Pairing: Thomas Shelby/Male Reader
Trigger Warnings: Mention of Violence, Mention of Suicide, The Shelby Family teases Reader, Tommy is pleased and Proud of Reader
Author Notes: This wasn’t meant to happen, I was really happy with how chapter one turned out but my brain wouldn’t let me sleep until I started writing
The mansion beamed with eager energy as people came and went up the stairs, down the corridors; there was a family gathering in the making and soon all the Shelby family would be together. It would be the first time the servants of the house will be witness of all of them together. Yes, they knew them and of course, had seen them before but never in fullness. The Shelby’s worked in teams, and pairs, in triads of relentless dedication to business and increasing power. But for one night, the fights would be forgotten, altercations left behind and confrontations moved for another day. Tonight was a night to celebrate.
It seemed like The Shelby Company was ready to go wide in America, expanding their business, opening other offices and navigating into new markets.
With a soft know on the door, the servant walked into the office. Mister Shelby sat on his chair drowning in paperwork, his never ending cigar was lighted up and resting between his fingers, but the boy felt pleased to recognize the pair of spectacles on top of the man’s nose.
Clearing his throat to make his presence known, he spoke.
“Your family will be here in half an hour, sir.” Shelby groaned in response but that was it. The young boy stood up tall and kept talking. “They are expected to have dinner, sir.” Once again mister Shelby agreed in a loose matter. “Will you be dinning with them, sir?” At last, that simple comment seemed to catch the man’s attention long enough to make him look apart from his documents.
With relentless dedication the boy fought his fears and stayed in place giving his boss a clear vision of his concerns. They had yet to convince mister Shelby to eat with Charlie, left alone with his whole family. Would there it be necessary to place a plate at the head of the table? Would the Shelby’s eat without Thomas?
Thomas sighed trying to drive away the tension on his shoulders at the memory of his family in one table but decided to wash the concern from his servants heads.
Even knowing it would be a waste of time, Thomas agree. “Yes.” The boy nodded and rushed back to finish up.
The dining room was a vision, a dream or a tale of tales like princess and royalty. The candelabrums shined in sparks of life, the table beautifully dressed in a snow white tablecloth, pristine silverware and opaline glasses refracted the light in different colours. The teasing heat of the kitchen was far from the room but the excitement for a warm meal was never down. Bottles of champagne were opened and chit-chat was all over the place.
One by one the Shelby’s made an entrance.
The food was delightful and soon the bubbly sweet beverage was forgotten for something stronger. Charlie was put to bed after playing with his cousins and saying goodbye to all his uncles and aunt; the nanny followed suit with a short reverence.
The night was young when the Shelby’s decided it was time to talk business and he stood by the door; the servant wasn’t sure he was allowed to stay, it were private matters, however, before he could voice his way out, the younger sister asked for more.
“Be a darling and serve another glass, would you?” Ada shook his empty glass in the air with a friendly smile.
“Yes, Miss Shelby.” The girl couldn’t help but show his discomfort at the name and it was all clear in her features. Being called that in business was a given, but after hours, in family company she preferred to be called by her name and her name only. So, she told him much.
“You don’t have to be formal, love.” She accepted the drink and saluted to his face. “My name is enough.” The boy, first time, looked conflicted as if he wanted to pleased the lady, it was a Shelby after all, but didn’t wanted to loose respect. He was a servant, they were rules and respect was primordial.
“I apologize, Miss.” He whispered finally conscious of how the rest of the family were watching their interaction. “I cannot do that.”
“Why is that?” Ada asked promptly, not mad but mostly curious.
“Miss— I, uhm...” staggering his voice in nervousness, the boy tried to make himself clear although was failing and massively. “I am.. most unable to... can.” Ada laughed opening and without restrictions causing the boy to sober up in flying colours that painted his cheeks and nose.
“Oh, brother—“ her accent splitting over. “Where on earth did you manage to find this one?” The rest of the family laughed wholeheartedly as he rested back on his post.
So, for the rest of the night, the Shelby’s made their mission to brake the boy’s formalities. And after a few hours, they almost succeeded.
Ada, as much to please her, passed from restrictively being name ‘Miss Shelby’ to a ‘Miss Ada’ with casual ring that let her smiling but compromise enough to the boy’s stubbornness to not drop his rightful tone.
