watched you remain tense in your mother's grip. If it were anyone else's hand on your arm holding you in place he would have cut their fingers off slowly. Your father seemed to have something better to talk about with one of your relatives, leaving him in peace. 
“She’s going to lose circulation in that arm.” Polly sat down next to him looking thoroughly pissed off. “Are we not enough for her? Doesn't make sense to carry all this dead weight.” 
“Pol. It’s her family, it’s hard for her.” 
“As someone who looks on her the way a mother should, it's even harder on me.” Polly lit a cigarette. “Don’t just leave her to the rats!” She hissed giving his arm a shove. He finished the last of his drink and got up. 
Walking over across the room, his eyes wandered along your backside. Perhaps that’s the reason you were both so tense and tired? Your usual physical appetite had been pushed aside over the tremendous weight of this awful party. Maybe he could find a way to help you out....
He came to your side sliding his arm around your waist, forcing your mother to release you. 
“If you’ll excuse us.” He said gracefully pulling you towards the hallway. He didn't give a reason or an excuse because they didn't deserve one. 
“Tom no! You promised me there would be no business” You whispered and he kept his composure guiding you down the hallway. 
Once the door was shut behind them you really started to kick up a storm. 
“I swear to God Thomas I will burn this house down.” He kept guiding you back to eventually press up against his desk. “I will ruin your life I swear it, whatever this is it needs to stop right now.” 
He lifted you up to perch on the top of his desk. Hands sliding up the outside of your thighs. 
“Oh no, not this again either! You're not hiding some special magic key or code or letter on me again. Last time it was a complete - Oh.” 
You rambled on until his mouth was between your legs. That soft “Oh” caused your whole body to tense up. He didn't need to look up at you to know that you were fighting a losing battle in your mind. Your body had gripped him tightly holding him where you needed him. 
He stopped fucking around and finally opened you up properly and dragged his tongue over your clit.
“Fuck” You ground down against him and he felt like a bit of a genius thinking this up. He picked up the pace eating you out. His fingers slowly pushed into you and for a moment he thought about making you cum like that. Make a right proper mess of his outfit, but he new there would be a heavy price for that brief moment no matter how explosive it would be. No, instead he kept a slow pace, easing your body into what it was desperate for. Not until your breath was ragged and your thighs were like a vice did he let you win.
“Please don’t - it - ah - won't be enough” Of course, it wouldn't be enough. Not for you anyway. He kept you there on the edge of bliss weighing his options. He decided and got up and undoing his trousers. 
“Be quiet” He commanded mostly just to watch your eyes get hazy. Slowly he pushed himself inside you, your body so eager it made a mess of pushing and pulling. Unsure of how to get what it needed. 
“Ive got you.” He whispered and felt the way your body clenched around him while also going limp. “That’s it baby.” He liked being soft with you. You’d say you were all about fast and hard, but when he’d take his time with you, this is when he really pushed your limits. Your breathing was ragged and tears were threatening to fall. 
What you needed in this particular moment was a complete loss of control. Something he was more than happy to give you. He pressed his thumb across her glossy bottom lip into the wetness of her mouth. 
He pulled out before pushing back in slowly forcing your walls to stretch open again. The papers on the edge of his desk were useless with the amount of wetness trapped between the two of you. 
He moved again and you whimpered softly. He knew he didn't have as much time as he wanted he brought his other thumb down to your clit. Your body seized and he started a slow deep pace. Bottoming out with every stroke. 
“You going to help me off? Make up for this awful party.” You were too far gone to answer, he chuckled. 
He picked up the pace knowing your body wouldn't handle much more after going without for so long. 
“You can finish when you're ready, love.” Your body jerked at the permission to go wild. Your whole body clamped tight, legs tense and your teeth dug into his thumb. The tightness of your heat gripping his cock was enough to spill inside you. 
“Good Girl.” He smirked amazed that his plan worked. He grabbed some tissues from his desk and cleaned you up before pulling your panties back into place. 
