“I hear you did the powder trick on Monaghan Boy, Thomas,” I drawled, running my finger along the dining table.
Thomas’ plate of food lay in front of him on the table, as he took his peaky cap off. He ran a hand through his hair, and dragged it down his face. As he moved, a sweet smell wafted over. A smell that was not the roast potato soup in front of him.
“And you smell like a woman,” I stated, clasping my hands together.
“Why are you dressed up Y/N?” He asked, leaning against the table.
“I hardly am, unless wearing my sleeping trousers and one of your button up shirts is classed as dressing up,”
“I’m not dealing with this tonight, come to bed,”
“No, not tonight Thomas,” He flinched at his name. I said it with malice, and he had picked up on it. His head dropped slightly, and he sighed.
“John asked for help with the children. Polly should already be there, and I was due there two hours ago. Two hours I spent waiting for you,”
“What is repeating it going to do about the situation,” Thomas said, making eye contact.
“I’m leaving now Thomas. If you lie to me about doing the powder tricks and where and who you have been with, I won’t just be leaving to go help your brother with his children,” I said, pulling my faux fur coat off the kitchen door.
“Leaving me for John. I should’ve known,” He hissed, moving to bring a cigarette to his lips.
“You will not smoke one of those in my house. I don’t know what your issue with me is. We both lost people important to us before and during the war. I am not the cause for your issues with yourself,”
He laughed cynically, and took a drag from the cigarette, blowing the smoke into my face tauntingly. “Her name is Grace, in case you were wondering,” He laughed, pain seeping in over the cynicism.
“Fuck you Thomas Shelby,” I whispered.
I stepped past him, letting the tears fall freely down my face. The cool wind of the night dried them as they fell, stopping as I reached John’s front door. It was unlocked, and I helped myself in, jumping as Polly and Katie shouted ‘Boo’.
“Katie dear, go see if your father has put the boys down to sleep,” Polly instructed, caressing Katie’s cheek.
“What has Thomas done now Y/N?” She asked, her hands moving to her hips.
“He slept with another woman,” I said, my bottom lip quivering.
Polly shook her head, and opened her arms. I wrapped my own around her, sobbing onto her shoulder. I heard footsteps come down the stairs, and felt another hand come to rest on my shoulder.
“Her name was Grace,” I cried out, and Polly stiffened. “John, go find out about this woman. Now,” Polly said.
As John left I cried into Polly’s shoulder until my eyes were sore, and pulled away carefully.
“He’s acting as if our daughter never even existed,” I whispered, bringing a hand to cover my mouth.
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“I hear you did the powder trick on Monaghan Boy, Thomas,” I drawled, running my finger along the dining table.
Thomas’ plate of food lay in front of him on the table, as he took his peaky cap off. He ran a hand through his hair, and dragged it down his face. As he moved, a sweet smell wafted over. A smell that was not the roast potato soup in front of him.
“And you smell like a woman,” I stated, clasping my hands together.
“Why are you dressed up Y/N?” He asked, leaning against the table.
“I hardly am, unless wearing my sleeping trousers and one of your button up shirts is classed as dressing up,”
“I’m not dealing with this tonight, come to bed,”
“No, not tonight Thomas,”
He flinched at his name. I said it with malice, and he had picked up on it. His head dropped slightly, and he sighed.
“John asked for help with the children. Polly should already be there, and I was due there two hours ago. Two hours I spent waiting for you,”
“What is repeating it going to do about the situation,” Thomas said, making eye contact.
“I’m leaving now Thomas. If you lie to me about doing the powder tricks and where and who you have been with, I won’t just be leaving to go help your brother with his children,” I said, pulling my faux fur coat off the kitchen door.
“Leaving me for John. I should’ve known,” He hissed, moving to bring a cigarette to his lips.
“You will not smoke one of those in my house. I don’t know what your issue with me is. We both lost people important to us before and during the war. I am not the cause for your issues with yourself,”
He laughed cynically, and took a drag from the cigarette, blowing the smoke into my face tauntingly.
“Her name is Grace, in case you were wondering,” He laughed, pain seeping in over the cynicism.
“Fuck you Thomas Shelby,” I whispered.
I stepped past him, letting the tears fall freely down my face. The cool wind of the night dried them as they fell, stopping as I reached John’s front door. It was unlocked, and I helped myself in, jumping as Polly and Katie shouted ‘Boo’.
“Katie dear, go see if your father has put the boys down to sleep,” Polly instructed, caressing Katie’s cheek.
“What has Thomas done now Y/N?” She asked, her hands moving to her hips.
“He slept with another woman,” I said, my bottom lip quivering.
Polly shook her head, and opened her arms. I wrapped my own around her, sobbing onto her shoulder. I heard footsteps come down the stairs, and felt another hand come to rest on my shoulder.
“Her name was Grace,” I cried out, and Polly stiffened.
“John, go find out about this woman. Now,” Polly said.
As John left I cried into Polly’s shoulder until my eyes were sore, and pulled away carefully.
“He’s acting as if our daughter never even existed,” I whispered, bringing a hand to cover my mouth.
SUMMARY: You are the reason why Tommy Shelby doesn’t allow singing at The Garrison.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: The title is inspired by an old folk song and there’s also another folk song appearing in the story – “Hangman” alias “The Gallow’s Pole”. The song “When You and I Were Seventeen” was recorded in 1925 but let’s forget about it for a moment. If your name is Katy, you can ignore one sentence in that story – you’ll know what I’m talking about while reading 😂
Requested by - @slytherinicequeen (Hope you like it! Thank u for your request)
A/N - I literally wrote three stories on this jealous!Tommy request, because it is so hard to make him jealous (That's why the title) And I'm only partly feeling good about this one, so be prepared.
Summary - Tommy Shelby had a habit of taking things for granted when they were easily available to him. But when a family member wants something he never thought he would part with, Tommy realises he might be wrong about this one.
Warnings - language, fluff, mild angst, secret relationships, Tommy being a jealous jerk, shitty summary.
Word Count - 2.7k
The room was dark and only the sounds of your breathing echoed. The carpeted floor was littered with scattered pieces of clothings and shoes. There, two individuals dressed themselves up at a languid pace.
He passed you your missing stocking. You gave him his holster. You finger-combed your hair into some semblance of order, he retied his tie. One of you wanted to run their fingers through the other person's hair, while one wanted to help the other one tie their tie.
But both of you stayed quiet, working in the silence after an hour (Or was it two?) of passionate love-making, dallying to stay a little longer, wishing circumstances were different.
Tonight, however, one of you broke the unspoken rule and said suddenly, "We've been spending a lot of time together." He declared, then cleared his throat and continued, "I want to know if things are still the same."
You looked at him in question, your fingers pausing on the third button of your shirt.
"If they are not, we should talk." He said, trying not to avert his gaze in the direction of the skin he had recently caressed.
"You want to know if I still feel the same about you, and haven't fallen in love with you." You said flatly, your fingers tightly gripping the third button.
He stopped shrugging on his coat and sighed. "You've spent a lot of time with me, (Y/N)."
"You've spent a lot of time with me too. But you didn't fall for me. How can I?" You said as you finished buttoning your shirt without meeting his eyes. Picking up your coat from the floor, you hurried to put it on, tonight without his help and muttered a quick, "Goodnight, Tommy,' before exiting the Shelby Company office.
***
"That girl in your office, what's her name?" Polly asked her nephew one night at the Garrison.
"There are many girls in the office, Pol." He said disinterestedly, playing with the cigarette in his hand.
"The one with (y/e/c) eyes and (y/h/c) hair. The one who brings in your files every time."
His fingers stopped and he exhaled shortly, wondering why Polly was interested in (Y/N) all of a sudden. Did she suspect something? Before he could think further, Polly asked another question.
"How's that one for Michael?"
He stopped drinking and looked at Polly. "Michael?" He asked, then took a sip of the whisky as he mentally smiled at the improbability of Michael ever having a chance with (Y/N). Simply put, (Y/N) was his, even though lately, she was coming with excuses to avoid 'working late' with him. But it was just a phase, it would pass and soon (Y/N) would be his arms, or on his table again, begging for more.
"They've been working together. Late nights." She added with a suggestive smile.
He choked on the whisky.
"What's wrong with you?" She asked in mild concern.
"Nothing." He forced out as he wiped his lips.
"Business?"
He shook his head. "Did Michael tell you something?"
"No. But she did. She's good, has a head between her ears but isn't too over her head. I think she's the right one for Michael. What do you think?" Polly asked.
He mustered up enough disregard to shrug. "If that's what Michael wants."
""
The next morning, you were called inside Tommy's office. A rare occurrence, but since you had been avoiding him at nights, he had perhaps come up with a new idea to make you sleep with him. Maybe you would agree, but your heart wouldn't be in it. After that night, it seemed...wrong, almost immoral. Like you both were just two bodies using each other for pleasure, and not revelling in each other's company as two individuals.
"You talked to Pol?" He demanded, his scowl telling you he was in no mood for morning sex.
Letting out an almost thankful sigh, you hurried to tell him about your fateful run-in with his aunt.
"She came to the office a few nights back...when I was leaving." You gave an awkward look, and continued, "She started asking questions and I said I was working late. She simply presumed I was with Michael."
