Peaky Blinders One Shots

"I'm not going to be your whore, Shelby." - Thomas Shelby x Reader

"Fetch me the rum will you Hazel." His cigarette was tucked between his lips as his hand outstretched to you. His rings clinking against the bottle, raising it , and sending a wink towards you as a way of thanks.
You had carried on cleaning the pub, scrubbing the counters and cleaning the glasses, and it wasn't long until the Shelby brothers were leaving, merry praises leaving their loud cigarette clad mouths.

As usual, Thomas stayed behind, smoke coming from his parted lips before he spoke.
"We got rid of her." He looked around the room whilst you scrubbed the counter.
"What do you mean?" Confusion laced your brow, his eyes meeting yours, face showing little emotion.
"The barmaid. She was with the police." You nod in acknowledgement, remembering her hushed pleas of forgiveness towards Tommy in the room next to the bar, just days before. You'd heard from whispers that they'd been seeing each other, all for her to turn out to be a fucking copper. Its what had pissed you off, you silenced yourself around him, after all, you were just a whore to him. Nothing more and nothing less.

"You know Thomas, you don't always have to look so glum. Not worth it." You had moved into the centre of the room, cleaning the tables and stacking the chairs up ready for another day tomorrow. His back still faced you when you turned to look at him, but you didn't need to see his face to know his lips were grazing a smile.
"So it's Thomas is it now?" He turns as you continue to stack the chairs in attempt to avoids his gaze. You know that looking at him would only make you crumble, your plan of ignoring him had been proven far too difficult.
The sound of his approaching footsteps issuing shivers and you need to steady yourself so you don't drop the remaining whiskey glasses that decorated the tables.
His hands had made their way to your neck, his calloused fingers dancing along your spine and before you can muster a sentence, he begins to speak.
"Need I remind you of what you named me a few nights ago, Hazel?" His voice becoming low and gruff in your ears.
Your face grew red at the thought, it was bedroom talk after all. Wasn't it? One too many wines for you, one too many whiskeys for him. It was a fling.
"I thought we agreed that what happens in the bedroom must stay there, Thomas." The moment he tutted, you could hear the sly smile dancing on his lips. He released a humoured breath. "In fact, I think you gave me your word. Did you not?" You step forward, the warmth of his hands leaving you before you turn to face him. His hand enveloping your cheeks, his sly smirk remaining.
"I don't think you're in much of a place to use that against me darling, what do you think?" You scoff, pushing yourself from him in a bid to appear unfazed. However, you were quite the opposite.
You took a last look at the Garrison and lit a cigarette, your eyes split through his, his gaze bordering intimidation and uncomfort.

"So you don't want me, no?" Lifting himself up from his chair, he stacks it on top of the others before downing his whiskey and making his way over to the bar for a second helping. "Because if that's the case Hazel, I can leave." You shake your head, a scoff slipping from your mouth.

"I'm not going to be your whore, Shelby." Tommy's head snaps towards you, you knew you'd pissed him off somehow. His typical unreadable expression showed aggravation and he stubbed his cigarette out.
"And when did I say that?"
"When she comes back, I'll be gone. That's the way it goes with people like you, Thomas Shelby."
"And who said she's coming back?"
"She will."
His fist slams into the bar table, almost sending you into shock.
"She's not fucking coming back, d'you hear me?"
"If I wasn't your whore Thomas, you'd have still come to me when she was here."
Walking over to the bar, you place your empty glass on the counter, throwing him the pub keys and heading for the door of the Garrison.
"Last one locks up."