“Fuck” You swore softly. He assumed you’d be rushing him out the door and cursing but instead, your slender arms pulled him close. He cradled you tightly, hating the marks already appearing on your arm. He was going to have a long talk with you later. 
“I don’t think I can keep doing this.” you sounded so broken it made him wish he could put both your parents in the ground. 
“Then don’t.” He answered simply. “You’ve been very reasonable over the years, they are the ones deciding not to change.” 
“I love you.” She breathed.
“Love you too” He placed a kiss on the top of her head. 
“Let's go rescue the family before Polly shoots someone.” 
“Good plan.” Once straightened out they re-entered the party. He kep his arm around her tightly pulling her past where her mother was. For the rest of the night she kept her seat inbetween him and Polly. If people wanted to talk to her they would come and take a seat across the coffee table. A safe distance away and they said the types of things one would when being started down by Thomas Shelby. 
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garrison-girl-08 · 8 months
Note
Heyo, how are you doing? I’ve to say that lately I haven’t been in a Cillian mood but since all those new pics of him have surfaced, I just feel like devouring him 🤤. So, I was wondering if you’d be up writing an oneshot about an idea I had please? ❤️🙏
He’s getting ready for an event or similar and I don’t want him to leave because it’s like he ends up being more handsome which each passing day and just want to keep him behind doors and never let him out of the house (even having their two dogs help her). Deep down it’s just insecurity that he might wake up, realise how mediocre she is, and find someone better.
The Only One...
Pairing- Cillian Murphy and Reader - Not based on real life
Thank you for your support, would love to hear your thoughts!
Hope this is what you wanted @being-worthy
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Watching your husband unzip his suit bag, you resisted the urge to sigh. It was the Dublin Premier, of Oppenheimer today. It had been a whirlwind tour, LA, Paris, London. You had joined him in Paris and London, but were glad to be home. With your son.
At eighteen months, he was a whirlwind of energy. Having stayed at his grandparents, for a few days. You were wanting to stay home with him. He needed his parents, his own bed. And honestly, you found the events soo hard.
As much as you were proud of Cillian, showing a United front. You always felt, like you had imposter syndrome.
People judging you, criticizing you. Wonder why he was with you, no doubt. Plain old Y/n…While he stood next to Hollywood’s elite. Surrounded by beautiful women. You always ending up feeling so insecure.
Plus, with the Sag strike he was only going to attend the red carpet. Not stay for the night. Still, you wished he didn’t have to go. Taking his black suit out of the bag, he caught your eye in the mirror.
“You ok?” He asked, eyebrow raised.
“Yeah,” you smiled, climbing from the bed. Where your son was playing with his toy animals. “Can’t wait to see you in the suit,” You ran your hands across his chest.
“Daddy go?” Your son, Finn asked reaching his arms out.
Scooping up his son, Cillian kissed his nose. “Dada won’t be long, I will see you in the morning. After sleepy time,”
Finn wrapped his arms around his Dad’s neck. “Me no night night,” he protested, frowning up at his Daddy.
"Mummy will do night night," you smiled, stroking his nose, as he clambered out of Cillian's arms. Finn ran off into his bedroom. Making sure the stairgate was closed. You came back to see Cillian, watching him start to strip off.
He had put the weight back on, that he had lost for Oppenheimer. And was trying to bulk up again, for the Peaky movie. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you rested your head against his toned back.
"Are you horny, baby?" he chuckled, turning to look at you. Taking your face between his hands. The noise of your two dogs barking, floating up the large staircase.
"No," you shrugged, "I just..." you stopped mid sentence, not being able to articulate your thoughts.
Running his tongue along his lips, he softly kissed you. Hands reaching for your ass, he picked you up. Holding you against his body, kissing your collar bone.
"I can tell you are, Mrs Murphy, I know you're tics,"
"Mama, woof woof," Finn babbled, running back into the bedroom. He didn't walk anywhere, always ran. Such a boisterous little boy, loved to be outside, getting dirty.
Squeezing your bum, Cillian placed you back down with a wink.
“Me up?" Finn asked his daddy. Scooping up his son, Cillian spun him around like an aeroplane. Dropping him onto the bed, as Finn burst into giggles.
