#peaky blinders x you
Requested: yes
Published: December 30th, 2021
Pairing: Established Tommy Shelby x Reader
Prompt(s):none
Warning(s): none
Word count: 1.5k
Author’s note: I am sorry for this late update. I didn’t think it has actually been that long since I posted this. I was listening to “Let’s Hurt Tonight” by OneRepublic as I was writing this, and perhaps it’s why this took such a dark turn (the song itself matches this fic very well). I tried to keep it as “light” as I could, but given how I wrote the first part, such demands were impossible to fulfill. This talks of post-trauma, because there is no way in hell that Reader is okay after what I put her through in the first chapter. The ending is open for interpretation, for trauma doesn’t go after two days have passed. I’m really proud of my writing in this one, and I hope you will like it.
☇ my navigation //PT.01 //
Sometimes, fate was so cruel it made one cry. You had, honest to God, never believed in fate until the moment the liberty of a choice was taken away from you. There was darkness around your heart and mind, urging you to believe that maybe, just maybe, this torture was fate deemed your eligible punishment.
Barely any fight left in you to disagree with the universe.
There is suffering in silence. Menace in the waters. Fear in every fiber of your body.
And for what?
Your skin was slick with sweat that had formed over days work. There was little air in the derelict stockroom, only the cold that seeped through whatever cracks had been made over the years of neglect. Rarely did you visit such places, where one didn’t have working water.
Your lips turned dry, tongue like sandpaper. Thirst.
You were thirsty.
Yet all it took to send you vomiting was one look at the water. One thought at the liquid.
They hadn’t been gone long; you took note. The sun blinked in between clouds as it did when they were there, and so you still saw it through the gap in the wall. It was little after the first few hours of dawn; one might guess if they had the courage.
A hum of a song left your lips, the only sound in the warehouse. It had once been accompanied by the rustling of cloth against the chair or the scraping of a boot against the floor. By the time your wrists began bleeding and your feet froze solid, you had given up entirely. But you had to drone the melody if only to let yourself know you were still alive.
It was fate’s game to play now.
And you were no longer a player.
Eyelids became too heavy to hold yet again, the itchiness in your eyes a malice on its own. They began closing at a snail’s pace, but you held them in place knowing what kind of irritation the water gathered in the corners of your eyes would give. That dance was so overdone. It was more challenging to dance it the more it happened.
And so, you let them flap shut, your neck a loose rope that could no longer stay upright. Your chin met your chest, and you could hear the shallowness of your breathing accompany the song. The fire turned ember in your lungs but still it hurt to inhale freely more than it hurt to just gather enough air to live.
The waters would be a mercy.
Indeed they would. They would leave no room to fight them, perhaps not in the beginning. But it was a swifter death than the one that was draining you. Slowly, you would close your eyes and fall asleep, and mercy would be as sharp as a knife in ending you in your sleep.
And then just as you were about to succumb to the darkness, fate played wrong.
And Tommy Shelby made the right move.
The game was over.
But you didn’t know.
Bella.
Changretta’s voice was a force in your mind. The warehouse was once again filled with sound. They were so, so loud.
Bella.Bella. Bella.
Your body began shaking on its own accord, and you pulled at the restrains, fearing what’s to come.
Not the water again.
Please not the water.
Your creased riding boots kicked against the ground that you mistook for bottomless water only a second before. But it was solid. The floor was as solid as it could be beneath you.
Grounded. You were on the ground.
But then hands – rough, calloused hands – were grasping your shoulders and you were afraid of being pulled under as you were hours ago. Your face downright denied to look at the shadow casted over your lap even when its hand took your chin in a firm yet gentle grip and pulled your face to its own. The water burned behind your closed eyelids, and you refused to begin the dance despite knowing the relief that awaited once it was done.
Bella.
“Y/N.”
Name. Your name.
“Y/N look at me.”
You pried your eyes slowly, and then waited for relief to wash over you upon seeing his face. “You’re okay,” Tommy said to you, his words a declaration. Final.
You gathered your strength and wept.
***
“Here love,” it was Polly who gave you the tea. The saucer rattled as your shaky hands grasped it, pulling it to your mantle covered lap. Your eyes took in the crammed living room - one you had known for years – with blank disinterest. You hadn’t even casted a glance at the liquid tea, and your food lay cold and forgotten beside you.
