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call-sign-shark · 2 years ago

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Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: Six months after being released from prison and cleared of murder charges, you and Arthur are finally getting married. All you have to do now is hope for the wedding day to be spared from some Shelby chaos. Featuring John Shelby x Reader.

Words: 6k

TW: tooth-rotting fluff, light angst, allusions to smut, one ruined wedding cake, Tommy not being a dick for once, otherwise it's a well-deserved soft chapter to start this new act. Let's not break your heart too soon.

Notes:

✞ This chapter is the beginning of Act II of Heaven in Your Eyes. The timeline is S4.

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT PART

The beating in your heart was so erratic, so fierce, that its constant drumming echoed in your skull and ears as painfully as if someone was smashing your brain with a hammer. You clenched your jaws at the painful bite of the rope the police officer behind you had placed around your neck. The way the noose compressed your windpipe, already giving you a foretaste of what was awaiting you, made the act of breathing laborious. Sucking on a sharp breath, your throat whistled like a dying bird. Down below I go, you thought while nervously playing with the wedding ring Arthur gifted you weeks ago. He had barely made his proposal when policemen snatched you from him and threw you both in jail. With your back straight and your crystal eyes glaring at the officers who were present in this slaughter room, you managed to keep your dignity. They might hang you, but they would not see you cry. In fact, if you went down they would have to watch you, so that your piercing irises would haunt them until, one day, Death would come for them too.

I love you Arthur.

I love you Dad and Mom.

I love you little sister.

I’m so sorry I’ve failed you.

Could you ever forgive me?

Your teeth dug into the flesh of your inner cheek as seconds flew, each bringing you closer to your inevitable end.

“WAIT!!! PLEASE WAIT! ”

A far cry in the distance. Were you dreaming? Or were demons already afraid of you down in Hell?

Officer Kat Wilson’s heart missed a beat when the familiar voice boomed in the warehouse, as loud as a foghorn. The blonde policewoman turned around, eyes filled with hope as she saw the silhouette of Sergeant Moss bathed in the blinding outside light that had rushed into the place when he had opened the warehouse’s heavy doors, “Do not kill her! We’ve just received a new order from the Crown: Heaven Lavey and Polly Gray are proven innocent of the crimes they had been accused of.” He said, forehead glistening with sweat. He had probably run as fast as possible to deliver the news quickly. Kat Wilson felt all of her muscles relax at such an unhoped-for plot twist.

“Take the noose off her neck now.” She ordered, trying his best to sound strict despite Moss standing right here, running out of breath.

Innocent? Take the noose? Sentences were melting in an intelligible treacle because of the emotional roller coaster you were undergoing, hence you only caught a few words. When your mind finally made sense of what was happening, a long sigh came out of your quivering lips. Then, the policeman behind you set your throat free. You blinked several times and looked at Officer Wilson, who replied to your confused gaze with a faint, supportive smile illuminating her usually oh-so-severe traits. Then, she proceeded to free you from the handcuffs that were sinking into the frail flesh of your wrists. As she did, Kat brought her lips near your ear and whispered so only you could hear, “Arthur’s safe. The warrant includes the Shelby family too. I’m sorry for the mess, doll. ”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and glanced at the woman, trying not to let too many emotions show. Not that you wanted to play the tough girl, but you were so overwhelmed by your feelings that you were not even able to let out anything except confusion. It was all… Too much. “You knew they were going to release us.” You stated with a quiet but still slightly shaky voice as the revelation struck you.

“Let’s say I hoped they’d interrupt your death sentence in time.” Her soft yet hoarse voice replied, highlighted with a cunning little something.

Kat Wilson gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze before leading you outside the sinister warehouse, unwilling to provide you with further details. And somehow, you did not bother to ask. The only thing you wished for was to run away from this killing floor. Thus you walked bare feet on the gravel ground, the peaky sensation of the tiny stones against your flesh keeping you grounded to reality, andyou stopped in the middle of the yard. There, you threw your head back and closed your eyes, relishing the soft caress of the wind on your face. You breathed a sigh of relief, for the clouds above you had shifted from the sun, whose rays were warming up your frozen skin.

You were alive.

“Heaven!” A woman voice called you.

You reopened your eyes and looked around you, “Oh my God, Polly!” You suddenly exclaimed when you recognized her. Seeing Aunt Polly running to you and almost tackling you in a desperate hug was all it took for your emotions to finally flood you. Tears dawned at the corner of your eyes as you pulled her into a deeper embrace. Polly sobbed in your arms, her body quivering because of her cries.

“I saw them Heaven! I saw the spirits. Oh bloody hell, the spirits…”

“I know Pol,” You tried to comfort her the best you could, your grip tightening around the poor woman in the hope of helping her calm her panic attack. Still, you knew she was shaken to the core by her freshly canceled rendezvous with Mr. Death, “Everything’s fine,” You whispered, and let one of your hands lose itself in her short dark hair, “I hear them too.” You admitted. Polly gradually grew quieter in your arms, running out of tears. Nevertheless, you did not let her go. What you did, though, was to silently thank the policewoman with your gaze, your irises sparkling with genuine gratitude. No matter her role in all this mess, you knew Kat Wilson contributed to setting you free.

You were alive.

Alive, for sure, and indescribably furious.

1925 - Six Months Later

You had been absentmindedly looking at your reflection in the mirror for long minutes when someone knocked at the door and snatched you from your contemplative state. A growl escaped from your lips for you had let everyone know you did not want to be bothered— truth be told, you needed a bit of time alone with you to soothe your anxiety. However, the uninvited guest came in before you allowed him to do so.

“True gentlemen wait to be invited before entering a room, you know? Especially when a lady is in it. ” You said with a faint smirk on your plump and glossy lips as you recognized the guest by the sole fragrances of his cologne.

“A part of me hoped to see you undressed, that’s why I didn’t, little Angel.” The masculine voice answered, its tone filled with tease. You snorted at such a stupid answer, kinda expecting it, and rolled your eyes in amusement.

“Idiot.” You simply retorted, glancing at him through the mirror you were still facing.

“Idiot? That’s it? I’m used to better roast from ya, eh!” John exclaimed, surprised by your lack of wit. He wanted to tease you again you but your sudden silence kept him from doing so. Something was off. Worried, the young Shelby brother frowned a little bit and walked to you, not minding your desire of being alone. You jumped slightly at the sensation of his two large and warm hands squeezing your upper arms, “Oi, Angel.” He gently called, the tenderness in his voice wrapping you in a comforting haze, “Tell me what’s wrong please…”

For sure John Shelby had a soft spot for you since the day Arthur introduced you to the family. No one had ever doubted it. Without the slightest explanation nor apparent reasons, you both immediately grew fond of each other from the moment your eyes met. In truth, your relationship with the Shelby family had been quite tricky for months following the first meeting. Most of them didn’t want you to be a part of the clan, partly due to the witch rumors around you and Arthur’s obsessive love. It was only now, a solid year and one murder later, that everything had started to flow more smoothly with them.

Even Esme, who had been terrified of you and would usually avoid you at all costs, had learned to live with your presence in the family. According to Polly, you had deserved your place among them more than any other women the boys brought home. The only threat to this harmony had been and still was Thomas Shelby himself. The mutual resentment you shared for each other was rooted in deep and far too complicated reasons, the most recent one was him selling you to the police for murder charges. However, you came to terms with the idea of maintaining a mutual hatred as long as he did not step between Arthur and you ever again.

So, apart from Tommy and Esme, you were now getting along with everyone. But with John… With John, it was unlike anything you had ever experienced, apart from Arthur. Whenever your man wasn’t there, John would do everything that was in his power to keep you company and bring a smile to your face. Not only he loved to visit you and spent his free time with you, but he truly cared for your well-being. Sometimes he would make a surprise visit to your house. In fact, he would stand there on your porch with the most adorable smile you had ever seen etched on his lips, a basket filled with food in one hand and a bottle of red wine in the other. When Arthur and you decided to leave Birmingham, your heart ached at the thought of moving away from John. Following your departure, rumors said John’s eternal smile had not be seen for weeks. However, once you had well adjusted to your new routine, even distance could not shake your unique bond: John never ceased to visit you when he could.

“What’s the matter, little angel?” He inquired, genuinely concerned by your silence and the melancholic gleam in your aquamarine eyes.

“I’m scared John. I’m fucking scared.” You finally admitted, closing your eyelids a few seconds to take a slow inhale. The weight in your chest had vanished from the moment words left your mouth. At such a surprising answer, the young gangster’s grip tightened on your arms and he gently forced you to turn around to face him. Still, you avoided his gaze, fearing judgment.

“It’s your wedding day, Heaven. What are you scared of?” He carefully asked, taking care not to make you think he was mocking or judging you.

“I’m scared because now I’ve got something to lose again,” You fell silent for a tiny while, fighting again the desire to remain silent, but you knew you could open up to him, “I have a magnificent house in the forest cradled by the sweet chant of a peaceful stream. I have the loveliest man I could have dreamt of by my side, who loves me to the moon and back. God, I even got a dog!” Another brief pause you took to avoid crying, “And one day there will be one or two kids…” John listened to you carefully, still wondering what the problem was, “If I'm being honest, I’ve never thought I would be allowed to be this happy. At one point in my life, I got used to the idea of dying alone, hunted down by bad memories, and drowned by guilt. But, look at me now. Look how far I’ve come… That’s why I’m scared of losing it all. Fuck, John —”

To your greatest surprise, the young gangster replied to your lament with soft chuckles, “Heaven. I don’t know what it is between Arthur and you, but I’ve never seen a love fiercer than the one you share. Bloody Hell, you’re so addicted to each other it’s even a bit scary sometimes, not gonna lie eh,” His fingers trapped your chin in one soft movement and, with indescribable tenderness, he raised your head so that he could observe each trait of your angelic face, “Having something to lose makes you cherish what you have even more. Plus it doesn’t mean you’re gonna lose it. “ The corner of his charming lips curled in a sweet smile, “Moreover, there’s more chance for Tommy to like you than for Arthur to leave your side. He’s not gonna let you go… To my greatest sadness.” John winked at you and, despite everything, his last flirty comment managed to make you laugh. Sometimes, you didn’t know how he always succeeded in cheering you up but still he did, “Listen, I knew you’d be a bit nervous for your wedding day, so I got you a little surprise.”

“A surprise?” You asked, curious, wiping away the tiny tears that had formed in the corner of your eyes while being careful not to ruin the stunning siren-eyes makeup Ada did. It would be a shame to have more mascara on your cheek than on your eyelashes the day of your wedding. John walked to the door and put his large hand on the knob, looking at you to maintain a small suspense “I know he’s not supposed to see you before the ceremony but he would not stop crying without you so…” He was about to open the door when he stopped mid-action, “Oh and I’m not talking about Arthur by the way. Even though I’m pretty sure he’s also doing that.”

“Fuck off, John boy.” You poked your tongue out, feeling cheerful and far less anxious thanks to him. He grinned in reply and finally opened the door.

“Oh! This is... So cuuuuute!” You almost squealed, for you were welcomed by the sight of Kaiser, the huge Cane Corso Arthur’s had brought home one night, sitting in front of the door with his mouth open in a big smile and with his drooling tongue hanging, “Come here big boy!” You called him, kneeling on the floor without minding your wedding dress now that your fur baby was here. Kaiser did not need to be asked twice: he walked to you and put his huge head between your frail hands to get his scratches, looking at you with so much love in his hazel eyes you could not resist smooching his wet snout “I can’t believe you’ve put a bow tie to my dog!” You laughed, “Look at this distinguished gentleman... He’s gonna steal all the women!” The massive beast barked loudly as to agree with you. You delicately wrapped your arms around his muscular frame to hug him, the sensation of his fur against your face erasing the last bits of anxiety left in you “Oh you’re the most handsome man of the whole family, baby Kaiser... Yes, you are. ”

His tail wagged. Of course, he was!

“Couldn’t participate in the wedding if he wasn’t all fancy, eh. I've also put a fake mustache on his snout but he ate it so I gave up on the idea,” He shrugged, “I thought it would make you laugh and help you relax.”

“Thank you, John! Thank you so much, you’re lovely I swear.” You said, looking at him with your gaze filled with genuine affection all the while cuddling with Kaiser, who seemed to be in paradise judging by his blissfully happy face.

“So — are you ready?” John finally asked.

“Yes, I am.” You replied, then stood up and took a quick look at your reflection in the mirror to fix your long white mane, which had been styled in wavy and adorned with a few diamonds from there and then, giving your hair an otherworldly shine. As you focused on your hairstyle, John rearranged your dress. At one point, he stopped what he was doing to look at you with a dreamy expression.

“You’re stunning, little angel. Fuckin’ bewitching.” He whispered before shaking his head, “Let’s find your man now, eh. Alright?” You nodded, the butterflies in your stomach flying at the sole mention of Arthur.

“I’m ready but before we go can I ask you a favor, John?”

“Anything.”

“You know, I’d have loved my family to be here. Mom would have been prolly crying during the whole wedding in Dad’s arms while my little sister would have thrown white petals at everyone’s face for fun…” You let out a charming but oh-so-sad chuckle “But no matter how fiercely I’ve prayed for it I know they won’t be there. So I’ve got two choices left: either I walk alone to my husband or I ask someone to accompany me.” You had barely finished your sentence when the celeste blue of your eyes dived into the sky blue of his, “I’d like you to escort me down the aisle, John.”

He remained silent, stricken by surprise at such a touching demand. He had not been expecting it. Words were at loss, however, they were not necessary for you to understand his answer: as the sun rays crossed through the windows and enlightened John’s face, you could see the precious shine of one sole crystal tear running down his cheek.

