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#whiskey x gin x nanny
zeldasayer · 3 years
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I can’t stop thinking about the pool in the afternoon:
Jack started out with the kids in the water, those strong arms lifting them high into the air as he tosses them around with a laugh, Gin and Nanny sitting on the edge with their legs dangling in the water, laughing as they occasionally get splashed.
Nanny is obsessed with Gin’s thighs - the plush spread of them, their softness — and with Gin’s bare leg pressed against her own right now, all she can think about is the last time her hands were skating up those very thighs, spreading them open in her quest to taste her. Nanny shifts slightly on the lip of the pool, a deep ache settling between her legs and she subtly scoots closer, leaning into Gin’s warmth.
Jack is done playing for now, climbing out of the pool as they both watch and he soothes the children’s protests as he grabs a towel, wiping off his face but leaving his body dripping wet.
His skin glistening, the droplets sliding down over his chest, his belly, through the sparse trail of hair just above his short swim trunks; both women look and admire the lean muscles in his arms, his legs. They are both thinking about those same muscles flexing and tightening, his body completely nude now in their thoughts and they remember nap time yesterday, when Jack guided himself into Nanny as Gin held her from behind; those small hands of hers covering the Nanny’s tits and squeezing so gently.
Gin gets up to get a drink in the house, but Jack catches her by the waist when she passes his chair and when she leans down to kiss him, their mouths opening for each other, the Nanny slips into the pool.
It’s so hot, the sun shining bright on all of them and as she glides her body through the water, she wonders if she can somehow ask Gin to climb on top of her this afternoon.
She imagines Jack filling her while Gin straddles her, that body that she thinks about so much draped over her’s, Gin’s plush tits pressed against hers and she wants to kiss her like Jack is kissing Gin now; full, deep licks inside of her mouth, tasting and loving.
IM GOING TO FUCKING SCREAM
Pleeeeeeaaaaaase please feel free to write them if you’d like I’m obsessed with this. FUCK
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tommyssecret · 2 years
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~Don’t Call Me That ~
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Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC
WARNING: swearing?? - I mean its Tommy... 
Summary: She’s Charlie’s nanny. She won’t say Tommy’s name. 
A/N: Just a little blurb that I wrote as a part of my new fic.. hopefully coming soon! - Let me know what you think :) 
MASTERLIST
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They drink together in his office, her in one of the two chairs in front of his desk; he is perched on his usual dark leather throne. She was a bit drunk at this point, typically only a light drinker, a couple more drinks, and she would have been done in. She had put Charlie to bed only an hour ago now, and she was telling him about something the five-year-old had done earlier in the day that she found to be equally precious and hilarious. She noticed how he had laughed at her story and the sweet memories of his wonderful son. She watched him laugh lightly, and it warmed her heart a little. She then began to giggle at her thoughts of him.
"What?" He noticed her unexpected reaction; it seemed to him that she wasn't just laughing about Charlie. He shot her a confused look as his bright smile seemed to lightly fade.
"Oh just you." She answered simply, taking another swig of the sweet gin. The gin he made. Shelby gin. The kind that went in bottles and then into crates smuggled inside motors and automobile parts to America, India, and Russia. The gin that was, as it had been named by The Man himself, in fact, distilled for the eradication of seemingly incurable sadness. Or so it said on the label. He gave her a questioning look, again at her simple explanation.
"You're just funny sometimes. You're so serious. all the time. but sometimes you aren't. And when I see you sometimes I just forget." She wasn't sure if she was quite getting her point across in her slightly inebriated state.
"Forget?" He asked again. Clearly, she hadn't made her point.
"Mhmm," she nodded, "Forget that sometimes your so serious." Again, with the lousy explanation.
She was not making much sense at this point, but he was slightly amused by her ramblings. And the idea that she thought he was always quite serious.
"Mmm," he hummed, raising his eyebrows at her interestingly drunken thoughts of him. She opened her mouth to speak again, and now she was the one who looked quite serious.
"I should be lucky, because sometimes I get to see both sides of you." She stated.
"Both sides? I thought there's only one." His dark eyebrows furrowed again. She shook her head at this,
"And… sometimes… I see the man who laughs with his son, and at my jokes." She chuckles through that, the memory of some of her stupid jokes that seemed to make only him laugh, even if it was just a little. And her little laugh made him smile slightly.
"And I see… the man who smiles but only to himself, and only when he doesn't think about it. I don't see a serious man. I see soft and gentle and someone who really just wants to love. And be held. And then sometimes. I see a man that is just so tired. And just exhausted. And it hurts me. It does. Because it makes me sad… and I then I think of Charlie. And how much you love him. And how much he loves you. And I just think. I think 'God. I wish he smiled more. I wish he'd let himself be happy. And laugh. Because he doesn't know it. But it's the most beautiful sound.'" She downed the rest of the gin as she continued to study his expression.
He struggled to let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He stood up abruptly and turned around, so he wasn't facing her anymore, and instead, he was staring out the window, a glass of whiskey still in his hand. He had to turn around because he knew if he stared at her sad face any longer, he would begin to cry. 
She started to run her fingers along the rim of her glass awkwardly, worried she may have said too much and said something too personal. She wouldn't have wanted to overstep the line. Still, the alcohol in her system gave her the courage to speak her thoughts without filter or consideration.
He downed the rest of his glass in one go. The familiar burn of the whiskey grounded him slightly.
She placed her glass on the desk in front of her and stood to go in front of him. He watches her quietly. She runs her hands under his suspenders. The pads of her thumbs running along the black grooved material, the backs of her fingers against the crisp white shirt. She could feel the warmth of his chest under her fingers. For a moment, that's all she did, was run her thumbs along his suspenders, backs of her fingers gliding up and down his chest. She didn't meet his eye, only stared at his chest as if inspecting his suspenders and his shirt for a standard of quality. But really, she was thinking about what to say. 