Polly scooted closer to you on the chaise. You let her. You let her lean over and kiss your hair, now clean and flowery scented after it took Tommy hours to clean it. No water, you remember screaming at him in the tub. Begging. You remember clawing at his shirt like a relentless animal that had escaped years of imprisonment. He took every blow, every curse with steel in his eyes. There was raging ice in them, wrath that waited to be unleashed. Not upon you. But upon the Italian’s that took you from him.
He left just over a quarter-hour ago, taking the anger with him, leaving his warmth with you. “Take care of her,” you remember him telling Polly, who still shook in the aftermath of seeing you so…
Tortured.
Polly disappeared to give you space. Space and time to adjust.
Warmth washed over the room from where the lit hearth was placed, the crackling and popping of burning wood a sound that complemented it. You hadn’t needed to hum, for there was already music drifting through the house from a radio. The scene was all but serene for yourself.
You touched your neck softly, with just the tips of your fingers, remembering what agony took place inside it. Your wrists, once soft and scarless were now marred with burns from the rope you had pulled on tightly one too many times. The clothes. The clothes you had picked out only a day before were discarded, and you sat dressed in the finest silk pajamas with wide pants and buttoned top. The color of the porcelain teacup, appliquéd with not flowers but circles of all shapes and sizes. It was what you had chosen for yourself, deeming it adorable and comfortable enough to wear as sleepwear. Now you felt bare, despite its cap sleeves and ankle long length.
Like the skin wasn’t yours.
All it took to crumble was one look at the tea in hand, one look at the reflection.
You threw the teacup at the wall and screamed.
***
“Is he dead?”
The mattress dipped, a new weight on it. You didn’t move, didn’t nest into the warmth like you loved to do. Only laid with your hands beneath your cheek, looking out of the ceiling high window where the moonlit sky was embracing the world. You dared not to breathe, dared not to make a sound that would disturb the calm night.
For hours, you had tossed and turned. On and on until you decided sleep was a nothing more than a wistful wish you couldn’t have. “Tommy?”
He stayed silent, as if he too knew the delicacy of the night. The sheets rustled but did not pull away from you. You stayed covered, not a speck of your body introduced to the cold.
Then he spoke, “Can I hold you?”
You bit your lip to keep the tears at bay, realizing you had kept him at arm’s length since he came for you.
Late. He had been late.
But he still came.
“He-he said,” you began slowly, speaking into the night itself, trying to not sound as disconnected as you felt. “He said I deserved to die.”
Tommy stilled.
“And he told me to give you a message,” you continued. “He said he will take everything from you. Then put a bullet through your head. So I’m asking you Tommy…is he dead?”
A moment of silence, then like death herself whispered, “Yes.”
Dead. He was dead.
Gone.
You had failed to realize you were crying until your muted cries turned into sobs. Sneaking along your body, shaking you until a body wrapped itself against you. A calm force to keep you grounded.
Tommy kissed the back of your head, “Forgive me. Please.”
He took your hand from beneath your head in his own, pressing it against your chest. Just between your breasts, a place where your frantic heart beat the hardest. You covered your joint hands with your other one, sealing them together. Sealing him to you.
“I’m sorry.”
You grinded your teeth to keep the tears at bay. Tommy kissed your shoulder, your neck. Silent, butterfly light kisses that kept you together.
“Okay,” you croaked, barely audible. Pulling his hand to your mouth, you kissed his callousness with tear-soaked mouth and placed it back against your chest. “Okay.”
Legs tangled, you molded yourself to his body as if he were the only thing standing between you and the demons that loomed over your back.
That night, you dreamt of soundless water. Of floating against it and being pulled under. Of being helpless underneath the surface.
You awoke each time, and Tommy lulled you to sleep with kisses and whispers of reassurance. It was a dance newly started, but you weren’t alone to dance it.
Note: If you enjoyed reading this fic do check out my other work by clicking on one of my masterlist links. If it’s not a bother leave a like, comment and/or reblog. It gives me motivation and lets me know that you liked what I wrote. <3
If you would perhaps want to read some of my work earlier, you can check out my AO3profile, I’ll always make sure to tell you guys when a fic is posted on there in advance!