Polly, now. After threatening to mark his pretty face —once again, they laughed at his expenses while his cheekbones blushed with a deep crimson—, felt herself in a win as the boy left to be respectful enough to keep the title but informal enough to call her by her name. And so, Mrs. Polly had another drink.
The oldest Shelby was the toughest on them so far, as the man kept asking to absolute drop all those fancy words and call him by his bare name.
“C’mon, lad. I know you can do it.” Arthur told him resting a heavy slap on his back almost making him fall. That was the time where, he couldn’t help but ask for guidance. With a fleeting glance to the man at the end of the table who watch with a heavy stare, he asked permission to fulfill Arthur’s request without being disrespectful.
Mister Shelby sat impassively on his chair, the smoke slithering from his parted lips while another cigarette filled his lungs with nicotine, the man said nothing blinking slowly.
Only then, after the boy sweat under his family’s interested eyes, Thomas lifted an eyebrow as if challenging the boy to do as he pleased.
Challenging to do what? To give in to his brother’s demands? To remain silent and being the target of their banter? To keep his formalities and hang in danger with the possibility of angering any of the family members? What was the right answer?
“Oi, Tommy!” Arthur called for his brother. “Don’t be a piss and let the poor boy speak.” The poor boy hid his eyes in shame, he never intended to insult his master. “C’mon, boy.” Arthur asked once again.
“Yes...” He consciously swallowed feeling his lips dry. “Yes, Arthur—“ the family around them cheered happily finally reaching their goal. “—, sir.” Ada huffed and crossed his arms in a mock tantrum.
“And just for that you’ll get me a new glass.” Yes, Miss Ada. The boy nodded openly smiling and rushed to change the woman’s glass that was half empty. Thomas toasted in silence lifting his glass to his sister and hid a short lived smiled that wanted to appear at the corners of his lips.
Miss Ada asked for tea after everybody went to sleep so he complaint. Gingerly placing the cup and the kettle, he was about to leave when the girl called his name.
“Would you stay with me for a moment?” Giving a wordless positive answer, the young one came close to the woman and stood with his hands behind his back. “Oh, boy! “Ada almost dropped his cup. “Would you sit down already!” Flustered acceptance of his permission to sit with the girl, the servant spoke a soft apology, he was not used to being treated with such familiarity. He had been working in the manor for years now and even thou everybody was polite and nice and friendly with each other, there were certain things that were never meant to happen such as sitting with their masters.
“But I’m not your master.” Ada left his concerns to be blown away as she wanted a simple and honest conversation that didn’t involved her brothers, her family or their business.
“Alright, miss.” He stated in confidence. “What would you like to talk about?” That’s how Ada learned about his family, about his childhood and the town he used to live.
The boy’s father was sent away to the Great War and for years they didn’t know any good news, all their neighbors became widows and orphans and those long sleepless night took a life from his mother.
By the time his father came back, they were all ecstatic until they realized the man had come back from war but the war hadn’t let him go.
His father may have come back but in reality he never came back. So one day, after a younger version of himself was sent to school, his father had gone out, walked to their garden and shot himself with his gun for his poor mother to find him in a pool of blood with a disfigured face.
His mother’s life was short lived after that. She couldn’t bare the thought of existing without his beloved and soon her health decayed. She died shortly of a broken heart no matter how much he cared for her. That’s why he left his home town, said goodbye to his parents and sailed for adventure knowing that they were together and happy once more; he hadn’t given religion much thought but he liked to think his parents watched over him.
He finished his story with a wobbly smiled before panic painted in his face due to Ada’s tears running down her cheeks.
“Oh, no! Miss Ada, please.” He fussed over her scared and terrified. “Please, don’t cry! I’ll do anything, just please!”
“You, silly boy.” Ada cleaned her face and tucked the boy into an awkward hug by the time he stayed half kneeling in front of her. “You suffered so much and you’re still worrying over me.”
“Hush now, just let me.” Uncomfortable and odd feeling the servant stayed in his master sister’s arms receiving comfort like no other in such a long time. He sent silent prayers of gratitude.
Neither paying attention of the shadowy figure at the door threshold.