Leaving him to get dressed, you went to feed the dogs. Catching sight of yourself, in the hallway mirror you sighed. Your hair wasn’t as glossy, you had lines appearing around your eyes. You needed some sun.
All you had been reading, was how much chemistry Cillian had with his female Co stars. How they had a deep connection. Journalists had even commented, on him having a crush on Florence Pugh.
She was only five years younger than you. But you felt twenty years older.
Feeding your two black Labradors, you grabbed a glass of wine. Heading back upstairs, you should be starting dinner really. You just couldn't snap out of this lull.
Cillian was tucking his black shirt, into his suit trousers. The top two buttons of his shirt left open, chest hair showing.
“Do I look like I’m going to a funeral?” He questioned.
Walking over to him, you let your fingers brush through his hair. “No you look good, very handsome, you always do,”
Sitting back on the bed, you sipped your wine. “I wish you were coming with me,” Cillian stated, fastening his belt. “He would have been fine at my brothers,”
"He's already been left for a few days, Cill. It's just easier if you go alone. I don't feel like dressing up again," Scrolling through your phone, sipping the wine, you watched him walking over to you.
"Cillian Murphy, to join his two female co stars for Dublin Premier,"
The article read, as you scrolled through it. Pictures from the London Premier there.
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"Well, I think you look beautiful as you are." Cillian replied, hovering over you.
He noticed what you were looking at. Pressing kisses against your neck, "When you wake up in the morning," Slipping his hands around your waist, he made you look at him. "Always perfect,"
"Have you read what they are saying, about you and Florence?" you asked, ignoring his attempt to distract you.
Cillian took your phone, placing it on the bedside table. "Don't start reading that shit, letting it get in your head, hmm?" His thumb stroked across your chin. "You are the only one for me... my wife... the love of my life,"
"Yeah?" he asked again, spreading your legs apart, while you hooked them around him. "I love you,"
"I love you too, Cill," you answered, staring into his eyes. "And you look sooo gooood, when you come home to me tonight. I think Daddy deserves some attention, hmm?"
Cillian nodded his head, like an eager teenager. "Would it be the red lace slip sort of attention?" he pouted, eyebrow raised. Pinning your arms over your head, as you ground up against him.
"Me Horsey?" Finn asked, pulling at your arm.
Cillian groaned, "Careful Daddy, nearly got caught again," you chuckled.
Eventually waving goodbye to Cillian, you felt happier. Knowing it was you his was returning to in just a few short hours.
Note-
After writing this request, I realised I had written a similar story to this ➡️ Insecurities
Tags - @mitchiesdungeon @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @being-worthy @missymurphy1985 @janelongxox @ntmynouis @thenattitude @katsav17 @answer-the-sirens @kathrinemelissa @queenshelby@geminiwolves @lyarr24 @ysmmsy@margoo0 @mysticaldeanvoidhorse @dolllol2405 @misselsbells06@cheekybluefox @alreadybroken-ts @vousmemanqueez-blog @peaky-cillian @look-at-the-soul@lespendy @cillmequick @raychhh @captivatedbycillianmurphy @everyonesawhore @castellandiangelo @midnightmagpiemama @elenavampire21@camilleholland89 @cljordan-imperium @peakyscillian @muhahaha303 @already-broken144 @pono-pura-vida @heidimoreton @cillshot @ietss
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warnersister · 3 months
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How the Peaky boys react when you tell them you don’t want children (and they do) -> headcannon📽️🎞️
Tommy🪖
🪖He almost thought he hadn’t heard you. He was driving you both back from a family event in which his nieces and nephews had attended, momentarily leaving you throughout the evening to bond with the young children and get you accustomed to the toddler-side of motherhood, subconsciously assuming that you winked be pregnant with your first by the beginning of autumn this year.
🪖“So, did you enjoy spending time with the children this evening?” He asked, flicking the dead bluntness of his cigarette out of the window, satisfied with the nicotine intake he had received. “Yes they’re lovely, parents must have their hands full.” You say, agreeing with his comments on their admirability.