Lastly, if you wish to be tagged under any of my future fics go to mytag list ! I no longer take requests through ask, dm, comments anymore. Once on my tag list post you’ll find a link to a Google Form that you have to fill out in order for your request to be valid! x
✭ PEAKY BLINDERS:
@lovemissyhoneybee@thanossexual@marvel-ousnesss@sextvpes @heartbreak-of-a-marauder @killerstvles @navs-bhat@kpoptrash2000 @softieekayy
✭TOMMY SHELBY:
@captivatedbycillianmurphy@remusflirts@peakyxtommy@sarcasm-n-insomnia
Requested:yes(x)
Published:November 23rd, 2021
Pairing:Tommy Shelby x Daughter!Reader
Prompt(s):none[my prompt list]
Warning(s):none
Word count:900ish
Author’s note: Trying out a different approach (one I really like). Writing Tommy x Anything will be in 3rd POV from now on. Only romantic stories will be written with the reader as YOU!
☇ my navigation
“Good evening, Mr. Shelby.”
A word of response hadn’t needed to come to give the maid a move, only a shadow of a dark clothed man breezing past the tall corridors of the mansion. She hurried out of the way with a nod, returning to her ever the same duties at hand. Tending to the kitchen, laundry, taking the snow-white dog out for a loo all awaited her. First comes the canine, she decided, because Mr. Shelby’s daughter loved it more than herself, and it felt humanely right to dot over a living thing before laundry.
Just as she would round the corridor did her masters voice reason, “Where is Y/N?”
His darling daughter. The maid fought the ghost of a smile that threatened to appear as she turned head and with a polite nod said, “In her room, sir.”
Tommy’s head bobbed once to show he heard, and then he was fully out of view. First his shoulders disappeared and then the ends of his charcoal coat.
Somehow, a man as dark as himself on a mission to see his little girl did not alarm her. Did not make her feel as though she should be around to act as a shield to the child.
Only burnt toast and talking to the coppers could get her fired.
Along with thinking that he could ever lay a hand on the joy of his world.
His daughter.
The dog barked once. Twice.
Then she too was wholly out of view, her skirts a billowing force behind her.
***
“Y/N?”
The light was a dim feature in the room, barely enough to help one get around, but enough to help read the room.
Tommy’s heart quickened in a way it didn’t all day. A way not possible unless linked to his little girl. He swallowed, then asked the air again, hoping for a childish answer. “Y/N?”
For one, the room was in utter chaos. Sheets all over the floor, stuffed toys out of the box and near the unlit hearth. The mental catalog ran true in his brain as he searched for the one living thing, he cared about but came out empty.
He clamped one hand roughly against the sheets on the bed and pulled, revealing only silky emptiness. He grabbed a stuffed teddy bear almost the size of his three-year-old and threw is across the room. He walked over to the toy box lit by the moonlight and roughly opened it, hoping to see his sleeping angel inside but came out empty-handed. Tommy slammed the box closed and when wood met wood a sound so loud and heavy reasoned through the room until it was only his shallow breaths that were left.
Alongside a soft gasp of a child.
Tommy spun around, clear, blue eyes as wild as the wind howling outside, and felt a weight of a chest so heavy it pulled him down lift above him until there was only clarity of the moment.
There she was.
Underneath the fortress of stuffed teddies and tangled sheets, small eyed and tired. She rubbed at her eyes groggily, but when her eyes met with those of her father’s, she beamed and stretched out her arms like wings. “Papa.” She said, and Tommy’s heart melted in the purest way.
It took him two steps to have her in his arms, “Come here, love.”
But she shook her head and pushed at his chest, refusing to nestle into his warmth. She pointed one small finger toward her mass of forts in the shelves and on the floor. “Here, here.”
Tommy heaved a chuckle, but settled her nevertheless. “Yeah?”
His daughter grabbed his finger in her hand and pulled, “With me.”
“I don’t think there’s enough room.”
