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geekwritersworld · 2 years

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Where the daisies grow

Pairing : Tommy Shelby x You

Warnings: Angst, description of injuries(mention of blood and cuts)

Summary: as stated in the request below. @luvlyencanto

I wanted to ask a story about: "having Polly Gray as the only mother figure". The reader would be a girl who was abandoned at an Orphanage (hell on earth) she only has bad memories of there. However, Polly and the Shelbys came as a light in her life, the reader is be between 8-9 years old when she's brought to them. And even though she was "adopted", she was always loved, raised and welcomed like a Shelby. Polly kind of adopted her as her daughter, making sure she was always dressed and having what she wanted, and she even bestowed the name Shelby on her. She was a Shelby, because if anyone tried to disrespect or harm her, they would have to deal with the wrath of them all. Ada, Arthur, John and Finn treat her like a sister and Tommy... well, maybe he could have some romantic interest in her??

A/n: let me know what you think :)

He was 16 when the 9 year old child was left in his aunt's care one day. He hadn't even known until he walked in to his aunt's house one evening to see a young girl in his aunt's kitchen.

Tommy had become protective of his siblings during the time that his mother had further grown unstable and his father had become an abusive alcoholic, which made him cautious of the child that had showed up in his aunt's house with no warning.

It was later that Aunt Pol told her leery nephew who was staring at the girl hunched in her chair "Edith dropped her here from the orphanage"

"why?" Tommy shot back, not allowing his gaze to falter from you.

"Because the orphanage treated her horribly knowing who her father was, Thomas" Pol said frustrated," I tried fighting her father to let me care for her after her mother died but he wouldn't let me, let the orphanage drag her away before he left for the country side"

"Why'd the orphanage take her when her father was alive?"

Pol grew more and more impatient at her nephews incessant questions "Because he paid them off to do so"

"makes no sense" Tommy turned away leaving his aunt in the hallway.

You remembered the orphanage in all its unforgiving transparency. The harsh words uttered to you by the caregivers still echoed in your head on dark snowy days. You were 13 now. Having lived with Pol for almost 4 years you'd become one of the Shelby's and were treated as such.

The Shelby siblings came around occasionally, and then more frequently until one day they moved in with Polly. Which you soon learned was because Martha Shelby had drowned in the cut.

Tommy was quiet; dealing with her death and the baby she left behind. Arthur would sometimes snap out of anger, Ada would spend her time doing generally anything to occupy her mind and John wasn't home often.

Then they began to recover to a certain extent; they laughed a little more than before. Tommy laughed, a lot. And often it was because of John.

On your 13th birthday Tommy got you flowers- daisies, you learned they were, not knowing what else to get you that he could afford. The rest of the family did their best to make your birthday special with the little money they could afford to spend at their leisure and you cherished every single moment.

Tommy and Ada occasionally spoke of their mother, and never of their father, which you realized was one of the common grounds you had with them- your very strong hatred for your fathers.

You'd been accepted completely as one of them by each of the siblings. Finn seemed like a little brother to you and you'd grown protective of the little boy.

Pol taught you to sew and Arthur would teach you new games, though you felt he was trying to busy his mind in doing so. John took you on walks and Tommy accompanied you to book shops and sat while you read since you couldn't afford to buy a book. He'd grumble a lot of course about how boring you were for reading. Ada was the older sister you never had. The one you talked to about everything.

At 17 you sobbed, chest heaving and hiccups erupting from your mouth, you clung to Tommy last of all, not wanting to let go. You'd refused to let go of John and Arthur- hoping maybe if you held on to them tight enough they wouldn't go.

But Aunt Pol, shedding tears herself, softly asked you to hug Tommy as well and bid them goodbye.

So you did. And Tommy held your shaking body as you cried into his coat and begged him to stay.

"It'll be alright" he had a few tears rolling down his cheeks as well.

You tearfully watched the Shelby boys except Finn board the train bound to take them, to what you were sure, was their ultimate demise.

Ada busied herself with Finn, Pol was trying to make enough money for the four of you and you- you spent your time sobbing, staring at walls, and watching the door, hoping any of the 3 boys would come barging in, telling you the war was over and they were home for good.

But the war wasn't over, no it had been 2 long years, and you heard enough women wailing in the streets, in their homes, in the shops and flower fields, for their husbands, brothers, sons, uncles and fathers who had become casualties, to know better.

Everyone knew that the families of the dead soldiers received letters, informing them their loved ones were 'killed in action'. And you dreaded those 3 words.

2 years turned in to 3 and then 4, and you feared if maybe they were never coming home at all, maybe the letters were on their way to inform you of it.

And then you heard it one day.

Cheers on the streets outside Pol's door. Cheers of the war being over.

And you froze. Your heart, you were sure had stopped. Turning to look at Ada who'd been sitting next to you was looking right back at you, eyes wide.

"D-"Pol threw open the door, making Finn drop Arthur's hat he'd given his baby brother the day he left.

Ada rushed to the door with you following closely

"The war- its bloody over" Pol sobbed, thick tears streaming down her face. Finn immediately rushed into his aunts arms, and Ada hugged you, crying.

You stood there in shock and wrapped your arms around Ada, wondering when the boys would be home.

"Pol" you finally rasped out " do you suppose they'll be back soon then? the 3 of them?"

Polly looked up, Finn still clinging to her "we haven't got a letter like so many, I suppose they should be home soon then" She let out a sob and then "all 3 of them" she smiled.

So you waited. And on your 22nd birthday, you wished yourself a happy birthday in the dark of the house and downed your glass of liquor before blowing out the candle.

But you didn't fall asleep.

It had been 4 months since the war was over, neither of the boys were home and there wasn't a letter either.

Maybe, you swallowed the lump in your throat, maybe there were so many casualties that the boys were just lost among them. Too many bodies to identify maybe, they were just laying somewhere-gone buried under the rest of the hundreds of dead soldiers.

letting out a shaky breath you turned over, covered your ears and willed yourself to sleep.

"We come home from war and she fuckin sleeps"

Shooting up from your cot, you turned around.

You leapt into John's arms sending him stumbling slightly as you latched on to him like you did when they were leaving. And you cried. And cried harder still when you saw Arthur behind John and nearly fell over your own feet in a hurry to hug him.

You were afraid, that you'd wake up and this would all be a dream. John chuckled behind you, you didn't have to see him to know it was forced.