He furrowed his brows. "Why?"
You looked around, then pulled your shirt collar to reveal bare skin. "Because of this."
His eyes latched on the small hickey on the side of your neck, almost invisible now and felt desire run in his veins just at the sight of his mark on your body.
"Stop staring." You admonished and readjusted your shirt, feeling flustered suddenly. Tommy looked around, clenching his jaw and feeling the pressure build inside his head.
"Did something happen?" You asked with arms across your chest, casting a questioning, almost worried glance in his direction.
"Nothing. If Polly asks, don't tell her." He said shortly.
You scoffed a little. "Why would I?"
He cast a cursory glance in your direction. "Why not?" There was a hint of derision in his words.
"You give yourself too much importance." You shook your head at him, feeling very angry suddenly.
"If Polly asks, you and I are not fucking." He enunciated.
"Yes, we are not. Definitely not anymore." You added for good measure. You turned to leave but he stopped you by grabbing your elbow.
"(Y/N)." He spoke, his lips very close to your ears.
You didn't move out his hold, but didn't look at him either. "It's time we stop. I don't want to be a dirty secret anymore." You said quietly.
"I fucking told you from the start-"
You turned to face him, feeling very small suddenly. "I don't want you to love me. But can't I expect to be treated with some respect?"
"Yeah? Is that what you want? Not expensive gifts, big house?" He taunted.
Surprisingly, you didn't feel angry, just very sad for him. "Everything is not about- Why I am even bothering? I'll just leave." You lifted his hand from your elbow and hurried out of his office.
***
The next days at work were painful to say the least. Tommy avoided you, but it always felt like his eyes were burning holes in your head from his glass doors.
To make matters worse, his aunt found an excuse to pop in at the office several times, and made it a point to talk to you and cajole information out of you about your family. One time, she even casually asked if anyone in your family had had a run-in with her father, as if you would remember.
"Was Mum here?" An anxious Michael asked one afternoon while you were working.
"Yeah. She was asking about you." You told him as you rearranged the files on your desk.
"Fuck." He muttered.
"What's wrong?" You asked.
"Nothing. What's up with you?" He tipped his chin in question. You sighed inwardly; of course he had noticed the shadows underneath your eyes and general tired appearance. You didn't like to admit it, but after ending your 'liaison' with Tommy, you were having some trouble sleeping.
"Nothing much. Just work." You said noncommittally.
He looked around, then bent to rest his hands on your desk. "Well, me and my friends are going to a pub for a few drinks after work. Would you like to come?" He asked, a little nervous, a little cocky.
You cast an uncertain glance in Tommy's office's direction. After that day, he had barely spoken to you but you still felt a sense of obligation towards him.
Well, it's time to change things.
You smiled. "Sure."
Few hours later, when you were done with your work and packing up, someone leaned against your desk, ashes from his cigarette falling on your purse.
"So, Michael, eh?"
You didn't look up, nor did you reply. Because you couldn't decide on one answer for his question. "Why do you give a fuck?" topped the list, but considering he paid your wages, it hardly seemed appropriate.
"Will probably get you a big house one day. But you'll have to wait for a while. Polly likes having 'im around. Loves 'im to death."
You gritted your teeth but didn't bother to reply back anymore. He would stop eventually, and if he didn't, well, you were already leaving.
"Did you fuck him, too? When I wasn't around, or maybe after I was done?"
Tears pricked your eyes but you willed yourself to stay calm.
The job pays, (Y/N). So what if you fell for the boss? You can always find someone else.
But you can find another job as well. At least the boss won't be such an arse. Another voice spoke up.
"As your boss, when I ask something, I need a fucking answer." His voice was too calm, too patient and sent the oddest chill down your spine.
Reaching for your purse, you stood up and finally met his gaze.
"Well, as the woman whom you just called a whore, I choose not to answer your baseless questions." You bit out, and walked to leave.
"Wait." He ordered but still reached for your elbow.
"It's five. I'm going." You muttered, struggling to twist out of his hold.
"Where?"
"To fuck your cousin." You gritted out, and he finally let you go, almost too abruptly, making you stumble into the arms of someone else.
"You all right, (Y/N)?" Michael asked.
You nodded, your vision blurred by tears.
"Come with me."
"It's all right, Michael." You whispered, as if afraid Tommy would hear you and make matters worse.
He held your wrist, and led you away from the room. "Come."
***
After that day, Tommy stopped looking at you altogether. He didn't bother you with anything, asking other employees if he wanted something from you. He simply disappeared from your life altogether.
"Mrs. Gray?" You asked in surprise, brought of your daydreams of the time you had spent with Tommy by the Shelby family matriarch.
"Polly. Where's Michael?" She looked around the office, her gaze pausing once at her nephew's open office doors before settling on you again.
"Uhm...He's at the Garrison." You said nervously.
"Why aren't you there?" She asked dubiously.
"Work." You said with an apologetic smile.
She shut the ledger in front of you. "Enough with the work. Go have fun. I'm sure Tommy won't mind. Will you, Tommy?"
You turned your neck to find Tommy standing behind you, with one hand in his pocket and a cigarette between his fingers, an aloof expression on his face.
"Everyone is supposed to work till five. They can do anything after that, I don't mind." He said flatly, his eyes fixed on you.
But Polly chose to ignore him and his glare. "Come with me, (Y/N). I don't want my son to become too much like his cousin."
"He should never." You muttered incorrigibly.
Polly cast a look in your direction. "Well done." She murmured.
"Let's go then." Another voice joined the conversation and you looked at Tommy in mild shock.
"You're coming?" You asked.
"It's my pub." He simply replied.
***
Against your reservations, Polly took you inside the private parlour of the Garrison where Arthur, Finn, John, Michael and Esme were already seated.
To make matters worse, she made you sit beside Michael. "Sit here."
"It's alright, Mrs. Gray." You hesitated.
"Sit."
You sat without any question.
Michael looked at you in concern, and you simply shook your head. When you looked up, Tommy was looking at you with a blank, unnerving expression.
"What the fuck are you doing here, (Y/N)?"
"Hello, Arthur." You said with a polite smile.
"She's here for the family meeting." Polly declared.
There was suddenly a hubbub of protests and surprise.
"Huh?"
"The fuck?"
"Here?"
But Polly raised a hand. "Before you all get riled up, I would like if Michael said a few words about the new member."
Michael looked up sharply. "Mum?"
"What? Don't be shy now. I know all about you and (Y/N)." She smiled a catlike smile.
"What about us?" Michael asked with a shrug.
"So you're lying to me now." Polly said, affronted.
"About fucking what?"
Tommy's voice cut through the confusion. "Pol."
"What?" She looked at him in question.
"(Y/N) isn't with Michael. She's with me." He declared.
"What?" Almost five voices asked in synchrony.
"No, I am not." You clarified immediately.
"She's been with me for three months. That night, it was me. Not Michael. Me." He stressed, and you wondered if he was gritting his teeth.
"I was with you. Not anymore." You retorted and John laughed. Esme gave him a withering look.
Rolling his eyes, he turned his face in your direction, and you wished he wasn't such a bastard, because he was a good-looking one. "Don't ruin Michael's life, (Y/N). You got what you wanted, now stop with the fucking act."
"What act? And what did I want?" You asked in mock-confusion.
He sighed, as if he were the only sane person in the midst of morons. Slowly, he explained, "We both know you don't love Michael, and Michael doesn't love you. The reason you're here in this meeting is because I allowed it. Not Michael."
"Why do you think I don't love Michael? He's buying us a big house. Didn't Polly tell you?" You asked innocently.
"With all my blessings." Polly corroborated your words, already half-drunk.
"Did you hear that?" You asked Tommy smugly.
"I don't approve of her. She cannot marry Michael." Tommy said finally.
"Why?" Polly demanded.
"Because she's marrying me."
"Thank fucking God." John bellowed.
Tommy looked at his laughing brother, worried he had drunk too much, then realised everyone around him was laughing. Including you.
"You've been fucking played, Tommy. Pol told us to beforehand what was going to happen." Arthur explained as he wiped his eyes.
"I knew the moment I saw his face burn up at (Y/N)'s mention." Polly boasted.
"You knew about this?" He asked you tersely.
You nodded, biting your cheek to control your laughter. "The day when you were being rude to me for no reason, Michael told me."
"Yeah, we saw you throw things in your office, Tommy. It was a whisky glass, wasn't it?"
"And the globe, too." You added, smiling despite yourself.
Suddenly, the door banged shut and Tommy Shelby left the parlour.
"Whoops." John grinned.
"Should I talk to him?" You asked in worry.
Six heads nodded. "Go."
***
Hurrying outside on the lane, you found Tommy smoking a cigarette in the corner. Sighing in relief, you made your way in his direction, wishing you hadn't somehow damaged things further.
You hadn't realised he was so much averse to the idea of joking around, or maybe he was just very, very furious at you.
Standing in front of him, you almost vomited out your apology, "Tommy, are you mad at me? I'm sorry, we were just-"
He cut you off, "Why did you lie?"
"I told you, it was Polly's idea." You said guiltily.
He gave you an impatient look. "Before. When I asked if you loved me."