And he just let her. Her touch grounded him much better than any glass of whiskey ever could; it also made him want to touch her in every way he'd ever wanted. In all the ways he had dreamed about, alone in his bed. But he controlled himself and fisted his hands together at his sides and gripped the empty glass harshly.
She finally met his eyes after another moment. "I just worry about you." He finds her eyes to be filled with sadness and sympathy, something he's never really seen, at least not up this close. In truth, he'd never seen her this sad before. Almost as if she realized what she said, she shakes her head and clears her throat slightly, "for Charlie's sake, of course. Mr. Shelby." His name she adds at the end, to remind herself and maybe him too, of their relationship. Although in times like this, he wasn't exactly sure what that meant. 
Despite her words, she still hadn't moved, her hands still tucked neatly under his suspenders, resting against his chest. Her eyes were still unmoving from his face. He hadn't moved a muscle since she'd landed her hands on him. He wouldn't dare move right now for fear that she would let go. He wasn't even sure if he was still breathing. He hoped not; he wouldn't want her to move. But then she did. Her eyes moved back to her hands. 
Slowly but surely, her left hand moved up along the strap and straightened it along his shoulder. Almost as if she was fixing them. Straightening his collar and fixing his appearance. After she was done with one side, her right hand mimicked her previous actions. This time he was sure she wasn't just fixing his collar, his shirt. She was fixing him. Straightening him out. When she was done, both of her hands went to his shoulders and brushed away the wrinkles of his shirt. He watched her intently as if trying to memorize every move she made, as if learning how to dress himself for the first time. His heart almost stopped when her hands kept moving down his shirt, past his stomach to the waistband of his pants. She quickly tucked the excess fabric that had pulled out from his pants back into them. Just with her fingers, lightly not too far under the band. He wondered if this is how she dressed Charlie, how she fixed his clothes after he'd been rolling around and playing too much.
He couldn't take it anymore, and he grabbed her wrist firmly, stopping her and causing her to look up at him, slightly alarmed.
"Don't say those things to me, and touch me like that then call me Mr. Shelby." He said. She didn't make any attempts to move out of his grasp.
"What am I supposed to call you then?" She said, meeting his gaze with an equally defiant one.
"Tommy. Please, call me Tommy." He said, please, that was new and unfamiliar. Thomas Shelby never says please for anything. He certainly has never begged one person this much, and this often, for something so trivial as a name. Just a word, one. Only one. But he did. That's all he wanted from her. He just needed to hear it. 
"Is that what Frances calls you? Or the maids? Or the cooks? Or the gardener? What about the stable boys? Is that what they call you?" She asked, already knowing the answer.
"No." He answered in a slightly defeated tone.
Then why would I?" She said, gently removing her wrist from his grasp and stepping away from him.
"Goodnight, Mr. Shelby." She spoke as she walked out of his office and went to her room.
He finally let himself breathe normally again. He turned and put his empty glass on his desk and immediately grabbed the decanter and poured himself another, downing it quickly. 
He stood straight again, and grabbed his suspenders, and forcefully pulled them off his shoulders, letting them hang at his sides. He moved his chair to sit back down with a thump. He leaned back and ran his hands through the thick dark hair on the top of his head. "Fuck." He muttered, leaning back over the desk, head in his hands.
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peakyblindersxx · 3 years
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mrs. shelby - john shelby x reader
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a/n: hey loves! hope you're all doing well, i just had to write this john fluff cause i fucking adore him. this is my first fluffy fic, so lmk if you guys like it and want more :) i have a tommy smut & fluff, both requested, that i'm working on next. hope you enjoy!!
love, abi xxx
prompt: john x wife!reader, you feel neglected by john & he tries to make it up to you.
warnings: fluff, mentions of smut (i would say PG-13)
It was 10 pm, and you were already drunk. The kids were in bed, and there you sat in front of the fireplace laying on the settee, clad in nothing but a light pink slip, half-empty bottle of gin dangling from your right hand. You took another swig, dried tears sticky on your face. John was working late again, and you couldn’t stand being sober in this huge house, alone. He was probably fucking some whore in his office, you thought to yourself bitterly. The thought wasn’t rational, but the alcohol in your blood allowed it to make itself home in your mind, jealousy flooding your veins. You’d barely seen him in the past month, as he was so busy with whatever Tommy had ordered him around to do that he often arrived home in the early morning and left just hours, leaving you to care for the kids alone. At first, you were desperate for his attention, anything to even give the semblance of love towards you. Now, you were just angry. Angry at Tommy for keeping him away from you, angry at John for abandoning you. You drank straight from the bottle now, in an attempt to soothe the sharp edges of your anger.
The car headlights flashed through the windows behind you as John’s car pulled up, earlier than he usually did. You hadn’t expected him to be here, to see you in this state. Fuck. You stood, your bare feet pressing into the carpet as you glanced in the mirror hanging on the wall adjacent, fixing your smudged mascara before flopping back into the settee, the gin making your head spin slightly as you moved. You heard John open the door as he walked into the room, wearing a dark blue three piece suit, stopping when he saw you. You hated the fact that as much as you were upset, you still wanted him to pull you into his arms, smelling of cigars and whiskey.
“You drunk?” John questioned, blue eyes trained on you as you stared into the crackling fire.
“Fuck do you care.” Your slurred response caught John off guard, and he furrowed his eyebrows, sinking down on the crushed velvet next to you.
“Y’shouldn’t be drinking so much, s’not good for you,” he replied.
“Like you’re one to talk,” You shot back, taking another sip from the bottle and setting it down on the side table next to you, causing him to sigh.