After guiding Ada to his room and promising to her that he was in fact living a good life under her treacherous, devilish tyranny of brother, the woman left to sleep.
The servant finally felt how truly exhausted he was, long hours of working flying away in awe, music, conversation and laughter. He only wanted to go to his room and pass out for a few hours before it was time to get on his feet once again. And so close to his goal he was until he was intercepted by Polly.
Mrs. Polly was dressed down, forgotten the beautiful outfits were to be lived in a casual sleepwear, a long satin undergarment in a pale green with details in black, her face clean of make up shine by the moonlight. She was a dream.
The woman sultry walked until she faced him and smiled luxuriously with all the power she had.
“I’m surprised to see you up, boy.” There was something in her tone that left him uncomfortable, effaced was the easy mocking tone from the evening, now Polly seemed to denigrate him with even her looks.
The woman has seen and witness the silent conversation this unknown boy had had with her nephew and only served to race her alarms after catching the pleased and satisfied air Thomas portrayed the rest of the evening. Her nephew usually had two thoughts in mind: business and mindless fucking, and even the later was used as a way to achieved what he wanted, so the woman questioned herself, and an answer she would get.
It wasn’t difficult to trap the boy into her body and one of the tables at the living room, the open space was perfect, anybody could see.
“Missus—“ The low tone reached Polly with tint of desperation, it was clear to the woman that the poor boy would fly away the moment he could, but she wasn’t letting him go until her doubts were settle. Polly smiled long and languid, caressed the servant’s scared face with her fingertips until she reached for his clothesline in top of his belt.
The servant was mortified, he could reassured he was shaking like leaves in autumn while mrs Polly had her fun; he didn’t understand what the woman was after but he honestly prayed she would stop.
“Tonight, boy...” Polly came close enough for the servant to feel her warm breath. “You will serve me.” A switch was off on his brain, did missus Polly needed something outside of the obvious attempts which he in oblivious tried to surpass.
“Mrs. Polly, if you need anything I’ll try my best to serve you.” The woman frowned not quiet pleased with the servant’s reaction; if she was in the rights then the boy wouldn’t survive working for her nephew. A pretty boy to keep his bed warm wouldn’t go far in the world, even thou, there were rare cases, such as Lizzie.
“Oh, darling...” her voice crawling down the boy’s spine send chills not quiet pleasant. “There’s much you can do.” Polly went for the boy’s trousers and the young one yelped looking to escape her advances. “You will serve me well in the sheets.” Polly could almost laugh at the boy expenses, his reactions were too pure and innocent-like to not to play with, it would be both a delight and shame if he surrendered.
“Mrs. Shelby—“ the younger one angry whispered as his voice when a pitch high, in a bold flustered move, the servant touch Polly’s wrists and smoothed his way out. “I apologize for my actions ma’am but this is something I cannot do.” The boy seemed afraid while he gather himself in a thought hug and for moments Polly felt bad for deceiving the young one. “If that is something you need, I’ll search for someone but that is some I won’t do.” The boy gather up his courage and stared down at the woman with fierce determination that made her feel proud —now she understood her nephew—. “Mrs. Shelby, I am not a whore.” The secret hatred with which the boy talked to her flailed some thoughts. But she still pushed him farther.
“You might not be, darling. But under the Peaky Blinders, if that’s what they want, that’s what you’ll be.”
“I do not serve the Peaky Blinders, ma’am.” Finally seeing a way out, the servant rushed down the hall, almost running as he thought was far enough from the woman and hid in the first door he came close. Polly saw him leave with a satisfied feeling.
The poor boy felt like crying. None in his years of service he had been put into such position. He worked hard, he served well, kept his eyes close and ears shut when business were to be discuss; he tried his best to meet mister Shelby’s necessities but never he imagine he would be ask for something in that capacity.
His hands started to tremble as the embarrassment and shame began to grow in his belly. His heart raced in his chest, loud and clear to his ears and his mind was all over the place.
Had he done something wrong? Had the family gather that impression from him? Did everybody share the same thoughts of Mrs. Shelby? Did Mister Shelby had the same thoughts? Had he embarrassed his master in front of his family? He wanted to cry in all honesty, silliness and need for comfort. He began to talk to himself out loud trying to wash away the anger and mortification, the pain and shame the whole ordeal had caused him.