🪖He put his hand quite far up your thigh and smirked, taking his eyes away from the dirt road momentarily. “When would y’ like to start trying for one of us own?” He asked, expecting excitable gasps but all he could hear was a deafeningly tense silence as you almost wordlessly rejected his question.
🪖“Well?” He creased his brows. You looked away and out of the passenger reader “I hadn’t put much thought into it.” You speak small and quiet, presumably nervous to hear his response. “Well we can start trying as soon as we get home, how’s that sound?” He suggested, lightly tapping your thigh to which you squirmed in the leather seat uncomfortably. “Tommy I don’t think I want children.” The car was suddenly lurched sideways and you were grateful the road was private so your husband was unable to cause a crash. “You what?” He asked, car now stationary and his body turned towards you; understandably dominating the situation.
🪖“I don’t want to be a mother.” You say again, voice a bit more quiet this time but still trying to maintain your confidence in your decision. Tommy examined your face to try find some humour, that you were joking with him. “What do you mean you don’t want to be a mother?” “Well Ada gave me her child and I just didn’t want to hold it” “her” he corrects. “Her. I don’t have any maternal instincts I felt nothing, no admiration, no desire, no want. All I wanted was for Ada to take her baby away.” You tell him, spinning the wedding ring on your finger and biting your lips nervously. “No one knows what to do, no one knows how to handle children” he says, assuming you’re just scared “it’s normal to be scared or apprehensive. Heard that’s just a part of parenthood” he restarted the engine.
🪖“Thomas-” “we’re trying for our child when we get home and that’s final.”
Alfie🧸
🧸You owned a bakery; where you and Alfie had met - he’d walked in off the street one day and surprisingly, you must’ve been the only person in Camden not to recognise him. You’d simply greeted him with a large grin, excited to get a customer while he chatted with you and admired the adrenaline fuelled step as you dashed around your little shop - enjoying the appearance of your youth, definitely him being notable few years your senior. He’d ordered some treats, you even had some treats to offer Cyril who you’d asked wait outside for hygiene reasons. “This, yeah, this thing love, it’s bloody lovely it is… hands of an angel you have” he’d charmed, praising your baking abilities as he enjoyed your bakes. Admiring the blush on your cheeks as he serenaded you with words.
🧸He’d left that day leaving you with a sum heftier than the goods had actually been valued at and promised to return. And return he did, every day without fail at 10 in the morning to treat himself and his pup, offering reiteratively to teach you to make some Jewish deserts as the religious population in London was growing. Until the day you’d agreed, both in the back while you were simultaneously running out to greet customers and back to Alfie. You were kneading dough when you heard the bell chime “you’ve really gotta get your fingers in love, yeah, I’ll show you yeah” and he’d towered over you from behind you guide your hands through the mixture. Then a baby’s cry. “I’ll be back.” You say, hurrying out to greet your guest.
🧸A woman stood with a newborn in pram, looking over your selection. The baby wailed. “Can I help you lovely?” You asked with a gentle smile, not noticing Alfie leant against the doorway behind you, sleeves rolled up and caked in flour as he watched you engage with the customer. “Yes, I’d like-” the baby cried louder “erm” she was evidently frantic, opting to pick the baby up and try to sooth him.
🧸“Oh im sorry i cant think straight.” She apologised, cringing at the noise from the baby. You inhaled, not believing what you were about to do. “How about you pick something, and eat it in and I’ll hold him for you to give you a rest.” You suggested and he nodded almost too quickly. Choosing a dessert and you swapped the sweet treat for money and the babe.
🧸You bounced the young child on your hip as he cooed, enamoured by the new face and was now too distracted to cry. The mother relaxed into a chair in front of the counter and savoured the moment of peace, eventually taking the sleeping boy back and leaving incredibly grateful, Alfie almost unable to contain his love protruding from his chest as you turned back around to continue baking. “Back to work” you joked, walking past him to continue on the dough.