Arthur hugged you tighter as well. John slipped out to where Pol and Ada were, whom he'd already seen.

"Arthur" your voice wavered " Where's Tommy?" you legs felt shaky at the thought of the fact that he probably never returned.

"He's outside, with Pol and Ada" Arthur led you out to where Tom stood, bickering with a sobbing Finn.

Looking up at the sound of your footsteps he asked Finn to give him a minute and hurried over to you.

"Tommy" you whispered hugging him tighter than ever. You'd convinced yourself he was going to tell you he had to go back, so you gripped him tightly.

Pol ushered everyone into the house, wiping her face. She placed down cups for tea and lit a cigarette between her lips.

Finn was now in John's arms and Ada poked his side telling him he was too big to be carried around now.

Sipping on their tea, everyone was sat around the old, wobbly wooden table.

You constantly kept placing your hand on Arthur or Tommy, who were sat on either side of you. They both knew you were trying to assure yourself that they were really there. Sipping his tea, Tommy watched you quietly, as a shell of a man he once was, at the woman you had become.

Tommy's horse trotted next to him quietly. The streets hadn't changed all that much since they'd left, Tommy noted.

Moreover the betting shop was doing well. It cost him a lot of nights and early mornings but he was only grateful for the nights he had something to occupy his mind.

He tucked the flowers in his coat and tightened his grip on the horse's leash.

You didn't see him home often. Occasionally he'd come home for a cup of tea, but otherwise he remained busy at the shop or the Garrison.

You knew the war had changed all 3 men. You knew they'd seen unspeakable things and it made your heart ache that you couldn't do much to help them.

It didn't go unnoticed by you that Tommy had changed the most by far. He didn't laugh- rarely even smiled. Arthur and John tried to use humor to cope where Tommy used silence. He hardly ever spoke to anyone anymore. When he did though, he spoke only of the business he'd indulged in weeks after returning.

He'd grown more observant, careful and on edge. He would watch you converse with Finn from the doorway and then quietly slip away. He came home late most nights, you knew this.

But the boys were trying. There were parts of them that died at the war, that was buried under the dirt and blood in the trenches. And here all the way back at small heath, they were barely surviving with whatever they had left in them.

Still as time went on, the business grew more chaotic and dangerous. Pol had now begun working in the betting shop and Ada would disappear for hours each day and you didn't bother asking where.

You, like Ada, weren't allowed to work with the rest of the Shelby's in the shop, so you occupied yourself at home with the little that you could. You took to teaching Finn and looking after him, occasionally you'd walk to the book shop and wander, until one day the owner offered you a job there. Having consulted Polly, the two of you agreed it would be good for you, so you'd begun spending most of your days working at the book shop.

Though not too many people bought anything you didn't care since it gave you time to read.

Closing the door, you walked past the kitchen table to pour yourself a glass of water. You weren't expecting anyone to be home soon since it was still evening and everyone usually returned towards the night. And Finn was with Pol so you had the house to yourself.

Before you could sit though, you heard the front door open. Looking up you leaned a little to get a better view of the door way "how are you home so early Tommy?"

Slipping his coat off and hanging it, he turned to face you pulling the flowers out of the coat he just hung "came to give you this"

Walking over to where you were seated he handed you the bouquet of flowers.

White Gerbera daisies. The ones you knew grew at the edge of small heath. The same ones he gave you when you turned 13.

You let out a breath and smiled slightly "I'd forgot I was turning 23 today" you chair scraped the hardwood floor when you got up to place the flowers in water.

"How come?" He leaned against the kitchen top, watching you.

"Don't know, Doesn't mean as much as it did when I was younger" Tommy hummed but said nothing " I suppose it was a exciting getting to grow older when I was young, now it's just a another year wasted and gone"

"wasted"

"yeah" you sighed "wasted. I haven't done anything with myself or helped anyone or changed anything. So wasted it is."

He wouldn't tell you. Not yet. Maybe not ever. It wouldn't be appropriate would it? He was almost 9 years older to you. He couldn't tell you.

In the following months he would linger around at home more often. When Ada had Carl and Freddie died, you helped Ada. You were the only one she spoke to every now and then and the only one she would meet with, because you weren't a Shelby by blood. Tommy would ask you how she was doing, and you'd tell him knowing he probably already knew.

You and Tommy spent time together more frequently, after he hired you as his assistant because he no longer felt you were safe working at the book shop, after what had transpired between the peaky blinders and their enemies.

Of course in the process of convincing you Tommy lost the leisure of getting to spend time alone though he didn't mind spending time with you, since you agreed to work with him if he swore to spend time with you more often.

You feared that you'd made your feelings too obvious to him with your 'non-negotiable precondition' but luckily he never caught on.

Polly did however, and rolled her eyes "And I thought you were too smart to fall for him" she said once Tommy had left the house.

Your face grew hot but you feigned ignorance " Don't know what your talking about" mumbling you got up and put your cup away.

"it would do you good next time to be more careful" you were walking home after having worked with Tommy the entire day. But you weren't sure if you were even moving at all leave alone walking.

The ground was rough underneath your sore palm. The dirt and water of the ground seeped into your cut palm as you tried to stable yourself. All you felt was pain. Everywhere. So much pain.

Your left eye was swollen shut, your nose, you think, was bleeding. You weren't sure but you felt something wet dripping down your lip and you assumed it was blood because you didn't have the strength to lift either of your hands to check.

You couldn't breathe, it hurt and you had to take shallow breaths to avoid the pain shooting across your chest. And when you thought it was finally over, your jaw was gripped. Tightly, roughly, straining your wounded lip.

"Tell Tommy it's not over" you couldn't see who it was. Your right eye was blurry and you sure as hell couldn't open your left eye. Your jaw was let go off and your already pounding head thud against the wall.

Letting out a small whimper you let your arm fall from your lap and slouched even further against the wall behind you.

"John, have you seen Y/n?" Tommy had come in sometime back and looked for you wanting to ask you about the letters he'd had you send out that afternoon.

"No, thought she was with you or Pol?" John put down the cigarette to look at this older brother.

Shaking his head, Tommy didn't say a word instead he grabbed his gun off of the table where he placed it only a second ago and slammed the door shut behind him meaning to go to the betting shop to see if you'd gone back for some reason.