The powerful sound of the organ resonated in the whole church, the vibrations of its melody resounding in Arthur’s chest and making him tremble from within. He was standing in front of the altar with his manly hands interlocked in front of him. For the occasion, he had bought the most elegant and expensive tailored three-piece suit he had ever owned: he was dressed in all black, except for the white shirt he was wearing under. Moreover, Tommy had put some traditional white flowers in the pocket of his vest, while Polly had slipped an emerald pillar pendant around his neck and hid it under his shirt before he entered the church— a marriage blessing, from what he had understood from Polly’s emotional speech. The woman was so proud of her older nephew she could not help but already weep with joy. Arthur nervously glanced at his brother who was standing by his side, slightly in front of him at his best man’s place. Then, his steel-blue eyes shifted from Tommy and searched for his Aunt, who sat a bit further in the audience beside Ada and Finn. To be honest, Arthur’s anxiety kicked in. The more the second passed, the more the unpleasant impression his heart was about to burst from his chest was overwhelming. Nervously spinning one of his silver rings, he tried to control his nerves the best he could but it was harder than he thought: a part of him, admittedly irrational, was terrified by the possibility of you not showing up.

What if you’ve changed your mind? What if you’ve come to the conclusion you did not want him? What if your wedding did not work out, just like his first one? Maybe the problem hadn’t been Linda but him?

As was always the case when he was panicking, his self-whipping thoughts banged together in his skull like a hive of furious buzzing hornets. Nevertheless, Arthur knew, deep down, that you were soul mates and that there was no actual reason for you to flee. What really helped him to calm down though was taking a deep inhale and focusing on the hundred of candles’ flames that were illuminating the room with tiny dancing flames. A comforting wave of warmth almost immediately wrapped his heart as he did, for this church was the place in which you met for the very first time. He still clearly remembers the fire that had lit in his dying soul at the way your fingers grazed him when you had cleaned the blood off his face with a torn piece of your own dress. Not only had you purified his soiled skin, but then you had allowed him to put his head on your thighs and proceeded to pet his hair all the while lulling his demons to sleep with that enchanting voice of yours. From that night, Arthur made a promise to Almighty God, who had been kind enough to answer his prayers and sent him his most precious Angel. And that promise was that he would marry you in this same place to show God how well he would treat you and how happy you would be with him.

The organ roared louder in the church all of a sudden, causing him to refocus.

You were coming.

The gangster straightened his back, quickly slicked his hair back one last time to look perfect for you, and then stared at the church’s heavy wooden doors with both anxiety and anticipation in his eyes. His blood boiled with impatience, for you had been separated for too long because of the traditional “don’t see the bride before the ceremony” the Shelby women — and John — had insisted to establish. That being said, it had been torture for Arthur, who was aching so much from your absence that he felt almost as bad as when he went through rehab. Hands shaking, cold sweat running down his back, breath hitching, Arthur could definitely not live without you by his side. — you were the most exquisite drug ever created, against which even opium could not even compete.

The doors opened and panic rushed even more brutally into his being. At first, he thought he was about to die from a heart attack, but then, all these negative feelings vanished in dust when his piercing blue irises met your tantalizing silhouette. When you erupted from the almost supernatural light that was surrounding you, Arthur widened his eyes and stopped breathing. Here you were, your seductive body adorned with a graceful Greek goddess-inspired dress whose cut let the pale flesh of your back for the world to see while also forming a graceful and long wedding cape that was cascading down your shoulders. The whiteness of your outfit, equaling the wonderful snow-like color of your hair, was enhanced with gold jewels: armbands and a choker. One look at you was all it took for Arthur to feel the stinging of uncontrollable tears dawning in his eyes, for a tsunami of emotions had crashed in his soul at such a holy sight. As you walked to the altar at John’s arm, the wind blew in the church and made your cape dance behind you. For a few seconds, Arthur was convinced he saw wings in your back. Mighty feathery wings.

Divine. It was the only word that came into his mind when he watched you breaking the distance between you. And the more you approached, the more he was stunned by your ethereal beauty. So stunned he had to keep himself from falling on his knees at your feet, deeming himself unworthy of standing in front of such a pure seraph. Even Tommy, whose resentment for you was a secret to none, found himself in awe at your pulchritude. He, along with the groom, had to blink several times to make sure they were not dreaming.

Your glossy lips stretched in an enamored smile overflowing with emotions when you looked at your future husband: he was so charming in his suit that you fell in love with him for a second time. Your grip tightened around John’s arm for your heartbeat quickened until you finally rejoined Arthur. As soon as you reached him, the tall gangster took you by the hands — yours: small, delicate, and freezing. His: large, calloused, and burning. You dived into each other’s eyes, and the rest of the world disappeared.

“You’re so handsome.” You whispered, causing an adorable pink shade to blossom on your soon-to-be husband’s cheeks.

“C-Come on. Did ye see yer own reflection? Ye took me fookin breath away, Angel.” His hoarse replied.

“Arthur, we’re in a church.” You discreetly snorted.

“Oh Fook. I mean shi— Whatever.” He slightly stuttered. At this moment, it did not matter that he was a grown man in his mid-thirties: he felt like a flustered teenager in front of his first crush all over again. And to be true, so you were — to the point you both did not hear much of what the priest was saying, for you were far too hypnotized by each other’s presence as well as fighting hard against the urge of devouring each other’s lips. The only moment you both came back to your senses was when you had to pronounce your vows.

Then came the final moment.

Arthur Shelby, do you take Heaven Lavey to be your wife? Do you promise to be faithful to her in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love her and to honor her all the days of your life?

I do. He answered with haste. You trapped your lower lip between your teeth, gathering all your strength to hold your emotions, but the crystal tears in your aquamarine eyes betrayed you.

Arthur Shelby, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

The caress of your fingers along with the cold sensation of the golden ring on his skin sent shivers down his spine. Observing you as you sealed your love by slipping the ring around his finger, Arthur’s smile grew a bit larger and made his teary eyes squint, digging adorable crowfeet at their corners.

You can kiss the bride.

The priest’s last words brought him back to life — that’s what he had been waiting for what seemed to be an eternity. Unable to wait any longer, the gangster brought one hand to your cheek and broke the excruciating distance between your lips until they crashed together under a thunder of applause. The feathery caress of his moustache on your skin mixed with the sensation of his eager mouth warmed you all over. Arthur deepened the kiss by parting his lips slightly so that his tongue could find its way to yours and give it a gentle stroke. But while hungry, the press of his mouth remained chaste. Carried away by his softness, you felt your body flickering in his arms, as fragile as the church’s candle flames.

You were his, he told it to himself. And he was yours. All yours until death tears you apart.

No, fuck that Reaper cunt he thought, even Death would not keep him apart from you.

The hundreds of candles and lanterns that were scattered through all Arrow House’s garden enlightened the night with their warm hue. Shortly before the wedding, the Shelby family suggested hosting the party in Tommy’s Mansion rather than in your place for practical matters. By celebrating your marriage in Arrow House, all the family and, by extension, friends, could reunite together without having to drive for miles. Moreover, the mansion was far bigger than your and Arthur’s house, which made the place far more convenient for partying. For the event, all of Arrow House and its gargantuan garden had been decorated with lights, candles of every kind, white drapes, and flower wreaths that gave the place a supernatural atmosphere. The cheerful cacophony of chatter and music hovered above the garden as the guests were indulging themselves with food, alcohol, and innocent fun. Even Officer Kat Wilson, who had been invited following her implication in your release from prison, spent the whole night partying with the Shelby family. Surprisingly enough, no one dared to disrupt the celebration with illegal activities. Just a few bets here and there. The only incident to declare had been the moment when Arthur, faithful to himself, almost smashed someone’s head in the wedding cake —he got angry when one of the guests looked at your cleavage—. However, if Arthur failed with ruining the cake it had not been Kaiser’s case, who ate half of it by himself.

“Where are Arthur and Heaven? Can’t believe the bride and the groom had disappeared!” Polly asked Tommy and Ada, visibly unhappy. The latter was a bit tipsy judging by the red shade of her cheeks and the glass of champagne in her perfectly manicured hand.

“Last time I’ve seen them they were dancing with flower crowns on their heads,” She hiccoughed, “I nearly died from laughing. Arthur. With a flower crown. It was so sweet and ridiculous!”

“That ain’t fun, Ada. I really need to find those stupid lovebirds. I swear I’m going bonkers: first Arthur’s tantrum, then Kaiser ruining the wedding cake, and now the newlyweds are late for the picture!” She complained. Overall, it had been Aunt Polly who made sure everything ran smoothly, hence her discontentment.

Tommy rolled his eyes at his sister’s inebriation, then he squeezed her shoulder with his large hand, “I think your question will find its answer really soon, Pol.” He stated with his quiet and deep voice as his turquoise eyes caught sight of your silhouette walking toward them, holding Arthur by the hand. You were both exchanging glances and light enamored laughters.

As surprising as it sounded, Thomas Shelby and you had managed to put your mutual hatred aside for the sake of the wedding. Of course, you were carefully avoiding each other the best you could, but when you were together in inevitable family moments, your exchanges remained polite.

Polly turned to you with her eyebrows furrowed and pressed her fists on her hips with an angry- mother expression when you and Arthur joined the small group.

“Ah! There you are! The photographer has been fuming for half an hour! Where have you been?” She scolded.

“We really need a map. This place is a fookin’ maze eh. We got lost.” Arthur tried to justify himself, his fingers firmly intertwined with yours, “I mean I wanted to show her the mansion but hey, I quite forgot which way to go and —“

“Arthur?” Polly cut him.

“Eh?”

“Your fly.” She simply stated. Holding much power, those two tiny words made Arthur almost jump. He let go of your hand in one vivid movement.

“OH FOOKIN HELL!” His gravel voice exclaimed when he looked down at his trousers. He quickly zipped the fly up under Ada’s hysterical laugh and Tommy’s mocking smirk. Admittedly, you could not help but giggle too for his reaction had been quite priceless. Oh Arthur, you thought. The only one who was not laughing was Polly, who looked at him with such a desperate face that you were sure she was about to facepalm herself. Or slap his face, it depended on her mood.

“Men and their cock, I swear. Look at you, idiot,” She said affectionately, “Your hair is all messed up! You’re going to look awful in your wedding pic!” She growled, grabbing her oldest nephew to rearrange both his hair and his tie.

“Don’t be mean Pol, he just needed to release the pressure.” You said, watching the scene with a faint smile on your juicy and glossy lips still swollen from Arthur’s lustful kisses, “The whole speech thing worried him.”

“Mmmpff— true.” He grunted, embarrassed.

“Yeah of course.” The beautiful Ada started before coming to you and smoothing the folds of your goddess dress with a teasing grin “What a long and difficult way to say you just wanted to give him a blowjob.” She teased.

“Piss off Ada.” You gently retorted, rolling your eyes in a fake outraged pout, “let’s take that picture before Polly strangle us all.”

“OI. Everyone fucking gather together for the picture! Bring the damn dog too!” Tommy yelled to the crowd, “John! Made them pose in front of the mansion!” Orders flew and Peaky Blinders were soon taking the crowd in charge to help the photographer take the most perfect picture he could take. When everyone was ready, he pushed the button of his camera and, in a blinding flash, captured the most beautiful moment of your whole life in a picture you would cherish like the apple of your eye.

“We… We really should … Like… At least try to get in bed.” You giggled, your cheeks still adorned with a pink blush. Admittedly, talking had become quite a challenge after the second bottle of wine.

“Not gonna lie, love, I can’t fookin’ get up for the life of me.” Arthur pulled you closer against his bare chest and slipped one hand into your messy long hair, not willing to move. The tenderness of his caresses made your whole body relax and you melted in the warmth of his freckled skin. To hell with the bed, you thought, the floor would do the trick.

When the party had come to an end, Arthur had carried you bridal-style to one of the mansion’s magnificent bedrooms, despite being completely drunk. The whole walk had been tedious with poor Arthur staggering in the stairway, but you could not have cared less — you were as wasted as he was and could not walk anymore. Maybe the alcohol contest with Kat and Uncle Charlie had not been such a great idea after all… Once you reached the bedroom, Arthur and you collapsed on the large fur rug that was on the wooden floor and clumsily took off each other’s clothes between heated kisses and steamy moans. He had impatiently waited for the wedding night, calling you “Mrs. Shelby” and “me lovely wife” all the way. That being said, a few intoxicated chuckles had embellished the symphony of your love when alcohol made one of you missed the other’s lips. No one could tell how many hours went by nor how many times you made love — Not even you. You were only coming back to your senses now that you were both snuggling naked on the floor, your legs entangled and your mind still clouded with your latest orgasm.

“I don’t want this wonderful day to end,” Arthur said, his gruff voice finally breaking the comfortable and peaceful silence that had settled in the room. A slow and long exhale escaped from your nostrils at his words before you laid lazy kisses on his chest. Your lips, still hungry for him despite your drowsiness, trailed up until they reached the golden cross pendant he was always wearing. A shiver ran down his spine when you took it between your full lips and looked up to his eyes through your Bambi lashes, “Fook — you make me so… Happy.”

“And I’ll do my best to keep you happy every day of your life.” You replied after a little while, setting the pendant free from your tantalizing mouth. “That was a pretty successful day.”

“It was, eh.” Arthur softly smiled at your words, his piercing blue eyes enjoying your mesmerizing beauty and his long fingers gently massaging your scalp, “We got a letter and a bouquet from Mrs. Solomons, y’know. She wanted to come but her husband’s back was hurting too much. ”

“Oh yes? Rosie is a sweetheart.”

“And her husband’s a cunt.” He growled, ��Bloody bastard.”

“I know right? But she’s great. She’s been teaching me so many interesting things about feminism! Really made me want to attend her next meeting!”

“Women… You’re all going to overpower us one day.” Arthur said, his voice tinted with amusement. His free hand quickly grabbed the bottle of whisky that was next to him and took a mouthful of alcohol.

“It would not be a bad thing,” You pressed a kiss against his chin and he hummed in response, delighted by the way you showered him with tenderness. Arthur would have been purring under your touch if he had been able to do so. It just felt good — so good the whole world could have gone down in flames he wouldn’t mind as long as you kept pampering him like you were doing. You made him feel loved. You made him feel at peace… And God knows how much he needed that. “Especially for Michael. Have you seen his girlfriend Nora? She looked exhausted.”

“She just gave birth to her second child. Of course, she’s exhausted, love.” He said. His hand, which had been playing with your hair until then, slowly ran down your naked back.