🧸“You’d be a great mummy, y’know sweetness?” He muttered, suggestively. You huffed slightly. “Perhaps” your lips pursed and he stopped you kneading. “What’s ’perhaps’ mean, poppet?” He asked you. “Well I just don’t think I want to be a mum.” The man laughed, assuming you were joking. “What do you mean you don’t want to be a mum? I’m getting old now treacle, I’ve not much time left to have little ones and I’d want them to be yours.” He said, holding your hands in his as you refuse to meet his pleading eyes. “Maybe. Not yet.” You mumble, trying to return to work.
Arthur🍺
🍺Arthur had Finn on his shoulders, drunk off his head as he happily paraded his young brother around the Garrison as the party of success roared, Arthur having one too many to drink and now easily excitable.
🍺Finn was happily playing along, bouncing on his brother’s shoulders and clapping to the music drowning out in the background, enjoying the attention he was receiving from the majority of the pub’s inhabitants. Arthur saw you watching the ordeal, bounding over to you to plant a smiley kiss on your lips and you reach up to ruffle Finn’s hair, hidden under your husband’s cap.
🍺“Could have one just like this, what d’ya say love?” He asks, grinning ear to ear but expression faltering when he saw the distaste written all over your own face. He gently took Finn off his shoulders who ran over to John, who processed to spin the body around - scolded by his own wife for nearly pulling the undeveloped youth’s arms off his body.
🍺“Our own little one?” Arthur suggests. You shake your head, small smile. “Not when you keep coming home in a state like this.” You say and his face drops entirely now, sobering up enough to understand the ultimatum you were offering him.
🍺“I will not have children when you come home every day too drunk to think. I will not let our child see his mother carry his father up the stairs because he forgot how to use his own two legs.” You say, pecking your husband’s cheek and offering a disappointed smile before you wondered off to find Polly.
🍺Arthur pondered your words for a moment, before pulling you and grabbing you back towards him, falling to his knees as he promised for stay sober, to get off the drink, he just wanted you to bear him a child.
John🥃
🥃You and John had just gotten married, a marriage you were both unaware of until you were knelt at the alter but still - the two of you had just gotten married and the wedding bells were playing. Neither of you could say you were annoyed with the outcome of this arrangement, neither finding the other unattractive and prepared to attempt to progress in this diversion of your lives.
🥃The reception was a grand festivity, dancing, drinking, celebrating and toasting to the pact and ceasefire between two rivalling families with conflicts decades old. You and John had your dance, him whispering sweet nothings into your ears as if he’d known you all him life and you’d just giggled and blushed and required his advanced with a giddy look upon your faces - like two teenagers in love.
🥃As the evening died down and you’d been escorted to your shared accommodation to last you the night, you finally had a moment of peace and clarity to be able to come to terms with the events of the day, after all, a mere 24 hours ago you were a single maiden merely dreaming of your eventual wedding to a man you’d become enamoured with someday, not a gangster peace pact, but there you stood; having assistance unzipping your dress from your husband John Shelby.
🥃He kissed along your shoulders, to your neck, spinning you around to eventually kiss your lips and continue to consummate your marriage. “How many kids you thinkin’ the ? Five? Ten?” He asked as you lay naked in his arms, a hand drawing gentle cyphers into your skin. “None.” You whisper and his drawings halt and he pulls away from you slightly to be able to look right at you. “That’s not gonna work w’me love. Wanna be dad.” He said, studying the expression on your face. “It’s not that I don’t want to be a mum,” you say - averting his gaze but he caught your chin and drew you back to be unable to look anywhere but him. “But,” he encouraged you to continue. “But my grandmother died in childbirth, as did my own mother. And my sister is coming to the end of her pregnancy and it isn’t looking positive for her either. I don’t want to leave my children without their mummy and my husband without a wife.” You almost whisper, voice cracking as tears gathered in your eyes. John drew you in to offer you a tight and reassuring embrace. “Is it hereditary?” He asked after a while and felt your head shake against his bare torso. “I don’t know. Either genetic or just bad treatment.” You stay in silence for a moment.