You'd left almost an hour before him, Pol was still at the shop with Arthur and he hoped you were there too. He hated the idea of you out this late at night, but you threatened to snip his coats if he persisted on the idea of you being accompanied home.

His heart pounded and his fingers were turning numb from the cold. He hadn't taken his overcoat when he left in a hurry to find you. All he had was the suit coat he had on which didn't help much against the harsh cold and the rain that was beginning to pour.

"Pol?" he called from the door way of the shop not bothering to go in if you weren't there.

"What is it Tommy?" Pol asked, a pile of papers in hand

"Is Y/n here?" His eyes took in the surrounding hastily hoping to spot you.

"She's not here, didn't she leave an hour ago?"

"Yeah, she's not home either- ARTHUR" upon hearing his younger brother practically bellowing his name, Arthur almost choked on his liquor before quickly swallowing and rushing over to Tommy.

"Come with me" Tommy spoke quickly "Pol, send John out to look for her at the cut" Arthur followed Tommy and Pol rushed to close the betting shop.

It shouldn't have taken you more than 15 minutes to cross over two streets and get home, Tommy worried. He was breathing heavy and he walked frantically across the two streets and came into view of there home.

Arthur kept squinting, walking into alleyways to see if you were there, and every time he did, Tommy grew more and more uneasy. If you were spotted in any alleyway it would involve you being hurt in some way, and Tommy could barely cope with just the thought of you slightly bruised he didn't want to think of anything worse than that.

It was only when they were at the last damp and dark alleyway right before their home, that Tommy heard it; a small thud. Barely audible over the pouring rain Tommy heard it loud and clear. There were a couple of people walking past who paid it no attention.

Arthur and Tommy immediately ran over into the alley and Arthur watched his younger brother fall to his knees in front of your body.

Arthur couldn't tell if you were even alive or not. You white shirt was drenched in blood, your eye swollen shut, your arms had cuts all over. Your lip was cut deep and looked swollen and your ear was split from the impact of someone hitting your head on the ground. You weren't moving.

Tommy was kneeling next to you desperately feeling for a pulse, the water and blood off the floor seeped into his pants where he kneeled and he wanted to throw up.

He'd seen a lot, but nothing made him shiver the way the sight of you limp, bleeding, cut up, beaten and bruised against the wall in the dark cold alleyway did.

His hands shaking, Tommy slipped off the coat and wrapped it around your shoulders then took his hat and put it on your damp hair to shield you from the rain.

"Arthur" Tommy shivered " bring the car around- now"

Arthur took off immediately towards the house to get the car parked in front.

"Come on love, please" he whispered slipping one arm around your shoulder and the other under your knees, picking you up he walked towards where Arthur was bringing the car.

It took everything in Tommy to not give in to the quivering in his legs. He carefully sat you in the back of the car and then slipped in beside you himself. And Arthur sped to the hospital the moment the door was shut.

Tommy kept caressing your hair. Arthur watched him do so, his breath shaking as well. He knew his younger brother was doing so because if you weren't going to make it and you were in fact slipping away in his arms as it seemed, then Tommy wanted you to know you weren't alone in the ghastly cold alleyway anymore, and were now in his arms; safe. He wanted you to know you weren't dying alone. He wanted you to know it would be alright.

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warnersister · 1 month

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.”

638 notes · View notes

wutheringcaterpillar · 10 days

Note

Hey! I’m wondering if you’d be willing to write a fic where Thomas is intending for John to marry Y/N to unite the Lees and the Shelbys like the show, but when he sees her the first time, he changes his mind on John marrying her. Instead he marries her

Warnings: smut, loss of virginity, altered storyline, Tommy’s a sweety, p in v , oral if you blink, altered storyline, name calling, slight misogyny

thank you for the request, hope you enjoy!

Tommy and John were sat awaiting your arrival, expecting you any moment now. John went on and on about how you were back in grade school, none of that really mattering to Tommy in the slightest.

The door opened, a brisk wind rolling in, pushing your hair in front of your face, your innocent vanilla scent flowing into the booth, as you flipped your hair behind your shoulder.

Tommy shifted uncomfortably at your beauty and grace. Your tone was soft, and a smile as bright as the sun, he couldn’t allow his brother to marry you, not with a face like that.

Dropping your bag near the booth, Tommy couldn’t take his eyes off of you, helping you pick up your belongings from the floor. When you thanked the man for helping, you locked eyes with him, an immediate attraction being drawn to you from those crystal blue eyes.

“Thomas Shelby, pleasure to meet you.” When the handsome, intimidating man spoke, a thrill of attraction and desire rushed through your veins like a hurricane, time suddenly seemed to be irrelevant, along with the man you were arranged to marry.

“Y/N L/N. Likewise.” He motioned for you to sit, offering one of the many cigarettes he carried in his suit. When you declined, mentioning how you don’t smoke Tommy was stunned and intrigued.

Everyone smoked in the garrison, it was hard to find a woman that didn’t.

Taking your seat beside John, you straightened your back, folding your hands gracefully, fully prepared for any questions that may come your way.

John smirked, glancing down at the clear cleavage, your bra barelt holdimg in you breasts, he nodded toward Tommy to take a glance but he’d never disrespect a woman in that manner. He simply began conversation, asking where you lived, went to school, even personal things such as a family matters. He was a fair man, offering the same respect back, his voice brooding but in a good, hospitable way.

“John, do you mind if I take lovely Y/N here to the bar and make her a drink.” John hadn’t barely heard Tommy speak as he was joking around with Finn. Simply waving you both off, they chattered on, making you contemplate on whether or not John was fit to be a husband.

Tommy noticed the quizzical expression on across your face, intending to turn that frown into a smile.

“What’s it going to be my dear? Whiskey? Gin? No, something is telling me you are a rum and coke girl?” His eyebrows raised, furrowing together in curiosity with the expectation and hopefulness that he was right. You couldn’t contain the rose petal blush paint your cheeks, glancing down in embarassment and moving a wild strand of hair behind your ear.

“How’d you know?”

“Just a lucky guess. Some say I’ve been gifted with the ability to read people. You seem like a smart girl Y/N, what type of hobbies do you indulge in, surely everyone has at least one.” Settling your purse down, you watched as he worked effortlessly behind the bar, topping off you drink with a whip cream which surprised you, most people found it odd, never having seen anyone do so yourself.