“This what you wanna do? Fuckin’ fight?” John stood again, running a hand through his hair and discarding his jacket on the arm of the chair, crossing his arms, the chains around his biceps glinting in the firelight. Despite your anger, you couldn’t help but admire the way the light reflected off of his jawline just right.
“How else am I supposed to get your attention lately?” You snapped, standing and swaying slightly as he turned to face you, blue eyes meeting yours. “Barely even touched me in a month. You’re never here. For all I know, you’re out fucking half the damn country but I can’t do shit ‘bout it. More like a damn nanny than a wife.”
John bristled at your accusation, his gaze boring into yours. “Right, I’ll admit that I’ve been fuckin’ busy lately, n’ I’m sorry for that. But I sure as fucking ‘ell haven’t touched anyone else.” His voice softened as he closed the gap between the two of you.
“I’m sorry, angel,” John mumbled, his lips brushing against your jaw. “I’ve been neglecting you, Mrs. Shelby, I know.” The sound of his name on yours dissipated the anger brewing inside of you as he pressed soft kisses to your neck, relaxing some of the tension in your shoulders.
“Feels like you don’t want me,” you murmured, as John grunted against your skin.
“Christ, darlin’, I want you more than anythin’. Just been so fucking busy, m’so sorry, sweetheart,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair out of your face as you looked up at him.
“You’re lucky you’re so fuckin’ charming,” you replied, rolling your eyes as John cracked a soft smile.
“Let me make it up to you,” he cajoled. “Tommy let me take some time off, just for me and you, aye?” You couldn’t help but melt into his arms, the alcohol causing you to lean on him more than usual. John carried your weight with ease, just like he did everything, and you were suddenly grateful he’d come home early.
“Don’t want you to leave in the morning,” you slurred slightly, drinking in the smell of his cologne, as John sat back on the settee, you in his lap facing him, legs on either side. “M’not,” he grunted in reply. His cock was hard at the proximity of you, yet he didn’t feel the need to fuck. Just having you pressed against him was enough. “Gonna stay here and take care of my girl, yeah? You’re going to need it after all that fuckin’ gin.”
“You remember our wedding?” You mused, fingers toying with the buttons on his vest.
John chuckled. “‘Course I do. Fuckin’ Arthur gettin’ drunk and makin’ that speech of his.”
The two of you laughed, remembering the way Arthur had stumbled up to the head of the table and proclaimed his vehement excitement for the consummation of your wedding. “S’time John got some real pussy, none of that shit ya pay for, ya know,” Arthur had bellowed.
“And how could I forget seein’ your pretty face for the first time. Was scared as all hell, Tommy didn’t even tell me ‘bout it ‘til the day of. Fuckin’ lucked out, knew that soon as I saw ya,” John grinned at you, his blue-grey eyes flickering to your lips.
“Was so nervous, me hands was shaking the whole time,” you confessed, his hands spanning your waist as he held you, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Didn’t know if you’d like how I looked.”
“Fuckin’ christ, are you kidding?” John laughed disbelievingly, eyes sparkling as he gazed at you. “Y’looked like a goddamn angel. Whole damn room was jealous of me, that’s how beautiful you were. Had to hurry up n’ make you mine, ‘fore anyone else got any ideas.” You let a smile float across your face as he planted kisses across your collarbone, his calloused hands rough against your bare back.
“Won’t ever forget the first time I carried you into that bedroom upstairs, either,” John murmured, causing your cunt to pulse at the memory as John pushed himself up against you, undulating your hips against him slightly. “Most beautiful thing I’d seen in my life, you all spread out and beggin’ for me. Knew soon as I pushed my cock into ya, that pretty little pussy was made for me,” he crooned.
John’s touch was burning into your skin as you couldn’t help but press your lips onto his messily, craving the way his mouth fit with yours. He nipped at your bottom lip for access, and you let him in, any semblance of insecurity crumbling away with John’s touch.
“Take me upstairs, Mr. Shelby,” you breathed, as John’s teeth scraped against your neck, breath hot against your skin. The mark was probably going to bruise later, but you didn’t care.
“Gladly, Mrs. Shelby,” John grinned as he stood and picked you up with him, sloppily making his way up the stairs, occasionally pressing you against the wall to meet his mouth with yours. “Let’s make another little one, eh?”
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queerbrujas · 3 years
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handmade heaven
pairing: nate sewell x eva navarro word count: 1k rating: T warnings: mentions of alcohol
read on ao3
look, we all know we’re never getting the bisexuality conversation in canon, so i’m just gifting it to myself: nate and eva are both bi, and they talk about it. that’s the fic.
“I… started dating when I was fifteen.”
She doesn’t look at Nate when she speaks.
A slight frown on her face, Eva looks at the glass of gin and tonic in her hand instead, the ice cubes in it half-melted: it’s an easy thing to focus on, and the effects of it are already becoming clearer in the way she talks, far more freely than usual.
She doesn’t usually talk about this.
Not that there’s anything to hide, certainly not from Nate.
It’s just not a topic she finds herself coming to often. It’s tied to certain things she’d rather avoid.
And yet she keeps going, and Nate lets her. Lets her talk as much as she wants to. Needs to.
“Mostly as a way to be out of the house, you know? Rebecca wasn’t around except on weekends”—she pretends not to notice the way Nate winces at the mention—“and I was too old for nannies already. It was just me. So I just… found other things to do. Had school, joined a lot of clubs. And, well, dating. Fooling around a bit. Didn’t really know what I was doing.”
It hadn’t been so bad, though. She’d never dated anyone for long, but she’d never had bad experiences.
Bobby had been the worst, and that had been much later. Even that hadn’t really left much of a mark, except for the one on her career.