Reaching for his hand, you gulped down your fears and said, "I wanted you to say it. I knew you'd been through a lot and I didn't want to force you into something you didn't want."
"I wanted to know what you felt before..." He gestured as if you understood what he wanted to say.
"What?" You asked in irritation.
"Before I put a fucking ring on your finger."
"That night, you wanted to propose? Like, did you love me?" You asked, unconsciously taking a step in his direction so he and you were in a personal sphere.
He put his arms on your waist and pulled you closer. "I do."
To his shock, you raised your hand and hit him on his chest. Hard. "Then why were you acting like a pig all this time?"
"I was busy with work." He muttered, resisting the urge to rub his injured body part.
"Don't lie." You chided, and narrowed your eyes at him, "You were jealous, weren't you?"
"No." He said quickly.
"Yes, you were. Oh, my God. This is so-" And then you burst out laughing, but also wished Tommy never got jealous again. Because you wouldn't be so kind on him then.
"Oi, Tommy, should we or should we not continue this fuckin' family meeting?"
"We will, John. After I have one with my wife." He told his brother without breaking eye-contact with you.
"I am not your wife." You corrected.
"Yet." He said cockily.
Trying not to scoff, you said, "I'll let you get away with this, since you were so jeal-"
His lips came crashing down on yours at that moment, silencing you and making you smile against his lips.
A/N: Sweet anon asked: Hello i love you’re writing! Can i request a tommy one shot imagine where the reader (his girlfriend or wife) finds out in his office, one of the locked drawers has everytning shes ever given to him? Maybe like love letters or random flowers everything he keep 😍🤍 thank you so mych. This request was so amazing to me, because you it made me feel like you understand this character so well? Either way, it made me think, and this is the result. It’s kinda different but I hope you like it!
Words: 1448
***
“Tommy?”
“Hmm,” the preoccupied reply came.
You sounded defeated, against your best efforts, “I love you.”
“I know.”
***
There’s blood on his shirt. It’s the first thing you noticed when he walked in. Not the mud, not his eyes, not his energy, just the blood on his shirt.
“Who’s is it,” you asked as casually as you could.
Tommy lit a cigarette in reply.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” he drew out the ‘s’ like he usually did when annoyed or tired.
“Who was it?” you continued.
“Y/N,” he held up a hand, “not tonight, eh? Not with the hundred fucking questions tonight, alright?”
You remained silent for as long as you could bear, “Just need to know you’re safe.”
“You knew who you married,” a low voice replied.
“I did.”
Tommy stood up again slowly started to walk away.
“Do not,” you hissed, “walk away from me.”
“Y/N, what the fuck do you want from me, eh?” he raised his voice, “This is me. This is who I am. And I’m doing it all to give you everything you want. To keep you safe. Alright?”
You leaned forward and tried to lock eyes with him, “What I want, Thomas Shelby, is you. In one piece, preferably.”
“I know,” he lowered his voice again, “And I understand.” He waved a hand like he was about to say more, but didn’t.
“It’s because I love you,” you emphasized.
He nodded slowly, “And that’s why I’m doing all of this.”
***
You were sitting at your desk writing. Some people seemed to think that being married to Tommy Shelby was a fulltime job and it could be if you’d let it, but not for you. Even before Tommy you’d been a writer, a journalist and an author of short stories. Neatly you typed them out and send them to the publishers in question. It was the one thing in life that always offered you solace.
“You spelled ‘enthusiastic’ wrong,” you husband commented helpfully after having popped up suddenly behind you.
You ripped the page irritably, “Says the man who never even went to school.”
“Life taught me how to spell, Y/N,” he sort of joked.
“Life taught youhow to spell ‘enthusiastic’? Can’t remember the last time you were ever enthusiastic about anything…”
He raised one eyebrow slowly, “How about ‘sarcasm’, can you spell that? Or ‘devil’, how about that, eh?”
You pouted theatrically, “Sometimes I’m not even sure you take me and my work seriously…”
“Oh, I take it seriously,” Tommy took a drag from his cigarette, “I know it’s enough to keep my wife away from me.”
You smiled back at him when he did, but still a pang of hurt went through you: you’d give up everything just to have him say ‘I’m so proud of you sweetheart’. Just once.
***
“Come on,” he whispered.
You looked up.
“Come on,” he repeated, cigarette hanging from his lips, “let’s go upstairs.”
“Why?” you asked, as you already started to follow him.
Once inside the bedroom, he started undressing you with surprising tenderness.
“Tommy,” you breathed, “look at me. What is it you want?”
As a reply without words he gazed at your body, like he was drinking in very detail and getting drunk at the mere sight of it.
“You and me, Tommy,” you said in between kisses, “remember it’s you and me. Fuck the rest of them. Fuck your family. Fuck the whole world. I love you and you love me. It’s you and me and nothing can ever come between us, right?”
As he took off his own shirt, he gently pushed you down onto the bed.
“You and me, right Tommy?” you repeated, a little breathless as his head disappeared between your legs.
“No,” he finally spoke, “you.”
***
Thomas Shelby had a long day of dealing with renegade family and dangerous enemies, so when he got back home, all he wanted was his wife and some peace and quiet.
“I cooked,” you said as you lingered against the doorpost. Tommy looked tired, worn-out, dead almost, with his head in his hands, “even told the cook to take the evening off,” you commented while your voice sounded flat. It was funny, because your emotions were all over the place, but your exterior just didn’t show any of it.
He slowly lifted his head, “You did, eh?”
“Thought you might like it…” you fidgeted in spite of yourself.
“I pay that cook for her to actually fucking cook,” he grumbled.
“Fine,” you snapped, “I’ll feed it to the dog,” and you started to walk away.
“Wait…”
“What?” You didn’t even really turn around.
Tommy sighed again and for a moment it was like he noticed the disappointment in your eyes, “What did you cook?”
“Mint leaves. Your favourite.”
And then a minor miracle took place and Tommy Shelby actually smiled a little.
***
“You were late today. I waited.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
“I am.”
“Do you love me?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“I do. Every day.”
“Not with words…”
“No, not with words.”
“Tommy, tell me again.”
***
You were still half-asleep in Tommy’s arms. His eyes were closed and his breath was steady. Outside, the sun wasn’t up yet, but it wouldn’t take long now.
Next to you, there was a gun on the table. Tommy had just taught you how to shoot. He’d shown you over and over again, even though you’d protested. But he said you might need it one day.
On the other side there were his cigarettes and whiskey. His medicine. His comfort.
His eyes were closed and his breath was steady. But for how long? How long would it be until he’d die by his own gun, or get killed in some fight? Or met some other girl, prettier and smarter than you?
As if he could read your insecurities, he shifted in his sleep and hugged you even closer to him. Thomas Shelby might not be perfect or a gentleman or eloquent when it came to expressing his love, but he did hold you at night.
***
“Tommy?” you shouted out through the house, “THOMAS!”
“Fucking hell, woman,” his head appeared around the corner, “What is it?”
Slightly embarrassed by your own volume, you said, “I can’t find the scissors.”
“They’re in my desk somewhere,” he put on his cap and added, “I need to see a man about a horse. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
You made your way to the desk that was always so tidy and neat. So you did as any sensible woman would do and turned over everything in search of a pair of scissors. Nothing. Angrily you threw down a pile of papers. And that’s when you noticed it. One drawer hadn’t been opened at all.
When you tried it, you found it locked. But you were a girl from Small Heath and no locked drawer could stop you. In less than twenty seconds you had managed to force the lock en slid the secret hiding place open.
Inside there were more papers, neatly stacked and tied together with pieces of string in different piles. Breathlessly you took them from the drawer and examined them one by one.
“Still looking for those scissors, eh?” a low voice grumbled in your ear and you practically jumped from fear.
“For fuck’s sake, Thomas,” you mumbled as you tried to hide the papers you’d just found.
Tommy was eyeing them already, but didn’t say a word.
So you went back through them, “These are the letters I wrote to you, when you were in France. I thought you threw away everything. Your medals, everything…”
He didn’t reply.
Tears sprang into your eyes as you examined the second pile, “And these are all my short stories. Did you cut them from the papers? Did you really keep them all?” You quickly went through them and they were all there, from the very first one ever published, “And these, my articles…”
Tommy cleared his throat once and cast his eyes down when you looked at him.
Lastly there was a small box. When you opened it, you found, “The rose I wore, when we were kids. The one my brother stole…” And now you couldn’t find the words, “I hardly… I didn’t even know you… back then. Why?”
Tommy grabbed his case and started searching for a cigarette.
“Tommy,” you insisted, “I had no idea. Why did you keep all of these?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” he smirked lightly.
You stared at the content of the secret drawer and decided that nothing was ever obvious when it came to Thomas Shelby.
“Well?” you questioned.
“I love you.”