“Oh I- I enjoy reading, and occasionally shopping, a girl can never have too many clothes.” Tommy chuckled, staying behind the bar and lighting a cigarette, in that moment he knew you were too good for John. He wasn’t a saint himself but he wad far more mature and caring compared to his little, reckless brother.

“Well from my perception, you look very endearing, and well, stop me if this is too much but you’re quite beautiful Y/N, my brother’s very lucky to have you.” You waved him off, giggling like a school girl but Tommy never took his eyes off of you, entranced by your illuminating smile, and adorable laugh. There was a silence for a moment when you realized that perhaps Tommy felt the same way you were feeling. The goosebumps on your skin, the heart beat between your thighs, trying to evade the temptation, the profound want to be in bed with that ever charming smile, and angelic blue eyes, and those lips, those plump, pale lips that you wanted to kiss right there.

How was this powerful man already under your skin in such a small amount of time, was it the way he took interest in your life? The way his subtle gaze seemingly never broke away from you? Or perhaps his way of words, speaking with finesse and confidence, never once stuttering.

John approached the bar breaking the evident friction between you two. Your smile faded when he wrapped his arm behind your shoulders, pulling you in closely to his body heat.

“How’s everything love? He isn’t scaring you is he?” You shook your head no, staying quiet and biting your lip attempting to hold back from laughing when Tommy raised his eyebrows challengingly, playfully as if he wasn’t making you more comfortable than his brother.

“Alright well, Arthur and I are going to go to a few pubs, see what kind of trouble we can get into tonight before the big night, if you know what I mean Tommy.” He winked at his older brother who didn’t seem the least bit impressed. Had he really just said that right in front of you? Reassuring you’d be alright here and be heading home in a little bit, Johnny bid you both goodbye, finishing off your rum and coke on his way out. How rude.

Scoffing, Tommy made you a new drink.

“You’ll have to allow me to apologize for my brother he can be quite- What’s the word I’m looking for? Oblivious sometimes.” A wave of relief washed over you when you were alone with Tommy once more, even the patrons in the bar clearing out for the night.

The palpable tension in the room magnetized when his charismatic eyes remained on you, the heat building beatween your legs, but you weren’t going to be the one to just come out and say it. Like Tommy always did best, he took the initiative, clearing the silence.

“Do you want to fuck me, Y/N?” He raised his eyebrows expectedly, his eyes searing into your soul as he handed you your drink, his fingers grazing over the softness of your fingers.

Stunned by his question, you couldn’t deny the electric current of desire running through your veins. Your eyes searched one another in question, the intensity of his dominance protruding you very being.

“I-I suppose I would but- I must inform you I’ve never really-“

“There’s no need to fret Y/N. I’ll go slow, I wish to spend as much time with you as I can, if you’ll have me that is.” Were you really about to do this? This wasn’t the girl that you were but Tommy was so enticing, and held a clear attraction toward you. You’ve heard many stories of Thomas Shelby, yet you found yourself following him out to the car as he held an umbrella over you, not looking back once.

As soon as the bedroom door closed his lips were on you as he hoisted you up onto the dresser. Hands caressing your bare thighs while your legs wrapped around his torso, melting into his fiery touch. He tasted of whiskey and mint, smelling of a subtle yet timberwood like scent. Your tongues collided with one another in disparity, your nightgown strap sliding down carelessly in the process.

“You are an enchantress, my darling.” You unbuttoned his shirt, pushing yourself up as you walked one another still embraced toward the bed.

Unclasping your bra, Tommy relished in that sight of your bare, nude breasts. They were everything he had imagined, soft, rounded, delectable enough that he couldn’t waste another moment with having his lips on your enlarged nipples. Sucking the sensitive skin, lapping his tongue repeatedly as you moaned from the touch.

“Feels good Tommy. I need more. Please.” Begging already? You felt pathetic but didn’t care and neither did he when he pulled you onto the bed.

“Your wish is my command, love.” He layed you down gently on the white sheets, your hands skimming his muscular chest as he fumbled hastily to take his shirt off before diving back into your lips with a deep desire.

His eyes never left you, drawn into the perfection of your skin, the way your nude body gleamed poetically beneath him in the dim light.

“Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to-“

“Yes. Yes I’m sure I don’t want to waste another minute, I need you in me Tommy.” That was all the reassurance he needed to hear. When he undid his belt and tugged his pants down his member popped up, perky and ready. He was long, and rather wide, partially shaven, but that didn’t matter to you. Tommy could see the nervous worry in your eyes when they landed on his cock, but he needed you to understand he wasn’t one to rush such a big, personal decision.

Laying his hand caringly on your cheek, he looked into your eyes, demanding your attention so you knew he wasn’t kidding.

“I know it may seem a bit frightening but I assure you, we go at your pace. If you want me to stop tell me, okay?” You nodded, and then again when he motioned toward your white laced panties. When he slid them down your legs, you turned your head in embarrassment, always holding a tremendous insecurity for your appearance downstairs. Tommy on the other was blown away at the sight of your untouched pussy.

“May I?” You nodded for him to continue, fully trusting him. His tongue glided between your wet lips, devouring your sweet rose, taking you by surprise and shedding the insecurity from your skin. “You have nothing to be ashamed of love. It’s perfect, and tastes exquisite.” You blushed as he continued to eat you, waiting for your nectar to slowly seep out, for him to start prepping you. When his finger entered you there was a slight discomfort, you’d never gone down there yourself but Tommy took his time and focused on your body language. After a few moments he entered a second finger, your tight walls surrounding his digits, coating them with your slick. There was a slight pleasurable feeling from feeling so full. He fingered you for a few minutes until he deemed you ready.

“Are you ready love?” You nodded that i was okay, and he kissed you once more reassuringly. He was slow upon entering, his cock aligned with your gaping, eager hole, the head resting there for a few seconds so you were aware of what was to come. He slowly pushed his head in, protruding your virgin walls, inch by inch. He stopped halfway in when you winced in pain, wanting to give you time to adjust.

“Focus on my voice. The pain will dissipate soon, tell me when you want me to go further.” After a few seconds, you relaxed your muscles, nodding for him to continue. When he was all the way in there was a sharp shot of pain from being stretched from his cock and your cherry now being popped.

Your eye fluttered close as he slowly pumped in and out of you tenderly, taking his time until you were comfortable for him to fasten his pace. The pain slowly subsiding as your inner walls calmed.