“Hm.” That was all you replied, for you felt Michael’s girl was more than just physically exhausted. Something was definitely off in their relationship, but you did not want to mingle. “Their daughter is lovely, though.”

“She is.”

Another silence fell in the bedroom, only embellished by the relaxing cracking of the woods burning in the hearth. Both of you had closed your eyes, slowly drifting away into Morpheus’ kingdom.

“Angel?” He called you with a sleepy voice.

“Yes, Arthur?” You answered, dozing off.

“ I’d love to have kids with ye, eh. Little white-haired and blue-eyed us running barefoot in the forest… Little embodiments of our love brightening our life.” His voice was merely a whisper now for he was slowly falling asleep, “I’ve always wanted to be a dad… but thought I was too messed up for that.”

“You aren’t.. You're not even as messed up as what I've known before you.” You smiled and let your fingers lazily graze his skin, your nails crossing through his chest hairs and ending their race on his heart, right where his tattoo was “I want it too Arthur. I want it too.”

Sleep made the last word of your sentence die on your lips. Now, the hullabaloo of the party was no more. All the remaining noises were the harmonious murmurs of your slow breathings and the lullaby sung by the fire, which had never been so comforting.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ Tag list: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms

✞ Nora Gray belongs to @amidst-wonderland || Rose Solomons belongs to @raincoffeeandfandoms || Kat Wilson belongs to my sweet partner @callme-fox

✞ Each chapter of this series can be read as stand-alone even though it's far more enjoyable if you have read at least the previous chapter.

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evita-shelby · 2 years ago

Text

Garden of Eden

Part iii

Cw: infidelity, mentions of sex, drama lots of fucking drama

Gif by @crackshipandcrap

Heaven Shelby is @call-sign-shark oc

(Prev)

(Next)

Gabriel has his distinctive features( and her coloring)and his premature birth is what moved his father’s heart to forgive her finally.

“I love you.” He had said without a hint of resentment or distrust. “Always have and always will.”

“We’re a match made in hell, Tom.” Eva had kissed him again as they enjoyed the quiet peace in her hospital room.

The witch doesn’t know who was more terrified, Eva who had never had a baby come earlier than the cards said or Tommy who had been about to tell her something before her back pain became a contraction.

As much as she is loath to admit it, this baby saved her marriage.

If it hadn’t been for him, Eva doesn’t know what would be of her knowing the wedding band on her finger won’t come off unless she’s dead.

But it’s easy to ignore the chains when you are happy, and she is happy with her children and her husband as her world tilts itself back into its right place in the months after Gabriel's birth.

Tommy ---unsurprisingly--- wins his election and had Eva cared about the feelings of the women he used like knives to hurt her; she would’ve been nicer to Jessie Eden who rounded up every communist to vote for him.

They are to celebrate this great achievement with a party they won’t forget.

Arthur and Heaven will be there.

And because she is coming, Tommy has decided he must stake his claim on his witch.

“Did you have to bite me?” Eva asks relieved to know no one will see it in the sexy number she’s gotten for the occasion.

“No one else but me is gonna be looking at you down there, Evie. If you’re a good girl for daddy, I’ll kiss it better when its over.” He said, burying his face in her stomach as they came down from that high she’d never trade for anything.

She had missed this, missed his neediness and unconditional trust and love.

As much as she had loved Heaven, she loved Tommy more.

Tommy was her soulmate; she couldn’t exist without him just as he couldn’t exist without her.

“Might lose a fork and return the favor during dinner.” She muttered and he agreed she should do it, mentioning with great fondness all those times he’d been handling business and she’d suck his prick like the good wife she is.

During one of the first campaign dinners, she’d snuck under the table and reminded him how good she was with her wicked mouth.

Eva had jokingly said she had gotten a sudden craving only he could satisfy and to this day she can’t look at white floor-length tablecloths without getting hot.

“I can lie and say we got a call from the American offices, that will give us all the time we need.” Her husband said as this pregame ritual ended.

They never got to do that.

Despite the awkwardness of two ex-lovers seeing each other and their husbands feeling the pinpricks of jealousy and other insecurities, the party is going fine.

Something is going make it all go to hell and Eva can’t relax because it has this feeling telling her it will be an unforgettable affair.

“You feel it too?” the French witch asks in her native language so only they ---and Thomas--- know what’s going on.

The last time she had a bad feeling this strong, she was shot by an Italian hired by Section D.

But everything is going great, too great. Like the calm before the storm.

In her anxiety, Eva bumps into someone and gets wine spilled all over her dress. Maybe it was that the witch thinks as she went upstairs to change.

But then Frances quietly pulled her aside saying a woman had come asking for her and her alone.

“Miss Stark is here.” Frances warns as she leads her to the kitchen and servant’s entrance and her wet dress forgotten.

This was the bad thing.

She knows it.

The witch knows exactly why Lizzie had the nerve to show up here after destroying their friendship by fucking her husband while their marriage was on the skids.

She knows what is waiting for her in the kitchen and yet Eva tells herself it might be something else.

And yet, Lizzie Stark stands there with a baby maybe a few weeks older than Gabe.

A little girl with a ruby red blanket with her name stitched on by Polly’s neat hand.

Eva hasn’t had a fainting spell in some years and suddenly it all came crashing down.

When she comes to, it takes Heaven and Ada to keep her from murdering Polly.

“You knew! You knew! You knew!” the witch seethed as the realization dawns on those gathered in the kitchens.

She had been brought upstairs, Lizzie taken to the cottage where the rest of the family stayed when they visited, and some lie is told to keep their guests none the wiser.

After her episode where she nearly throttled Polly, Polly who she trusted like an older sister, Polly who never kept a thing from her, she and tommy are left alone in their room.

“Evie, sweetheart.” He tries to calm her down, but she pushed him away feeling disgust at his touch. “I tried, but I---”

“But what, you knew you wouldn’t have a fucking leg to stand on when you made me beg for your love all those months.” The witch scoffed as she dried her tears and poured herself a glass of water and felt it shatter in her hands when her anger breaks it.

“I wanted to tell you, believe me, but I, I didn’t want to lose you.” He said justifying his fucking lies.

“She had a child, your child, Thomas!” Eva reminds him with a hiss.

In comparison to his fuck up, her fuck up looks minimal.

And it had been, Eva had not treated him differently, loved him just as she always did even when she escaped to Pebblebrock with Heaven for a weekend or two.

Lizzie had told him the day he called her to his office, and he’d told her it was over.

Lizzie had become his mistress because it hurt Eva. Lizzie had been amongst her first friends in Small Heath and that betrayal had hurt her enough to demand she never set foot in her house ever again.

Lizzie had held on to those feelings for him she had always had, and he used her weakness to hurt Eva.

Evie and I are going to give us another try; he had said looking at the coin that led him to his witch, we’re having another baby.

Tom, I’m pregnant, she had said in response.

Only Polly knew about Ruby and that picturesque cottage far away from Arrow, Warwickshire, Lizzie didn’t lack for anything.

She was free to live her own life and maybe one day Ruby would know her father and her half-siblings, or if her mother wanted to, have a better man to call father and not the fucker who only used her mother.

He had tried to tell her. He was going to that day Gabe was born, but he lost his nerve when he saw her look at him with the same adoration and love she had for him when Charlie and Diane had been born.

How could he ruin everything when they were finally happy again.

“I’m sorry, Evie.” He chokes on his words because he knows this is something she may not forgive.

Her affair didn’t result in a fucking child with his friend.

Her affair wasn’t the result of deliberate cruelty.

“If I wanted to leave, would you let me go?” she asks, and he stays silent.

The answer is no.

Tommy would never let her go, he’d rather kill her and himself than live a moment where Eva isn’t his nor he isn’t hers.

Even when he cheated on her to hurt her, his heart nor mind could ever entertain thoughts of letting her go and start anew with anyone else.

“We’re a match made in hell, love.” He said coming to sit beside her on their bed and cleaning up the mess he caused.

Whatever price she wanted him to pay, he’d pay it gladly.

One day she’d forgive him, just as he’d forgiven her.

#eva smith shelby #tommy shelby x oc #arthur shelby x ofc #heaven shelby #garden of eden fic

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cloudyluun · 27 days ago

Text

Like Hell You’d Tell Me No | PB fic

(tommyshelby x fem!reader – s2 era)

Summary: When Y/N gets sent to Birmingham for her own protection, the last thing she expects is to be dropped into the middle of Shelby territory, especially under the icy watch of one Thomas Shelby. But somehow, she keeps breaking his rules... and somehow, he lets her. Between unannounced office visits, drunken nights in his chair, and a new bestie in Ada Shelby, Y/N is stirring up more than just trouble. And when things start to heat up between her and Tommy, they might just find themselves caught in a moment that neither of them is quite ready for, yet.

A/N: okay so, I always write Harry (literally always), but while prepping for my internship I decided to finally watch Peaky Blinders... and now I’m unwell. Like, genuinely not okay. Tommy Shelby lives in my head rent-free and I can’t make him leave. 😭

So instead of lesson planning like a responsible adult, this little fic idea basically wrote itself at 1AM with Taylor Swift playing in the background lol. Not sure if I’ll continue this or if I’ll dabble in multiple fandoms, but I had fun writing it and wanted to share in case anyone else is also deep in their Peaky Blinders phase

Word Count: 4147

Warnings:

Light drinking

Mentions of past threats/harassment (non-graphic)

Protective/possessive behavior (from Tommy, ofc)

Language (it’s Peaky Blinders, there’s swearing lol)

Slow-burn tension and emotional build-up

Mentions of minor violence (one punch, classic Tommy move)

Unresolved romantic tension (aka cliffhanger ending 😌)

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Tommy just… stares.

The silence in the room stretched, thick as the smoke curling from his cigarette. Papers sat idle in front of him, ignored now. The man across the desk – some poor bastard talking percentages – had gone completely still, mouth half-open like he was about to continue his pitch until she appeared out of nowhere.

She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room like she’d walked into a pub instead of the Shelby Company office. Young, maybe mid-twenties, wearing a travel-worn coat and scuffed boots. There was something in her look. Not arrogance. Just no fear. Like she'd met worse than a room full of Shelbys.

“Door was open,” she said again, tilting her head. “Didn’t think it was a problem.”

Arthur snorted behind her. “Bloody hell, she’s brave.”

Polly didn’t say a word, but the look on her face was a mix of amusement and caution. Always watching.

Tommy took a slow drag, tapped ash into the tray. “You must be Y/N.”

“Yeah,” she said, stepping in without being asked. “You must be Tommy, Thomas Shelby.”

“Bit early to be on first-name terms.”

“Bit late not to be,” she replied, dropping her bag by the wall like she belonged there. “You owe my brother a favor. I’m the favor.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. Not from her mouth. Not from anyone, really. But the message had come a few days ago, and he’d read it twice just to be sure. Michael Carter. They’d served together. Pulled him out of a trench once. Didn’t talk much after the war, but when a man like that writes and says his sister’s in trouble, you pay attention. You don’t say no.

“What kind of trouble?”

She shrugged. “The vague kind. London’s full of it. Wrong place, wrong time. Few names I shouldn’t have known, a few blokes who didn’t like me walking away.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair. “You running?”

“I’d call it more of a stroll,” she said. “Don’t worry. I didn’t bring much baggage.”

He looked at her. Really looked. She was tired but not broken. Something restless behind her eyes. There was a fight in her, the kind that either got people killed or made them dangerous friends. He wasn’t sure which yet.

“You’ll stay above the shop,” he said after a pause. “Spare room. Polly’ll take you up.”

Y/N glanced toward Polly, who gave a small nod.

Tommy picked up his pen again, glancing at the man across from him who’d gone completely pale. “Now, if we’re done with the interruptions–”

“I’ll get out of your hair,” she said, already walking off.

“Don’t wander.”

She turned in the doorway, gave a small smirk. “No promises.”

Polly followed her out a moment later, her heels sharp on the floorboards.

Arthur leaned in with a low whistle. “She’s got some fire, that one.”

Tommy didn’t answer. He was staring at the spot she’d been standing in. His jaw clenched as he exhaled smoke through his nose.

“She gonna be trouble?” Arthur asked.

“She already is,” Tommy said quietly, then went back to pretending to listen to the pitch in front of him.

Upstairs, Y/N was already sizing up the space. The spare room was clean enough. Not warm, but not cold either. Polly stood by the door, watching.

“You’re lucky,” Polly said finally. “He doesn’t like people in his office. Doesn’t like people full stop.”

Y/N looked around, then dropped onto the bed with a soft thump. “I’ll keep out of his way.” Polly gave a dry smile. “Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Downstairs, Tommy stubbed out his cigarette, but his hand hovered near the tin for another. He didn’t light it. Just sat there, staring at the door where she’d come in like a storm in worn boots and sharp words.

A favor owed, he thought. Just a favor.

But he already knew better.

The days that followed proved it. She didn’t just stay in the spare room. She moved through the betting shop like she’d always been there. Tommy had told himself he’d figure out what to do with her once things settled, once he had time. But time didn’t slow for the Shelbys. And she didn’t wait for permission.

“You know there’s a kettle in the back, right?” she asked one morning, walking into his office without knocking. Again. She set a chipped mug down on the desk like it was hers to do so. “You don’t have to drink your weight in whisky before noon.”

Tommy looked up slowly. “You bring tea to every man who gives you a place to sleep?”

“Only the grumpy ones,” she said, hands in the pockets of her skirt. “Which is lucky for you.”

He didn’t answer, just stared at the steam curling from the cup.

She lingered a second longer, then turned to leave. “Try not to scowl into it too hard. Might go bitter.”

That was the third time that week she’d barged in. Polly had stopped bothering to intervene. Arthur found it funny. John asked if she had a death wish.

Tommy just drank the tea.

It wasn’t that she was rude. She just didn’t care about the little rules. Rules like knocking before you enter a room that belongs to Thomas Shelby. Rules like not sitting in the man’s chair while drunk at the end of a long day.

Which she did.

It was Friday, the shop was quiet, and she had found the whisky in the cabinet behind the front desk. Arthur had offered her a glass earlier. She’d declined then. Hours later, she helped herself.