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summary: when it comes to you, tommy doesn’t have to think twice about playing against all odds. you were his, and he wanted you back
Tommy Shelby was not much of a religious, praying man. But he still walked into church on occasion, sat on the benches and stared at the cross mounted high on the wall. Not to seek guidance regarding business or to confess to the many sins he had committed. But because of a woman. A fucking woman. One that Tommy lost due to his ever growing ego. And he hoped you would come back. Walk through the Garrison or the Arrow House doors and all would be well. All would be forgiven and forgotten, and Tommy would get down on his knees to fuck you, then to propose. But in recent weeks, his knees dropped to the carpet from drunkenness guilt. And Tommy knew the odds of it all playing in his favour were low, for you could already have some new man fucking you until you forgot the name Shelby. Although, he doubted it. Tommy was the best fuck you ever had. Your words, whispered to him as he took you on top of his desk while the guests celebrated the new year. Yet, the idea of another man touching skin only meant for his hands oddly urged Tommy to play those odds.
So he threw a party. You would come, that he was certain of. You always came for him, if for no other reason than intrigue. And if intrigue didn’t urge you to attend, then your new man that Polly had told Tommy about would surely not ignore such an invitation. As nobody in London or Birmingham would dare miss an exclusive party thrown by a Shelby. And so Tommy waited. Shaking hands and conversing in minimal conversation as the clock ticked further into the night.
It wasn’t until 8:03 you walked into the dining hall, the hand of some man on your lower back guiding you through the crowd. Eventually, your eyes found Tommy. Past the two women chatting excitedly as the taller blonde showed her dark redheaded friend her sparkling new accessory. And past Finn and Isaiah enjoying the company of two young women, a glint in their eyes as all four sneaked away to start their own party upstairs. And past the waiter who maneuvered around Tommy as he leaned against the dining hall entrance, drink in hand and an intoxicating allure that almost had you take a step forward.
“Darling, care for a drink?”.
You smiled at your date, taking the champagne. Robert Lawson was the co-owner of the family business ‘Lawson Construction’. His grandfather first built the company in the 1800s, handing it down to his son who was now teaching Robert the business ropes, and eventually, Robert would hand it down to his son. Robert had striking brown eyes, holding more warmth than a blistering summer’s day. He was a tall, board shouldered man with short dark brunette hair. He was kind-hearted and a man who enjoyed the simple pleasures of life. But disobedience - no matter how well-intentioned - was a trait Robert found infuriatingly, especially regarding personal matters.
While Robert became entangled in conversation with a couple who trained horses, your eyes returned to the entrance in hopes to catch another glimpse of Tommy. As usual, he played with the suspense. Knowing even a glance from across the room held enough power to occupy your mind. And so, for the remainder of the night, you tightly smiled and nodded along to every conversation with a mind too distracted to care about betting, or the gossip surrounding Tony Brady’s affair with some mistress residing in East London. And when it was time to depart, you escaped to the car, waiting for Robert to bid potential new clients farewell.
“Excuse me, Miss?”.
“Yes, Ivan”.
“Mr Shelby insisted I give this to you”. Your driver said, turning in his seat to hand you a note.
It read: “Charlie’s yard, tomorrow at 7 pm”.
You exhaled, fingers running over the ink. Upon hearing Robert’s footsteps, you hid the note in your purse. He smiled, reaching for your hand, delighted as he spoke of the deal he just made to build a new set of stables for the couple who trained horses. And as the car began to leave, you noticed Tommy’s shadow looming by the second-story window.
Charlie’s yard | 7 pm
As you walked towards the round table, Tommy sucked in the smoke, slowly exhaling. The table was covered in a pearl white cloth, two plates on either side, accompanied by a whiskey glass for him and a wine glass for you, and a small blue vase holding your favourite flowers - white and pink carnations. And just like at Arrow House, the suspense grew from longing stares. The tips of your fingers tingling with the intensity of Tommy’s piercing blue eyes, holding questionable lustful intentions.
He spoke first, voice hoarse. A considerable difference compared to Robert’s velvet tone. “I did some digging into Lawson Construction. And I learned they’ve been underpaying their employees. So I sent Arthur with a better offer. And now, six of their employees work for Shelby Limited”.
You sighed, slipping off your white faux fur collar. “That’s why you asked me to Charlie’s yard. To gloat”.
“I asked you here for dinner. And you came because you’re bored”. Tommy took one last inhale, flattening the cigarette in the tray. “You’re bored and looking for a good fuck”.
“And you stole six employees from Lawson Construction because you’re jealous, Tommy”.
“Robert has something of mine, and I would like it back”. He drew out the words, emphasizing how serious he was. Adding to the reminder of the firm domineering hold Tommy’s hands and cock still held. That, despite no ring or legal bond, you were all but a Shelby in his eyes.
He casually walked over to the vinyl, the sound of music softly playing throughout the yard. Immediately, you recognized the song, the very same one that had played on your first date with Tommy. Everything about tonight reminded you of the moment you started to fall for the mysterious gangster, the one who guarded his heart within a fortress made of indestructible stone. And yet, you still longed for him. Despite Tommy’s pride, the dangers of being associated with a Shelby and his tendency to shut down, you needed him like your lungs needed air.
“Dance with me?”. He asked.
“Tommy”.
“One dance”. He gently spoke, stepping closer as if he already knew you would accept the invitation.
Your fingers brushed against Tommy’s hand before settling in his touch. He held you close, the scent of cigarettes and whiskey mixing with the bitter night, warming your skin better than the white faux fur collar. Resting your head on his shoulder, you closed your eyes, abandoning all the time you spent trying to forget how Tommy’s touch felt in just a few light sways.
Lifting your head Tommy’s lips stopped mere inches away from your mouth. Shallow breaths quickened your heartbeat, ready to give in.
“Marry me”. He whispered.
“You can’t ask me that”.
Tommy lifted your chin with his forefinger. Lustful intentions still holding strong, but it was the tenderness swirled within those lustful intentions that shone equally as bright in his stare.
“Tommy, if I marry you-”.
“You’ll become a Shelby”. He huskily stated, thumb gliding over your bottom lip. “My fucking wife“.
His words sent shivers paralleling the frosty air. Ones that immersed themselves in every bone, every muscle and vein, and clung onto the desires you buried deep down, pulling them forcefully to the surface.
“I think we should call in a night”. You said, rushing to collect your fur collar.
“A good, decent man is not what you want”. He proclaimed, taking a seat and lighting another cigarette. “Robert’s not who you fucking want, love”.
And you were tempted to turn around and yell, to throw the damn cigarettes to the ground, anything to protest the words Tommy had just uttered. But you carried on walking despite your unsteady legs, slamming the car door shut, Ivan’s solid composure remaining unmoved.
“Everything alright, Miss?”.
“Yes, everything is fine”. You replied, lying through your teeth. Thankfully, Ivan did not push on the matter.
“Will I be taking you home or to Mr Lawson’s estate?”.
“Home, please”.
He nodded, slowly driving away from Charlie’s yard while you spent the entire car ride rubbing your bare ring finger.
a few days later
The events of the dinner couldn’t be forgotten, causing you to pull away from Robert. He noticed the sudden shift as you did a poor job at providing reasons why you couldn’t stay the night. Kisses became less frequent, and your absence at his work and decline of invitations to social engagements had others questioning the status of the relationship. Prompting gossip birds to flutter their wings, spreading like wildfire, news reaching Tommy within four days. And you expected a phone call or a visit. Pathetic hope that you would run into Ada or Polly on daily errands or outside the Garrison, where you often stood outside, struggling to decide whether to go in. But you always hurried away, earning a sympathetic expression from Ivan each time you returned to the car.
And today was no different. You stood in front of the Pub, patrons effortlessly entering and exiting the establishment. Some throwing judgemental glances your way, shaking their head at the strange behaviour from a woman, or muttering inaudible words to their company. Thankfully, none recognized you. Sighing, you returned to the Charcoal Black Rolls-Royce Limousine parked a few meters opposite the Pub. Ivan folded the newspaper, his usual sympathetic gaze replaced with another you couldn’t quite read. But you assumed Ivan was just tried at the constant déjà vu and leaned back into the seat.
The road passing by blurred into one singular stretch of grey lines with green dots, your mind elsewhere to even try to enjoy the scenic view. But once Ivan steered the car towards familiar gates, your eyes adjusted, even more so when the car came to a complete stop in front of Arrow House.
“Forgive me, Miss. But I’ve watched you these past few days, and I just thought-”. Ivan paused, eyes nervously glancing in the rear-view mirror. “-I thought of what my late mother used to say, that one should always follow one’s heart”.
You weren’t sure why, but you smiled. Perhaps, it was the respect you held for Ivan who had been driving your family around for years, becoming like a second father to you. Or, the admiration at Ivan’s bravery for forcing you to do the one thing you could not bring yourself to do for several days - face Tommy
“There’s no need to forgive, Ivan”.
“I simply want you to be happy, Miss”. He said, giving a smile of encouragement.
You exhaled, legs unsteady once more as you approached the doors. Frances welcomed you kindly, Tommy’s faint voice asking who was visiting at such an hour, a flashing moment of surprise sweeping across his face when he saw you and then disappearing as if it never happened. He escorted you to his office, causing your heart to flutter.
“I know you heard”.
“Heard what?”. He calmly asked, playing with the suspense created days ago, driving you straight towards the drink tray in a desperate attempt to soothe the impatience building.
In one single swing, you drowned the liquor. Tommy made himself comfortable on the couch, like a king with his arm spread across the top, legs apart.