“Faster.” When you spoke it was but a whisper, Tommy understood. His shaft fucked into you quickly, the head of his cock slamming into your cervix with each thrust.

“Fuck Tommy! More… Oh fuck.” Your boobs jiggled with each powerful thrust, but you needed to be closer somehow. Sitting up and you straddled his lap never breaking from the bonding of his cock.

Your hands grazed over the muscular tone of his back, wanting, needing to be closer to him. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his lips curling over the wamrth of your bare skin, tongue twirling as he kissed you with profound passion. You continued to ride his cock, hips rotating and grinding, until an unexplainable, euphoric feeling began to build in your pussy.

Tommy knew what was coming and held you close to him, wanting you to know he was right there, riding your orgasm out with you. Holding you caringly and rubbing soothing circles into your back as you crumbled and came undone with one another. After a moment, you lifted your head in a fucked out melody, running your thumb down his bottom lip and staring into his sapphire eyes. In that moment Tommy didn’t know what came over him, but he knew what had to be said. He couldn’t let you go.

“Marry me.”

“What?” You were stunned by his statement but stayed folded against him lazily, your knees to weak to move from out of his lap.

“What about John?”

“He’ll understand. He will, but who would I be as a man be to fuck you and let a pretty girl like you fall from my hands. I can be a good husband if you give me the chance.” As your breathing slowed down, Tommy’s seed flowed from your deflowered pussy, wetting his thigh making you laugh and apologize before giving him answer but it didn’t take you long to think.

“I will marry you, I just ask we let John down gently. I don’t want to be the cause of his pain.” At that moment the door flew open, Tommy was quick to pick the comforter up from the floor and shield your nude body. He was ready to start yelling until he recognized the man standing in the door to be his brother.

“What the fuck is going on here? That’s my fucking wife to be!” John went to rip the blanket from you in a furious rage but Tommy was faster, standing up and pushing his brother back out into the hallway, nothing but a sheet around his waist hiding his cock. John could be heard screaming obscenities, mostly pointed at you as Tommy pushed him into another room.

“She’s a fucking whore! A disgusting tramp who knows no fucking boundaries! And you! You fucked my girl Tommy! You can’t just steal my bride to be. How fucked is that! No- How fucked is it that the people closest to you are the ones who take the knife and twist in your fucking back!” Tommy pulled open a drawer, lighting a cigarette and remaining calm as John continued to yell at him.

“You can have the fucking cunt! Go ahead, see what I care!”

“She wasn’t right for you Johnny. Not with a face like that. Don’t take it personal eh? You’ll marry someone else instead. Besides knowing you as well as I do, you’ll be on to the next one in no time won’t you Johnny boy?” John rolled his eyes, scrunching his nose and closing his fists in anger before he punched a hole in the drywall. Tommy merely stood by the window, not feeling the least bit sorry as he knew his brother and he knew him well. Within a week he’d be passed it, forgotten about you and the betrayal of your short lived relationship. The only thing on Tommy’s mind was returning to you, surely John’s words had upset you immensely.

When the big day finally arrived, it was like a scene out of the movies. The reception was held in the backyard, the aisle covered in pebbles, white rose flowered bushes running down the perimeter of the wooden benches, the sun setting poetically behind the silver laced altar.

Friends and families gathered round, coming together for your day since Tommy may or may not have threatened some to be there for you, but he wasn’t going to tell you that. Now here you were seated with Ada while she was finishing up your makeup, and hair.

“What do you suppose the boys are doing right now?” Ada chuckled, whimsically, looking at her work in the mirror, trying to lighten the nerves you were feeling, but that question alone seemed to make you more anxious.

“Getting a long I hope. I do feel sorry for John, I just hope he can forgive us. We didn’t mean to hurt him.” Ada remained friendly, never entering the crossfire of her brother unless absolutely necessary. She could only give you advice, and be there as not a friend but a sister should.

Tommy was suited in his formal attire, looking out all the people chatting near the garden when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in.” John entered the room, a delicate expression running over his face, showing he wasn’t here to cause any harm. Tommy nodded toward the desk, sitting in his seat and pouring his brother a glass of whiskey.

“You probably need this more than me.” John chuckled sincerely, not knowing how to start this conversation. Tommy could tell he was uncomfortable, a look of guilt just barely visible in his eyes. Shaking his head, he joined his hands together, motioning toward the ring the bearer still had to come and retreive.

Upon opening the velvet box, John was in shock, the dazzling rock shimmering in the sunlight. The ring itself had to of been far more than John’s own personal cut from the company, which told him Tommy must have taken the time to close deals and make investments. In that moment he understood Tommy cared for you more than he ever did, he would have never spent that amount of money on you, or anyone for that matter.

“She likes diamonds you know?” John shook his head indeed not knowing that small fact about you because he never took the time. He never had any interest or care to ask, to really get to know you. Closing the box, he frowned, reminiscing back to the fight just last week he had with you both. He was ashamed, and knew he could have handled it better.

“I came to apologize Tom. I acted immaturely and I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those terrible things. You guys look happy, she chose the right man.” Tommy chuckled, lighting a cigarette and tossing one to John.

“All is forgiven brother but I’m not the one that requires an apology. You can be a good man John, I believe that I do. But with the right woman.” Tommy left it at that, believing in his brother that he would speak with you before the wedding was to begin. John nodded understandingly, knowing Tommy was right, leaving no room for him to argue. All this hatred, anger, where were these emotions getting him? No where.

Glancing down at his watch, he bid Tommy goodbye, making his way to your dressing room.

A knock at the door startled you as you were putting on your heels, worried it was Tommy you sent Ada to the door. “Who is it?”

“It’s John.” Ada turned to face you for answer. When you nodded she opened the door and excused herself from the room.

“Wow.” John was impressed with the workings of Ada, you looked truly breath taking, nothing he’s ever seen before in a woman. Smiling sweetly, you motioned for him to sit.

He twiddled his thumbs, nervously searching for the right words, but he didn’t really know where to start, so he went with the first thought in his mind.

“I’m sorry. I was out of my fucking head speaking about you like that. My brother, he’s a good man, the better man. Besides we never really had a connection did we?” You shook your head no in agreement, thankful John came to apologize, but you also shared your feelings of how you and Tommy should have just sat down with him before anything happened. He accepted your apology, but noticed you were due outside in five minutes. Bidding you farewell, he wished you luck and told you, you’d make a great wife and Tommy is lucky to have you, he needed you.