Tommy walked in to find her kicked back in his chair, legs tucked under her, nursing a glass. Her boots were off and resting on the floor beside her. She looked comfortable. Dangerous thing to be in his space.

“You’re in my chair,” he said.

She turned her head lazily. “Didn’t think you’d mind.”

He didn’t say anything. He looked at her for a moment, then walked to the other side of the room. Took off his coat, hung it up. Sat on the edge of the desk, lit a cigarette. The quiet filled the space between them.

“You always drink alone?” he asked finally.

“I wasn’t alone,” she said. “You came in.”

Arthur came by halfway through and nearly choked on his laughter. John followed, paused in the doorway, gave a long low whistle.

“She’s got some bloody nerve,” John said under his breath.

Tommy said nothing. Just exhaled a long stream of smoke and looked at the ceiling.

After a few minutes, she stood, wobbling just a bit, and set the glass down neatly on the desk.

“Thanks for not shouting,” she said. “It’s rare.”

He watched her as she walked out, barefoot, leaving the smell of whisky and some kind of sweet soap in her wake.

The door clicked shut.

Arthur leaned closer to Tommy after a beat. “You gonna let her get away with that?”

Tommy didn’t look at him. “She’s not doing any harm.”

John raised an eyebrow. “She was in your chair, brother.”

Tommy stubbed out his cigarette. “She’s not in it now.”

That was how it was. She floated in and out of the betting shop like smoke, slipping through the cracks no one else dared to touch. She was younger, yes. Full of jokes and sudden laughter. The kind that didn’t come from politeness but from deep inside, like she refused to let the world make her quiet.

He didn’t know what to make of her yet. But he noticed things. The way she talked to everyone. The way she read newspapers he hadn’t even opened yet. The way she knew how to patch a rip in her own coat with needle and thread without making a fuss. Like she’d done it a hundred times.

She didn’t belong here. Not really. But she was here. And the longer she stayed, the more it felt like a storm had rolled in and decided to settle.

He didn’t know what the hell he was going to do with her. But he knew sending her away wasn’t an option anymore. That thought sat in the back of his mind the night Arthur burst through his office door, out of breath and sweating.

“She’s at the Garrison,” he said. “Alone. Some bloke’s not takin’ the hint.”

Tommy didn’t say anything. He stood, grabbed his coat, and walked past Arthur without a word. His pace was calm, but his steps were hard. Each one louder than the last on the wooden stairs.

The Garrison wasn’t far, but it felt like miles. His hands curled into fists at his sides. Inside, the music was low and the laughter was higher than usual. A Friday night crowd. Voices blurred together until one stood out.

“Come on, sweetheart,” a man was saying. “Don’t be so bloody cold.”

Tommy moved through the crowd like smoke. He didn’t shove. Didn’t speak. Just walked until the man came into view. Broad-shouldered, older, drunk. Y/N was backed against the wall near the end of the bar, her arms crossed tight and chin lifted. She wasn’t scared, but she wasn’t laughing either.

“I said no,” she repeated, voice firm.

“And I said I don’t care,” the man replied, hand brushing against her arm again.

Tommy didn’t stop walking. The man didn’t see him coming. One second he was smirking, the next he was on the ground, nose caved in and blood gushing. No warning. No words.

The room went quiet.

Tommy didn’t look down. He turned to Y/N, who hadn’t moved. Her face had gone pale.

“Come on,” he said.

She followed him out into the street without arguing. The cold hit her hard, cutting through the whisky in her blood. They walked in silence for a few blocks, her footsteps uneven beside his. She hadn’t even grabbed her coat.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said finally.

He didn’t look at her. “Yes. I did.”

She shoved her hands into her pockets. “I could’ve handled it.”

“I’m sure,” he said, voice flat. “But, he touched you.”

She stopped walking. He stopped too, turning to face her.

“I don’t need a fucking bodyguard, Tommy.”

“No,” he said. “You need someone to keep you alive. That’s me now.”

She stared at him, jaw tight, but her voice cracked when she spoke again. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

He looked at her. Really looked. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair wind-blown, and her eyes shining in that way they did when she was holding too much in. She was trying to be tough, but her hands were shaking.

He stepped closer, calm now. “You all right?”

She looked away. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“It wasn’t the first time someone got too close.”

Tommy’s jaw clenched. His fingers flexed at his sides. He didn’t say what he wanted to say. That London was behind her, but its shadows were still clinging. That he should’ve never let her walk out alone. That the second he got word she was in danger, his heart had pounded like it hadn’t since France.

Instead, he took a breath and said, “Next time you go out, you take someone with you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Arthur? Polly?”

“Me,” he said. “Preferably.”

The silence stretched between them, and something shifted in her face. Not fear. Not defiance. Just something quieter.

“Right,” she said. “Okay.”

He nodded once, then turned and kept walking. She followed.

The streets of Birmingham were dark, damp, full of half-spoken threats. But she walked beside him like it was the safest place she’d ever been.

The next morning, Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor of the spare room, trying to make sense of the mess she called her belongings. Half-unpacked bags, a few folded letters, and a pair of boots still caked in city grime. She was tugging a comb through her hair when there was a knock on the door. “Mind if I come in?” came a voice.

Y/N turned to see a woman leaning in the doorway, lipstick perfect, hair pinned up tight like she meant business even on a quiet day. She looked familiar in that way all the Shelbys did.

“Ada, right?” Y/N said.

“That’s me. Figured it was about time we had a proper chat,” Ada replied, stepping in without waiting. “They’ve all been talking about you.”

“Yeah?” Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”

Ada grinned. “Only if you hate compliments wrapped in irritation.”

She handed over two cups of something that smelled strong enough to kick. Y/N took one with a grateful nod.

“Whiskey in the coffee?” Y/N asked.

“Bit of both. It’s the Shelby way.”

They sat near the window, legs stretched out, warmth settling into the space.

“You’re not like them,” Ada said after a moment. “Not from here. Not stuck in it like the rest of us.”

Y/N gave a little shrug. “London’s not exactly better.”

“No, but you’ve still got light in your eyes,” Ada said. “Most people around here have it beaten out of them by twenty.”

Y/N looked out the window. “I don’t know about light. I just don’t see the point in pretending everything’s always awful.”

Ada sipped from her cup. “That’s what I mean. You’re a bloody breath of fresh air. Especially among all these grumpy bastards.”

Y/N laughed. “Speak for yourself. You’re just as sharp.”

“I get it from my mother. And years of watching Tommy scowl at paperwork.”

At the mention of his name, Y/N glanced away, but Ada noticed. Of course she did.

“He’s different with you,” Ada said.

Y/N frowned. “Different how?”

Ada leaned in, smug. “Less growling. More… I don’t know. Breathing.”

“You’re making things up.”

“I’m not.” She pointed her cup at Y/N. “You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger, you know that?”

Y/N blinked, actually blinked, and then laughed into her drink. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on,” Ada said. “He doesn’t even let me in his office unannounced.”

Y/N bit her lip. “Maybe he’s just tired of telling me off.”

“No. That’s not it.” Ada gave her a long look. “He trusts you.”

There was a weight in those words Y/N hadn’t expected. She didn’t answer right away. Trust wasn’t something she’d had a lot of lately. It felt strange to even think about.

“He walked me home last night,” Y/N said quietly. “After a man at the Garrison got pushy.”

Ada nodded. “I heard. Arthur said Tommy didn’t say a word. Just broke the bloke’s nose and left.”

Y/N stared down into her mug. “He didn’t even look angry. That’s what got me.”

Ada tilted her head. “That’s worse, you know. Means he meant it.”

Y/N smiled faintly. “I know it’s just a favor, what he’s doing. Letting me stay. Letting me be here.”

Ada stood and stretched. “It started out that way, but i believe it has turned into more. That’s why it matters.”

She walked toward the door, then turned. “You’re good for him. Whether he admits it or not.”

Y/N stayed by the window after she left. The coffee had gone cold, but she held it anyway, hands wrapped around something solid.

Out in the street, she caught sight of Tommy crossing to the shop, coat pulled close, face unreadable as ever.

She watched him for a second too long. Then she looked away, heart skipping in a way she pretended not to notice.

By the time evening came, the betting shop had been cleared out, lanterns strung up, and Polly’s birthday turned into one of those Shelby nights that started quiet and always ended with someone singing out of tune. Y/N wasn’t much of a drinker, but it was hard to say no when John poured heavy and Polly kept pressing glasses into her hand with a look that said she’d take offense otherwise.

She’d laughed too hard, danced once with Ada, twice with Arthur, and ended up slipping out when her head started to spin and the voices all blurred into one. The music still floated through the floorboards when she made her way up the stairs and pushed open the office door.

She didn’t even bother with the lights. The soft glow from the hallway was enough. She crossed the room like it was muscle memory now and dropped into the chair behind the desk. His chair. She tucked one leg under herself and took a slow sip from the bottle she’d brought up.

The first sip burned. The second didn’t.

She leaned back and closed her eyes for a second, listening to the muffled laughter below, the distant clink of glasses. The door creaked after a few minutes. She didn’t open her eyes.

“Told you I like your chair,” she said lazily.

Tommy stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “You’ve got a habit.”

“I’ve got nowhere else that’s quiet,” she replied.

He walked across the room and sat on the edge of the desk, facing her. No coat, sleeves rolled just enough to show the edge of his tattoo. His tie was loose. He looked like he’d stopped pretending to be the man everyone thought he had to be.

She glanced at him and smiled faintly. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the party?”

He shrugged. “They won’t miss me for a few minutes.”

She tilted the bottle toward him. “Want some?”

“I’ve had enough.”

“Then keep me company.”

So he did. They sat in the kind of silence that had weight but no pressure. She traced a line in the wood grain of the desk with her finger, then spoke, soft and unguarded.

“Do you ever feel like you don’t belong anywhere?”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze stayed on her face.

“I used to think London was it,” she went on. “Then everything went to shit. I came here thinking it’d be worse. But now I just feel stuck in between.”

She looked down. “And I hate feeling like a guest. Like I’m just waiting for someone to tell me it’s time to go.”

“You’re not a guest,” Tommy said.

“Then what am I?”

He didn’t flinch, but he didn’t answer either.

She looked at him, really looked. The way his eyes softened in moments like this, when no one else was around to see. How still he went when he let his guard down. Like it scared him more than war ever had.

“You don’t talk much,” she said.

“I say what needs saying.”

“Right.” She took another sip. “But you listen.”

Their eyes met. Her thumb brushed the side of the glass, and his fingers reached out absently to take it from her. Their hands touched – just a second – but it was enough to make her chest tighten.

He set the bottle down without breaking the gaze. Neither moved.

“Why are you always so calm?” she whispered.

“I’m not.”

His voice was low. Closer now. She hadn’t noticed how near he’d leaned until she could feel the warmth of him, the faint scent of tobacco and something colder underneath.

Her fingers curled around the arm of the chair.

His hand was resting near hers on the desk. Not quite touching. But close.

Too close. Not close enough.

The silence pulled tight between them. She wasn’t sure who was holding it there, but it felt deliberate, like something balanced on the edge of a blade.

She didn’t move her hand.

Tommy shifted closer, the worn fabric of his sleeve brushing hers. Her breath caught. He didn’t look at her yet, not directly – his eyes stayed on the papers scattered across the desk like they meant something. Like any of this was still about business.

“Don’t smoke in here,” she said quietly, not looking at him either.

“I’m not.”

“You were earlier. Without me.”

He didn’t argue. Just leaned back the slightest bit, the corner of his mouth twitching like he might smile, but didn’t. His voice stayed low.

“You always this jumpy around men, or just me?”

She turned her head. Met his eyes. “You always this full of yourself, or just with women who talk back?”

There was a flicker in his expression, something like approval, maybe amusement. Maybe something sharper underneath.

“Maybe I like women who talk back.”

“Maybe you like trouble.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth for the briefest second. “I’m in the business of it.”

That pull in her gut tightened. Her fingers curled harder around the arm of the chair, grounding herself. It wasn’t enough.

The room had gone quiet again, except for the tick of the clock on the mantel and the soft hum of music and voices seeping in from the hallway. The party still spun on without them, but here it felt like everything had narrowed to the space between their hands.

She turned slightly, just enough that her knee brushed his. She didn’t apologize. Neither did he.

“Thomas.”

He lifted his eyes again. That look he gave her made her forget what she was about to say. Or maybe she hadn’t planned to say anything at all.

He leaned in. Slowly, like he wanted her to see it coming. His breath was warm against her cheek, and there was that scent again – tobacco, sharp gin, and something colder. Something metallic, like the edge of a coin.

The air between them thickened. She could feel her pulse in her throat, in her fingertips.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Is this the part where you kiss me, or tell me I’ve crossed a line?”

Tommy’s eyes darkened, his focus slipping to her lips, then back up. A slow smirk curved his mouth, not the cruel one he used in business, not the charming one he pulled out for show. This one was quieter. Closer to real.

He leaned in just a little more.

Then came the knock.

Three sharp raps on the doorframe.

“You two decent?”

Ada’s voice cut through the moment like a blade.

Y/N jerked back in her chair, heat rushing to her face as if she’d been caught doing something she hadn’t even done.

Tommy straightened slowly, not looking away from her. The smirk was gone. What replaced it was something harder to name. Something held tight behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” he called, not loud. “We’re decent.”

Ada poked her head in, grin wide, eyes darting between them. “Well, don’t let me interrupt whatever this was.”

“It was nothing,” Y/N said too quickly. She cleared her throat. “Just work.”

“Right.” Ada’s grin didn’t budge. “You’re missing the part where Finn tries to charm the Americans. It’s going about as well as you’d expect.”

Tommy gave a short nod. “We’ll be out soon.”

Ada raised a brow but didn’t push. “Suit yourselves.” She ducked out again.

The silence came back, heavier this time.

Y/N stood, smoothing her skirt like it might help her pretend nothing had happened. Nothing almost had.

Tommy watched her. Didn’t say anything at first.

She didn’t meet his eyes.

“I should–” she started.

“Go back to the party,” he said softly.

She looked at him then.