“Heard about me and Robert”. You said, unbuttoning your beige coat, the material pooling around your feet. Tommy straightened his posture as you hiked up your pale pink dress, sinking into his lap, hands gripping your waist.
“He’s not who I fucking want”. You whispered against his lips, seeing no reason to deprive yourself of what you truly craved. “You, Thomas Shelby, are what I want”.
“And what do you want from me, eh?”. He growled, right hand roughly massaging your inner thigh.
“To be yours. Yours to fuck, your wife. I want to be a fucking Shelby”.
He cracked a rare smile, capturing your mouth. The kiss heated and unrestrained, exploding every lustful intention on both minds, lasting well into the night. By morning, all had been forgiven and forgetting, and Tommy got on his knees to fuck you like he planned to do once you came back to him, proposing minutes after with a stunning antique halo diamond ring. And by midday, the news of your engagement flooded the streets and every social circle within London.
A/N: i realised i just really started to dislike writing romantic stuff involving tommy. but i loooove writing about him in any other situation, especially him and Shelby!Sister! so, i really do hope you enjoy this little drabble.
Tommy Shelby and Shelby!Sister
Word Count: 709
Requested by: @sighonahurricane
Type: angst
Summary: Tommy and his sister had a long day. They end up in his office, drinking whiskey. Until Tommy mentions a name he shouldn't have.
Tommy’s rough hand gripped the Irish whiskey, pouring two drinks. One for his sister and one for himself. It had been a long day. A very long one. When his eyes had met the clock after putting the last folder into the top drawer of his desk, it had shown eleven o’clock at night. Then, he had noticed that there was still light outside his office. His sister had also been working late.
“Finn doesn’t seem to be very happy about your interest in Isaiah,” Tommy murmured, taking a sip from his whiskey, while handing the other glass to Y/N.
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “He should be glad that I chose to go after a Peaky Blinder and not some communist like dear Ada.”
Tommy raised both his eyebrows and took another sip instead of replying anything to that.
“Plus, I don’t think Finn will ever be my biggest concern.”
“Who then?”
She swirled the liquid around in her glass. “Well, let’s be honest. Finn won’t be able to tell me what to do and who to meet up with.”
Tommy nodded slowly, showing her that he was listening.
“Unlike you, Tom. As much as I would hate and try to rebel against it, you’d make my life a living hell if I were to see a guy you did not want me to see,” she finished.
“Perhaps,” he partially agreed.
She sighed, leaning against his table, and bringing her glass to her lips. “You don’t think so?”
“I’d like to believe that I’m not the most commanding brother.”
“Who, if not you?” she laughed, amused at his words. “Arthur? Who hasn’t even noticed that his baby sister started meeting up with men?”
Tommy rolled his eyes. He rarely laughed at her silly remarks. It just wasn’t his type of humour.
“I was talking about John.”
Immediately and almost unwillingly, she gritted her teeth. Hard. This had been the first time Tommy had mentioned his name after his death. The first time hearing his name come out of her brother’s mouth.
She remained silent. Whenever and wherever his name had been said, her limbs stopped working and there were no words left for her to say.
“He was always very concerned for your future and who you would share it with,” Tommy continued, clearly not realizing that his sister was not partaking in the conversation anymore.
Her eyes wandered to the wooden floor, knuckles turning white around the whiskey glass. And as much as she tried to suppress her breath that was getting heavier with every minute, Tommy eventually seemed to notice her getting awfully quiet. “Y/N? Everything alright?”
“Don’t every mention him again,” she almost whispered, not lifting her gaze.
Tommy sighed. “Talk to me.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, as if she could escape the situation. To simply lower her eyelids and disappear. Unfortunately, life did not work that way.
“Please?” he added, though making it sound more like a question than a request.
She exhaled deeply, before pouring the rest of her drink down her throat. “Neither one of us is drunk enough to have this conversation.”
“What in world are you talking about?” Tommy asked, confused.
She let out a fake laughter. “Really? You are the one that can’t express any sort of emotion without some kind of drug in your veins and I am just really not ready to talk about him just yet.”
“Y/N, calm down.”
An order.
Suddenly, Tommy had turned into the boss again.
He wasn’t her sister anymore. He was her boss. Telling her how to act, how to behave.
“I’m more than calm, Tom.”
“You need to start confronting and most importantly, accepting what happened. Alcohol isn’t going to solve your problems,” he preached in his most monotone voice.
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Seriously? Isn’t it you who drowns all his sorrows in alcohol and what was it called … opium?”
Angrily, she slammed her glass down on his desk. “You’re a fucking joke, Tommy. Start practicing what you preach before coming at me like this ever again.”
And before he could defend his words, his sister had stormed out of his office, leaving the door wide open for him to watch her stride away.
Those innocent eyes, that smile on your face, makes it easy to trust you
“Who’s that with with Polly?”
Arthur’s eyes followed Thomas’ gaze and fell upon a woman a woman just shorter than Polly. They could both easily distinguish the difference between the bleak brown furniture surrounding the two, and the bright green sparkle of the strangers eyes.
“I have no clue,” Arthur answered, his thoughts leaving his head.
“Well I’m going to find out,”
Arthur watched as Thomas sauntered over, struck by the beauty of the woman, walking with a cocky swagger.
Her focus turned to Thomas as he stopped next to Polly, and he chuckled as Polly gave him a swift slap up the back of his head.
He caught her words in the air, which brought on more laughter.
“This is woman’s business Thomas, fuck off”
Thomas turned around with a grim look on his face, like when he was scolded when they were younger. However, the woman had burst into loud laughter, her smile gaining everyone’s attention. Everyone joined in, including Arthur, while Thomas stood and gazed at her with the most love struck expression Arthur had seen.
“Arthur, I love her,” Thomas said as he came to a stop next to his elder brother.
“I think everyone can tell dear brother,”
If only they knew, the girl with the tattoo, like I do
Thomas fell back against the headboard with a thump, his breathing a fast pace. Y/N sat in front of him, teasingly tugging his dress shirt along the lengths of her arms.
As he watched the action, he noticed a small marking on her left shoulder blade. He lent forward and gently brushed his fingers against it, his chin coming to rest on her shoulder.
“You never told me you had a tattoo,” He whispered, staring ahead of them, his fingers tracing patterns along her skin.
“Well Thomas my dear, you’ve never asked,”
Thomas hummed and lifted his other hand to halt the movement of his shirt covering her shoulder.
“Come back to bed,” He pleaded, his voice nothing like the usual tone it held.
Y/N released a soft sigh, and dropped her arms. Thomas smiled, not that Y/N could see and slowly pulled the shirt off of her body, his lips leaving a trail of kisses where the shirt had once sat.
Thomas grinned as Y/N turned to fully face him, her head tilted slightly to the left, her lips in a pout.
Thomas reached out and caressed her cheek, leaning forward and pulling her close. Their foreheads and tips of their noses touched, maintaining a steady line of eye contact.
“I love you Y/N,”
She smiled and pressed her lips against Thomas’. The night went on, and in the room where the two were nestled, sounds of pleasures echoed but the words ‘I love you too’ never left Y/N’s lips that night.
Doing what you’re doing, just to get where you’re going
“You can’t keep pushing me away Y/N,” Thomas cried out.
“I’m not pushing you away. You are preventing me from doing what I need to do,” She shouted, picking up a glass filled with whiskey.
It brushed against her lips, and the amber liquid disappeared down her mouth.
“And what do you need to do?” Thomas asked, dropping to his knees.
“Leave this shit place. I can’t do anything here, no one is safe. I’m constantly in the face of danger because of you,” She hissed, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of Thomas crying.
“Where do you need to go?” He asked, the old tone returning to his voice.
Y/N stopped, she hadn’t actually thought about this. She didn’t like being in the presence of danger, nor the fact that Thomas and his family were too. Ada had told her to leave, Y/N was too pure for all the troubles they went through she said.
“We’ll go on, tell me where you need to go,” Thomas instructed, his tone turning hateful.
He rose from the floor and slowly stalked his way towards Y/N. She didn’t know this Thomas, and she was scared.
“Where do you need to go?” He shouted, his face nearly pressing against hers.
This was nothing like an intimate moment they previously shared. It wasn’t full of lust and attraction, it was full of hatred and fear.
Thomas’ body shook as he breathed, his hands on fists. Y/N blinked and raised the glass, smashing it against the side of Thomas’ head.
He fell back with a groan, clutching the site. His vision was blurry as he watched the figure that was Y/N leave his study. He didn’t hear the familiar footsteps go up there stairs to the bedroom, he didn’t hear the car start up.
He heard the familiar trot of a horse, turning into a gallop the sound growing farther and farther away as his vision turned black.
What had happened to them?
Yeah I see you baby, just don’t lose yourself along the way
It took Thomas months to track down Y/N. It took him time away from Grace, from his family. But he needed to do it.
She was in London all along, alongside Ada who constantly checked in on Y/N. Thomas shook his head at the thought that she was so close, but so far.
He shook his head of his thoughts, and returned his focus to where he was and who was standing in front of him.
Y/N looked angry, but beautiful. Her hair was now longer, and her style had changed. It was quite similar to the one Polly now possessed, the dresses were gone and in were female suits.