Ada knocked on the door, informing you it was time. Taking a deep breath you met your father at the patio door, a mixture of happiness and excitement protruding your ever bone.

Family and friends stood up, your mother crying from how beautiful and elegant you appeared. When you reached the alter, a singular tear swam down Tommy’s cheek as he smiled widely when he removed your vail. You were stunning, breathtaking, everything he’s ever dreamed about. John stood by his side as a groomsmen, happy to finally see his older brother smile for once. As the vows were exchanged. The ring beamed with an exquisite beauty, your eyes brimming with tears when Tommy placed the expensive jewelry on your finger, claiming you as his wife.

“Tommy it’s beautiful.” You were hoping and praying your makeup wasn’t running down your cheeks. As vows were exchanged, the man motioned that it was time to kiss the bride. Tommy rested his hands on your cheeks, time stopping when he placed his lips on yours as the man announced you to be Mrs. Tommy Shelby.

#thomas shelby #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #ranaewrites #peaky blinders #requested

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storiesforallfandoms · 2 years

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)

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 · 6 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

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,”

#tommy shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy Shelby x reader smut #Thomas Shelby x you #tommy Shelby x you #peaky blinders oneshot #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders smut #request

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dearshelby · 23 days

Note

#2 from that romance prompt list with tommy please 🥺

Honestly, nonnie, idk why this landed so far from romance 😅 hope you enjoy anyway

prompt 2. yearning for just one hug after being separated for so so long + Tommy Shelby

Logically, his presence didn't make any difference in the house. Your routine didn't change in any way and every single day, you were reminded your marriage was one of convenience.

You married Thomas Shelby in 1932, after your dad, who was running for mayor, thought it'd be a good idea to offer your hand to someone more powerful, such as a parliament member.

Although powerful, he did not have the best reputation, the rumors had he was a gangster, widowed and divorced for unfaithfulness and absence. You could get a better man, but surely not as rich.

So you accept it, days quickly went by while you took care of his son Charlie. You knew he had a daughter as well, who he let live with her mother and rarely visited.

Besides only marrying you to become respectful, Thomas was a decent husband. All special dates were celebrated with dinner at a fancy restaurant, he often gave you gifts and sex happened once a week. Although not bad, everything was scheduled, cold and impersonal.

Recently, he took a trip to America and as always, he called to check on Charlie (you wouldn't dare to assume on you too) every Wednesday at the same hour. You were waiting in his office, aware of how distressed he got when you didn't answer.

Fidgeting with your teacup, you observed the belongings on his desk, a horse wooden statue, glass bottles for whiskey, an expensive looking pen and many pictures.

Two of them always caught your attention, Grace and Lizzie, you knew who they were, the women who truly knew him, those who for the good or the bad, he let in. You'd never compete.

The phone ring interrupted your pondering, you jumped at the strident sound.

“Hello,” you heard his husky voice on the other side.

“Hello, how are you?”

“Fine,” he sighed, “how's Charlie?”

“He's alright, complained about homework today,”

“If he's struggling get him a tutor,”

“I don't think he is, just boyish laziness,”

“Hm,” he got quiet for a second, then finished, “I just called to say I'm in London, I'll be home soon,”

“What?” you got confused, “When did you leave America?”

“Few hours ago,”

“But are you coming home today?”

“...in a few hours,” his tone was patronizing, as if he was explaining something obvious.

“Oh, hm, okay,”

“Great, see you later,”

“Bye,” you whispered and he hung up.

You gulped, weirded out by Thomas calling to tell he's coming home. Usually, he just came back, no announcement or fuss. Whatever, you thought, leaving the office.

Sunset was coming soon when you told Charlie to bathe and get dressed, he didn't seem excited for his father's return and to be honest, neither did you. Nonetheless, you had to keep up appearances, a family you were and like a family you'd behave.

Waiting by the living room, you put on jazz to play low and asked Frances to serve dinner soon. Charles sat on the floor with a book. It was like you were normal.

The sound of a car parking in front of the house announced Tommy's arrival, you walked to the entry and his boy followed after. The man crossing the door looked exhausted, much more than he usually did.

“Hi, dad,” Charlie greeted.

“How are you, son?” Thomas messed up the kid's hair.

“Fine, I'm finishing a book,”

“Well, go on then,”

You were silent until the boy left the room, smiling politely to your husband, “How are you?”

When you leaned in to kiss his cheek, Tommy's arms wrapped around you. His chin rested on your shoulder while his hands pressed you against him. You were so surprised you didn't hug back.

You didn't know how long he held you, it was enough for you to breathe in and out three times until he let go.

“Thomas-”

“I'll go to my office,”

“But-”

“Yeah?"

"What about dinner?"

He looked away from you, as if he was about to make an important decision, "Let me know when it's served,"

#oh this wasn't proofread #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #request

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red-riding-wood · 4 months

Text

Devil, Devil - Part I

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

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.

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!

Taglist: @emotionalcadaver @zablife @shelbydelrey @look-at-the-soul @brummiereader @mrkdvidal1989 @fiercelittlemouse @ohwellthatslifesstuff @minaethrym

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alicent-targaryen · 9 months

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TOMMY & ALFIE ▸ Peaky Blinders, 4.4

requested by @raincoffeeandfandoms

#peaky blinders #cillian murphy #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #gif by ria #tv #alfie solomons #tom hardy #alfie x tommy #tommy x alfie #requested

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noforkingclue · 5 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?”

#fanfiction #peaky blinders #reader insert #request #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader

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padfootdaredmetoo · 1 year

Note

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 ❤️

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.

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.

#Tommy shleby #Thomas shelby #Tommy shleby x reader #Thomas shelby x reader #Shelby family #Shelby family fic #Peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic #Tommy shelby imagine #Tommy shelby request #Tommy shelby fic #thomas shelby imagine #Thomas shelby request #thomas shelby fanfic

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thomashelbyswife · 2 months

Text

Tommy Shelby - Peaky Blinders S1E1

requested by: @runnning-outof-time 🤍

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #thomasshelbyedit #peakyblindersedit #perioddramaedit #tv #t'swifesgifs #gif requests are open #requests

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warnersister · 4 months

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“Ultimatum” Luca Changretta x Reader

Luca Changretta x reader, Thomas Shelby x sister!reader

Tommy has a choice. Your life or many.

