Here's A Link To My TikTok For Anyone Who Wants To See Some Of My Edits While They're Waiting For My

Here's a link to my TikTok for anyone who wants to see some of my edits while they're waiting for my fanfic to drop. I might do some Anthropoid edits soon, so yee!!!

"Therefore, I am not obligated to respond to messages that are inappropriate or rude. Like I said, if I don't respond to messages, it is because I am busy..." ----- If anyone is making you feel bad for not replying straight away, I'm sorry. Nobody should be forced or made to feel bad for not being able to reply. We are all busy, dealing with personal things or sometimes we just forget to respond. You seem like a lovely person and don't let anyone make you feel shitty for not being able to talk to them 24/7. If someone doesn't understand that others have lives and can't talk to them when it's convenient for them, then perhaps they need to take a step back and not blame others all the time, and be more empathetic) I have people on here that I don't reply to straight away, but we know life gets busy. We reply when we can. Doesn't mean we're mad or dont' wanna be friends anymore. I hope you are okay and have a good day!!

EXACTLY!!! I understand why it may be concerning that I don't respond right away, but who knows? They might be in school or have a job that take up a majority of their day and sometimes all they want is to rest and unwind, and depending on their time zone, go to sleep.

Just because they're active, they might be too tired to have a long conversation with someone, I would rather they take care of their mental and physical well-being. And same with me, I need to take some time to look after myself as well.

Thank you for your concern and for understanding. I am doing well, and I hope you have a good rest of your day/night. :)

Someone PLEASE put these two in a movie together! Please!!!!

i didn't expect to see this, but uh, hello?? 😶😶

Autocorrect is hilarious. Every time I have been trying to write this man's name, so far, they have tried to correct it to "Alabama" and "Obama"

Like, c'mon. I already have enough fanfic ideas, don't make me wanna make Obama a member of the Peaky Blinders.

THIS JUST MADE MY DAY!!!

This is an ancient request from a lovely anon (who I think might be #tea anon - let me know if it is you babe!) and I’m so sorry it’s taken almost literal eons for me to write it. I hope you enjoy it all the same and thanks for your patience 🤍 Please do (all) let me know what you think - I love to hear it! xx

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

Summary: Charlie’s governess has an accident and Tommy finds himself drawn to her as she recovers.

Warnings: Nothing but fluff and sexual tension! Oh, and a smidge of bad language.

Word count: 3385 MASTERLIST

The Governess

A soft knock at the door roused her from the novel she was trying to read, though the pain in her leg was growing more distracting as her medication wore off. Assuming it was Frances or one of the maids come to bring her some tea - they often did at this time of the day - she called for them to come in, not doing anything to rearrange her tousled hair or nightdress. They had seen her in bed for the last few days and in much worse repair due to the effects of the strong tablets the doctor had prescribed.

So it was a bit of a shock to find none other than her employer, Thomas Shelby OBE, standing at her door.

“You’re awake,” he commented as she hurriedly pulled up the covers and ran a hand over her messy curls.

“Yes sir,” she replied quickly, wishing she could evaporate. She had only been working for him for a few months as governess to his young son Charlie, and in all that time he had barely said more than ten words to her. She was slightly afraid of him - everyone had warned her of his fearsome reputation - but with his angled features, softened by the curve of his full lips, and bright, burning blue eyes she couldn’t deny that he was one of the most handsome men she had ever encountered. And now he was seeing her in bed, her hair like a bird’s nest and in her least favourite nightie (everything else was in the laundry due to her enforced bedrest).

“How are you feeling?” he asked, striding across the room to peer out the window at the expansive grounds around his stately home. This wasn’t her usual room - he had deemed it too much to expect her to be up in the attics when she had a broken leg, so he had installed her in one of the guest bedrooms just down the hall from his own. He recalled the feel of her in his arms as he carried her up to this bed, not that she would remember it, off her head on pain medication.

“A little better, thank you, Mr Shelby,” she stammered, wondering why he was here. “Is Charlie alright? I’m sorry if I frightened him.”

She had been playing with the small blonde boy she was charged with educating and caring for, out on the grass after two days of wet weather. In a completely freak accident she had managed to slip whilst chasing him, falling in such a way that she broke her ankle. The pain had been sudden and immense and she only dimly recalled his little terrified face as she screamed. It made her heart clench to think she had scared him.

“He’s fine now, it was just a shock. He’s been asking for you though,” he replied, turning slowly, the full weight of his stare making her breath catch in her throat. “He’s with Polly until you’re up and about again.”