“I left for a reason, what do you want?” She asked, lighting the cigarette that sat between her lips.
Thomas watched as she deeply inhaled, licking his lips she lifted her head exposing the spot he used to kiss as she moaned.
“Thomas,” She hissed.
“I know you have a baby on the way, you’re not the only one keeping tabs,”
“You know nothing of the baby, or Grace, or anything Ada has told you. It’s lies,” Thomas stated, knowing it wasn’t.
Y/N took another drag of the cigarette and blew the smoke into Thomas’ direction. She refused to let herself get riled up.
“Bullshit, why else would you have Arthur sitting in your house with the heavily pregnant Grace as we speak,”
Thomas stopped, so she really did know. And if she knew that, she clearly knew more.
“I don’t want anything to do with you. I left for a reason, I bring no trouble for the Peaky Blinders,” She stated, squishing out the cigarette.
Thomas gulped, how would he win her back? And how would he stop her from dealing guns to gangs?
‘Cause you’re doing what you’re doing, just to get where you’re going, and I see it baby
Y/N fell against her bed, the male who’s name she couldn’t remember rushing out of her room. She’ll hear something from Ada about his uncanny resemblance to Thomas.
That was the least of her worries at the moment. Grace had given birth to a little boy, Thomas Shelby now had an heir.
Only two weeks after he had come to see Y/N, he was born. The same day Y/N and Thomas were due to get married.
A knock rung against her bedroom door, and Y/N covered herself. Ada peeked her head in a moment later, Karl’s heard a few centimetres below hers.
“They named him Charles Aunt Y/N,” Karl exclaimed.
“Oh a beautiful name,” Y/N gushed, smiling at Karl’s grin.
He nodded and moved away from the door, his footsteps sounding further away from the two adults.
Ada looked at Y/N with her head tilted, the exact same way she used to look at Thomas.
“You’ve been invited back to Small Heath with Karl and I, on behalf of Aunt Polly,” Ada said.
Y/N nodded and turned away, her sign for wanting to be left alone. Ada sighed and shut the door, Y/N let herself cry as she heard the click.
It was meant to be her with Thomas, but she was scared. She didn’t want to go to the top, she held no care for gangs and violence. She wanted a family and peace.
She knew she got it when she left Thomas, but she immersed herself in it once again. Somehow she missed it, and she missed Thomas.
And too many others gon’ ask, to say I do, but I knew
Y/N was back in Small Heath, Thomas knew because Finn eagerly rang Thomas, not knowing that the two loved each other but couldn’t be together.
Charles was a few months old, and out with Grace visiting her family, that he could not get along with. A peaceful means to an ends that they had come to.
Thomas stood in front of Polly’s house she shared with Michael, ignoring the loud music that came from within and barged inside.
Polly and Michael were on seperate tables, different bottles of alcohol in their hands, cigarettes in the others. Familiar white powder lay across a tray, and a familiar face walked down the stairs.
“Thomas,” Y/N greeted, turning as she heard the footsteps follow her from behind.
Thomas’ gaze moved from hers to the male behind her, the one that looked almost exactly like Thomas. His name was Charlie, and his wife died the day Charles was born.
The idea of it was ironic. The day Y/N and Thomas were due to get married, Charles was born, Charlie’s wife Allison passed away due to gang violence and Y/N found out she had been an affair woman.
The other male who looked like Thomas, that wasn’t Charlie, was married. Y/N dropped contact after meeting his wife that night, and eagerly found her way to Small Heath, coming across Charlie on her way.
“Thomas this is Charlie, Charlie this is Thomas,” Y/N said.
“I don’t even know you anymore,” Thomas whispered, turning on his heel and leaving.
Summary: The new seamstress in town does not give away goods away for free, even to the Peaky Blinders. Irritated, Tommy goes to pay for his suit for the first time in years to find that the new seamstress is a lot scarier that she looks. She doesn’t care who he is or what he does, he has to pay for his suit just like everyone else.
Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader
Word Count: 2.4k
Warnings: language, mention of violence, alcohol, cigarettes
A/n: I’m so excited to finally post this! I just want to say that I got the idea for the name from the WWI history book that I have. It had a chapter about civilians and it had a picture from (I think) Berlin of people using potato peels as money. During the war many people would barter for things, so I thought it worked as a title. But I love this fic so much. I don’t often write readers like the one in this. She doesn’t take Tommy’s shit and she doesn’t fall for him the second she meets him. She stands her ground and I love that. Also, the ending could be a bit better but I think you guys know by now that I such at endings. And this wasn’t the gif I wanted to use but the other one wouldn’t load and I wanted one from s1 since this is when I imagine this fic would take place.
Masterlist
A bell chimed as Finn entered the small shop, curious eyes fluttering between the walls. The Shelbys tailor had retired, Polly assumed it was due to the money he lost doing business with them, and they were forced to find a new one. A new shop had opened up only a few weeks prior and Tommy assumed it would be the best choice. He didn’t want to have to take a trip to the center of town to get fitted for a suit and Finn didn’t blame him. The new ship was dripping in color with fabrics of every make tucked away in one corner, hats, belts, gloves, and other accessories hanging from the wall. Gold trim lined the walls, framing the emerald green wallpaper that covered the four walls. The young boy had never seen any place so exquisite in Small Heath before.
“Can I help you?” a young woman asked Finn, glancing up from the ledger she was writing in at the counter. From all the odds and ends that were shoved to one side, it wasn’t hard to tell that it was also used as a desk.
Despite the fancy survey, changes to the UI and TOS reveal we’re getting the service in the future whether we want it or not. Obviously, Post+ is a terrible idea that is trying to bank revenue on user content. Unlike patreon or onlyfans, tumblr’s primary focus is on FAN content. The legality of this is NOT in the users favor and as the new tumblr TOS states, said users will be entirely liable for whatever legal matters arise.
SO WHAT ARE WE DOING?
Besides filling out the survey, it’s time to show tumblr we mean business and show our displeasure by hitting them where it hurts.
Ad revenue.
We’re proposing a 24 hour log off as phase one of this protest.
WHEN IS THE PROTEST?
AUGUST 6th, 2021
12 am Eastern Time (US)
5 am Greenwich Mean Time
6 am Central European Time
8 am Moscow Standard Time
1 pm Australian Western Time
2 pm Japan Standard Time
3:30 pm Australian Central Time
4 pm Australian Eastern Time
AUGUST 5th, 2021
11 pm Mountain Time (US)
9 pm Pacific Time (US)
THE END TIME IS 24 HOURS FROM START TIME!!!
So no posting, no queues, no likes, and no reblogs!
WHAT IF I CAN’T/WHAT ELSE CAN I DO?
Like this post and share it AS MANY TIMES AS POSSIBLE. Use the hashtags #tumblrlogoff2021 or #postplusprotest on ANY and ALL social media.
WILL THIS WORK?
Maybe, maybe not. It’s an attempt at doing SOMETHING.
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I wrote this for @whiskeypowder I hope you like it!
It is a Bonnie Gold x reader imagine.
The prompt is: “When he died, I feel as if I died with him”.
Warnings: death, grief, trauma, this is just pure angst, please read it with caution
There were moments, moments in which you simply felt nothing, that were a blessing to you.
You were sat in a chair by his, Bonnie’s, cold and lifeless body, waiting as the seconds, minutes and hours passed by, dragging out too slowly but at the same time not slowly enough.
Someone had tried their best to make his beaten, broken and bloodied body look good, but you could still see the cuts on his face, they had managed to tuck the burns the rope had left on his wrists under the ends of his jacket, but even though someone had tried to right his broken mouth and nose it didn’t look the way your Bonnie had always looked.
He was wearing a Peaky cap, solely for the reason to cover the exist wound the bullet that had killed the love of your life had left in his beautiful head and you didn’t look at the wound below his chin, too scared to look at it even though you had already seen him bloody, dead and broken.
When they had brought in Aberama with his gunshot wound, shivering, pale and delusional they had very carefully taken the body of his son along, that had still been slightly warm when you had fallen to your knees and held it to your chest.
You had been horrified and frightened by the death of the one person that meant the world to you, but you weren’t as traumatised as his poor father.
There were times when you wished you had been there for him in his last few minutes and there were times you were grateful you hadn’t, knowing that watching his son die had robbed Aberama of most of his sanity.
He was reduced to a silent mess, trembling and mumbling occasionally, with Polly trying her best to look after him.
No one was there to look after you anymore so you were sat there over the entirety of the day by your lover’s corpse, neither talking nor drinking or eating, simply sitting as still as the dead body in front of you, because there was nothing else to do, and because you wanted to spend as much time as you could with Bonnie, before you wouldn’t be able to see him anymore.
It was a harsh reality you were facing and you would have loved to escape it, but there was not a thing you could do to change the inevitable path of grief and loneliness.
When you had found Bonnie you had never felt so alive, being with him had painted a smile on your face and granted you happiness that you had never even hoped for.
You had always felt alone but he had mended you, helped you become happy and a better person than you had ever thought you could be.
His whispered words that you would spend the rest of your lives together had made you feel even more ecstatic, only to realise that the rest of his life had been a mere few weeks, barely enough to remember well seeing as the two of you spent your time working for the company that had brought you your happiness, and that had ultimately taken it away again as well.