“We’ll finish this later.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading, you’re a total angel! Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! It means everything to me! 💖

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fucking blinders #peaky blinder headcanon #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x imagine

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muneca-lemon-steppa · 11 months ago

Note

hello!!! hope you’re doing great, I kinda wanna ask about Thomas x Sister Shelby if you do that ? And if you do I’m thinking she’d be smart, has a very quick tongue and she wants to get out of the Shelby business to marry the love of her life (alfie😝😍) so she fakes her death and ofc everyone is distraught and angry than after a few years Thomas sees alfie at his home and than comes his sister who he thought had died and he berates her than she says something like you’re a worse person than me always killing for money like he can’t live without a war. Also I am in the mood for a very angst ending

A/N: Hello my love! How are you doing? I am so so sorry that this has taken forever. Truthfully, I had no clue how to do this. I thought about this long an hard, and though some things I switched up, I hope you enjoy this. I feel like this got me to stretch my writing muscles, and it was really fun. Let me know what you think darling!

Run Away With Me Darling

Alfie Solomons x Fem! Reader; 3.8k words; fluff, angst

Warnings: language, contentious family relationships, arranged marriage???

It started innocently enough.

You bringing tea and biscuits to meeting rooms where the men started their schemes. Listening and taking notes alongside your ever watchful Aunt Polly. Sneaking glances at the big brute in the chair across from your big brothers.

“Thank you treacle. Yeah that’s real kind of you.”

That brute is the only man that would say thank you for the tea you bring by. And when you go to pour more for him, he’s the only man who says, “No need for that darling. Grown men can pour their own tea yeah?”

It wasn’t meant to be anything more than professional. But you should’ve known. Known from that first encounter outside those Shelby walls… you and Mr. Solomons shared a single soul… and heaven nor hell could keep you from each other’s grasp.

It was hot. London is not a tropical city by any means. But the sheer amount of bodies, activity, and warm rain, had transformed the city into a sauna. The wisps of your hair along your neck and forehead are plastered to your body. Rivulets of sweat sneak down your chest. The heat could only be described as oppressive. You were counting down the steps till you could go home.

On the one hand… it was strange having a home all to yourself. Truthfully, it was the Shelby homestead in London, where the family would stay when business needed attending to. However, when they all left, you stayed. Carrying delicate messages. Keeping a close pulse on the going’s on of the city. And perhaps most importantly… remaining a pretty show pony for the Shelby family.

You hated to admit it. But you were desperately jealous of Ada. She had the guts to sneak past Arthur, Tommy, and John. She had the foresight to marry her true love before Tommy could marry her off to the highest bidder. You had no such luck. No childhood love. No sweetheart to campaign for. The boys had made sure of it. Despite Ada and your protests, and Polly’s discrete ploys; Tommy had decided. The sweet, pure, and innocent youngest Shelby girl will be auctioned off to the richest and most lucrative partner for the Shelby Company. And she will remain pretty and docile. A prize.

The mere thought made your stomach twist and churn and burn.

You loved them. Your family. More than most love their family. But you could barely breathe under their watch. Even in another city you felt the reach of their eyes. Felt the whisperings of potential matches for your hand and womb. The sweat on your brow burned your eyes. Taking place of the unshed tears you long abandoned.

All you longed for was cold water. A cool bath. Anything to scrub off the sweat and dirt and exhaustion. However, shade covered your front door, casting a shadow over the threshold.

“Sweetheart! Been waiting a bit for you!”

No matter where you see Mr. Solomons, he seems to take up all the space. You don’t know how he is able to stand the heat, with his coat and hat and bushy beard. But he looks unfettered. Cool even. You finally felt the kiss of the breeze on your neck as you approached.

“Mr. Solomons. How can I help you?”

“You going to invite me in like a good girl?”

“I’m not in the business of inviting strange men into my home.”

“You think me strange?”

“Oh Mr. Solomons you are the strangest man I’ve ever met.”

“Makes you a little excited though don’t it? A hint of danger yeah? Big brute standing at your door.”

You stuck your chin out, staring directly into his stormy eyes. “I’m not afraid of you Mr. Solomons.”

His mouth quirks up in the corner. A twinkle in his eyes, and your breath hitched as he leaned into your space, “Oh I know sweet. You ain’t like the others ain’t ya? I saw it… the first time I laid eyes on you I knew you were different. Those boys… cold blooded little snakes… you… nah… there’s a flame in you treacle…and I look forward to see you set things aflame.”

Before you could respond in any way, he leaned away, smiling at your response. He pulled out an envelope from his coat and handed it to you, “Contract and information for your devious brother my sweet. Don’t worry, put a little something in there for you too for your trouble.”

You snatched the envelope from his hand. Unsure of how to respond to his… behavior. His rumbling laugh set a shiver down your spine, but you pushed it down as you appraised him, “This seems below your job description… don’t you have messenger boys?”

He further smirked, “I hope you’ll forgive me, that I want to keep you to myself.”

“I’m not a kept girl.”

“That you are not. Just have to inform your brothers of the fact don’t you?”

Hot shame rose in your cheeks. The envelope in your hands crinkling sharply. You felt the cool brush of gold rings on your cheek, “I have a standing dinner every Thursday evening. Let it be our little secret, hmm?”

Before you could react, a coarse kiss is pressed to your knuckles. As he started walking away, you called out, “And if I don’t show up? What then?”

He turned, with a boyish smile, “You’re not a kept woman treacle. Not my business. I’ll just send my messenger boys in my place.”

That was a year ago. Things were so simple then. Secret dinners. Secret mornings. Secret dalliances and outings around town. And when the family came to town, you placed that mask back on. Sweet, innocent, and docile Shelby girl. Ready at the beck and call of her family. And when they left, you ran right into the arms of Alfie. Because where it all started as something to feel disobedient, it grew into something deeper and more ancient. You felt your soul intertwine with his, as if it was always searching for him. In the evenings when he whispered his love for you and kept you close, you had never felt safer. Never felt more alive.

But dreams are not forever. Sooner or later the bubble must pop.

“You’ll need to come back to Birmingham dearest.”

“For how long?”

Everyone looked up at Tommy. Tommy didn’t even look up from his dinner plate, “Permanently. I’ve got a husband for you.”

Your fork dropped. Your heart stopped beating.

You faintly hear Aunt Polly call your name.

“Husband?” You whispered.

Tommy sighed, “That is what I said. High time you married, you’re old enough. Mr. Gorman has multiple factories both here and in the states, and his son is set to inherit them all. It’s a good match, it’ll be very beneficial to the company.”

“Tommy I don’t even know him.”

“You have your entire life to get to know him. Now finish your dinner.”

“So you just decided is that it? You just decided to that I’d belong to some man? Tell me Tommy… how much did you sell me off for? How much is my womb worth?”

“Watch your mouth!” Polly hissed, with Arthur wincing at the cutting words.

“I’m not going.” You stood from your chair. Preparing for battle.

“It’s not up for discussion.”

“I’m not going! You cannot make me!”

Tommy rose from his seat, John putting his head in his hands with Arthur knocking back a drink. Low. Deadly. Tommy always could command a room with his voice. Cold finger pointing at you like a deadly weapon. “You will do as you’re told. This is not about you. This is about the family. In a week, I will come fetch you. I will drag you back to Birmingham if I have to. And you will marry the young Mr. Gorman, and you will have as many of his fucking babies as he chooses. You will be rich. You will be safe. And you will be set. I am not about to argue with a child.”

You felt the tears well up in your eyes. Sorrow. Mourning. Hatred. “I hate you Thomas Shelby. I hate you.”

“You will get over it.”

You ran to your room. Weeping the rest of the night.

Because how can your body and name be given to a man, when your heart and soul belonged to another?

They left the next morning. Arthur knocking on your door to announce the departure, and trying to convince you, “He’s a good lad darling. Trust Tommy alright? Wouldn’t let nothing bad happen to ya, even though it seems like right shit. Don’t be too angry at us. We’ll all still be close. And anyway… it’s what’s good for the family.”

You didn’t look at him. Not even a hum of acknowledgment when he kissed your hair tenderly. A regretful sigh leaves his body as Arthur walked away, taking one last look at your quivering body on your maiden bed. Arthur always had a soft spot for you. Always defensive for you unlike your other siblings. He had tried in vain to get Tommy to rethink the arrangement. You didn't need to get married. The company didn't need such an alliance. They'd get by as they always have. But Tommy's sights were set much higher. He wanted that name of honor. And to get it, he was willing to play by the rules of old money. Tommy had convinced Arthur enough. Enough that you'd eventually forgive them all.

The orange sky illuminated your bedroom in a bloody hue. Your throat dry and head hot and pounding. The creaking and settling of the house had become a steady ring in your ears, you didn't even hear the bedroom door open.

"Treacle. What are you doing? Eden said you haven't left since last night. You ill?"

Maids hear everything, you think bitterly. But you couldn't be too cross with Eden. Not really.

"He's done it Alfie."

Alfie toed off his boots after the hat and coat. Sinking into the too ornate duvet. "Who treacle? What happened?"

You faced him, deep creases of the duvet threads divide your hot wet cheeks. Lashes clumped together and soaked. "Tommy... he... he finally did it. He's married me off. In a weeks time I'm to belong to some... Mr. Gorman. His father owns factories, and I suppose that's enough for my bride price."

You feel your body being gently tugged up and into Alfie’s embrace. Despite any protest from you about how it may affect his back, he shushes you instantly, “Now now my little dove. Nah you ain’t going back to Birmingham. You ain’t getting married to some prick. Nah you’re staying here with ol’ Alfie.”

You force your face under his chin, letting his unkempt beard absorb your sobs, “No Alfie it’s true! Tommy told me yesterday at dinner! He… he’s taking me away Alfie! I hate him. I hate him so much. I don’t want to marry some man I don’t even know!”

“I already told you darling, you’re not going to! It’s not happening.”

You push his shoulder, “You’re not listening to me! Tommy said-“

“I don’t give a shit what Tommy said! You’re not marrying the shit because you’re marrying me!”

Like an unpracticed magician, he pulled out a gorgeous diamond and sapphire ring. Its glimmer and fractals made it look as endless as the night sky. You felt the breath in your lungs catch, anger and fear simmering down and cooling. You dared not touch something to precious, “Alfie Solomons…”

“Was my mother��s. Gave it to me when I came back from the war. On her death bed. Made me swear that I wouldn’t give it up for any pretty girl on the street. Had to give it to the one.”

You struggled to meet his gaze, “And I-“

“The one treacle. If you’ll have me.”

He shifted you in his lap, fully facing him, “Now… I had a whole event planned out. Garden stroll. Drinks. Music playing. And I know I’m a sorry old monster and you have loads of suitor-“

“Alfie-“

“But I swear on my life treacle, you’ll never want for anything. You will have freedom to do whatever you would hope to do. We’ll go anywhere. I’ll love you till the stars go out-“

“Alfie! Yes! Yes yes yes! I’ll marry you! You silly old man!”

You pushed him back and kissed him fiercely. With all the passion you had been hiding from your family for years. Until the acidic burn of reality came down, “But what about Tommy? Alfie you hate each other, he’ll never let me go.”

Rough hands running up and down your thighs, gazing in awe at the fiery halo surrounding you. “I was willing to go in and threaten blessing or death.”

“I won’t have you put in danger for love. This isn’t Shakespeare.”

With a laugh and kiss to your fingertips he whispers, “You got any ideas? I’m all ears.”

You try to think, but kept coming across a wall. Any option you thought of ended in bloodshed. You fell into the bed next to Alfie, curling into his chest, “I wish we could just run away.”

His arms tighten around you, “What if we did?”

It would happen three days before Tommy would come to fetch you. You dismissed Eden with an oath to secrecy, and for four days you played the part of excited bride to be. Purchasing things for a new marital home, a wedding dress and new wardrobe. Who cares if the detail of the lucky husband was slightly off?

Whenever your family called, you lied happily through your smiling teeth. At first you felt a twinge of guilt. But in the end, they stood by as your brothers sold you off. They lost the right to the truth. They hated Alfie, said as much any time they came to the house. They would never understand. They would never allow it. But this was your life. And you would be damned before you were cleaved from your beloved.

The men from the distillery made regular visits to the house in the middle of the night, picking up your things to take to Margate, dropping off love letters and updates from Alfie. With each passing day, your heart became lighter. The binds lessening. Freedom was right on your tongue.

Three days before Tommy, Arthur, and John are to pick you up, the horrific news explodes through Birmingham. The Shelby home in London: set ablaze. No survivors. The beautiful bride, burned alongside her wedding dress hanging in the window. The youngest Shelby girl, an angel amongst demons, taken too soon from the earth from a horrific accident. The fire so destructive, not even a body is there for a proper burial. Just ash and a memory of that sweet face. The funeral is horrible. Wailing and weeping from all of Birmingham. Aunt Polly could barely keep it together, blaming Tommy for it all. Even business acquaintances from London and beyond come to pay their respects. The most shocking visitor, was Mr. Solomons, who paid for the funeral itself, “I’m sorry Tommy for your loss. I really am. She was a sweet girl. But… she’s in a better place I’m sure.”

And what a better place that is. White washed home right on the beach, windows open at all times, with the sea breeze billowing pristine gossamer curtains in the wind. You spend your days reading and writing to your heart’s content, strolling the beach, playing with Cyril like a child. As Alfie settles affairs in Camden during the week, he visits during the weekend, serving and worshipping you like a goddess. He never gave you information about the family. You didn’t want it. That was your old life. A you that you couldn’t recognize. Here, in this life, you were free. Free to speak. Free to argue and give your mind.

After a month, Alfie permanently moves to Margate. Home. Retired from the gangster life with enough money to live comfortably for the rest of his life, with more than enough to comfort when he’s gone.

And the years pass blissfully. Just how it was in the beginning. Kisses and dancing and laughter and arguing and love and joy. 3 years of absolute heaven, you had nearly forgotten how it all was almost taken from you.

But the past does have a way of rearing its ugly head doesn’t it?