“So, what will it be… hmm, Shelby?” Changretta asked, arm wrapped tightly but not constricting around your neck as your brother refused to meet your eyes. You were swaying slightly as a large gust of wind blow you, its cruel breath frosty and sharp.

You were stood atop a building, a tall building. It’s lankiness had never intimidated you nor even crossed your mind until that moment but now you had decided that heights weren’t for you. You were stood with several members of the Mafia, reason being your brother’s stupid Vendetta. They’d taken you in the dead of night - tied you loosely with rough ropes and blindfolded you with Luca Changretta’s own tie.

They’d woken you at dawn and Luca spoon fed you a meal, explain where you were and why and what could happen that day. And that he wouldn’t kill you but your brother could.

You were situated parallel to your brother, who was stood watching the situation unravel before him - the Italians threatening to drop you off the side of his very own building as an ultimatum for this Vendetta. The Birmingham council members were stood looking up at the bottom, pistols pointed to each of the politicians temples.

“Your sister or your precious council?” Time seemed to stop, Luca leant you back slightly so your tiptoes were barely on the ledge, desperately clawing at his forearm to stay on the side of the living. ‘Please’ you mouthed to your brother, eyes teary and vision blurry. His expression turned from remorseful back to that cold; expressionless, merciless Thomas Shelby you were so familiar with.

“I’m sorry yn” he said, but you knew he wasn’t. He spun on a pivot and left you for dead. All to protect his reputation as a politician. You screamed out, awaiting your demise and to be dropped to a sudden and messy death.

But suddenly you were pulled back from the edge and onto the safety of the rooftop, Luca spinning you into his chest and shaking his head, studying your terrified face. “I would’ve saved you.” He whispered.

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wutheringcaterpillar · 6 days

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Omg pleeeease I need a dark/angsty Tommy fic where he ends up hurting the reader? Like an argument gets too heated and he ends up slapping her or something. Like maybe she was flirting and dancing a bit too much with someone at a party they’re hosting and he gets jealous and drags her to their room, then they start arguing and he gets so enraged that he basically sees red and absolutely slaps the hell out of her (some non con/dub con smut after as well???). Just need some heavy, dark, possessive, violent, scary/mean Tommy Shelby 😫 The darker the better lol

Warnings: noncon, p in v + anal, physical abuse, degradation, threats with a gun, some blood play, misogyny, name calling

Hope you enjoy! Thank you!

Tommy watched from afar, seeing you and Ada drunk, giggling like a bunch of school girls at a table filled with men. He may not be able to control his sister but his wife was another subject. People were beginning to stare, especially the men Tommy needed on his good side for now. The dress you were wearing was skin tight, your panties just barely showing through the thin black fabric.

Tonight was a prestige dinner with delegates that Shelby Limited was in talks for business deals. The plan was too conversate, find weak spots, understand the patterns of movements, but the only thing Tommy was focused on was you, a long with every other man.

Even Arthur made a remark, a statement that angered Tommy even more. “Y/N’s quite the appeal tonight isn’t she?” Arthur chuckled, taking someone’s glass of whiskey and finishing it himself.

“What are you talking about?”

“Look at her, need to cherish her better brother before another man makes a move.” That was it, that was enough. When Tommy slammed his glass down and started to walk away Arthur pulled him back, pleading and convincing Tommy to just allow you to have fun for a night but he wouldn’t listen. Frowning, Arthur returned to the table, grabbing another drink whilst Tommy tried to keep his compusure. Greeting and checking in with the guests before approaching your flailing, inebriated body.

Three tradesman of London were in attendance, the blatant look of disgust from where they stood at the bookcase, giving your husband a look of disapproval before carrying on in conversation.

“Tommy! My husband, come here!” When you attempted to pull him down by the sleeve of his expensive suit, he pulled back, tucking his hands in his pockets, giving you a stern expression that told you to follow him.

Pouting, you crossed your arms, rolling your eyes annoyed, picking up a bottle of champagne before walking away with him, making flirtatious remarks to random men as you wobbled away until you were in the master bedroom.

Closing the door, you fell onto the floor laughing in a disarray of emotions, your vision blurry and your eyes dilated. Tommy pulled the nearly empty bottle from your hands, tossing it into the corner of the room before grabbing your wrist forcing you up onto your feet.

“What the fuck are you doing, eh? Are you stupid, is that it? You know how important tonight is and you go and fucking wreck it, bidding yourself off to other men when you are a married, taken woman.”

“Relax Tommy, we’re just having fun. What the boys can do whatever they damn well please but because of what’s between my legs I’m expected to just be formal, elegant?” Tommy looked at you with expecting eyes, not understanding where the confusion is. There were important men here tonight and seeing you galavanting around like some whore and being incoherently drunk made his blood boil.

Biting dowm on his tongue and locking his jaw, he pointed with dictation, sapphire eyes raging with fire as he seethed out the following words.

“Yes. It’s that fucking simple. You can’t even fucking stand up straight.” Scoffing, you tiptoed around the room, holding onto the dresser to keep your warm, sweating body from falling. The room was spinning but that didn’t change the anger from the double standard that was always set against you. You hadn’t thought before speaking, the words simply sputtering out what you’ve held in.

“You should be thanking me for flirting with them, without me you’d have nothing. I’m simply the means to an end to the shit deals you can’t make on your own.”

Tommy cut you off with the back of his hand slapping across your cheek ferociously, silencing you for good. Grabbing for the bruising skin, you looked back at your husband in shock and fear. He’s never, ever layed a hand on you.

When you ran for the door, he was faster, shoving the wooden object closed with his hand and yanking you back by the strands of your hair, pushing you carelessly onto the bed.

His hands tightened around your wrists as he shoved his hardened member upward against your mound.

“I’d have nothing eh? I’ll show you what it’s like to be treated like you’re nothing.”

Screaming hysterically, you wept as Tommy ripped the expensive gown, exposing the bare, delicate skin of your thighs. Hitting and fighting against his chest to push him away, he simply lifted his hand, slapping you harshly once more to stop the whining.

You pressed your hand gently against your temple, a headache forming in the core of your mind from the impactful blow.

Hearing the buckle of his belt, you panicked but were too weak to defend yourself from the man who claimed to be your husband.