In answer, she grabbed her stuffed bunny by the ears and threw it as far as she could with her small arms and so little true strength. There was even less space than it was before she did so, but Tommy could only smile as he settled down with her, removing his coat and shoes before gracing the floor and grabbing a big pillow off her bed. He settled it behind her back until she lied comfortably atop it. Then watched her drift to sleep peacefully, at peace because he knew he was there beside her and no one could take her from him.
Then the door creaked open, and he switched his weight until he could see who loomed through the crack. The corridor was heavy with cold, but it was soon that a small ball of fur as white as snow barreled through the gap and settled beside Tommy’s side.
The maid that brought the pup peaked inside, her face warm and impassive. If she was surprised to see him, then she didn’t show it. “Anything I can do for you, Mr. Shelby?”
Tommy grabbed the puppy with one rough hand and settled him beside his daughter, watching as it snuggled beside her and went dead to sleep, too. Then he turned to the maid and shook his head as a no, but under the influence of so much warmth and love, his words accompanied his gesture for once. “No, thank you. You go get some sleep, Millie.”
Millie nodded solemnly, and closed the door behind her, grateful to be acknowledged by her boss, even if it were for the shortest of seconds. Even if it were because the darkness in him subdued because the light his daughter provided was too strong to be fought against.
She was his castle of safe harbor.
An anchor that kept his wounded soul together.
Note: If you enjoyed reading this fic do check out my other work by clicking on one of my masterlist links. If it’s not a bother leave a like, comment and/or reblog. It gives me motivation and lets me know that you liked what I wrote. <3
If you would perhaps want to read some of my work earlier, you can check out my AO3profile, I’ll always make sure to tell you guys when a fic is posted on there in advance!
Lastly, if you wish to be tagged under any of my future fics go to my tag list ! I no longer take requests through ask, dm, comments anymore. Once on my tag list post you’ll find a link to a Google Form that you have to fill out in order for your request to be valid! x
✭ PEAKY BLINDERS:
@lovemissyhoneybee@thanossexual@marvel-ousnesss@sextvpes @heartbreak-of-a-marauder@killerstvles@navs-bhat@kpoptrash2000 @softieekayy
✭TOMMY SHELBY:
@captivatedbycillianmurphy@remusflirts@peakyxtommy@sarcasm-n-insomnia
Requested:no
Published:November 5th, 2021
Pairing:Tommy Shelby x Female!Reader
Prompt(s):none[my prompt list]
Warning(s):none
Word count:2.4k
Author’s note: Someone commented on Ao3 that there “could have got a flash back to that night of them being together and her leaving “ and I competely agree, so there is one thing you must know before reading: I was waaay more into writing about horses and racing and training and all that fun jazz and making y/n a professional and sophisticated baddie (it’s what prompted me to write this in the first place lol) than her and Tommy WHOOPS! That idea would’ve been so spicy though! Maybe next time!<3
☇ my navigation //GIF//
“Isn’t he absolutely wonderful?” You beamed, the question not even needing an answer as your words drowned in the myriad of applauding voices. The presenter’s voice could be vaguely made out, but one thing was clear to all:
It was your horse that brought it home.
“Fat Joe came through alright?”
You laughed a jolly laugh but gave your close friend a push in the shoulder, looking at him for a fraction of a second before turning to the muddy racetrack. “He is not fat Philip. He is perfect. Bravo Joe! Bra-vo!”
Your friend chuckled, matching the quick pace of your claps to his. Another victory this is for Joe, another mark in his journey. A medal of honor, and flowers to match.
It wasn’t about the money for you. Horses were your whole life. For some they passed as the most leisure of activities, but you made a name for yourself in it. Quite a quick start you had, as a duke’s daughter. Money flowed, allowing things one can’t even imagine. All in favor of the horses you had in your possession. A winning streak at only three and twenty of age.
You smoothed out your skirt and smiled at the cameras that flashed beneath.
Philip Clark was your racing manager and a close friend, and it was with him that you took your horse back to the estate where the magic had first happened. Clapping awaited Joe, people who gave as much as you did to make sure he is in his best form stood at the front gate after he came back from his win.
“How old is he now? Four?” Asked Philip even though he knew the answer.
You smiled as your hands patted his silky, black coat. He was calm, Joe, now that he was in the safety of his stall. Able to breathe in his winnings. “He’s not there yet, but yes he’s very close to four.”