It’s the dawn of summer. The final kisses of spring bringing crisp clean air through your marital home. Alfie had never felt better. The pain in his body had long left him, only flaring during the coldest evenings. The dark circles under his eyes have dissolved. His face and body, fuller, firmer with the glowing health of a man at peace who works for life not death. You were upstairs, searching for the a particular spool of thread you had been working with for a blanket you had spent days on. But it needed to be done soon. Alfie shifted through the records you both had been collecting. Symphonies had become his special interest in the recent months, and he was looking for a particular composition that he felt would make your heart sing.

The heavy knock on the door sent the hair on his neck stand at attention.

Only one demon knocked like that.

His eyes shifted to the stairs. He could still hear you moving things around. Searching tirelessly for that spool. You’d be missing for a couple minutes. Enough to rebuke the vile creature from the door without your discovery.

With a deep breath, Alfie tries to remember the armor of his past. The Mad Baker. Just as another round of knocks was about to come, Alfie opened roughly, “Tommy! What are you doing here? Gates of hell need their master don’t they?”

He looked thinner than normal. It’s been years since the men had seen each other, but the difference was still shocking. Those icey blue eyes even more haunting than they were at the funeral. Gaunt cheeks and pale skin made him look like a living corpse. A flicker of a flame winked behind those eyes. Hope for another fight. Something to set him aflame. “Hello Alfie. Enjoying retirement?”

“Yeah actually I am so whatever you have up your sleeve I want no part in it so if you’ll just fuck off.”

Before Alfie could slam the door, Tommy stuck his foot in the door, “Not that simple Alfie. Worlds gone to shit and it needs Solomons to set it to right.”

“Your world not mine. Now get out.”

“I’m not going to leave until you let me in Alfie.”

Your angelic voice danced on the breeze down to the front door, “I found it! Alfie you would not believe where it was! I swear I’m losing my mind.”

Tommy’s face some how went paler. As if he heard Satan’s whisper of condemnation. Alfie tried to push the door closed, but with the strength of a mad man Tommy pushed past the threshold.

Tommy almost fainted.

This must be hell.

He must have died.

It’s the only rational idea.

God chose to lock him in the home of his biggest agitation, with the ghost of his dead baby sister.

But this couldn’t be your ghost. Your swollen belly proves this.

“Holy shit.” You drop the tea cup in your hands when you see Tommy. Tommy who wasn’t supposed to be here. Tommy who saw you buried and dead.

Alfie rushes in, pulling you behind his broad frame. Through his linen shirt, you feel the ragged breath and hammering heart of your husband. You feel faint. “Tommy… you need to leave right now.”

“You paid for the funeral.”

“Tommy we can do this later but you need to get out right now. I’m asking nicely.”

“You knew she was alive… you knew.”

“She is very delicate right now she does not need any excitement.”

“You fucking made her delicate! You compromised her you fucking bastard!”

You cried out as Tommy lunged for your husband, “Stop it Tommy! Enough! Get out of my house!”

Tommy stumbled, pointing at you, “You… you’re fucking sick. You’re demented! You caused Polly a near heart attack. You are disgusting!”

You push past Alfie, who is left watching, “I’m disgusting! You sold me off to some man. And for what? To get people to see you as a big man? Guess what Tommy, you will NEVER be good enough for them! They’ll always see people like us as trash! But you don’t care. Anything to get ahead right?! You’ll stoop as low as you need to ahead.”

Tommy laughed bitterly, holding back the urge to spit, “And what about you yeah? So spoiled that you throw the biggest tantrum of the century. Whore yourself out to the Mad Baker, and get knocked up with his bastard.”

“I’d stop talking if I were you Tommy.”, Alfie snarled darkly. Fists curling in. Like a wolf ready to devour.

“I’d rather be his whore than be a part of any family of yours. You can’t leave well enough alone. Murdering and slaughtering for some honor so quick to tarnish and fade away. You tried to lock me away, never taking a care to what I wanted or thought. But you can’t do that to me anymore. I’m a Solomons, and I carry his child. You can’t touch me.”

Tommy settled, steel washed over his face. “They have a right to know.”

“You all have a right to nothing. I’ll see the family when I’m good and ready.”

His eyes shift to Alfie, “You are evil incarnate. You are cursed.”

No sign of mirth reaches Alfie’s eyes when he smirks, “Careful Tommy. You know what they say about curses. Especially when you curse family.”

Without another word, Tommy storms out. As soon as the door slams, shaking the lamps, you let out the breath in your heavy lungs, “Holy Shit”.

Your knees give out from under you, and cold shakes roll through your body. Alfie grabbed your body, helping you into a chair. “Settle my love it’s alright he’s gone. What do you need? Baby ok?”

“No I’m ok thank you my love. I just… I need air. I can’t believe he came here. He knows. They all know.”

“Hush darling, breathe for me, settle your nerves, you don’t need to worry. They know but they can’t touch you. You’re my wife and they can’t get to you. You are your own woman. You are safe.”

“But what are we going to do. What if they come?”

“Then we’ll deal with them. I’ll have some boys come in, set up a watch. We won’t be caught off guard ever again.”

You nodded. Trusting the words of your husband. You felt an affirming kick in your ribs. The rushing of your heart. You had paradise for three years. You couldn’t run forever, no matter how far you got. The bell had finally tolled, and it was time to face it.

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x y/n #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders

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starlight045 · 5 months ago

Text

The Price of Revenge

Chapter 2

Luca Changretta x OFC

Summary: Elizabeth rushes to Polly, shaken after Luca Changretta confronts her and confides in Polly, who reassures her that the family will protect her. While Micheal gets a surprise visitor reoccurring nightmares push Elizabeth to talk to Luca and make a choice.

A/N: Thanks for some of the feedback on the first chapter! I'm almost finished with the third. This sorry is also on AO3 for my lovely friends who like to read on there too. I hope you like this chapter <3.

Elizabeth had never walked home faster in her life.

Her heels clicked hurriedly against the cobblestone ground as she practically ran into the betting den shaking her eyes watering.

With all of the noise being made Polly, Linda, and Lizzie looked over to see Elizabeth whiter than a sheet ghost coming over. Polly’s face dropped as she got up.

“Elizabeth?” Polly asked getting her niece’s attention.

“Pol…Pol he was there.” she choked out as Polly stepped closer.

“What happened? Who?” She asked holding both of her arms trying to calm her down as she found a place to sit her down.

“Luca…Luca fucking Changretta. He found me when I was buying paints.”

Polly’s heart dropped into her stomach and her eyes widened. “are you ok?”

“I mean… I don’t know. Shaken I guess.”

Elizabeth said her hands still shaking.

“What did he say?” Polly asked.

“Well, he um… He told me that uh you offered to spare everyone. Arthur, Finn, Micheal, and Ada for Tommy. But Polly you can’t do that. I understand what Tommy had done was upsetting. But at least he saved you all before it happened. He’s my brother.”

Elizabeth said shaking in her seat still her leg bouncing as her eyes watered.

“Tommy already knows about the deal,” Polly said sighing. “We came up with it shortly after we were all sent the letter.”

Elizabeth looked at her hands before looking back up at Polly.

“He told me. He told me that he wanted to marry me. That if I married him It would end the vendetta. Polly, I don’t know if I could.”

Polly felt her heart go out to her niece. Despite nobody in the Shelby family knowing about the teenage fling between Luca and Elizabeth Polly did.

She found Elizabeth the day after the Changretta boy left coming out of her room hair a mess smelling like Italian leather and sex. Her face was flushed and Polly knew.

Polly didn’t respond. She stood there sighing

“You knew already didn’t you Pol?”

Luca had made the offer to me a week ago. The first thing I did was tell Tommy. We decided you aren’t marrying him. We will make sure of it dear.”

Elizabeth nodded her head. “Did Luca believe any of this…he doesn’t seem like the type to trust anybody. Obviously.”

“He didn’t believe it anymore than I did.”

Polly told her niece as she wiped her eyes.

“I just…I don’t want anyone else to die Pol. Especially if I knew I could have prevented it. Nobody deserves to die. Not even Luca.”

Polly’s heart broke for her as she crossed the room and took Elizabeth’s face in her hands.

“Trust me. Nobody else will die. Me and Tommy have it. Don’t worry about any of this.”

Elizabeth nodded again swallowing as Polly wiped the fresh tears from her cheeks.

It was a day later when Mrs. Ross came into Tommy’s office to meet with him. She was the mother of the boy that Arthur had happened to kill during a sporting match. She had came to Tommy inviting Arthur to come celebrate her son’s 21st birthday. But something had obviously seemed off about the whole ordeal.

Tommy figured it was apart of a plan to have Arthur killed so the day of the party they set up a plan to divert Luca’s men so that Arthur wouldn’t be killed.

But waiting out they realized it was all a decoy and Luca was at the Hospital coming for Michael.

They all ran hurrying to get to the hospital. Luca had shot down the man who was standing guard and the nurse took Michael’s gun.

The tall Italian mobster slowly walked into the room shutting the doors behind him and locking them.

He looked at Micheal who was trying to stand still wobbly from healing.

“Uh, uh, uh. Where I’m from, a hat on the bed…is unlucky. My family…say it brings death. Maybe that’s what happened.”

Luca said pointing to Michael’s peaked cap on the bed as he got closer.

“Last time my men were sent for you, you got lucky. Now your lucks run out.”

He said pulling his gun and pressing it against Michael’s forehead as he looked up at Luca his eyes wide in fear.

He tried to accept death. I mean here it was. Luca Changretta was going to kill him.

Then it clicked.

And it clicked again…and two more times.

Luca continued to fire the empty gun before walking off.

As he stood in the doorway he turned looking over at Micheal one last time. “And tell your mother we have a deal.”

He told him running his finger down his left eye before winking and leaving.

And a few minutes after Luca left Tommy barged into the room coming up to Micheal.

“Micheal? What happened, eh? What happened?” Tommy asked his cousin as Micheal looked up at him.

“They heard you er…they heard you coming. The gun misfired. They ran away.” Micheal lied out of breath.

“Johnny!” Arthur called out to Johnny dogs getting his attention as they went to look for Luca.

“You came just in time,” Micheal told his cousin.

“You alright? You hurt?” Tommy asked.

“I’m fine…I’m fine.” Micheal said still panting.

Tommy then sat there staring off his mind working. Why would Changretta leave him alive? Micheal had to have been lying about something as he glanced back at his cousin.

Once he was back at Small Heath Tommy called Charlie to tell him to tell Aberama Gold and his men that the Italians were headed southbound.

Their car had been stopped by a knocked-over cart that was blocking the road, and they were told to wait.

After a while of waiting Luca got fed up and tried to go move it himself with his men but got told to wait again.

And when they got back in the car they realized Frankie’s throat was slit. Then they were being fired at and another man got killed before Luca had to turn the car around.

Late in the day, Elizabeth was painting upstairs and everyone else was finishing up for the day the phone rang. Polly went to pick it up figuring it would be one of the boys.

“Small Heath 5-5-2.” she answered

“Mrs.Gray. I wanted to illustrate to you that at any time, we can reach your son. And we will kill your son if you cannot deliver Tommy Shelby as you promised. Huh? You just tell us where and when. And we’ll do the rest. That, or you agree to my proposal. My wedding proposal.” Luca finished.

With a sigh, Polly looked at Tommy’s diary and told Luca that Friday would be the day and gave him the time before hanging up.

It was 2 AM and Elizabeth was out cold in her bed some of her oil paints uncapped and her paint pallette a mess. Her landscape portrait of Small Heath was almost finished but she would often get stuck on a painting for days.

She tossed in bed as she was going through a rather horrible dream.

It was supposed to be a few weeks later in her mind and she was getting married to Luca Changretta. But right after the priest said you may kiss the bride and Luca leaned in she woke up chest heaving.

She looked around her moonlight room in a cold sweat. The sheets were slightly damp and she shivered.

There was only one person she could talk to about this.

So walking across the street pulling her thin robe around her she knocked on Polly’s door.

After the fourth knock, Polly answered the door her eyes still full of sleep and her hair somewhat a mess.

“Eliza, what in God’s name are you doing up?”

“Pol I had a dream…a nightmare even. I need to talk to you about it. I can’t sleep without getting it out.” She said as Polly scooted aside and let her in.

Elizabeth sat right next to the empty fireplace as Polly put on a kettle of tea.

“So…you had a dream. I’m guessing someone died. And it was related to Luca.”

Polly said softly.

“No. Worse. Luca married me.”

And Polly gave her a look.

“Aunt Pol my dreams always come true you know this. I can’t marry him. I know we have a history but I can’t be with this man I don’t know him. He scares me.”

Elizabeth said wrapping her arms around her.

“Come here,” Polly said opening her arms as Elizabeth came over and sat next to Polly and hugged her.

“Trust me dear. I won’t let him touch you.”

And for the rest of that night, Elizabeth sat in Polly’s arms sipping on tea before she fell asleep on the couch.

The next day Tommy went out on business. Specifically to take out Luca and the rest of his men.

Once he drove off a truck followed behind him and he knew exactly who it was.

He parked the car in Artillery Square and the truck parked a few feet away. And within minutes the shootout started and Luca was tricked. Tommy was well prepared and more of his men were killed.

Tommy dogged the bullet several times and so did Luca.

But when the coppers showed up both Tommy and Luca were at a stalemate. Their pistols and guns pointed right at each other.

Luca looked over at his men and he and the other Italians quickly got out of there.

The police decided to let Tommy go and he went back to watery lane to tell everyone.

He spent a bit of time with Charlie first before everyone got there. Watching the little boy play with his toys.

The family was gathered in one of the rooms and of course, Arthur was the first to speak up.

“What the fuck happened today, Tom? We all heard. Shooting in Artillery Square.” He said putting down a line to snort.

“Yeah, there was. Today, I killed three men. now our enemies will have to act.”

“I suppose er…I suppose they took you by surprise, did they?” Arthur asked Tommy irritated that he had tried to kill Luca himself.

“No, I knew they were coming,” Tommy told him.

Polly spoke up next “Just after Christmas, I received a letter from Luca Changretta. Offering to spare my son, if I gave up Tommy. And I gave Tommy up.” She explained

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot, Tom,” Arthur said snorting more cocaine.

“I met up with Luca. A week ago or so. He offered not only to spare Micheal, and you two.” She said looking at both Arthur and Finn.