“I came out at sixteen,” she adds. “It wasn’t hard, not really. People here didn’t care too much. I thought they would—I thought it was the end of the world. But it was fine. Rebecca didn’t care, either. She was alright about that. But it still felt… weird. You know? Like you have something to prove to yourself.”
She shakes her head, lets it go.
But then a thought that has been nagging at her for a while makes its way up her throat before she can stop it.
It’s just, well, Nate.
Nate with his brown skin that seems to glow in the light of her open-plan apartment. Nate with his tumbler of expensive whiskey that he brought here himself (she wouldn’t have known what to buy, would probably not have had the budget for it); Nate with his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him, always.
Gorgeous, sweet, wonderful Nate—whom she’s very nearly in love with—whom she can’t get out of her mind and who is three hundred years old.
Three hundred.
She can’t wrap her head around it.
So, she asks.
“What was it like for you?”
She’s still talking to the glass. Still frowning.
“You’ve been alive so long, I can’t even imagine—back then, it must have been—”
It must have been so tough.
It’s one thing for her to be out in the twenty-first century and another very different thing for Nate to have been born in the sixteen hundreds. And she knows he’s had lovers before, knows he must have navigated it all somehow, and still—
But then rational thought catches up with her words, and she stops herself.
She shakes her head. “You don’t have to tell me,” she says immediately.
She means it.
She’s seen the way Nate looks whenever family comes up, even her own. Whenever his past comes up, and from the few things she’s pieced together—the carnival mirror, the few comments he’s made, him being in the Navy—she can’t blame him, wouldn’t even dream of pushing him to talk about it.
It must all be so raw. Her questions aren’t worth that.
“I’m just… curious about you,” she adds by way of explanation, echoing something he’d said to her once. “But if it’s too much, I really don’t need to know. I promise.”
She’s made that clear to him (at least, she hopes she’s made that clear). Whatever happened to him only needs to come out when he’s ready to talk about it. If he’s ready to talk about it.
Before she can lose herself in her thoughts, however, Nate tightens his arm around her.
“It’s okay. You can ask.” He smiles down at her and it’s strained, yes, but she can tell it’s sincere. (It’s there, in the way it reaches his eyes, warm and soft and sweet and she’s never had anyone look at her like that before). “I just… try not to think about it too much these days, about how it was. When you’ve lived this long…” He trails off.
“But it wasn’t easy at first, no. Not when I was in the Navy. I believe that’s when I first realized.” He gives a soft laugh, but there isn’t much humor in it. “It would have been difficult not to.”
“I tried to—” He shakes his head, as though thinking better of what he was about to say. She doesn’t press. “It didn’t matter so much after I joined the Agency, as long as I kept to interactions with other supernaturals.”
Something, something in the way he says that makes Eva think that’s not how it always was. She couldn’t imagine Nate forgoing human interaction entirely, Agency or not.
There’s a question on the tip of her tongue, but she knows it’s not the time to ask it.
Still, she wonders.
Why does he care so much? Why would anyone, after everything he’s been through? She hasn’t been through a fraction of that and she barely cares at all.
“Nate…”
“It’s just how it was. But I wasn’t always unhappy. I was lucky, for the most part; luckier than I could have been.”
There it is. She’s learned to read this, too—she wouldn’t call it deflection, and she knows he’s not lying, but it’s a very clear indicator that the topic is over.
It’s that tension in his smile.
But then the tension dissipates when he speaks again. “And now I’ve found you. That makes up for everything else.”
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moral-turpitudes · 3 years
Text
Just Business:
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Trigger Warnings: Angst, Some Fluff, Slight smut?, Swearing, Drinking, Neglect, Fighting, Blood/Gore, etc.
Word Count: 3,195
Characters: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader 
Requested by: Anon
Request: “Could you make one with Tommy where he married the reader for business purposes and she wants to make things work but he’s cold towards her so she spends most of her time with Charlie, and when the whole family have to go back to Small Heath they become close but he gets jealous. Angst/Fluff and Smut if you think it fits.”
Summary: A marriage done for business seemed fitting at first, but as tensions rise among the family, Tommy eventually finds it in him to love again, but it falls on deaf ears as Y/N struggles to cope with his antics. 
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The clock struck midnight as you lied awake, the door ajar where Tommy had left to go to his study. He’d often leave you in the middle of the night when his thoughts became too much and when his emotions would threaten to take over. He had only cried around you once before, and it was when his wife Grace, had passed. Other days his mood would swing like a fragile ball on a pendulum, and you being one of his assistants at the company, you got to see almost every face of Thomas Shelby first hand, except one of genuine love. His love seemed to only be reserved for ghosts.
The next morning you would awake and hear Charlie crying, and scuffling down the hall looking for his father. He was a toddler, hell-bent on trying to run through the house any chance he got, so mornings were often spent chasing him around the vast expanse of rooms. Unfortunately, Tommy was already gone for the day, leaving you and the nanny to care for him until it was time for you to come in during the afternoon.
At some points while at home, you swore you could feel the portrait above the stairwell giving you daggers as you carried Charlie up to his room, Grace’s glistening, painted eyes boring a hole into your soul. Tommy hadn’t been the only one affected by her sudden death though, as the whole family was facing his wrath lately.
Your marriage had been a quick business arrangement ordered by Polly. She grew tired of Tommy’s antics, thinking him finding someone else would help him move on despite Grace’s death being only 6 months prior. And so here you were: a diamond ring and signed paper here, a nice dress and a family portrait of fake smiles there, and nothing but tense conversations and awkward attempts at affection getting you by until now.