“You ought to retire him now Y/N.”
“Retire him?” You furrowed your brows, “But he’s in his prime.”
“That’s exactly why I think you should do it,” Philip encouraged, walking around the stallion to meet you. His gloved hand matched the rhythm of your own and he began to gently stroke the gallant warrior. “Life as a stud would do him good with the track record he has. And you too. Think of all the money.”
You scoffed, “Believe me, money doesn’t tempt me.”
“It should,” stated Philip. “Joe’s the best middle-distance horse in Europe. Owned and trained by you. He has a column in the newspaper every week. He’ll bring in thousands of pounds as a stud.”
“That is quite true,” you rocked on your heels and eventually gave in. “But we need good candidates. Calm, gentle mares. Joe’s skittish sometimes.”
“Or maybe he needs a strong-wielded mare,” your friend said instead, his voice laced in unspoken truths. He peeled himself away from both you and Joe, making a dash for the exit. “Like any man in his right mind.”
Your laughter followed him out, “He’s a horse Philip, not a man!”
“Men are horses too sometimes! It’s hardly a different thing.”
And that was that.
***
“He has a reputation, my lady.”
“I find that I have no problem with that,” you replied to the employee, and turned to Philip for advice. “Is Mr. Shelby’s mare any good? Her color is wonderful. I see great temperament in her too.”
“Yes, yes she is.”
You nodded and turned to observe the mare again, but your eyes followed her owners. Across the dirty path stood a group of men, clothed as darkly as Joe’s midnight coat, looking all but excited to be here. At the front of the group a man rested with his gloved hands clasped at his front. The hat on his head shielded most of what looked to be a strong jaw and hidden blue gems for eyes. Quite handsome if one looked better under his hat. But demeanor wholly different from the filly that was prancing around, enjoying the attention. She had the strangest pallet of colors, but they all complemented each other well. A fine mare, and you wondered if she would be a match for your winner.
You would not let the aloof behavior put you off. These men should be grateful for your agreement.
“And her trainer?”
“May Carleton.”
You wolf whistled, sold on the arrangement. “Wonderful,” you said with a nod. “I’m sure she’ll make a fine candidate. But I should like to speak to her owner first. Make sure we are on the same grounds. I heard there was a fiasco at the Derby last year. It makes me wonder how the mare fares.”
“Yes,” agreed Philip. “She did make a solid placement.”
“What is her name?” It felt foolish to ask it now when the horse had already gone. When one meets the other, names are the first thing exchanged.
“Grace’s Secret.”
You casted your eyes on the front man, wondering if there is a meaning behind her name.
As if he knew, he lifted his chin from the ground and glanced at you. Indeed, his eyes were a shade of blue you have yet to see but so beautiful all the same. His eyes went over your styled hair and the shawl that covered it from the wind then over the fitted dark green vest, down to the tips of your knee-high, polished to perfection riding boots.
Yes. There is definitely a secret there.
And the mystery made you place one foot in front of the other and ask him to take a walk with you.
***
“Townsend Joe?”
“Yes,” you replied as a matter of fact, willing your bones to calm. “It is what I get after letting my nephew name him. But I think I quite like it. Makes for a fine brand.”
The two of you were two willowy dots by the fence looking over the field that became somewhat of a playground for horses. Townsend Joe relaxed idly and nipped at the grass here and there. The sugar cubes wrapped in a handkerchief waited in your front pocket. You dug your hands into the pockets of your trousers and dared not to look at the man beside you.
His warmth seeped through your clothes, travelling and warming you up. Thomas paid no mind to the way it made you feel, man’s proximity, and if he did then he was great at not showing it.
“I don’t doubt it.” Was all he said, drawing out a cigarette. His gloved hand offered you one, and you shook your head.
“My father’s a smoker,” you said. “Wouldn’t dream of catching his cough.”
Tommy chuckled beside you but drew a breath nevertheless. It’s his own demise. Smoking.
Your chipper voice mixed with wind as you continued to talk names, “And you? What secret lies behind Grace’s?”
“One not worth telling.”
Men and their simple answers. It came as no surprise that you enjoyed Philip’s company so much. He spoke his mind and littered words all over the person he spoke with. Yet your heart raced with men of few words. It always did. And it always will.