“I’d love to see him, if he wanted to,” she smiled. She missed his company - his excited chattering and quick mind, the latter which he undoubtedly got from his father. The cheery nature however must have been his mother’s, she thought, smothering a smile.

She knew lots of people thought being a governess was a thankless job, filled with bratty children, reserved for the kind of women whose family had fallen on hard times and whose educated daughters were forced to fend for themselves. But she wasn’t one of those women and Charlie Shelby wasn’t one of those children. An only child, like him, she had been raised with love but very little else, and she had worked hard at school, determined to get out of the poverty she had been born into. Her parents had been so proud when she got her first job, caring for two little girls in a big house in the posh part of town.

Now almost thirty she was well regarded as an educator and when the need for Charlie to have a proper governess, and not just a nanny, came to be, it was Polly Grey who sought her out, impressed by her reputation.

She had been apprehensive to accept a post working for the Shelby’s. Everyone in Birmingham knew them and what kind of dark things the family was involved in, nevermind their more upwardly mobile pretentions. But she couldn’t really turn her nose up at the prospect of a salary that would help her much further on her way to a little home of her own. Maybe even enough to start a family. If she ever had the time to find a man who might want to do that with her, she’d thought wryly.

“I think he’d like that, I’ll tell him to look in tomorrow, if you’re well enough,” he replied, calling her back to the present, extracting a cigarette from his case before offering them to her. She hesitated a moment before accepting, sliding the little white cylinder from the sleek, silver holder. He leaned in to light it for her and suddenly she was enveloped by his scent - smokey and woody with something sharp beneath.

He caught her slight intake of breath as he leaned close to her and smiled to himself. Without her usually neat curls pinned in place and demure dark dresses she was even more alluring than usual. He could imagine her like this, hair dishevelled for entirely different reasons. Again he found himself remembering the lightness of her in his arms as he brought her here, her soft murmuring voice and the warmth of her breath against his neck, the sweet smell of vanilla and rose on her skin.

He stood back and cleared his throat. It wasn’t appropriate to think about the governess like that. Charlie liked her and she was, as far as he could tell, very good at her job. It wouldn’t do to fuck it up by trying to fuck her. Polly would have his balls if she had to go out and find another one.

Just at that moment, Frances tapped the door, bearing a tea tray.

“Sorry Mr Shelby, sir, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she apologised quickly but he brushed it away.

“It’s time for my tablets,” Y/N explained, accepting a glass of water from the housekeeper as she shook two large white pills into her palm from the little bottle beside the bed. “Though they do make me awfully dopey. I hope I can stop taking them soon.”

“Right well, I’ll leave you be. I’m glad you’re recovering well,” he said, a little stiffly, leaving just as quickly as he arrived. Frances watched the young governess as her eyes followed him out the door. She knew that look - there was barely a housemaid in Arrow House that didn’t lust after their short-tempered employer. But it was interesting that he had come to check on the girl, she thought. None of the maids could claim such an honour when they were under the weather.

“Do you need anything Miss Y/L/N?” she asked kindly.

“No Frances and please will you call me Y/N?” she smiled back. She hated the somewhat false superiority of her position in the house. She wasn’t better than anyone else who took Thomas Shelby’s shilling.

“Sorry, force of habit,” the older woman smiled. “You will let me know if you need help though won’t you?”

“I will, thank you, you’re all too good looking after me. I feel terrible adding to your chores.”

The older lady waved away her concerns. Yes of course she could do without an invalid in the house, but it wasn’t Y/N’s fault she was laid up. And she was a sweet girl, always kind to the other members of staff and little Charlie Shelby clearly adored her.

“Just ring the bell, don’t be trying to get up when you’ve had those pills. It wouldn’t do if you fell and hurt yourself more,” she said, with a motherly air, as she left.

Alone once more, already feeling the woozy haze of the heavy duty medication kicking in, Y/N’s head was in a spin. Why had Thomas Shelby come to see her? Why now after all these months did he feel the need to talk to her? He had looked at her oddly too. Was it just guilt that she got hurt taking care of his son, or something else..?

*****

A few days later and Y/N was officially losing her mind with being stuck in bed but at least she’d finally managed to wean back on the drugs that made her feel like a zombie with narcolepsy. The worst part of taking them were the bits she couldn’t remember, or only had hazy recollections of. As she became more lucid she began to remember snatches of things, and she couldn’t be sure which were dreams and which were memories. Which was disconcerting because she had an awful feeling Mr Shelby might have carried her up the stairs and that she might have mumbled how nice he smelt. She could only hope one of both of those things had been a dream and her sanity required her to assume that they had.