Tommy was never one for love, at least not with you. You knew that deep down the only time that he seemed to love you was when he fucked you on the nights that the business became too much for him. When he’d come home needing some sort of release that wasn’t opium or whiskey, something to keep the memories of Grace and the shovels at bay, if only for a little while.
As the clock down the hall drew nearer to noon, you finally got Charlie down for a nap and got ready for work, a tear threatening to flow down your cheek as you put on your makeup, thinking about how much you had loved him secretly, even before Grace died. You’d always steal glances at him and would stay after to help him with paperwork, and it didn’t take long for Polly to know. She hated Grace, seeing as she betrayed them years before, almost destroying the family. But she’d always see the way you interacted with him and the rest of the boys and Ada, and how you immediately helped with Charlie when things got too much for Tommy. She loved you and the rest of the family did too, seeing as you were one of his most loyal assistants, and so it only made sense at the time that maybe you would be the perfect fit for Tommy. You never wanted his wife dead, and you could’ve gone your whole life just admiring from afar like all the other women would do on the streets, but you didn’t think you’d end up how you were now. Taking the place of his dead wife, being a step-mom to Charlie, and trapped in a loveless marriage to the man you felt so strongly towards.
As you blotted your tears away, you quickly finished up your makeup. Attempting to look somewhat alive despite your loneliness inside. If it wasn’t for this union being for “the sake of the business” as Tommy harshly put it when you’d overheard him talking to Polly, you’d be out finding someone who actually loved you, but in your twisted turn of events this was what had to be done.
The nanny came by the room, giving you a sympathetic glance as you tightened the belt around your waist that was accentuating your dress, you mentally kicking yourself for wearing such a revealing dress without thinking about the cold weather outside.
“I’ll have Charlie for the rest of the day as usual Mrs. Shelby, and I’ll let the maid know to straighten up and the cooks to start prepping for dinner later.” She said softly.
“Alright, thank you...truly. I...I mean we don’t know what we’d do without you all. I know Tommy doesn’t say much...but thank you for all your work.” You say, giving her a small hug. She was your only friend in the house it seemed. She’d help you when you’d drink yourself into a crying fit when Tommy was off on business, and she’d listen to you when you needed reassurance on if it was the right choice by marrying him.
“If he didn’t love you, you’d be sleeping elsewhere my dear. He’ll wise up, just give him time.” She would say, helping you back to the bedroom on those cold, dreary nights.
As you left the insanely large house you drove out onto the gravel roads, nearing Small Heath gradually. Your heart raced as you parked the car along the black dirt roads, the smell of burning wood filling your nose as the sounds of pounded metal filled your ears from the warehouses in the distance.
Other women and children would move out of your way as you swiftly walked down the narrow sidewalks and through the doors of the shop. The sound of papers flipping and typewriters clicking as you made your way silently over to your desk that was next to Tommy’s office.
“Good afternoon Y/N how was the drive?” Polly asked sitting near you. You sighed and looked at the stack of papers on the desk as you answered.
“It was fine. Quiet as usual up until arriving here of course.” You said with a small smile. You hoped she wouldn’t see the silent pain behind your eyes but you knew she did because she lingered there for a bit longer.
“Trouble at home?” She asked, her eyes flicking to Thomas as he sat in his office smoking a cigarette and looking at his own stack of papers.
“Always.” You said shortly, getting out your own cigarette and lighting it.
“Am I doing something wrong Pol? I’ve tried my best to be there for him. To be there for Charlie. To try to love him even though he couldn’t give a damn about me...” You said looking out at the lobby of the shop, wanting to be anywhere but here.
“You’re doing the best you can my dear. I’ll have a talk with him.” She said, an annoyance in her voice as she said the last part.
“Thank you.” You said as she walked off, knocking hard on Tommy’s door. You could see in through one of the windows, but you willed yourself not to look at him as your anger bubbled up inside you.
The stack of papers in front of you seemed like a mountain at the time, business proposals, unsigned license agreements, betting numbers, bank statements, anything and everything under the sun needing to be signed by the end of the day, and so while you heard Tommy shouting at Polly, you poured yourself into your work.
After awhile you saw Polly leave in a hurry and so you got up, following her out the door with your coat draped over you.
“Where are you going Polly?” You asked, the chilled air almost taking your breath away.
“To the Garrison. I need a drink. Do you care to join?” She asked.
“I thought you’d never ask.” You said sighing in relief as you both hurried into the bar. The familiar scent of smoke and whiskey filling your nose as a few people sat inside drinking their woes away.
“What will it be?” The bartender said.
“I’ll have a gin and tonic, what about you Y/N?” Polly said.
“Whiskey.” You said eyeing the bottle you’d grown to love only because of your bastard of a husband.
“He’s already rubbed off on you. Whiskey was never your drink till now.” Polly said sipping her gin.
“Well, now it is. Needed something strong enough to deal with his bullshit.” You said, knocking back a shot.
“What did he say when you talked to him?” You asked, bracing yourself for the worst.
“He told me that he’s wanting to move you and Charlie back here to Small Heath due to the recent gang problems.” She said.
“Is he mad? He can’t up and move right now! Why would he do that? He doesn’t care about us! I practically see his son more than he does.” You said, grabbing the bottle from behind the counter.
“Hey that’ll cost ya!” The bartender said. You and Polly shot him a look and he glanced at the huge rock on your finger.
“Oh...I apologize Mrs. Gray...and...Mrs. Shelby. It’s on the house.” He said before turning to serve the other patrons.
“Why would he fucking move us down here...if he doesn’t love me why would he want to protect me? I was just a fucking business deal after all...right?” You said, a tear slipping down your face as you knocked another shot back.
Polly glanced at her drink as she let you continue.
“He told me he wants to keep you safe because he loves you, I know my nephew well enough to see that he does love you, he’s just god-awful at showing it recently.” Polly said.