🥃“But I’d be willing to try if being a dad means that much to you.” You say, peering up to your new husband whose eyes soften at the admittance. “Well I’ll tell you what, if it was bad treatment no woman of mine would lift a finger while pregnant. You’d stay in bed and I’d cater to your every need, carry you to wherever you need to go. Pay for the best doctor and the best hospital to make sure my woman and my child both leave the hospital alive and well.” He leant his forehead against yours. “I’ll take good care of you if you let me.”
Bonnie🥊
🥊Bonnie always wanted to be a father. Be a dad. Raise his children the true gypsy way with his wife by his side - let them in the audience when they’re old enough to appreciate his fights, falsely tussle with them and let them win as he begged them for mercy and heard their victorious giggled. Oh he couldn’t wait for the day you’d bear his umpteenth child. That day couldn’t come soon enough.
🥊And when he joined the Blinders, he’d fallen head over heels for the young florist who worked tirelessly across the road from the Garrison, carrying Arthur home as Harry locked up shop and he’d still see you working on a bouquet you’d needed for a client the following day. He admired your work ethic and the old fashioned part of him couldn’t help but imagine you working as furiously in a kitchen while you tickled your children for interrupting your cleaning. You’d make a fine wife in his eyes.
🥊And against no wish of his own, one day Isaiah had forced the young lad into the shop with a laugh and you’d peered up at him form over the counted, cutting the final stem off of the roses you were working on before asking how you could be of assistance and you’d be lying if your breath hadn’t caught in your own throat, also - seeing him to-ing and fro-ing from the Garrison with the rest of those Blinder lads and finding his look rather endearing.
🥊“How can I help you?” You asked with a stressed but gentle expression on your face. “How much do you make an hour?” He asked. “I beg your pardon?” You retort, eyebrows creasing at the nerve of the man and you began to question whether your initial judgement was correct.
🥊“Sorry, no, I meant how much would it cost me to steal you for a few hours for a date without you loosing profit?”
🥊And the rest was history.
🥊He’d taken you to his fights, to restaurants, to his home with the travellers, even to a couple of family meetings as you’d already been acquainted with the Shelby men buying apology flowers for their spouses for coming home battered and bruised with no contact for a few days.
🥊It was a Tuesday, business was slow but you still had a few orders to finish and being not-bust himself, Bonnie was there to offer a helping hand to his lady. The door chimed but you couldn’t see anyone, confused; you leant over the counter to see a young boy, no older than seven stood there. “Please may I have a flower for my mummy? She’s very sad.” The boy pouted. You hummed. “What flower would you like to give your mummy?” The boy reached into his pocket and pulled out two coins, a button and some lint “whatever flower this may get me, if you please miss.” You nod and hand the boy a small bouquet of daisies with a bow to hold them together. The lad grinned and thanked you, offering you his pocket change and you shook your head. “All you owe me is your mummy a smile.” You say and he promises, running back out of the shop.
🥊Bonnie came up and hugged you from behind, leaving a long kiss on your cheek. “You’re awfully good with children, darling girl” he compliments and you scoff. “Yeah sure.” You roll your eyes and go back to your previous activity. And Bonnie’s dream world came crashing down around him as he realised your intentions.
🥊“What? Don’t want little ones?” He asked, keying as to why you’d be unable to offer him an heir. “No because I can’t deal with sick, I can’t deal with whining, I can’t deal with crying and I can’t even take care of myself for crying out pigs. How do I take care of a child?” You shake you head, as if the man was daft.
🥊“But with our child, it would be different.” He says and you look up at him noting the sincerity and desperation in his look. “Maybe when we’re married or something.” You disregard. He shakes his head. “Why not now?” “I have a flourishing business and I’m not just leaving it all to be a wife and mother and traveller.” You say, inhaling sharply and he frowns. You will come around eventually. He bargains with himself mentally.
Isaiah♟️
♟️You and Isaiah were upstairs in the Shelby household, getting a few moments of blissfulness together before the rest of your family returned. Especially your twin Finn, who was still unknowing about the blossoming relationship between you and Isaiah.