Charlie had taken to coming to see her in the mornings after she’d had breakfast and one of the maids had helped her freshen up. It would be a while before she would be properly up and about to conduct his lessons like normal, but they read stories in her bed and he was able to practice his writing and numbers, as well as drawing her pictures, at the beautiful cherry wood dressing table in front of the window.

It was in the middle of one of these morning sessions that Tommy found himself upstairs in search of his glasses. Hearing his son’s voice coming from the governess’s room he paused by the partially open door. Peaking through he could see her on the bed, dressed more appropriately (to his disappointment), the cast on her leg propped on a cushion. Charlie was snuggled into her side as she helped him sound out the words in the book they were reading.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, out of sight, listening to the soft, encouraging lilt of her voice, her musical laugh as Charlie made a joke about something. As he finished a particularly tricky sentence she praised him, dropping a kiss to his thick blonde hair and he beamed up at her.

Tommy felt something flutter in his chest, a simultaneous tightness and lightness, at witnessing the moment between his son and this bright, beautiful woman. Swallowing thickly he shook himself and hurriedly went about his business.

*****

In the afternoons, Charlie spent his time with his Aunt Polly or playing with his little cousin Billy, and Y/N was left alone. Desperate for something to keep her mind occupied, and having exhausted all the reading material in her room, she carefully eased herself out of bed, intent on raiding Mr Shelby’s library. But she barely made it three steps before a mis-timed shifting of her weight sent pressure through her injured leg and she collapsed in a heap and a shout of pain.

Tommy heard the thud from above and sprang up to investigate, his soldier’s instincts still in charge, even after all this time. He knew it was probably nothing - luckily a bang these days was usually just one of the maids overzealously attacking the furniture and he nearly always left it for Frances to sort out. However Y/N’s room was just above his office and so he set off, almost colliding with Frances on the landing.

Knocking and quickly entering they found Y/N on the floor, trying to pull herself back upright against the dresser.

“What are you doing? Are you hurt?” exclaimed Frances, but Tommy was quicker, gently lifting Y/N and supporting her back into bed.

“Are you alright?” he murmured and she was suddenly very aware of his large hands on her body, the closeness of his face to hers as she had no choice but to cling to him.

“I’m ok, just over-estimated my abilities,” she huffed more grumpily than she meant to, flustered by his proximity. Their eyes locked and she felt her cheeks heat up.

“I’ll fetch you some tea,” said Frances, keen to escape the atmosphere that had suddenly begun to fill the room, breaking the moment between them.

He helped her re-settle on the bed and then finally moved back, giving her enough space for her brain to start to work again.

“Are you sure you didn’t hurt yourself?” he asked gently, pulling a chair closer to her bed. For the first time since she’d started working for him the stony mask he wore had slipped, his face soft, eyes full of concern.

“No, honestly, I’ve injured nothing more than my pride,” she smiled wryly. “I’m just so bored,” she confessed, emboldened by his shift in demeanour, “I wanted something new to read.”

He sat back, cogs turning, a hint of a smile playing on his lips and her heart did a flip flop in her chest. He never smiled, or at least not at anyone who wasn’t Charlie.

“Wait here,” he said, rising and quickly making his way out of the room.

“Where else would I be going,” she muttered with a roll of her eyes as he disappeared down the hall.

*****

“There’s something not right about these contracts,” she mused quietly, brow furrowed as she studied the dense legal document on her lap.

He looked up from the paper he was reading, removing his glasses as he did so. For the past three days he had been spending his afternoons in her room, relieving her boredom by enlisting her help in the immense amount of paperwork his company seemed to generate. His main secretary was off sick and he had never known it so busy. Or appreciated how much they must actually do for him. He resolved to arrange to give them a raise when they got back.

“What do you mean?,” he commented, dropping his pile of papers onto the dressing table and coming to lean over her shoulder to read.

She tried to ignore the fact that she could feel the warmth of his body radiating against hers, or that she was once again surrounded by the warm, smokey scent of him.

“See, this bit here… it contradicts this clause here,” she pointed, directing his eye as he tried very hard not to look at the neckline of her dress.

“Fuck… shift over,” he muttered, trying to sit down until she prodded him hard in the hip.

“I have a broken leg, I can’t just ‘shift over’. Come round the other side if you want to sit.”