“Well when he wants to actually care about me more than his dead fucking wife then let me know.” You said before taking the shot glass and whiskey bottle and walking to one of the booths in the back of the bar.
Polly sighed and finished her drink, watching as a blonde haired man came over to your table and sat next to you, draping an arm around your shoulder.
The shots slowly made their way into your system as you poured yourself another one, barely acknowledging his presence at first.
“Why are you alone and wearing a dress like that with a ring around ya finger aye? Old husband getting ya down?” He asked, whiskey tainting his breath as he spoke in your ear.
“How about we go somewhere more quiet. I can love you like he couldn’t.” He said. You knocked back a couple more shots and smirked as you awkwardly ignored his advances and made flirty conversation to pass the time. Polly stiffly turned back to her drink, striking up a conversation with the bartender as you soon let your hand wander down the mans chest as he got closer.
You felt wrong for making moves on him as he wasn’t your husband, but at this point you had no love to really lose, or so you thought.
Just as you and the blonde haired man started making out, you heard the doors to the Garrison fly open, revealing your emotionless shell of a husband. His stoic face looking towards the bar to see Polly nursing another gin and tonic and chatting up the bartender.
“Thought you were working, Polly.” He said annoyed.
“I am. I’m trying to work on your love life because you won’t. I love you but you don’t know a good thing until it’s gone.” She said, her words stinging him a bit as he thought of Grace.
In the distance he heard a familiar giggle and his head shot up, his eyes glaring at the woman he desperately came to love, wearing a revealing evening dress, kissing and giggling with some blonde haired worker from god knows where.
“Is that what you call working on my love life Polly?” He said pointing to you in the distance, your face burning as the now half-drunk bottle of whiskey coursed through you, helping you not to have a care in the world as you giggled at the mans joke as he reached for your waist.
“If that’s what gets you to see reason, then yes.” Polly said sipping her drink as she watched you two making out.
“As much as I want to I can’t. I’m sorry...I’m married...” You said breathlessly, stopping his hands from traveling further.
“He doesn’t have to know.” He said.
You looked up through your slightly blurred vision to see the familiar peaked cap of your husband getting closer to your table.
“He already does.” You said, a nervous edge to your voice as you watched everything unfold before you.
Tommy yanked the man off you by the back of shirt and spun him around to where he was facing him.
“What are you doing here messing around with my fucking wife aye!?” He said pushing him roughly into the wall before landing a fist to his jaw.
The man smirked, spitting out blood right onto Tommy’s shirt before speaking.
“I was just about to do what you couldn’t.” He said.
You cringed and took another shot as you heard the sound of the mans jaw break as Tommy’s fist landed on his face once again, rendering him unconscious.
As you watched in silence, he grabbed his cap and cut a gash in his face that was deep enough to need stitches.
“Tommy stop!” You yelled, struggling to get up and stumbling towards him, nearly knocking him over. His breathing was ragged as you clutched onto him, his arms gripping your waist and steadying you.
“I-I can explain...” You said wiping a stray tear from your eye as you felt your mascara streaking down your face.
“Explain fucking what Y/N!? That you wanted to fuck him? Am I not enough for you? You had to go find some random man just because I’m busy?!” He said shouting loudly.
You shakily stepped forward looking him in his eyes which were burning like blue flames from jealousy.
“If I did why would you care? Just say it Thomas...you don’t fucking love me! You love Grace, and no woman will ever amount to her even though she’s six feet under. You’ve never loved me...and you just expect me to act like everything’s fucking fine, but it’s not!.....Hell! I even see your fucking son more than you do, now how is that love Thomas? If you don’t love me just say it. Because I’ve loved you as best I could...and I’ve loved you long before that. If you did love me, and I mean actually loved me...then this wouldn’t have been a “business deal” it would’ve been a proper fucking marriage!” You yelled, throwing your shot glass on the ground, watching as the glass shattered into a million sparkling pieces on the wooden floor.
He stood there silently as you stumbled off towards the restroom, shooing Polly away as you closed the door behind you and locked it. You practically collapsed on the floor sobbing as the cold tile soothed your burning skin, the room spinning the longer you laid there.
“What are you going to do Tommy?” Polly asked as she eyed him from her seat at the bar.
“I’m going to try to get my wife back. It’s not a fucking business deal anymore Pol. Never was. You think I didn’t notice the whispers from you and the lads when she’d leave the room? About how she liked me and how we’d be good together? You think I didn’t notice her eyes watching me as I worked despite being married to Grace? Of course I loved Grace but she’s not been the easiest fucking thing to get over. I know I’ve been a terrible husband, I can see it in Y/N’s eyes every day...I can see her withering away from me as well as Charlie and it kills me inside...I’m just not the best at loving people and you know that...ever since Grace died it’s like a part of me has too, but I’m going to get that back. I have to.” He said, his eyes glistening a bit as he headed for the restrooms.
He knocked lightly and waited before calling your name, panic coursing through him as you didn’t answer.
Without a second thought he shoved his shoulder into the door, busting the lock and stumbling in to find you on the floor barely conscious.
You mumbled something unintelligible as he crouched down and picked you up, bringing you out to his car as Polly followed quickly behind.
“My god where are you taking her?” She yelled over the start of the engine.
“Home. Tell the lads I’m taking the day off.” He said before speeding off towards the house.
Once there, he carried you to the lavish bathroom that connected to your all’s bedroom and sat you down in a chair. He quickly got a cold rag and wiped it on your forehead and around the rest of your face trying to keep you conscious. You perked up slightly at the cold sensation but were quickly overcome by the all too familiar feeling of nausea, your body cursing you as you stumbled towards the toilet almost blindly. Tommy held your hair back as best he could, waiting for what felt like ages for you to stop getting sick. With a weak hand you flushed and stumbled up, shakily brushing your teeth and staring at your tragic reflection in the mirror as Tommy kept an eye on you from the door frame. He held a pair of your sleepwear and one of his t-shirts in his beat up hands.