“Maybe if you had just listened and weren’t a fucking whore tonight we wouldn’t be in this postion. Someone’s forgotten their place eh?” Pushing the thin laced fabric of your panties aside, he thrusted upward, letting his thick length penetrate you without any lube. Writhing and seething in pain below him, tears prickled at your eyes, not recognizing who was staring at you anymore.

Spitting at his face, he smiled slyly, a dark twisted grin bellowing at what you had done.

Returning the favor he spat back, hitting you once more with a forceful, strong slap that echoed through the room and knocked out your hearing in one ear.

“Don’t forget sweetheart. I own you, you’re my property.” Wrapping his hands around your throat, you struggled for air as he drilled into your dry cunt, shredding open the sensitive skin like a grater would cheese. Blood slowly leaked out from your pussy, the ability to scream non existent as your airway was constricted, bruising as his nails dug into your skin.

When your hands reached up to try to push him away from your neck, desperate for air, he shed himself of his tie, wrapping the fabric around your wrists tightly to the headboard and shoved his underwear in your mouth.

Slapping your cunt repeatedly, he mocked your whimpers, feeling your walls slowly start to produce your sweet syrup against your will.

“How pathetic, is this what you wanted? Someone likes me cock, who knew my wife was a little fucking whore.” Screeching beneath the makeshift gag, your skin seethed in pain, wanting nothing more for this to be over.

His hands grasped at your breasts, tugging and pulling at your nipples, smitten by how easily your body gave in to him.

Flipping you over onto your stomach, he spread your ass cheeks, pulling the fatty skin apart finding that tight, untouched hole you’d been denying him for so many years, now he was going to take it for himself.

There was nowhere for you to go, your eyes searched, panicked looking for anything to get you out of these bindings, but there was nothing.

Aligning himself with your taint, you could feel the rounded head of his shaft resting at your virgin entrance. Every bone and muscle in your violated body tensed when his head pushed through your strained, congested walls. You screamed in agony as he wasted no time burying himself balls deep in your taint.

“Oh fuck…Didn’t know you could feel this good love. My little slave, that ass devouring me cock. About time I reminded you of your place. Nothing but a slut, a mere stupid little bitch.” He moaned in between thrusts as he fucked your anus, pounding your ass up and down on his shaft while holding the cheeks of your ass roughly. The sporadic pain was different than your pussy, far more intensified. It didn’t feel like stinging anymore, the size of his penis sent flames of fire through your hole.

When he buried his neck into the crook of your neck while he continued to pump relentlessly into you. You fumbled with the bindings while he wasn’t paying attention.

Realessing a choked sob, you were on the verge of being free, fidgeting with the tight knot with a tremendous effort, working over the fabric through the tears and painful agony, but you weren’t as smooth as you thought. Tommy’s hand shot up, slamming down on yours and pulled you arms behind your back, causing the gag to fall out in the process.

“Help! Help! Ah-“ Striking you in the back of your waeay head, he shoved his fingers between your lips, invading your mouth and pulling at the sides of your lips.

“Shut the fuck up. Listen to me, are you listening sweetheart?” You whimpered through his fingers, nodding your head, squeezing your eyes closed in a pained expression when he thrusted his cock violently with a force of strength and dominance.

“No one is coming to your rescue, you belong to me, and I have the right to use and abuse my property all I want and you will listen, or suffer the consequences as you are right now. Get up.” Tommy pulled you onto his lap, reinserting his lengthy shaft into your soaking wet walls. You mewled from the discomfort, struggling to make eye contact with Tommy.

His lips connected to your hardened nipples, biting down on the flesh harshly, aiming to draw blood. Slapping you across the face once again, your head whipped to the other side fiercly.

“Ride me. Go on, you claim to be so great in bed to those men out there. Can’t treat your husband the same?” Another backhand, before his hand gripped the fat of your ass cheeks, slamming you up and down on his cock, an immense joy curdling within him from seeing your pathetic tears.

Then an idea struck you, if you’r just get him off surely he’d let you go. A satisfied grin spread across his face when you began to rotate your hips, staring slowly at first before picking up speeding.

“Ah, fuck, that’s it love. Show me what that worthless cunt can do.” You continued to whine and whimper as you rode his cock, your ass landing on his thighs with each powerful bounce, your breasts flying up and down for his amusement.

You could feel him begin to pulsate, he was close, very close.

Arching your back, Tommy focused in on your pussy devouring his lengthy member with each pivotal motion of your hips. Your walls tightened, constricting his length, and within seconds his seed was filling your tortured void, flooding into your ovaries.

At that moment you moved as fast as lightning, taking the lamp and smashing it over his head to try to escape his bitter soul. Rushing to put clothes on, you ran to the door, thinking that someone would help you but Tommy wasn’t weak and you were nowhere nearly as strong as him. He was quick to recover, but not as quick as you. Throwing on a nightshirt and slipping on the closest thing to work as underwear, you opened the door just nearly out when Tommy pulled on his pants, rolling over the bed and running, rushing toward you, slamming the door closed once again.

You punched the door in defeat, frightened to turn around until he forced you to, pulling out something you’d never thought he’d use as a threat to you.

“If you think I am playing some sort of sick game, you are sadly mistaken sweetheart. Now get back on the fucking bed, you’ve done enough tonight.” Removing the safety, he pointed the gun directly on the middle of your forehead, the cool metal barrel sending chills down your spine. Is this what your marriage had come to? How were you supposed to move forward from this catastrophic night? Surely people would notice the bruises but then again, no one ever questioned Tommy Shelby, not anyone that gave a shit about their life.

Surrendering you rose your arms, the shaking of your trembling hands visible. The man facing you, you no longer recognized. There was no guilt, or shame, or any type of love present in those venomous, frigid eyes, he really wasn’t joking. Making your way back to the bed, you tucked your head onto the pillow, weeping relentlessly into the case of the feathered object. Tommy layed the gun down on the table, taking a seat beside you. You flinched away from his cold, heartless touch, terrified of what was to come next.

“I need to go back and entertain our guests. You stay here and be good. Can you do that?” He twisted your labia, pinching the sensitive skin, causing you a tremendous amount of pain, reminding you what could happen if you don’t listen.

Nodding with fearful, tired eyes, you watched as Tommy dressed himself, and stayed in your fragile position on the soiled sheets, eventually crying yourself to sleep in the dark room.

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