Peaky Blinders One Shots

"I'm not going to be your whore, Shelby." (part 2) - Thomas Shelby x Reader

You hadn't spoken to Tommy since you let him to lock up the Garrison about two weeks ago, and rumour had it that Grace went to New York and invited him along with her. You knew he wouldn't go. Not because he didn't love her but because it was a stupid fucking idea. He was a businessman, what business would he tend to over in America?
Since she'd left, the nosey men in the pub decided to bother you much more, and you'd never known males to be quite so gossipy, it was like being round a group of women.
You'd grown increasingly worried when the boys decided they were going to stop checking on the Garrison as much, they needed the men for other business they said, and it was as if everyone had caught wind of it.

"Well, if it isn't the Shelby slut." A man pulled up his stool to face you at the bar, hands clasped together as his cigarette balanced between his lips.
You served a man that had been waiting and turned, "and who the fuck might you be, eh?" Chuckling, he took a last drag of his cigarette before docking it out on the counter. "oi, you know there's ash trays for that you cheeky fucker." He didn't care. You'd never seen him before, and it was highly unlikely that he was from around Birmingham, Small Heath at least, or else you'd have at least recognised his face.

"If you aren't out of here by the time I turn back around, either I'll drag you out, or the Peaky's will." You could tell he considered moving as his posture faltered and so you turned around, and back again, to find him still sat, but a fresh cigarette in hand.

You walked around to the other side, the counter no longer being a boundary between the two of you.
"I said get-" His hands grip onto your neck and the lack of oxygen sent you dizzy, the other customers at the Garrison now taking notice, and still no one saying a thing.
"You'll not speak to me like that, do you understand me?" A swift kick to his crotch made him release his grasp, and Finn and Isiah had just walked in to see all the mishap.

"Get him out, now." The boys grabbed on to the man, dragging him up to stand from his position on the floor and tousled him outside.
You'd imagined what Tommy would have done if he saw. Probably nothing. He'd just take another breath of his cigarette, another swig of his whiskey, and he'd stare. Or he'd blow his brains out, it would depend on his mood. Shelby's slut. Is that all you fucking were? Is that what everyone thought?

"What's going on?" Speak of the fucking devil and he shall appear. Tommy somehow managed to appear relaxed and frantic both in the same frame as he made his way over to you.
"Nothing, everything's fine, I handled it. I need to get back to work." You handed him a glass of whiskey which instead of drinking, he gifted to the man next to him.
"Oh, you've been handled alright. You've got fucking marks round your neck, Hazel." You touched your neck, slightly hissing due to its tenderness which earned an eyebrow raise from yours truly.
"Doesn't matter now does it, Tommy. I handled it and the lads chucked him out." Tommy rubbed his face in his hands before looking back at you and pointing.
"I'm adding more blinders back round the Garrison. Been hearing stories of some scumbags coming in off the others. Why didn't you say anything?"
You sneered, his face screwing up in return. You could sense his patience had left no sooner as he came through the doors of the Garrison, it had popped out of his pocket and been thrown out along with that man.
"I'm not speaking to you, that's why."
A man approached the bar and you pulled a glass out ready for his order which he dismissed.
"'scuse me miss, I've been watching you from across the room since I got here, I'm wondering if I could take you out?" He was bloody handsome alright. His suit fit him well, and he stood tall, not cowering away from nerves. Tommy looked at you, looked at the man, and back at you.
"Who the fuck are you?" Tommy took a large drag of his cigarette before his hand gestured between the two of you.
The mans hand stuck out in Tommy's direction, receiving an icy glare and a puff of smoke in his face.
"I'm Harley, came down from London. And you are?" You almost grimace at Tommy's anticipated reaction.
"Tommy fucking Shelby that's who, now get the fuck out of my pub, and away from my missus." Of course the man scurried, straight out the doors and maybe off back to London for all you knew.
"Am not your missus, Tommy. The whole of fucking Small Heath thinks I'm your whore. It's embarrassing."
"I don't care what the whole of Small Heath think. They won't be thinking anything if they all have bullets in their brains, will they?" Laughing you stop cleaning the counter and look up to him. His eyes were unlike anyone else's that you had seen. They say the eyes are the pathway to the soul, and if that were true, Tommy's fucking soul was a locked treasure chest. You could hardly ever identify just what it was that he was thinking, or what his intentions were. He cursed, he frowned and he smirked. You had seen him smile once, and to see him laugh, well, you would be a millionaire if he had done so.

Tommy had walked you home from the Garrison after you locked up, and the pair of you now stood in front of your door, not a word having been spoken on the journey there. You felt uneasy, you didn't know what to say, what was there to say after all? You were trying to steer clear of him, and it was evident that he wasn't going to force you to speak to him or be around him for that matter.
"I'll see you tomorrow then?" You fiddle with your keys, almost too scared to look up at him. You unlock your door and look back to him, his hands remaining in his pocket, surprisingly not accompanied by a cigarette in his mouth.
You hadn't had time to step foot through your house before he was in front of you, his thumb brushing your lip whilst the other hand lay on your cheek. Still there was silence. It felt as if it had been too long that the two of you had been stood there, not a sound being made, so you leant forward, pushing your lips to his.
The kiss intensified and you both stumbled back into your house, the door being shut by a kick of Tommy's foot.
Your hands found their way to his coat, sliding it off his shoulders and making their way to the buttons of his shirt. Your fingers shakily unbuttoning his shirt as his own pushed the straps of your dress down.
Panting he pulls your mouth away from his, eyes searching for some sort of shock or acceptance.
"You're not my fuckin' whore alright?"