You looked at him as you grudgingly took the clothes from him, changing into them carefully as your balance was still shit.
After wrestling them on, you went straight for the bed, barely acknowledging Tommy’s presence as he watched you carefully.
“I’m going to bed Thomas. You can leave for all I care.” You said wrapping yourself in the plush covers and closing your eyes.
“I’m not leaving Y/N.” He said as you heard his footsteps softly move towards the bed. The mattress shifting a bit as he climbed in next to you, letting you snuggle up against him.
“You should be at work.” You mumbled.
He stroked your arm lightly as he laid there, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.
“I’m not going anywhere. Not while my wife’s a mess.” He said.
“Why should you care?” You asked, sleep threatening to take over.
“Because I love you, Y/N. I’ve just been terrible at showing it. To both you and Charlie. I love you and I’m not going to lose you. I can’t lose you.” He said quickly, knowing you’d fall asleep at any moment.
“Tell me you love me when I wake up then, because I won’t remember this.” You said, listening to his heartbeat as you let the darkness overtake you.
“I will, I promise.” He said, gently kissing the top of your head as he laid there with you, hoping sleep would take him too.
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Tag List:
(If you’d like to be added/removed from the Thomas Shelby tag list, just shoot me an ask/message)
Main Tag List
@msbzowy, @nofckingfighting, @aranoburns, @sighonahurricane, @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes, @gaytommyshelby, @wowjeena, @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby, @inglourious-imagines, @thebloodyshelbys, @tsolomons, @blinder-secrets, @reveparade, @shelby-fanatic, @ta-ka-shi-ma, @psychkunox, @peakyxtommy, @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @dreamwastakenx, @lovemissyhoneybee
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murswrites · 4 years
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Not one of Us ⎯ Thomas Shelby Headcanon
Pairings: Thomas Shelby x Reader, Shelby!Family x Reader (platonic) Fandom: Peaky Blinders MASTERLIST Warnings: Cursing (idek why I put this anymore, it’s Thomas fucking Shelby) SUMMARY: Tommy is confused by how much his family loves you. He doesn’t take the time to understand why, until he sees you interacting with his son and realizes why and how his family loves someone outside of the family so much. Request from @msbzowy​: How about Thomas Shelby and his behavior when he finds out that you are loved and adored by the whole Shelby family. Like, maybe if that would make him smile or maybe he would be irritated that they treat you that, but you’re not one of them. (edited)
A/N Not gonna lie, this just turned into a bullet point fic...
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He didn’t understand what was so wonderful about Y/N L/N.
Tommy being cold and distant since you are “Not one of us.” 
You would try to get to know him, but Ada would advise you to give up since Tom isn’t worth your time.
Being Ada’s friend, you often found yourself at her house and caring for Karl. You loved it, coming from a large family and taking care of children since you were young.
Polly would invite you to Christmas dinner at Tom’s house.
You didn’t want to intrude, so you ask Tom himself and all he says is, “Nobody fucking listens to me anyway.”
Getting everyone (even Tom) small gifts since they’ve been so welcoming. 
Getting bear hugs from Arthur despite Linda shooting daggers your way. Finn flirting with you even though you’re far older. 
Babysitting John’s children because you don’t mind it at all. Esme being forever grateful for you doing just that since it’s hard getting time alone with her husband these days.
At the dinner, Tommy watching from inside as you played with the children, entertaining them so everyone could enjoy their pre-meal drinks.
Admitting to the family that you don’t drink since it clouds your already air filled head.
John denying that you’re head is full of air since you manage to take care of his scoundrels (his kids) quite well. 
Tom would find himself watching you throughout the night and just how well you got on with Charles. 
Charlie would take a liking to you when you and the kids (tried to) decorate sugar cookies. 
He would cling to your side despite not knowing you, “You’re eyes are pretty, Y/N.” 
“Oh, thank you Charlie, who’d you get your eyes from?” You’d ask in return and he’d say his mum. You wouldn’t pry about where she was, knowing that she died.
Ada would convince you to indulge a little and get you to drink a bit of the gin. You’d agreed after a bit of convincing. 
When you got tipsy, you insisted that everyone opened their presents. Running about the room passing out the small gifts.
You got the men cufflinks and the women (including Linda) matching bracelets. Everyone loved it, even Tom thanked you emotionlessly.
Once dinner was done, you helped Esme and Ada wash the kids up.
Charlie went as far as begging for a story and Tom told you to not give in.
“What’s wrong with bending your will a bit for a little one, he’s a child. Not a bloody politician.” You’d blush, knowing that Tom was a ‘bloody politician.’
Tommy brushing your accidental insult off with “Everyone hates me at this point.” 
Charlie would convince you to read him nearly five stories before Tom put his foot down with, “Let the woman sleep, Charles.” He would tuck his son in before turning to you.
“Thank you for... everything.”
“Of course, Mr. Shelby.”
He’d insist that you call him Tom and you’d agree. “Would you like a drink?”
You two would drink in silence before he spoke again.
“Do you have a husband, Ms. L/N?”
You’d say no then ask him why he cared. “Just wondering how such an enigmatic woman like yourself hasn’t taken a man.”
This would make you confused, “You say that as if I’ve chosen this life.”
Tom would merely shrug and down his whiskey before getting more, “You seem like a woman who doesn’t let others choose for her.”
“What if I want someone to choose for me?” This would startle Tommy, “Even if I’m not one of you.” 
“One of us?”