He has a reputation.
That was supposed to be a warning.
It did quite the opposite.
“You will find it Mr. Shelby,” you began after taking in a deep breath of the damp air, “that we tell our stories in the names of our horses.” You turned to look at him, catching those ocean eyes in your own. They were curious. Tempted to know more. “Alas, not in the case of Joe but perhaps in other. He is, after all, not my only horse.”
“You train them all, Mrs. Y/LN?”
“Miss,” you corrected him with a polite smile, and turned to the field so he wouldn’t see your rose-stained cheeks. “I don’t make a habit out of training. I own quite a number of them. Joe was a gift from my father-”
“The duke.”
You chuckled, albeit warily. He said the title with a bitter undertone. “Yes, the duke. I highly doubt that frightens you.”
Then you looked him over, your eyes like lasers into his, pinning him in place to prove a point. “I don’t think there are many things that scare a man like yourself.”
His gaze made you breathless and had you feeling like you were the only woman in the world. Above you, the sky turned into a gray hue, though not gray enough to showcase rain, but enough to enhance the black in his clothes and paleness of his features. “Your father gave you the horse?”
You swallowed and spoke with the weight of his eyes still on you. “Gifted yes, and I raised him so it felt right to train him too. Philip helped me of course, but it’s hardly an effort to deal with numbers don’t you think?”
“You trust him?”
The question took you aback, “Of course I do. He’s my closest friend.”
“Is he?”
“Mr. Shelby such cryptic words will get you nowhere,” you told him and tug your tongue in your cheek, shaking your head. “Especially not in this business.”
“I’ve been faring quite well.” He said and took a casual drag.
“As arrogant as your horse,” you noted. “I wonder how fun it must be for May to work beside you. She is after all your horse’s trainer. I, on the other hand, am here to allow your dam a quick roll in the hay with my sire. You plan to race the yearling?”
“Don’t know yet.”
“Well, I hope you do,” you said, suddenly irritated by the man. “Joe’s had a fine career. So has your Grace.”
Your words had meaning. Your Grace. That was a plan wrapped in silk to get out a reaction. How well you executed it told you his knowing eyes and the smirk that tugged at his lips. “You think something will come out of it?”
Your calm air broke at that, “Why are you here Mr. Shelby?”
“Tommy.” Was all he said in return.
You shook your head like he was crazy, “I will not call you that.”
“Thomas then.” He seemed to settle on that.
“Mr. Shelby-” You wholly turned to face him, the lapels of your west almost brushing against his. It took you by surprise, the proximity, because he was not so close before. You swallowed, dared not to look at the lips he drew sinful smoke with, “Thomas…whyareyou here? I’d trust a man who came all this way to breed his filly would know what to do with the horse that will come out. Is there perhaps a secret agenda you’re following? Whyever-”
“Do you remember me?”
You took a step back. Remember?
Do you remember me?
Why would-
“You.”
Suddenly anger flared in your veins, overcoming your senses like a fog. You turned on your heel, ready to leave him be. Facts came rushing back, accompanied by foul memories and wicked flashbacks. That one night in the great city of London.
You repeated yourself.
He knew about Joe. Knew about him being a gift.
He knew and stayed silent.
Why? To see how you act out of sheets? To see how you look adorned in work clothes?
You didn’t get far before feeling pressure on your swinging writs. One hard pull and you were against a chest you scratched with your nails senseless.
“Look at me.”
Your eyes were closed, and you didn’t even realize.
He repeated himself again after you shook your head. Then you felt his voice against your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck. The way his hand curled around your waist while the other one stayed shackled around your wrist. Your breathing turned shallow, goosebumps erupting on your silky skin. “Do you think of me as a fool?”
“No,” Tommy said.
You yanked your arm; he didn’t let go. “Then why are you doing this? Humiliating me? You think this is a joke? Is this your twisted trick at getting me into your bed again?”
“I don’t need tricks to get you in my bed Y/N,” he replied, voice laced with truth. “Why?”
You heard the unspoken extension of his question.
Why did you leave?
Why did you leave him alone in the bed and sneaked out like a shadow with only your clothes in hand? After a night spent in the sheets, where he took you over and over again, why did you leave? Why not stay?