The boy leaned onto the door feeling the cold touch in his forehead and started to speak.
“You are not that. You are not what they said you were. You are a good servant. You do good. You are not a whore. No matter what they say, you are not a whore.” You’re not. You’re not. You’re not a whore. Memories of past pain came to life. A friend of his had suffered from the same sorrow as the people from town started to repel her for bringing a child to this world outside of a healthy marriage. She was known as the Old Town Whore.
She left one day with her daughter and he never saw her again.
“Who says you’re a whore?” The ring of mr. Shelby’s voice at the other side of the room was an unpleasant and absolute unexpected plus terrifying; in his hurry and shame he had not seen where he was heading. The servant turned surprised as if being caught doing something ilegal. Jumping out in his spot, the boy looked at his master with every inch of shame while questioning if anyone in that bloody family ever slept at regular hours. Finding each member of the Shelby’s family at late hours was not good for his nerves. “And well?” Mr. Shelby was know for his short temper regardless to patience making it obvious in his features.
The impression was such, they boy thought he would pass out in pure panic, his master could read him like an open book. Mister Shelby sat in silence waiting for his young servant to speak while they boy seemed troubled with each passing second. The young one was about to cry if his eyes weren’t tricking him, and Thomas didn’t relish on that sight at all. Who had caused the boy deep discomfort?
“Tell me, little one, what’s wrong?” As if being relief from his sorrows, the boy talked and talked non-stop by his thoughts of the evening, how he worked hard and hoped his family hadn’t taken a wrong impression of his persona. He wanted to believe he was good but after being cornered in the looming, deserted halls, the boy feared the worst.
“I swear, mr. Shelby— I didn’t mean to... I only tried to do my job." The boy started to heave. “Sir, I swear, I would never... I never intended to... I’m not—“ finally a lonely tear fell down his cheek. “Sir, please, believe me, I’m not— I’m not that.” In his own innocence, Shelby noted, the boy wasn’t even able to call himself a whore.
The servant in his share discomfort hadn’t realized mister Shelby was close. Long forgotten was his seat at his desk in the center of the room and slowly, soundlessly started to reach out to him. The boy was only conscious after feeling Thomas’ flexed index finger brushing against his wet cheek and watching how the man cleaned the salt away with his lips.
“Tell me. What did they say?” The order was clear. Thomas already had a fair idea onto who could be the perpetrator but he wanted to hear from his servant first.
“I had to serve in someone’s sheet... by order of the Peaky Blinders.” The little one’s lower lip trembled in humiliation, his cheeks fired up like a beacon in the midnight sky. Thomas was glad the boy had sheltered his gaze back down so he wouldn’t see the amused smirk his master was sporting at the time.
“And what did you say to that?” The boy stilled himself for a short while and Thomas inquired if they had finally broke the poor mind, when his boy impressed him once again with a share of honest devotion.
Meeting his master’s piercing eyes, feeling his own knees shake through the force he was using to keep it together, he spoke with conviction that characterized him.
“I do not serve the Peaky Blinders, sir.” The young one took a sharp breath before continuing his short speech. “I am a servant of the Shelby Household Manor and so, I serve the Shelby’s family, I am at service to you, sir. I serve the head of the family, Thomas Shelby.” In the heated spur of the moment he forgot to mind his words, the young one has never said his master’s voice out loud nor even in confidence, and some how that idea filled Thomas with warm delighted joy. It felt good to see his servants passion.
The shared a quiet moment, seconds before the young one came to notice what he had done. An undignified feeling washed over the servant and lower his head hiding his gaze from the man; it was obvious his guilt to the man.
“Look at me.” The mister said in a low tone an slight distortion of his strong will and demanding stance. The boy refused by shaking his head and Tommy wanted nothing but to hit him light at the back of the head. “I said... Look at me, little one.” Finding Thomas clear eyes was a shock like no other; it wasn’t new to see his master but it felt like it he was under a different light. Something closer, warmer.
“It’s alright.” Thomas peaked a ghost smile so the boy could see. “You did good, little one.” Brushing his cheek one more time, Tommy lightly touch the boy’s chin and soon the heavy atmosphere fade away. Repeating his reassuring words, Tommy let the boy go.