You’d nod, “One of the Shelby’s. Even if I’m not family. I want a family of my own and I don’t seem to be capable of making the right choices.”
He’d laugh, “Neither do I, according to my family.” This was the first time you’d ever even seen him smile. Hearing him laugh on your account felt empowering.
“Why don’t you like me?” You’d blurt, not being able to contain yourself anymore.
Tom would give you his trademark ‘what do you mean’ face before growing silent. Just staring into your eyes, “I don’t dislike you.” This would make you sigh in relief. 
He’d lean backward, “Just didn’t trust you until today.”
“What about today was different than yesterday or the day prior?”
“Charlie hasn’t taken to anyone that quickly since his mum passed. I saw happiness in his beady little eyes when you agreed to read him those stupid stories. It’s hard to make that boy smile like that...” 
You hadn’t noticed the glow in the boy’s eyes. He just looked hyper from the sugar, “I’m glad I could be of help...”
This was the start of a wonderful sense of trust between you two. Go so far as to becoming Charles’ nanny because he loved you that much.
Tommy found himself falling for you despite the odd circumstances and you felt the same.
Not that either of you would ever admit it... bloody scoundrels.
Peaky Taglist (open)
@itsfrancisneptun
@imnotuglyimjustpredebut
@cielphantomhixe
@captivatedbycillianmurphy
@stressedandbandobessed7771
@i-have-arrived-bitch
@confusedpimp
@screechingdreamercollectorsblog
@lettersshapes
@burnitup
@whoaitslucyy-blog
@hailmary-yramliah
@whoaitslucyy-blog
@giowritess
@simonsbluee
@ravennawritesfanfiction
@msbzowy
@jovialturtleangelllama
@kenobee
@lovemissyhoneybee
@imaginesbymk
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zeldasayer · 4 years
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Think about early in the relationship with the nanny gin decides to sit on her face while whiskey fucks her but the nanny is still so inexperienced it’s just kind of overwhelming and she can’t eat gin out very well. Gin understands and carefully gets off of her face and watched her husband flip the nanny onto her belly and just drive into her from behind. It’s the hottest thing gin’s ever seen and she touches herself and sticks her wet fingers in the nanny’s gaping mouth after the 3 of them come
This inspired a little Whiskey x Gin x Nanny nasty smut below the cut. 👀
18+
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Imagine Gin holding you while Whiskey fucks you.
Full bear hug, while you rest on her full soft tits and Jack takes you from behind. Gin smells sweet like cinnamon and she caress you lightly as Jack fucks your pussy right on top of hers.
“Does it feel good inside your tight little pussy, Honey, love?” Gin whispers into your hair and Jack groans low in his throat.
You feel his thick fingers part your plump, wet lips and he loses his rythm, “Shit, Honey, you’re dripping on h-her pussy.”
You moan from just the thought of this statement and Gin gasps in excitement pulling your face up to hers and she kisses you feverishly.
“That is so fucking sexy, Honey. Cum all over his cock for me sweetheart, please. I want to taste you just after you cum.” Gin begs between kisses.
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zeldasayer · 3 years
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Now that the weather is getting warmer I’m just daydreaming about hanging out with whiskey and gin next to their pool, teasing them by sunbathing naked, whiskey waking me up after doze off by eating me out. When I look across the pool gin has her hand in her bikini bottoms while she watches.
OH MY GODDDDDD I FUCKING LOVE THIS YES.
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zeldasayer · 3 years
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me: should be working
also me:
everyone at the pool in the backyard: the nanny in the water with the kids, Whiskey and Gin on a lounge chair to the side
he’s sitting behind her, his thighs spread out to make room for the way she’s kneeling between his legs, facing away from him to watch the kids in the pool and he is admiring he sight of her back, the dip of her hips, her plush ass in her bikini bottoms — Gin is cheering the kids on as they show off their diving skills, aware of the way Whiskey’s broad hands skim over her spine, the nape of her neck, curling slightly under the waistband of her bottoms and she can feel the way he shifts in the chair, a small smile tugging at her lips
pretending to just want a closer look of the kids, she leans forward, arching her back and pressing her ass into the palms of his hands and he makes a soft, low sound at the sight of it; the side of his hand discretely brushing along the seam of her, acknowledging her teasing
the nanny sees it all, recognizing the hungry look on whiskey’s face, (that’s also how she looks at Gin sometimes) and her gaze wanders between his lap, the outline of him in his short swimming trunks, his firm, sturdy thighs, the way Gin is almost spilling out of her top and she dunks herself under the surface of the water, seeking relief for her flushed, hot skin
all of them are anxious for nap time — should they come back out to the pool? stay inside their suite, all climbing into bed together?
the kids continue to play, all of them smiling indulgently at their excited, sweet faces and they are all counting down the minutes — only an hour left...
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I am WEAK why am I crying??? They’re so fucking HOT and you write them so well!!!! I’m OBSESSED
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zeldasayer · 3 years
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All I can think about is soft tiddie, Mommy Gin and Nanny rubbing their sloppy wet pussies together with playing with each others tits and Gin sliding her fingers between them and them pushing them into Nanny’s mouth to suck on 🤤
Someone has to help Gin while Jack is gone. That sumptious of a woman should not be reduced to playing with her own pussy
I am literally speechless. (In a good way)
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zeldasayer · 4 years
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“They were careless people, Tom and Daisy— they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made.” — The Great Gatsby
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zeldasayer · 4 years
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you can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave
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zeldasayer · 4 years
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zeldasayer · 4 years
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only want her because i can’t have her
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zeldasayer · 4 years
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Mrs. Daniels, you’re trying to seduce me.
Aren’t you?
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zeldasayer · 4 years
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holding hands & making love
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