“I don’t do meaningless sex Tommy.” It felt weird to say it out loud. “That night…I wasn’t myself. I needed…”
Silence.
“I needed to let it go.”
“Did you?”
“No,” you admitted. “Far from it. I had a taste of something I cannot have. Besides, I didn’t even tell you, my name. How did you find me?”
“When I want something, I find it.”
“And why do you want me?”
You move backward until your back is pressing hard against the fence. Tommy stops only when his face is just a few inches away from yours. This up close, he looks even more handsome. His pale skin. Sharp jaw and slight, almost invisible stubble. Dark eyelashes framing blue eyes, the color of ice.
The air sizzles between you. There is no mistaking the look of pure possession in his eyes. Only the sounds of your breathing and distant galloping of Joe’s legs are heard in the air. He’s like a shadow, eating you up until there is nothing but him. “Because you want me too.”
Then his lips took yours. Rough and commanding, knocking out air from your lungs. You’re taken back to that dark London night, the club and the blinging chandeliers. To the dark hotel room where you came with ecstasy over the course of an entire night.
You forgot how alive his hands made you feel. How blinded with lust his lips made you feel.
When you pulled apart, you buried your hands into his coat and asked, keeping your voice light and even, “You are still planning to go through with the arrangement? Joe’s quite taken with her.”
Tommy’s chuckle followed a question, “Philip?”
You looked at him, “What about Philip?”
“He’s loves you.” He said the information as if he was talking about the weather.
“But I’m not in love with him.”
It seemed to settle the storm in him. You kissed him once more, loving the way his lips felt against your own and grabbed the ends of his coat, urging him to follow. “Come. I promise you that I won’t run this time.”
Note: If you enjoyed reading this fic do check out my other work by clicking on one of my masterlist links. If it’s not a bother leave a like, comment and/or reblog. It gives me motivation and lets me know that you liked what I wrote. <3
If you would perhaps want to read some of my work earlier, you can check out myAO3profile, I’ll always make sure to tell you guys when a fic is posted on there in advance!
Lastly, if you wish to be tagged under any of my future fics go to my tag list ! I no longer take requests through ask, dm, comments anymore. Once on my tag list post you’ll find a link to a Google Form that you have to fill out in order for your request to be valid! x
✭GENERAL(allWIPs):
@fofisstilinski@short-potato@miranda0102 @httphiddlestan@caromichaela@xx-missunicorn-xx@jemmakates @wandamaxim0f @chefdoeuvre@just-arather-veryconfused-being@crazy0lu@thirstykpophoe@theletterhart@nocturnalherb16@sj-thefan@bittytish@stephhevring@e-lysium@itisjustwhatitis@sunflowerangel21@agentstarkid@keithseabrook27@jemimah-b99@peakyweirdo @fanofalltheficsx @miraclesoflove@ethereal-moongod
✭ PEAKY BLINDERS:
@lovemissyhoneybee@thanossexual@marvel-ousnesss@sextvpes @heartbreak-of-a-marauder@killerstvles@navs-bhat@kpoptrash2000 @softieekayy
✭TOMMY SHELBY:
@captivatedbycillianmurphy@remusflirts@peakyxtommy@sarcasm-n-insomnia
I know this is random (believe me it is) but I’ve written a Tommy one shot completely out of the blue today. I really enjoyed it idk I hope you will too!
SUMMARY: Working with horses is what you deemed yourself good enough at to be able to make a living out of. But your all-star champion needs to retire while he’s at his best because it’s a smart move on the business side of things. He’ll do you good in other departments, and with a small twist of fate bring back someone who you’ve long since forgotten about.
I have posted this already on Ao3 (this is only a snippet from Word) and you can go check it out N-O-W. ☛ click here
❝DECISIONS❞
pairing: Michael Gray x Reader
content warning: none, just gina being an annoying cunt as usual
a/n:first michael fic in a long time :) it was originally supposed to take a veeeery different direction, super angsty, with the reader being angry at Michael and extra sassy, but oh well. I think Michael deserves some love after what they did to him in s6. || wc: 0,7
(gif not mine: ?)
