Fandom Imagines and Preferences

Tommy Shelby- Blood (c)

Peaky Blinders One Shot

Being a barmaid wasn't the worse job in the world. It didn't pay great, but you survived on your tips and you tended to stay out of trouble. It wasn't exactly out of trouble seen as it was a pub run by the Shelby's but it meant you had safety in that connection, especially if they were around. This night you were cleaning off a table when two men got a bit rowdy and started throwing punches, something that you couldn't have happening if you wanted a decent night work.

"Take it outside boys," you shouted over the noise of a busy pub but neither of them seemed to give a shit about what was being said by you.

You let out a sigh, throwing down your cleaning cloth and tray of empty glasses, knowing just shouting wasn't going to stop unless you were directly in front of them.

"Either calm it down or get the fuck out of my pub," you yelled grabbing one of the man's arms.

As you pulled it back, the opposite man when to hit him but you got in the way and took the full blow. His fist collided with your face, forcing you to let go of the grasp you had on his arm and sending you to the rather disgusting floor. It may not have been the best way to do so but the fight seized, not because you had been caught in the middle but because Tommy Shelby had exited his private room to witness your injury.

"Which one of you bastards hit her?" He bellowed. "I'll fucking kill you."

You struggled onto your feet as he grabbed onto the collar of one of the fighting men. A warm trickle of blood fell from your nose to your lip but you tried not to focus on that or the pounding headache but instead stopping a murder.

"Mr Shelby, it doesn't matter," you stated, spitting blood on the floor.

"It fucking does," he retorted.

"It was an accident," you frowned.

Tommy turned his attention to you, something he did far more frequently than he did to anyone else who worked at the pub.

"Are you okay?" He asked, a genuine glimpse of kindness in his tone.

"I'm fine, I just gotta clean up."

You headed back behind the bar to the storeroom to get a moment of privacy to try and make yourself not look like you had been hit in the face. Grabbing one of the cloths, you begun to wipe up the blood, wincing from the pressure but were stopped when your privacy was ruined.

"How can I help you, Mr Shelby?" You questioned.

"I just wanted to make sure you're alright."

You cocked an eyebrow at him. "Why do you care?"

You dropped the rag and turned to him. Since you had started working at the pub, Tommy started coming in far more often than he normally would and paid more attention to you than he did to anyone else. You didn't understand why at least not until he showed you now.

"Because I don't want to see you fucking hurt."

As soon as the last syllable left his lips they were pressed to yours, not caring about the blood that smeared onto his face.

~*~

Written by Charlotte.

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