All manner of employer-employee deference had been eradicated over the last few days. She no longer feared him or stuttered at his presence. He was actually quite funny when he wanted to be, she found, and their conversations had been easy and free flowing as they worked.

He stood back, looked at her for a moment and then very quickly, before she could object, he scooped her up and deposited her gently slightly further into the bed. “Much better,” he declared, tucking the cushion under her leg as she spluttered in indignation, and seated himself down beside her, plucking the pages from her hands.

“Mr Shelby!” she exclaimed, belatedly, and he fixed her with an amused, half smile.

“Ms Y/L/N,” he replied smoothly, holding her stare for a beat longer than she felt was proper when his face was that close to hers. “Now, tell me what you think is wrong,” he continued, leafing through the pages.

She wrestled them back, her fingers brushing his, shivers running through her at the touch. Composing herself she leant towards him slightly, angling the pages so he could see, and began to take him through her concerns.

After her quick spot on the contract failure, he had her read several others, checking for discrepancies. They worked until the dusk began to draw in and the words began to swim in front of her eyes. Yawning widely she tried to rouse herself to engage with the small typeset and complicated legalese but the words swirled away from her once more.

He became aware of a weight pressing against his arm and looked down to see her leaning against him. Before he could comment she let out a tiny snuffle of a snore and he realised she had fallen asleep. Smiling and unwilling to wake her, he carefully shifted so he could tuck her against his side, her head in the crook of his shoulder, he carried on reading.

And he really did try and concentrate. Remain professional. But then she made a delightfully cute little humming noise and snuggled into him, her warm breath fanning across his neck, the smell of roses and vanilla invading his senses. It was getting harder and harder to stop himself from just kissing her.

“Tommy…” she murmured and he turned, looking down just as she woke with a start, finding herself almost lip to lip with him. She pushed herself back in shock but his arm was still wrapped behind her shoulders and he didn’t let her get far.

“Mr Shelby, I’m so sorry, how embarrassing,” she babbled, feeling her face flush. But his cool fingertips brushed against her heated cheek, slightly rough from years handling guns and other weapons.

“I think you should call me Tommy,” he said softly, catching her with the depth of his hypnotic ocean eyes.

“It wouldn’t be proper,” she stammered, her gaze flicking from his eyes to his soft lips and back again.

He smirked, cupping her cheek a little more firmly. “Well if that’s what you think, you’re going to find this extremely inappropriate,” he whispered, leaning to brush his lips against hers.

She gasped slightly at the sensation before leaning into him, pressing her lips against his more strongly. Feeling her respond, he began to move his mouth against hers, in perfect tandem as he threaded his fingers into her hair, ruining her neatly arranged style.

“Mr Sh- Tommy… I’m not sure this is a good idea,” she said breathlessly as they broke apart, his hand sliding to cup her neck.

“Maybe not but I’ve wanted to do that for months,” he replied, catching her mouth with his once more, hearing her whimper as her fingers curled into his shirt and his tongue slipped between her lips, dancing with hers.

A knock at the door had them springing apart, and as Frances appeared in the doorway she found them both bright eyed and flushed.

“I just wanted to know if you would both like a dinner tray bringing up again this evening?” she asked, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at the pair staring at her like naughty school children.

“Thank you Frances,” he said quickly, rearranging his features into something he hoped resembled authority.

She disappeared and he turned to Y/N, seeing her red-faced and swollen lipped. Unable to stop himself, he pulled her back for more, withdrawing with a groan when her small hands pushed gently against his chest.

“We can’t do this Tommy. I’m Charlie’s teacher. It’s not right, it’ll confuse him,” she said, eyes bright and wide. “And I’m not that kind of woman,” she added, chin raised defiantly.

He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, studying her with an intense blue stare.

“I know you’re not,” he replied softly, seeing her breath hitch as his fingers traced down the side of her neck. “What about if you were more than just his teacher?” He watched her bite her lip, white teeth nibbling soft pink and he felt his cock press painfully against his trousers.

“And be what, exactly?” she asked in a whisper.

She was beautiful and clever and his son adored her. She was perfect, the woman he didn’t even know he was looking for, right under his nose for months.

He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers in a soft, chaste kiss.

“Be mine.”

Thanks for reading! To the anon who requested, I’d love to hear what you thought, and the same goes to all the rest of you. Please do feel free to get in touch in all the usual ways 🤍

Masterlists: TOMMY SHELBY | MAIN

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