“Are you sure this is what you want, Michael?”
The room had been plunged into a heavy, awkward silence before you interrupted it, the sharp sound of the slap Michael had received from his mother just moments before still ringing in your ear.
“Turning your back on your family and risking everything by becoming their enemy? Is that what you want?” you continued, pushing yourself away from the counter you were leaning against to take a step forward. You heard a scoff coming from behind you, but you knew better than to give Gina the attention she so desperately wanted. Instead, you kept your gaze on Michael and crossed your arms over your chest as you got no answer, his jaw clenching being the closest you got to a reaction.
“Don’t worry about him.” Gina eventually chimed in, seeing Michael wouldn’t answer. Her signature sardonic smile was glued to her red tinted lips as she pushed herself up from her chair, approaching you. “We know what we’re doing and I’m sure Michael can make his own decisions.”
“What’s your plan?” you questioned Michael, ignoring the american woman. But within a second, Gina was opening her mouth again.
“Tell her, baby.” she said. You cringed at the pet name, your cheeks flexing. “At least you know this one is willing to listen.”
“How about you shut the fuck up, huh?” you whipped around, taking a menacing step towards her. You’d had enough. “This is a conversation between me and Michael. Mind your own fucking business, Gina.”
Gina’s eyebrows raised at your sudden outburst, a mocking grin on her face as she directed her gaze toward Michael. She probably expected him to say something but he didn’t, his expression unchanging.
“In business it’s called a hostile takeover.” he explained, catching your attention. “That doesn’t mean anyone needs to get hurt.” You held back a scoff. Non-violence has never been an option in this family. “I’ll make an approach to the chinese suppliers and offer them more favorable terms.”
“And more access to american buyers.” Gina added. You cast her a pointed glare before focusing back on Michael.
“Gina’s uncles are in Chicago, Boston, and Long Island.” he continued. “They run whisky and gin from Canada, but booze is now being legalized again. So narcotics is the future. Tommy is taking too much on, his business is too big for him to handle.”
Sucking in a breath, you ran a nervous hand through your hair as you began to pace silently around the room, taking in everything Michael was telling you.
You had a bad feeling about this. Tommy would have no mercy on Michael if he were to go on with this plan and try to outsmart him. He was risking so much.
Your pacing finally came to a stop and you took a hold of Michael’s hands, forcing him to keep his attention on you.
“You need to tell Polly everything.” you said calmly. Once again Gina shared her exasperation, the clicking of her heels resonating as she paced around you.
“Why? So she can read into our future and tell us something really bad is going to happen if Michael sticks to the plan?” she mocks. “You cannot be serious. Listen, honey…Michael laughs at this witchcraft bullshit when his family’s not there. We don’t need Polly’s approval.” she came up to Michael and placed a hand on his shoulder, clinging onto him. “Let’s just go, baby. It’s not worth it.”
“Shut up, Gina.” Michael finally snapped, giving his wife a cold glare. Gina’s expression dropped and if you weren’t so worried you would’ve smirked at the expression on her face when she drew back, walking back to her seat while mumbling something about ’this fucking family’ under her breath.
“Michael, listen to me.” you continued, lifting a hand to cradle one of your palms against his cheek. “I need to know you’ll be okay. Please, if you won’t do it for me or anyone from this family, do it for our daughter.” you begged.
“Jesus Christ.” Gina sighed.
“We’ll speak to Pol, Y/N.” Michael responded, taking your hand that was still on his cheek and giving it a squeeze. He could tell you were genuinely distraught. Although you and Michael had been divorced for two years you still cared a great deal about each other, therefore the thought of him getting hurt or possibly dying had you panicking. “I promise.” he added softly, staring into your eyes as if to let you know he truly meant what he said.
A couple seconds passed until you nodded, releasing a breath of relief. After a quick moment of hesitation you cupped Michael’s face and leaned forward to press a lingering kiss to his forehead, resting yours against it afterwards. Michael’s hands came to your sides, his thumbs subconsciously stroking your skin in a soothing manner.
“I know your heart, Michael.” you murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. “Your family has always mattered more than your business. Think about it, that’s all i’m asking. And if you change your mind, just know that you’ll always be welcome home. Your daughter misses you.”