“But to end the vendetta completely.” she finished.

“He wants to marry Elizabeth.” Tommy put it simply.

“What?” Arthur asked shocked and angry.

“He told me he had a strong liking to her since they were kids,” Polly told him.

“He can’t marry her. Our Eliza! The same girl that swore off guns when she reached that age. She’s a kid!”

“Arthur she’s 30,” Polly said.

“Polly and I had first agreed not to tell her. Especially since we had told Luca no. But it seems he went to ask her himself.” Tommy said taking his glasses off.

“Where is Elizabeth anyway?” Ada asked noticing her older sister wasn’t there.

And when everyone fully came to their senses they feared something had gone wrong.

“Arthur, Finn check the house. Everyone check the fucking house!”

Tommy said as everyone ran about small heath looking for Elizabeth but she was nowhere to be found.

Out at the yard Elizabeth stood in her boots feeding Tommy’s new horse ‘Dangerous’.

“Are you sure you should be out here?” Curly asked grabbing more hay for the horse.

“They’ll be ok. I know what I’m doing.” She said smiling as the horse looked at her.

“Elizabeth Shelby.”

A familiar voice called out.

Turning around it was just who she was looking for. There stood Luca in his hat and black overcoat toothpick hanging from his lips. Matteo stood behind him and so did two other men.

“I thought you said we’d be alone.” She said walking over to them and Curly went to get Charlie.

“Listen doll. I don’t know if you’re gonna pull one on me like your fuckin aunt.”

Luca said looking down at her.

“What do you mean pull one? What did Polly do?”

“You haven’t heard. Huh. Your brother…Tommy and I had a little shootout. He got away. Your aunt was offering him up to me.” Luca explained.

“How about we walk,” Elizabeth said as Curly came back with Charlie who had a gun.

“What are you doing girl?” He asked her.

“Trust me, Uncle Charlie. I got this.” Elizabeth said as she told Luca to follow her.

“So you still wanna marry me?” Elizabeth asked.

“Of course. It would make this all so much easier. You could spare your family. And I would get to go home. With a new wife.”

“Do you actually love me, Luca? Be honest. Don’t say you’re doing this just because you need a wife. Or because it’s convenient.”

Elizabeth explained.

Luca just looked at her and huffed a smile. He took his toothpick out and threw it on the ground.

“Eliza…I’ve loved you since we were teenagers.” Luca started

“When I went back to New York with my father all those years ago…no woman has ever compared.”

“You’re just saying that aren’t you? That was years ago. We were kids.” Eliza sighed.

“You know Luca when you came to me in that shop and told me all of that…I was terrified. I didn’t know the man in front of me. And that scared me. Thankfully my family doesn’t just stick me in situations they don’t think I’m comfortable with.”

Elizabeth said as they walked.

“That boy I used to know. The kind one. The one that just wanted to help and not hurt a soul. He’s gone. I know it.” She finished as Luca looked at her

He gave her a look and nodded.

“Luca…I don’t know how I feel it’s complicated. But if marrying you would stop this or stop either of us getting hurt then I would be willing to try.”

Elizabeth explained.

“You haven’t changed much. But at the same time you have.” Luca smiled sadly.

“I know I might look like a monster Eliza. A horrible man. But I promise I’ll take care of you. That is if you let me.”

And for a moment Elizabeth swore she saw that old version of him again in his eyes.

Later that night around 10:40 Elizabeth came back to small heath and found everyone there waiting as they all came to check on her.

“Where were you?” Polly asked coming up and cupping her face.

“You scared us half to fuckin’ death.” Arthur scolded his younger sister.

“Im sorry. I was out with Luca. I needed to talk to him.”

As Elizabeth said this everyone looked at her as if she had two heads.

“Why would you need to talk to him? What did you both talk about?” Tommy asked.

“Well, I made my decision. I don’t want anyone else getting hurt. Yeah, I don’t know this version of him. And it still does scare me. But I’m willing to work and try If it means our families don’t fight anymore. I’m tired of this.”

Everyone looked at her and between each other concerned.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do this.” Polly told her.

“I’m sure Aunt Pol. I’ll marry him,” she said as Polly put a hand on her arm before hugging her.

“Then let’s let Mr.Changretta know that he’ll be getting married,” Tommy said patting Elizabeth’s shoulder as he walked off.

Was she selling away her life to end this madness? This horrible bloodshed ended with three men dead. Hell, one was her own brother. Elizabeth thought she was doing the right thing.

She at least hoped she was.

#luca changretta #luca changretta x oc #luca changretta peaky blinders #polly grey #tommy shelby #original character #matteo (peaky blinders)#arthur shelby #ada shelby

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novashelby · 6 months ago

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The Girl With the Smile: Chapter One

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x Tilly (OFC)

Warnings: Mention of drinking, alcoholism, language, typical period attitude, sexism, depression, mental illness.

Word Count: 1.8

Story Summary: Matilda "Tilly" Swanson was a klutz who never really wanted to be a maid. Arthur Shelby was a manic wreck who never wanted the maid to begin with. What happens when a miserable old sod starts to find comfort in his younger and silly maid?

Chapter Summary: Arthur isn't very happy when Tommy brings over a young woman. To him, he's fine and just wants to be left alone.

Please enjoy! Reblogs and comments encouraged.

“Arthur, look at you!” Tommy Shelby could be described as a functional mess, but Arthur Shelby was a functional nothing. Scattered about the floor of his darkened parlor lay empty whiskey bottles, discarded cigarettes that the ashtray could no longer hold, and broken things that Tommy couldn’t identify. Tommy covered his nose with his handkerchief, eyes scanning around before landing on his brother. “You’re a bloody fookin’ disaster. How do you function in this filth, eh?” Tommy kicked the wooden leg of the red velvet chair his brother rested on; slumped and decaying in his own aroma.

Arthur gurgled out a train of incomprehensible gibberish. “Wha-s-ye-wan’, Aye?!” Fetal position, he curled up with the bottle of rum, turning himself so as to not look at Tommy. “Fook off!” That was clear. His trousers were soiled, shit stained, and hair unkempt. His stubble almost matched his mustache in length.

“Now, Arthur!” Tommy removed his cigarette from his lips and rubbed it out in the ashtray, adding it to the ground. His brother wasn’t hardly a smoker, but he assumed that he must have taken it up when Linda left. “It’s been three fookin’ weeks now-”

“Fuck off-”

“In a minute, eh?” Neither brother wanted to deal with the pathetic situation at hand, but Tommy feared if he let it go any longer, Arthur would bloody off himself. “I think I have been quite patient in terms of…of whatever this fuckin’ is.” From behind Tommy, the door opened a crack, and the slight bit of sunlight left of the day peeked through. Tommy shot a look behind him, and said, “I told you to stay outside-”

“I know!” A soft, young voice spoke suddenly. Arthur grunted, shifting a bit and squinting towards the door. Through the slightly opened mahogany door, slipped in a young woman, delicately, but simply dressed. With gloved hands, she gripped a small suitcase that held no more than a few sacred belongings. Both men looked at her for a minute, and she quickly apologized, taking off her hat. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t wear such a thing inside, but now my hair is quite messy and wow, I just…wow.” Once she registered the sight before her, she took a step back and slowly looked up at Tommy with a gaped mouth. “Mr. Shelby-”

“I’ll pay you fifteen pounds instead!” Quickly, Tommy jumped over to her, gently touching her arms. “Fifteen pounds, a good more than you got working for me, eh?” He grinned, pinching at her chin. His grin slowly dropped as he let out a sigh of exhaustion. It wasn’t an ideal situation. What maid wanted to be a babysitter, housekeeper, and cook all for one smelly, distraught, and difficult man? “C’mon, fifteen pounds, eh?” He tried, tapping her arms. She offered a sympathetic smile, right shoulder shrugging a bit. “Alright, alright. Twenty pounds. That’s double the national average!”

Hand motioning to Arthur, who had passed out sometime within the mix of conversation. Sympathetically, she said, “Mr. Shelby, I’m grateful, but your brother isn’t exactly known for being easy. That’s why Sandra and Clara rejected the offer-”

“And you didn’t because you’re a hard worker!” As his hand hit harder against her arm, she winced. “And you are good with people, Miss. Swanson.” The maid eased her shoulders and nodded, pushing her suitcase to the cleanest spot she could find. “Arthur!” Tommy kicked the leg of the chair once again, that time hard enough it almost dug the drunken fool out of his inebriated state. Jumping up, he yelled out, thrashing and seething. “Arthur!” Tommy yelled again, pushing his older brother down in the chair. “This is Miss. Swanson.” Arthur could hardly find her through his double vision. Squinting, he grumbled a few words that neither made sense nor were relevant. “I’ve taken her from my own team of maids-”

“I-ish wan’ no mai’.”

She blinked. “I’m sorry, I don’t speak Romani. English?”

Tommy swallowed, dryly stating, “that was English.”

“Oh.”

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Arthur!” Tommy picked his brother up straight and made him sit like a normal human being. “You be kind to Miss. Swanson, you understand me? Hm?” Pinching his cheeks, Tommy leaned in. “She’s goin’ to ‘elp ya’ around here, alright? Make sure you’re keeping clean, eating, showering, getting your fuckin’ arse to work! Three Goddamn weeks, Arthur! Haven’t come to bloody fuckin’ work in three fookin’ weeks.” He and Arthur wrestled for a moment over the whiskey bottle. Tommy tried to pull the bottle away, but Arthur kept it close to his chest with a grip stronger than anything. “Alrigh’, fine! Fuckin’ have the bottle, but until you can fuckin’ shower and shave, you’re off the bottle, eh? No more!”

He walked over to her, tired of it. She hesitantly looked over at the sunken man and then to Tommy. “Are you sure I should stay here…alone?” Motioning to him, she continued, “I mean, he’s a bit neurotic. What if he…I don’t know, hurts me?”

Tommy sighed. “My number is on the phone. If I don’t pick up, I’ve left numerous other numbers. He won’t hurt you-”

“You didn’t say that with confidence, exactly, Mr. Shelby.”

“He’s never hurt a woman,” he corrected before adding, “never before. He’s small. Um, not much to him. You can take him. Believe in yourself, eh? I’m counting on you.” As he stood above her, cupping her cheeks, and leaning down. “Tilly,” he said, affectionately. “Mr. Shelby is counting on you.” Giving in, she offered a little smile, the rounds of her cheeks turning red. “I couldn’t ask anyone, but you.”

“Alright, Mr. Shelby,” she agreed. “Twenty pounds a month, thirty pound bonus upfront-”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, eh-”

“But you couldn’t ask anyone, but me, remember?” She grinned, a little twinkle in her eyes. Tommy sighed, pulling away and reaching into his wallet, digging out ten, mumbling how he’d supplement the other twenty. “Don’t worry…they say you should always high ball a man, not low ball.” Tommy Shelby couldn’t even be angry at that. It was as if she was beating him at his own game. All that stuff he said was simply a trick to get her to stay. Tilly, in fact, was the last maid he wanted to ask; clumsy, oblivious, and a bit…unruly. But he adored the girl in some way or another.

“Spend it wisely,” he said, a slight sarcastic undertone as he fixed his hat. He nodded to the girl and affectionately touched her shoulder in passing as he left. The door closed behind her with a quick swift bang, it echoed throughout the home.

When the silence returned and the room felt still, she looked over at the man, slumped over in the chair. “Well then,” she said, with a smile, clasping her gloved hands. “Why don’t we open some windows?” she offered, and waited for any sign of life. But he was cold. Out cold. Cautiously, she took slow, careful strides towards him. “Never in my life,” she whispered, studying how he cuddled the half-drunk bottle and slept with a gaped mouth, a stream of drool hitting the arm of the chair. Outreaching her gloved hand, she poked him. “Alright, you!” Poke, poke, poke. On the third poke, they scared each other. Arthur shot awake, thrashing the bottle about, hollering in a drunken state while Tilly jumped back finding refuge behind the matching velvet sofa.

“The fook is ‘ere?!” he yelled, dropping the bottle. Tilly gasped as glass shattered and rum splashed. When he saw no one, he allowed himself to mourn. “Me fookin’ bottle. Last fookin’ one.”

Tilly slowly peered over the couch, eyes wide. “Mr. Shelby?”

“OI!” Quickly, he looked over, their eyes connecting. “Are you a whore?” he managed to get out, perhaps a little hopeful.

“N-no, I’m not,” she said, slowly standing, hands palms up. Cautiously, they watched one another as she walked around the sofa. “Your brother, Thomas, hired me to clean your home. Thought you’d need some help-”

“Fuck off,” he said, throwing himself back on the chair, refusing to look at her. “And tell him to fook right off, too. Sick of the lot of ya, can’t leave me alone.”

Tilly knew he’d be difficult, but she overestimated her patience for it. Swallowing, she winced. “Well, um-”

“Well what!? Get it out, eh?”

“I can’t leave,” she explained. “I can’t leave, and well, for one, you live quite from from where I’d need to go and I don’t drive. And there’s no car.” She stopped talking, deciding that it was useless. “How about this!? We can open some blinds and let some sunlight in. I suppose some brightness would do you well.” She walked over to a curtain covered window and pulled it open, allowing the last bit of sunlight to come through. It brightened the place immediately. She was quite shocked to find that everything was not black, but indeed varying different colors. “You see, Mr. Shelby, doesn’t it look much better already?”

But like a bear who hadn’t seen sunlight for a winters time, he hissed out, covering his eyes. “Woman! The bloody ‘ell are you doing to me?!”

“Oh please,” she said, walking to the other window, pulling the curtain. “A little sunlight will be good for you. Then I can start cleaning up this mess. Perhaps make you a quick supper. You’ll need some food with all that alcohol in you. You’re just withering away.”

“I wish I would wither away right now,” he mumbled under his breath. “I want you to leave, Miss. Just leave and go wherever. Don’t have any bloody need for a woman that isn’t blowing me cock-”

“Vile,” she commented, pursing her lips together. She had just picked up a broom to clean the shattered glass, but she immediately put it down. “Alright, if you are just going to be that bloody stubborn, I will call your brother to come pick me up. But I warn you, Mr. Shelby, he won’t be very happy-”

“Well, he can fuck on off, too-”

“And he did,” she snipped, walking to the phone and picking up the ear piece. Tilly looked back as her finger dialed around the numbers. “And he left me here with your sorry arse. You’re a miserable one, aren’t you? And to think I remembered you kinder at one point…Hello! Mr. Shelby?”

