Peaky Blinders

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Tommy x Reader

John x Reader

Reader’s perspective:

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Think about it. John wanted you to think about it - a child... He’d kissed your forehead and started talking about that spare room next to the kitchen and how perfect it would be for that giggling soft little girl or a strong willed boy. He disappeared into some kind of happy dream when he spoke of them - these unreal children of yours. You had smiled, not brave enough to utter a word. Think about it, please (y/n). With a nod you had escaped from giving him a clear answer.

“I don’t want a soft giggling naive stupid little girl.” The river calmly listened to you, as it always had. “I don’t want a strong willed little boy too wild to understand that he’s not immortal.” You stomped with you feet. I want a black haired fierce little girl and a horse loving ice-blue eyed little boy. I want him to be calm and observant and her to be smart and well spoken just like their father. I want their handsome papa to spin them around and ignore all his calls and horse races just to spend an afternoon with them. I want... “StOoP it,” screamed you brain. “You can’t,” answered the river.

Tommy would be hear any minute. He was late, which was strange. That never happened, certainly never when the two of you had planned something together. You pick up some stones from the ground and threw them carelessly into the water. Waiting wasn’t good for your daydreaming.. the dreams easily escalated into things that a married woman shouldn’t think about any man other than their own, but god Tommy was just so fuckin fuckable! “Oh, I know,” said the river, “don’t I know it.” My mind was already to deep in him: Those strong arms that would hold you down and drag you back at your every attempt to leave the bed. That badly tattooed half circle on his chest and all those scares splashed all over his body, which your fingers always traced so tenderly. How he would kiss and kiss and kiss and stop for a moment just to tease and then kiss again when you frustrated pulled him back. Mm, mmm, mmmm.....

“(Y/N)!”

The sharp hissing of your name dragged you out of your head. Tommy held his right had tight against his stomach. “(y/n)..!” Pain seeped through his voice as you in a panic put your own hands on top of his. When something sticky red slowly started covering your shaking hands real fear spread through your body. No, no, no!

“Tommy!!” You had to get him home! Here he would surely bleed to death!

“Shh, they’re looking for me.” His breathing was irregular and you cursed him quietly under your breath. Your hands dripped with his warm dark blood. There was way too much blood!

“You’ll die here and don’t fuckin try arguing with me. We need to get back. You can’t die here!” Concern and fear maid your heart bang into your chest.

“Why not?” He smiled, but you didn’t. You wanted to smack him over his head like Pol had done when the Shelby brothers were little ones. “Fuck you Tommy,” your thoughts muttered. An idea suddenly struck you and you carefully took the razor blade out from his cap. His bluer than blue eyes pined yours.

“So you’ll end my suffering? Never thought,” he took a sharp breath, “you’d be the one to kill me, love.”

“Oh, shut up.” Quickly you cut a long strip of fabric from your underskirt. If the time as a nurse during the war had taught you anything - it was that you had to make do with whatever you had!

“Take off your shirt.” He smirked stupidly and was surely about to make some remark, but all that blood loss had made him dizzy and he just hummed something as you carefully removed his clothes. The wound was deep and oh boy was it messy. It took you all strength you had to not let yourself freak out. This was bad and you couldn’t loose him. Not again. After you had wrapped and tightened the fabric around his wound your thoughts started spinning. Tommy would be alright for now, for a little while, but the dark was closing in on you...

His beautiful icy eyes focused on you. “I had a ring, you ‘now. Hmm, ah they shoot at us and all I thought was“, a small fragile smile spread across his face, “that I should hav’ giv’n it to you instead off taken it with me.”

“What..?” Something resembling shock maid your voice weak.

“No, no just me talking to myself. Don’t listen! Do not listen! All love men like me get is the love we pay for anyway.” He didn’t seem sad, but his eyes were hurt. You knew that blood loss could make men tell strange lies and hallucinate even stranger and wilder untruths. But this was different, you knew that. Tommy was the most skilled liar you had ever encountered, but these words were no lies. You felt the heavy yearning and tenderness in them and couldn’t help yourself feeling the same. Only shame kept you quiet.

“(y/n), you see me and I see you.” But he wasn’t even looking at you anymore. He was somewhere else and thinking he was deaf to your words you kissed him gently and confessed truthfully:

“Yes, my bloody foolish fuckin reckless Tommy, I see you and you see me and I love you for it.”

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