You wondered whether you would have had as much luck in love had you chosen to work anywhere else, but those thoughts were unreasonable and silly, and you quickly shot them back down, forcing yourself to see the facts rather than imagine what could have been.
Bonnie Gold was dead, and there was nothing anyone could change about that.
Sitting there beside his body that was laid out so everyone could pay their respect gave you the opportunity to think about what you were feeling, or rather to notice the absence of most of your emotions.
You were utterly numb, and you thanked God, or whatever there was, for it.
At first you had cried, or rather wailed, holding his still warm body to you, not believing or accepting that Bonnie would never come back to you.
You had been so in shock you had felt like you couldn’t breathe, fear creeping up inside you as you locked yourself into your small apartment, laying in the same bundled up position for days.
You didn’t sleep and if you did you dreamed of him, most of your dreams memories from happier days with Bonnie, dreams in which he was happy, dreams in which he was alive.
When you woke up you had to take a moment to come back to reality, which was another reason you started crying again.
After that came the anger, anger at Tommy for his terrible criminal ways, for him accepting your job application and for employing Bonnie too, anger at Aberama for not doing more to protect his son and anger at Bonnie, for dying and leaving you on your own.
Ada had come to take care of you then, the men thinking too highly of themselves to be of moral support in such a crisis, Polly took care of Aberama while everyone else just minded their business.
You didn’t talk and simply had people talk at you, there was nothing you wanted to do, you just wallowed in your own misery.
Which had left you sitting by Bonnie’s side in his home, laid out for everyone to gawk at.
You were thankful for the numbness you were feeling which stood in beautiful contrast to the overflow of emotions you had had before, even if occasionally a silent unnoticed tear fell down your cheeks.
It was during one of those hours that Aberama came to visit his son, accompanied by Polly who wore a grief expression on her face.
You were watching Aberama as he held onto her, so frail, pale and defenseless in contrast to how you had gotten to know him.
He could barely look at his son but he forced himself to, you could see how his eyes rushed to the bullet wound below Bonnie’s chin that was alien to his appearance and that no one had been able to hide, which immediately sent tears to Aberama’s eyes.
You watched him tremble and cry while Polly held him, until his eyes raked from his son’s body to you, crouched beside it and also very much devoid of life.
“When he died, I feel as if I died with him”, you whispered to Aberama, who nodded with a look on his face that showed just how much he understood what you were saying.
His eyes were blank, gray and dead like his son as he stood there, supported by Polly who held him up by his arm linked with hers.
As much as you felt and meant what you had said you hadn’t died with him, and even though you didn’t want it to time healed your wounds instead of Bonnie’s, and you lived on until he was merely the ghost of a memory lingering in the back of your heart.
Summary - When the Shelby brothers buy their first expensive car, they take you out for driving lessons; only you are too lost in your daydreams to focus on the complex task. But when trouble steers in your direction, you put your foot down, on the accelerator.
Requested by - @memories-come-and-go
Word Count- 1.2k
Warnings - fluff, language, rash driving, car accident.
Gif - @nofckingfighting
***
"He's a good man, and he loves me a lot."
"But do you love him?" His eyes smouldered, and his hands gripped her shoulders with unrelenting force.
A sad smile curved her lips, and she looked into his eyes, every emotion laid bare for him to see. Softly, she said, "I'v'e already loved. And I don't think I can do it again."
"(Y/N)!" John Shelby yelled from below your window, bringing you out of the wonderful reverie of the book you were reading.
"What?" You yelled back, irritated beyond reason.
"Come down! Tommy's brought you something." He shouted.
Already putting on your shoes, you asked him, "Is it a wedding ring? If not, tell him I don't want it."
"Something better." It was Tommy, and you smiled for a second, before scowling and going to look outside the window.
"What is it?" You asked, and your brows shot up at the sight.
Outside in the lane, Tommy Shelby was leaning against a shiny new Bugatti, a rare smile on his face.
"What do ya think?" Arthur asked. But you were already racing down the stairs.
"You bought a new car!" You exclaimed in joy the moment you got down and Tommy reached to put an arm around your shoulder.
He walked ahead with you to let you peruse the automobile, and yu took in its every detail with awe-filled eyes.
"Do you like it?" Tommy asked.
"I love it." You gushed.
"Wanna take it out for a drive?"
You hesitated. "Umm..."
"Don't worry, (Y/N). We'll teach ya." Arthur reassured.
"Yeah. Take Tommy to the country after you're married." John quipped.
"Your kid can sit in between you both." Arthur continued.
"If Tommy ever stops at one." John sniggered, making you blush a little.
Tommy decided to say something then. "Not everyone is like you, John. So, ready to drive?"
"Yes." You said, eager to end the conversation about your imaginary kids.
"Sit." He gestured and you complied whole-heartedly, beaming at him all the while.
Tommy took the seat next to you, while John and Arthur sat behind. From their constant advice, which started even before the car did, they should've been your driving teachers instead of Tommy.
"Don't let 'em cut ya."
"Go steady, don't press on the brakes too quickly."
"If we die, it's on you."
And so it went on. Meanwhile, your teacher, with a cigarette between his lips and his hands guiding yours on the steering wheel was distracting you more than his brothers.
"Drive slow. And if you want to speed, press slowly. And use your right foot to brake." He explained and you nodded demurely.
But you weren't listening to anything, only looking at him from the corner of your eyes.
How wonderful it would be to travel with Tommy!
Driving through the country with your future kids, watching the wind ruffle his hair, planting a soft kiss on the skin above his collar while he drove, stopping midway to pluck fruits from the trees.
In your fantasy, you had an expensive scarf wrapped around your head, a pair of stylish sunglasses covering your eyes, and a dab of New York lipstick on your lips; looking every bit of the Shelby you would be.
Perhaps two kids would be enough. And what did Tommy mean before? Did he only want one? It would take a lot of time to convince him otherwise, but you were willing to give it a try. If not-
"Fucking hell!" Arthur roared, bringing you out of your daydream. A similar car was speeding in your direction, and you closed your eyes with your hands, as if shutting your eyes would negate the calamity.
Quickly, Tommy grabbed the steering from your lax hold, his hands turning the wheel with smooth deftness to avoid a crash with the car. When nothing seemed to have shifted from its original place, you opened your eyes slowly.
"Tell your wife to stay in the fucking kitchen! Bitch!" The harried driver of the car yelled at you, and you saw red before your eyes at that moment.
"You bloody-" You began but he was already speeding away.
Meanwhile, Tommy's cool demeanour didn't look discomposed at all. "All right. Let me-"
"Move back." You snapped at him and John stifled a laugh. Revving up the engine, you pulled the car in reverse easily and pressed on the accelerator. Hard.
"Where are the fuck are you going?" Arthur demanded, no doubt on a blood rush after the recent brush with death.
You ignored him, speeding towards the car driver who had the audacity to tell you where you belonged.
"There he is." You gritted out the moment the car reappeared in your line of sight, some ten yards away.
Tommy took in the whole situation with confusion. "It's not. Now, let me-"
"No. I'll tell him where I should stay."
That was the last anyone spoke in the car, well except you, of course.
"Bloody bastard. Doesn't know how to drive himself, and he's telling me how to drive." You said as you expertly avoided the unidentified object/animal/human part in the middle of the road.
"I'll teach him a lesson so good, he'll never be able to walk to the kitchen. Fucking pig." You gritted out, your heeled foot jabbing hard on the accelerator like it was the pig's eye.
"(Y/N), you are going too fast." Tommy said finally. The others had yet to find their voice.
"So?" You demanded, your eyes set on the vehicle just a few feet away from you.
"Oi!" Someone in the car screamed, but you had already slammed the Bugatti against the enemy car with enough force to corner it against the tree, but not to cause any bodily harm.
Taking in the frightened man who had called you a bitch a few minutes ago, you demanded, "What did you say to me?"
"Nothin. Get the fuck away!" He screamed as he tried to start the car again.
"Give me my bag, John." You extended your hand behind, and were promptly handed the shoulder of your bag.
Putting all your force in your arm, you struck the man's smug, presently pale face with your heavy, book-laden bag. Twice.
"Next time, pick a fight with people your own size." You warned before speeding away from the scene.
"What the fuck was that, eh?" Tommy asked with muted anger.
"You knew how to fucking drive?" Arthur asked in confusion.
"And what's in that fucking bag?" John groaned as he rubbed his shoulder.
You braked the car to a stop, and sighed, "I can explain."
Tommy jumped out of the car, and muttered, "Yeah? Well, explain it to the technician. You've done some pretty expensive damage to the car."
You looked down at the hundreds of tiny little scratches and a huge dent on the side door with regret. "I am sorry for the damage. But I don't regret my decision."
"You probably saved his fucking life." He cocked his head at you, and you noticed there was a hint of pride in his eyes. You smiled widely.
"All right, now, keep the fucking for home, and take us to the Garrison, (Y/N). I think we've found our chauffeur, Tommy." John said jokingly.
You turned around and bent to look him dead in the eyes. "You still don't know what's there in my bag."