♟️Isaiah was kissing all up your body, a starved man delving hungrily at his first meal in weeks, leaving piercing bite-sized bruises in places for his eyes only. Places he’d see when he’d draw you a bath after you’d finished doing the Devil’s bidding in your frequenting sinful tango.
♟️The boy thrust into you at a desperate pace, eager to fuck you out in a matter of minutes and prove just how desperate you could be for him, just how quickly he could make you cum under the pressure from his cock and his thumb rubbing quick circles around your clit, mouth silenced by his own as he kissed you passionately.
♟️He pulled back, clawing his fingers into your hips as though you were trying to get away from him - but if anything you were trying to get closer, go reach that release you so desperately craved. “Going to fuck my baby into you. Fill you full with my child.” He promised, thrusting deep and skilfully. You shook your head. “No Isaiah.” His pace didn’t falter but he looked up at you, grabbing your jaw and squeezing your cheeks as if fucking you dumb. “No?” “No.” You say between smushed cheeks. “Don’t want no kids.”he chuckled. “Too late.” And he continued working on his promise, and you were too high on pleasure to argue any further but when he came inside you it seemed all to real, his hand over your mouth to stifle your cries as you came all over him and him inside you.
♟️“Isaiah I don’t want children.” You say in tears, trying to catch your breath but his weight on top of you was too much and he was still buried too deep, desperate not to waste a drop.
♟️“You’ll bare my children whether you like it or not, doll.” He says, stroking your cheek. “Then they’ll have to let me marry you, won’t they?”
Michael🎱
🎱Michael loved parading his fiancée. He’d proposed in a place so public, so romantic, so endearing… how could you ever say no to your charming Michael?” The rock on your finger was substantial despite the promise you’d made him make to not waste his money on some piece of jewellery, but he’d argued that piece of jewellery showed what was his so he’d have to make his as obvious as possible.
🎱And one afternoon he’d found himself free from any Blinder work, able to take you out and dined you at the finest afternoon tea he could find, drinking as his hand lay comfortably on your thighs as you engaged in wholesome chatter about your future together. Discussing a home in the country, him leaving the family business or at least doing the work needed to be done in the green hills of the Peak District.
🎱“-and you’ll make a lovely mother-” he continued but you stopped him “wait, mother?” You cut him off and he nods, nearly confused. “Well yes. Once we get married you’ll leave your job and I’ll lay for that pretty little house you want and you’ll cook and clean and you’ll bare my children.” He instructed, as if reeling off some old fashioned fairytale his adoptive mother had told him of as a child.
🎱“Michael I don’t want to be a mother.” You say, nearly afraid of him. “Well we can start small. Have one and then we can decide how many more we want from there.” “And if I don’t want more” “then we’ll settle with a son. Raise him.” “And what if it’s a daughter?” You ask. “See.” He grits his teeth. “Already thinkjng about gender. You obviously care. You’re just scared.” “Michael-” “you are my woman. You will bare my children and do your duty as a lady. End of discussion.”
Finn🎞️
🎞️Finn was head over heels in love with you since you’d started working at the Garrison that one evening in late June. Harry had hired you after you’d lied about your age, and at this point you’d guessed he’d figured it out by now: he was a smart man, but you’d ran away from home and this job was the only form of income or stability you had supporting you and this crumbing life you were trying to withhold. Well, that and Finn’s arm constantly around your waist - ignoring your numerous rejections until eventually managing a date with you.
🎞️The young Shelby smirked at you from across the room, enjoying the sight of you limping around the bar - sore from last night antics. You were staying with the Shelby family, in Finn’s room, where he was determined to take your virginity and bed you in some dark, twisted fantasy. Pump you with his heir so you couldn’t deny him once more, plus the thought of you plump with a child was mouthwatering and he couldn’t wait to see it.
