• TOMMY SHELBY IMAGINES •

the truth (request)

request: Hello my love! Your writings are awesome! I was wondering if I could get a Tommy Shelby x reader? Where she dresses up as a guy for protection and kinda falls into a job in his gang, but he finds out that she's a girl when she takes a bullet for him and he cleans her up? Pretty pretty please? 🙃😍💜

You took your fathers name and ran with it. But everything else was left behind.

Did you miss who you once were? The answer was yes, a thousand times, but you refused to allow yourself the time to dwell. You wouldn't let yourself sit and cry, because that person you once were is nothing but a previous chapter of your life. A chapter you've finished a long time ago.

Escaping a marriage, leaving the life you once lived. You had no choice, it was death or escaping, and you did the much more harder thing. You left.

From (y/n), to Clyde White.

You cut off all your beautiful hair, learned to walk more like a man. You've always been a tomboy, except for when you were married to that disgusting swine of a man. Where he forced you to dress up in pink, wear makeup and giggle like his own, personal doll.

There was a man in your life you could act like, a muse, whatever you want to call it. You learned how to spit like a man, disregard women, learned how to be grotesque when you needed to be. And they were all oblivious, because once you act like a man, everyone will follow in your steps.

The most hurtful part was that he was the reason you were Clyde and not you. He was the reason you left Brighton, running away into the dark night. He was the one who took your identity.

You ended up in Birmingham after a lengthy train ride. It was something you had planned because you knew your police officer husband was not welcome in the city run by gangsters and crooks. So he could never get to you, although he haunts your dreams.

"Clyde!" You name is being called, and you snap your eyes open to see none other than John looking down at you.

He presses on your shoulder, shaking you. "Wake up, mate."

You flinch, sitting up, you take his hand and tear it from his grip. "What?" You croak, thankful of the voice that comes out of your mouth. You always wake up with a voice ten times deeper than what it actually sounds like.

He pulls back, "It's a hot summers night and you're wearing a fuckin' pyjama set?" He chuckles, mentioning the clothes you've got on. Trousers and a long sleeve shirt.

Although you are sweating, and you woke up drenched, you have your reasons. Reasons that include not wanting to show your tits and vagina off, especially for situations like this.

You clear your throat, and chose to ignore his statement. "What do you want, John?"

He looks at you, and you look at him. But it's not John you're afraid of finding out of your identity. No, he's far too innocent. For Christ's sake, he might even cry with you if he found out why you're doing this.

"Tommy wants everyone at The Garrison." He replies.

You kind of just learned to never ask questions. He moves swiftly out of your bedroom, yelling that the cars downstairs. Hurry up, he instructs, and you follow those orders.

It's been a little less than two months with the Peaky's. A life you never, in a billion, trillion years imagined living. And if you want to be honest with yourself, you can openly admit that despite the times that are bad, and despite the fact that you've done some unspeakable things, working for the Peaky's has been strangely comforting. You find yourself waking up a little excited for what the day will bring. And sometimes, you go to bed with a smile on your face. Because they've welcomed you in a way that is unfamiliar to you. After all, the family you were brought up into weren't anywhere near these guys.