💗 I try to write my Readers the way they can be easy to relate to for everyone, but if you find some exclusive description of the Reader’s appearance, then please message me.
🖐🏻🖐🏼🖐🏽🖐🏾🖐🏿
💗 Stories with this sign 🔞 are 18+.
⭐ TOMMY SHELBY MASTERLIST
SHORT MULTI–CHAPTER STORIES:
🌸 “A New Hope”
⭐ Part I — Emmett and his family live in the factory and he feels like he’s not doing enough to keep them safe. When Evelyn shows up with a newborn baby, it gives them hope that life still goes on.
⭐ Part II — Emmett’s wife, Evelyn and the children wait for his return, hoping that he would be back with the good news about the island.
⭐ Part III — Emett’s trying to take his friends and family to the place where they can all be safe.
SHORT MULTI–CHAPTER STORIES:
🌸 “Office Romance”
⭐ Part I — Being a secretary is not your dream job, but everyone starts somewhere. Unfortunately you find yourself in the middle of a weird office drama.
⭐🔞 Part II — Your relationship with Lenny starts to become less and less professional.
HEADCANONS:
🌸 Headcanons for Henry Wilson
🌸 Domestic headcanons for Henry Wilson
ONE–SHOTS:
🌸🔞 “A Changed Man”
— Henry’s not the same man as he used to be before the war. He’s cold, distant and rarely at home in the evening. One night your husband surprises you in the bedroom as well.
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He always finds a way to put his hand on your stomach. Always. If you stop to talk to him, his hand finds your belly. If he flips over in the night, his hand magically roots through the covers and moves your nightgown until he can feel your bare belly and his child moving inside you.
Once you get so far along, he's in tune with every breath, whine, and noise you make of discomfort. He's on high alert, watching you closely in case you're going into labor.
He'll laugh at you for struggling to get clothes on or bend in a way that you can no longer do, but as soon as you get frustrated with yourself he is by your side to kiss your cheek and help you.
If he finds you propping yourself up on the couch, he's likely to wrap his arms around your waist and use your belly as a pillow. He did this before you were pregnant, but now he does it to nuzzle the baby growing inside you.
He'll randomly rub your feet when he notices they start to swell, and he rubs your back in passing when he sees you stretch in between tasks.
If the pregnancy gets complicated or high risk, he's constantly asking about doctor's updates or how you are feeling.
If you said something offhand about a craving, it will randomly show up at the house or he will come home one evening with every item you had said sounded good that week.
He loves boys, he really does, but he's absolutely smitten with baby girls. They've got him wrapped around their finger before they are born.
He insists on going shopping with you for baby clothes and picks out the sweetest dresses.
And if she comes out a tomboy, it's even worse. She's wrestling with her brothers and learning sports and he's over the moon to teach her how to shoot squirrels and clay pigeons.
When is a boy, he goes so soft on you and he thanks you for continuing the Shelby name. He's so excited at the thought of a mini-him wrapping themselves around your ankle that he's fit to bust with pride.
Summary: You said until death tear us apart, but now you realized death won't be enough
Warning: Angst, death, cursing and english is not my native language
Author's note: I wrote something similar once but it was awful so I deleted it, I like this concept way too much and I hope you like it too :)
Gif by @thesoldiersminute - here's the original post
Sitting on the hospital's uncomfortable chair, tears decorated your face, shaky hands and lips matching the desperate beat of your heart. Polly, who's sitting next to you, has her hand on your leg in a frustrated tentative of calming you down, you can feel she is nervous as you
Ada sits with her head between her legs, hands tangled on her hair, you hear nothing from her but heavy breathing and occasional sobbing. Lizzie is smoking one cigarette after another, her eyes are teary, but she never crosses the line, from thirty in thirty minutes, she leaves the room with the excuse of having a glass of water, always bringing one to you when she comes back
At the sound of a nurse's heels, the four of you stand up, from her nervous approach, you can tell it isn't good news
"Which one of you is Y/N?"
"Is he alright?" you take a step ahead
"I believe he wants to see you, please come with me"
You follow her through the hallways, your anxious walk is almost faster than hers.
At end of the corridor is darker and colder than the rest of the hospital, on a white bed in the center of the room, layed your husband, his eyes are closed and there's awful dark circles around them, breathing slow and steady, he's paler than ever.
You take his hand, holding back tears of relief, Tommy slowly raises his eyebrows and tries to force his eyes to open
"Shh, it's alright, love, it's just me"
He takes deep breaths and his eyes almost open, after the frustrated tentative, he mumbles
"C-can't see you" he tries to open his eyes again and fails, his breathing impling this interaction takes all his energy "Need to see you"
"You need to rest now, Tom, I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere" you kiss his hand "Rest"
With another deep breath, he fell asleep, observing your husband's state, you lower your head and cry, immersed on your own misery, you don't notice his breath becoming slower each second, only when you look up again, your tired eyes notice he's not breathing anymore
He's gone
Thomas is dead
"How is she?" Lizzie asked Ada while pouring herself a cup of tea
"I barely see her, she either locks herself on the bedroom or goes out"
"Out where? What about little George?"
"I don't know, at the stables probably, the maids and I are taking care of him"
"But she doesn't see him?"
"For twenty or thirty minutes"
"God" Lizzie sighs, she isn't very fond of you, but your state is really deplorable "Polly would had never let her get to this point"
"Yeah, but she's too busy, Arthur should be helping her, but he's as bad as Y/N"
"You know what I think? Deep down, she's happy that it wasn't her son"
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, you know, Tommy was going to kill the priest, but Michael wanted to do it"
"Michael? Why?"
"He said he knows things about him, from the past"
"Oh"
Ada takes a deep breath, if she wasn't so skeptical, she would say the family is definitely cursed
From the large bed, you tried to get animus to get out the room and face the bitter reality, but to that, you will have to walk past Tommy's office door, and that's a experience you didn't want to go through again
The last time, you spent about thirty minutes staring at it, hypnotized, waiting for him to get out, or at least, to hear a small noise impling he's still there. And for the rest of the day, you lived the same way, like he would arrive late at night, ask why you waited for him and distract you from questioning with sweet love making and cuddles
But then he didn't, he won't ever again, and that thought incentives you to stay in bed
On her - previously, Tommy's - office, Polly stared at a picture of her family with teary eyes, her son, niece and all her nephews together, a weight on her heart brings her angst, but at the same time stops her from crying
Deep down, she knows very well it's not Thomas's death consuming her, it's the very first thought she had when she received the news, I'm glad it was him instead of my son
A couple of miles away, Michael had just arrived at your house, the head maid announced him and he was really surprised by Ada being the one who welcomed him with your child on her arms, according to her, you are either on the stables or in the garden
Midnight, a black stallion Tommy had recently bought, leaned to you, like he knew, like he understood, but with Michael's sudden presence, he turned his back on you, making you sigh in frustration
"Oh, sorry" Michael got close to you "How are you, Y/N?"
"I'm-" you sigh "Can we go straight to the point, Michael?"
"Yeah, sure" he moved uncomfortably "So listen, Polly has a suggestion, about the name of the institute, she thinks it will make everyone feel a little better, but since you run good part of it she wants your approval first, she wants to name it Thomas Shelby Institute"
"Thomas Shelby Institute" you test the name "Tell her she has my approval, although I don't think people would give their money to an institute with the name of a gangster"
"Yeah, ugh, I'm glad to see you're alright" He awkwardly touch your arm and turns around, walking away from you and your sorrow, when he's almost gone, you call
"Michael!" he turns to you "I know you plan to carry on with Tommy's plan, I won't tell you to give up, sometimes I wish to be the one who pulls the trigger, but I know I'm not capable" you pause, a hint of doubt crossing your mind, but if don't say it now, you won't ever say it again, so you continue "And I know Polly will try to stop you, but if you feel like you need to do this, then do it, put a bullet on that fuckers brains"
"Thank you, Y/N"
Michael leaves, making you feel awful to encourage a young boy like him to commit such a foul action, specially for someone who doesn't deserve it, deep down, you always knew Tommy's destiny was an early death, by his own or someone else's hands
But still, a hopeful part of you wished you made it together, on each other's arms, after conquering it all, you would have made love the night before, then snuggled into each other and not moved since that, it would be peaceful like falling asleep, a time freeze capturing only the two of you, in a way you wouldn't have to leave the other never again, like you wished so many times
With the pass of time, the maids would find your absence weird and would knock on the door, the lack of answer would force them to use the extra key and they would find you tangled into each other, with the most relaxed expression they will ever see. Giving the news to your son would be hard, but he wouldn't be a child anymore, he would grief and move on, accepting the natural, unavoidable fate of death
That's why sometimes you yelled into the pillows, of course that selfish bastard couldn't wait for you, his ambition had to rush the process
Ambition, this word turned your anger into sadness, and the most torturing questions run through your mind
Is it my fault? Could I have stopped this? If I only hadn't encouraged him
It was hard and took a long time to convince your mind that it wasn't your fault, Tommy made his own decision, he took a risk, and unfortunately things didn't went well, it can happen when you marry a criminal
It took an even longer time to convince yourself that you and Thomas aren't over yet, he didn't left, death took him from you but he's still yours, and if it's necessary, you would follow him through the gates of hell