🎞️You’d started the evening quickly, desperate to rip each other’s garments of and clothes pray after you’d sinned to the devil, advocating for his anti-christian tango as Finn fucked you fast into the sheets. You’d done it iteratively, falling asleep only to be woken up by the boy kissing down your back only to lazily thrust into you again with tired eyes. He’d done it three or four times, until the morning when you’d woken up, his cock still buried deep in your velvety walls, a mixture of both of yours productions pooling onto his bed as he tried to act as a cork to not waste a drop of his productivities.
🎞️So he thoroughly enjoyed the sight, and the falsely-annoyed side glances you’d shoot his way when you were presented with the opportunity.
🎞️It wasn’t out of the ordinary to see new faces in the garrison, well they came every day; whether they be travellers passing through Birmingham or illegal businessmen there to drink and tussle before being thrown out. It was a nightly occurrence. And you expected nothing less this evening.
🎞️It was eight o’clock in the evening on a Saturday, the regular crowd shuffling in other than the Shelby family who had already been seated an hour prior. “What’re you drinking?” An unidentifiable voice asked and you spun go see a man you didn’t recognise, age substantially your senior as he grinned rotted teeth at you.
🎞️“I’m not drinking. I’m serving, however may I offer you Shelby Gin?” You offer, trying to be polite. “I’ll take whatever you’d recommend. I’ll have you if you’re on the menu.” You grimace and poor him a glass, attempting to move on with your shift, unbeknownst to your dance partner seething with rage at the conversation and seeing red fury at a man trying to converse with a Shelby reserved girl.
🎞️He’d asked for a refill, and when you were topping up his drink, he’d reached across the bar to grab your bosom. And before you’d managed to fathom the situation, Finn had lurched across the room and tackled the man, who was laying on the floor clutching his bloodied, broken nose adjacent to Finn who’s knuckles were bruised and dirtied. “How dare you fucking touch her? Touch my pregnant missus? I’ll fuckin’ kill you, y’piece of shit.” And after a few more rough punches and kicks the man was kicked out into the blistering cold of a harsh Birmingham winter, Finn rounding the bar to hug you and calm down slightly.
🎞️Soon everyone was congratulating your pregnancy and asking when the wedding was and after a while you’d managed to pull Finn to the side and question these praises “why did you say I was pregnant? I’m not. And even if I was you know my views, I’m not keeping it.” “I had Polly read your leaves when you had tea this morning. Fucked ya again and again to make sure of it. You ain’t leaving me when you’re pregnant and you certainly ain’t killing my child.” He said, kneeling to kiss your stomach with an evil glint in his eye.
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writerdream22 · 2 years
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requested by: no one, but I sincerely hope you like this anyways ✨🌻💛
pairing: Thomas Shelby x sister! reader
warnings: cursing
feedbacks are always appreciated!
REQUESTS ARE OPEN
It was really late in the evening, and you were extremely tired. You'd got back home from a long day at the hospital about an hour prior, and if it weren't for the fact that you had to eat something you would have gone straight to bed.
Just as you walked into the kitchen, rubbing your eyes to try and get some energy into you, you noticed that someone was standing in the middle of your kitchen. Knowing very well that a great number of people could have been after you, people that had something to do with your brothers and didn't have good intentions at all, you started panicking.
You immediately grabbed whatever was nearest to you, which happened to be a book, and shouted “Fuck off, you damn bastard!” before throwing it at the intruder. Just then, you heard a familiar voice groaning in pain.
“Oi, what was that for?!”
It was your brother. Thomas. How weren't you able to recognize him? Then it clicked. You'd forgotten your glasses upstairs, and being shortsighted you couldn't really see that well.
“Jesus Christ, Tom, I'm sorry” you apologized, turning the lights on “I don't have my glasses on”. You walked towards your brother, who dismissed you with a wave of his hands and responded “I'm all right, y/n.”
After a few moments of silence, Thomas questioned “Why did it have to be a book? And why such a heavy one?”
“I thought you were an intruder! I didn't know what else to do!”
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springtyme · 4 months
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My requests are currently open for Peaky Blinders and Criminal Minds ♡
Characters
Tommy Shelby Arthur Shelby John Shelby Alfie Solomons
Spencer Reid Aaron Hotchner Derek Morgan Emily Prentiss
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