On the other end, Tommy Shelby rubbed his temple. She hardly lasted as long as he thought. “Yes, Tilly,” he said, dropping all sense of formality. “Put him on the phone.”

Tilly called to Arthur. “Your brother would like to speak with you.” There was a groan and a crack of joints as the man slowly lifted from the chair. Wobbling over, he grabbed the phone and slammed it down. “That was quite-”

“Let me show you to your room,” he said, cutting her off. “It’s either I listen to him or I listen to you, and I’m tired of listening to him for forty bloody fuckin’ years.”

Taglist: @lau219 @vivianleighwishesshewasme @wonderlanddreamer @mysatnin @umbrielchip000

@hollyluvseveryone4ever13

@lilvampirina

@jaymcdowell

@kmc1989

@lilladygrinningsoul @fiercelittlemouse @peakyswritings @runnning-outof-time @brummiereader

#Tommy Shelby #Arthur Shelby #Peaky Blinders #Original female character #ofc #oc #fanfic #fanfiction #peaky blinders oc #arthur shelby x ofc #arthur shelby fanfiction #arthur shelby x oc

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call-sign-shark · 1 year ago

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Little Lamb part. 1|| Arthur Shelby x Reader x OFC

Summary: They came into your life when you were desperate, convinced no one would ever want you and yet you found yourself not one, but two lovers madly infatuated with you: The infamous Arthur Shelby and his young wife.(Yandere! Arthur Shelby x Reader x Yandere!OFC)

TW: (for the entire short series) Toxic dynamic, polyamory relationship, murders, torture, graphic depiction of violence, heavy allusion to smut, obsessive behavior, possessive!lovers, angst and horror. Inspired by the song The Things I Do For Love by Bludnymph.

Words: 1.4k

Notes:

✞ Since I'm stuck with Tangled Desires' new chapter I thought about taking a break to write a very short three-part story (no more than 1.5k per part). All is already written and it will be posted during the week. It 100% can be read as a stand alone.

✞ Heaven in Reader in the ongoing Arthur x You series Heaven in Your Eyes.

NEXT PART

Love had never been kind to you. The statement might sounded tough but so was the truth. You were either too shy to make the first move, or when you did you undeniably ended up with your heart crushed because you were too nice and, your relatives said, too… understanding. Too soft for this world and painfully too weak for Small Heath. When you left your hometown to start your new barmaid life at the Garrison pub, desperately looking for a job and a new start in life, all your friends had laughed at you: how could a meek little lamb like you could willingly throw herself in this hell, where hungry and violent wolves lurked in every corner, ready to tear her in millions pieces? Still, you paid no heed to their warning and left everything and everyone behind you, fueled by the firm will to prove them wrong.

Surprisingly enough, working at the Garrison had done some good to you despite spending your first days shaking like a leaf each time a loud man talked to you. This, but also hiding behind Harry when the Shelby brothers flooded the place with their piercing blue eyes and their sharp caps. Unfortunately, you had to learn the entirety of the job and it involved plucking up the courage to pour them their drink. They merely noticed you, far too concerned by whatever shady business they were talking about until scrapped but tender fingers brushed against your skin. Slightly jumping, you raised your gaze towards their owner and was quickly met with steel blue iris overhung by dark lashes. "Leave the bottle, love." The oldest of the brotherhood said, gently taking the whiskey from your hand before offering you a surprisingly charming smile.

"You're welcome, Mr. Shelby." Did you manage to reply without any stuttering? No, you didn't but you were already surprised by your ability to actually produce a sound when faced with certainly the most ruthless of these gangsters. You turned your heels, Arthur's eyes burning your back as you walked to another table.

As weeks passed, you grew up more confident and started to navigate more easily in this cursed city. In Birmingham, working as a barmaid was the same as patching up souls: exhausted working-class men, vile gangsters, drunkards, or sad men all found a bit of happiness in the bottom of their glass and in the waitress’ warm smile. Most of your life your softness has been deemed a weakness but here, in the crowded Garrison, your softness wasn’t one. It was a gift that mended the hearts of your clients, and the more you soothed these troubled souls, the more the weight of your own broken heart was alleviated.

You never exchanged more than a few words with Arthur Shelby, but the fact he always asked you to serve him his drinks and thanked you with a pet name was enough for you to feel like a schoolgirl noticed by one of the popular boys around. Yeah, it sounded stupid even in your head but you couldn't help.

Tonight had started the same as ever: you put the whiskey glass on the table and proceeded to walk away when, suddenly, his hand kept you from doing so. With his long fingers wrapped around your wrist, blood still stuck under his nails, the gangster's baritone voice purred “A sweet little lamb you are, ay.” He punctuated his sentence with a seductive wink that made your heart beat faster than usual. “And a fucking pretty one too... How's the night going?"

"Terrible, Harry's in such a bad mood! I haven't found the time to sit and rest for five minutes -- My feet hurt so much I feel like I've walked miles." You said, you joked, hating the idea of whining.

"Why don't ya sit now, little Lamb?" Arthur raised a brow, his thin lips hid behind the whiskey glass.

"Because I'll get scolded, silly!"

Arthur didn't think twice -- he never did actually. His grip strengthened a little bit more around your wrist and, without the slightest warning, he pulled you until you tripped on your own feet and fell right on him. As nimble and quick as a cat, the lanky gangster caught you in his arms and made you comfortably sit on his lap.

"Ar-Arthur?!" You hiccuped, eyes wide open and cheeks flushing red.

"Hell, no one's gonna scold ya as long as ya stay in me arms, ay!"

Quickly swept away, your surprise turned into the most irresistible chuckle he had heard for a while. "Only five minutes alright?"

"Nah." Arthur snapped his fingers to get Harry's attention and raised his hoarse voice, "She's taking her night off to drink with me, mate." He shot you a quick glance and, with his smile growing wider, put on a show "By order of the Peaky Blinders!"

No matter how violent people said he was, you couldn’t help but find yourself enthralled by his dangerous aura and carnivorous smile. Moreover, it was needless to say that he never exhibited any of these brutal behaviors with you -- Quite the contrary, you found a loyal guardian in him, who would walk you home each night to ensure you were safe.

"Y/N, you better forget about him right now... You're really going to be in trouble" Harry stated after he noticed that you were dolling you up before the gangster came, rearranging your hair and putting on some awfully expensive lipstick you had brought earlier.

"Is my taste in men that bad for you to worry?" Your light reply didn't make him laugh, quite the contrary.

"I'm not joking! I don't want you to get fucking killed!"

"Killed? Someone's very pessimistic. Everything will be fine, Arthur would never hurt me okay?" You reassured him with the softest voice you could before your attention shifted to the gangster, who had just arrived.

Arthur noticed the lipstick and did seem to like it considering how his steel-blue eyes lingered far longer on your mouth when you talked to him, wondering how beautiful your red lips would look tightly wrapped around his cock but he didn't let his intrusive thoughts show, "Hey little lamb. I've got someth' to ask you."

"Anything?" You early replied, your smile beaming and your eyes shining.

"Apart from my usual whiskey, I'd like something else. There's a bottle of red wine hidden under the bar, I'd like ya to pour one glass of it, I'll be right back."

A glass of wine? Your heart missed a beat at the realization that he had remembered the day you told him you liked red wine. Butterflies flapped their wings in your stomach, convinced that maybe he was finally going to ask you out, you did as he said and, when done, carefully placed the two glasses on the wooden counter. When his booming voice echoed in the pub again, you raised your eyes and smiled, ready to call him but your voice got stuck in your throat.

No.

As you stood there, frozen in shock, your heart seemed to fracture into a thousand tiny pieces at the sight before you. The man you had secretly longed for, the one who had occupied your every thought and fueled your every feverish dream, was accompanied by a young and stunning lass with her arm tightly wrapped around his. Each caress exchanged between Arthur and her, each whispered word, felt like a betrayal. In that moment suspended in time, tears threatened to spill from your eyes. Of course, you already took notice of the wedding ring on his finger, its shining gold shining brighter than the other silver ones he was always wearing but you had tricked yourself into thinking it was only a jewel. After all, he wouldn't have flirted with you if he was married right? That was what you kept telling yourself, and even not entirely convinced you hoped it would eventually turn out to be true if you believed in it strong enough. He was married, here was what was true. Not only he was married, but the woman by his side was so resplendent with her angel face, her long snow-white hair, and her revealing red dress that your heart felt cold.

"So, you are the little lamb, aren't you?" Her mermaid-like voice emphasized the pet name Arthur had given you, snatching you from your numbness. All the confidence you had gained these past months vanished with the sole power of the eerie frost of her eyes, silently telling you that she knew everything. Impatiently waiting for your reply, her dagger-shaped and perfectly polished nails tapped against the wood, their menacing clicking song making another awful realization blossom in your mind.

Harry didn't think about Arthur when he said you would end up killed. He thought about her.

Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia0000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @justrainandcoffee @kishie8 @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @cherubswhispers @he6rtshaker @bemyqueenofdarkness @cljordan-imperium @cjarbo @rysko @red-riding-wood

#arthur shelby #Yandere x reader #arthur shelby x reader #Peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #Arthur shelby x oc #Arthur shelby x you #arthur shelby jr #arthur shelby x y/n #Arthur shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfic #Arthur shelby x ofc #Heaven Shelby #peaky blinders x reader #Paul anderson #oc x reader

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telumendilsoul · 5 months ago

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New Traditions (Tommy Shelby x OFC!Dorothea)

Summary: Dorothea has never celebrated Christmas before, and Tommy wants to change that.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OFC!Dorothea

Rating: G - Christmas cheer

Word Count: 891

A/N: This took a little longer to write because of my migraine and sickness, but I got it done. Katy’s Merry Write-A-Thon day 2

December had come, and with it, a cold chill that could be felt deep in one's bones in Small Heath, the smell of coal lingering in its air. For Tommy Shelby, the holiday season suddenly came up, and it meant obligations to his family and businesses that never slept. This year, though it was different, Tommy had Dorothea.

Dorothea was unlike anyone he had ever known, with her long red locks, soft smile, and quiet grace he hadn’t quite seen in anyone before. Dorothea became the most pleasant presence in his life, and Tommy realized he needed her. She wasn’t from Birmingham, nor was she from the world Tommy inhabited, but he grew to love the way Dorothea made him feel grounded while the world around him was out of control.

This Christmas was going to be different for both Tommy and Dorothea. As she had told Tommy earlier in the year, her family didn’t celebrate the upcoming holiday. There had been no trees, no stockings filled with candy, no warmth around the family fireplace—just an entirely unexceptional December. Quite different from the Shelby family tradition of Christmas—a lively family affair filled with smoke in the air, whiskey, and family loyalty.

Tommy shared the Shelby family traditions held at Arrow House with Dorothea this Christmas. Dorothea had hesitated initially, unsure how she would fit into Tommy’s world, a world she had never known. She asked him more than a few times what she should expect. Tommy, always blunt, looked at her and said, “Expect mayhem, Dorothea. Expect the unexpected.”

It was the night before Christmas. Tommy sat in the grand sitting room, taking in the lavish Christmas decorations his staff had decorated, embracing the anticipation of what was to come. His brothers were already there—Arthur pacing the room, John chatting with Polly about gifts for the little ones, and Finn, the youngest, sneaking a drink from the whiskey decanter. Dorothea had yet to arrive.

Dorothea was always one to arrive fashionably late. Tommy had told her to come by five. He’d never been one for tradition, but Tommy felt this holiday was important and wanted to share a part of his family with her, even if it felt slightly foreign.

Just as the clock struck six, the front door opened, and Dorothea stepped inside, instantly softening the room. She wore a velvet red dress resembling red wine. Her cheeks flushed from cold, and her hair lay in soft waves off her shoulders. There was a nervousness in her eyes, but Tommy could see how she looked at him—a silent understanding that they were about to create new traditions together.

A soft smile graced Dorothea's lips. “Tommy,” her voice was just a whisper. I hope I’m not too late.”

“No,” Tommy replied, placing a kiss on her lips. “You’re right on time.”

Leading Dorothea towards his family, he introduced her to Polly, Arthur, and the others, who all welcomed her with warmth and boisterously like the Shelbys they were. Dorothea was her polite and kind self, but there was a quietness about her, almost as though she was still unsure how she fit in.

“Don’t you worry about a thing,” Polly said, gently guiding Dorothea to the dinner table. “You’ll be used to the madness in no time.”

The evening unfolded with an almost chaotic joy. Arthur’s loud laugh filled the room, John cracked jokes, and Finn kept sneaking bites of food off other people’s plates. The air was complete with the smell of roasted meat and the fire that crackled away.

Through it all, Dorothea remained by Tommy’s side, unsure how to navigate the family's traditions.

After dinner, they all gathered around the fire, and Polly handed out small gifts to her nephews—her tokens of endearment for the family members who had stuck by her. Tommy looked closely at Dorothea’s face, her confusion giving way to something else as she unboxed a delicate gold necklace from him.

“Oh, Tommy,” Dorothea gasped as she ran her fingers along the intricate design. “It’s so beautiful. But I don't understand; you didn't have to get me anything.”

Tommy smiled as he brushed a fallen wave off her shoulder, as his past set heavily on his shoulders. “Sometimes, Dorothea, it’s not about what is expected. It's about showing someone what they mean to you.”

The fire crackled in the background, and for just a moment, Dorthea’s eyes softened. Outside, the world was cold, but Dorothea felt warmth inside this chaotic house with its loud and sometimes unforgiving family. Perhaps it was the way Tommy looked at her, or maybe it was the loud yet somewhat quiet acceptance of the Shelby clan, but at that moment, she knew this was what Christmas was all about. This Christmas would be one that she’d never forget.

Tommy leaned in closer to her, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don't have to change anything, Dorothea. You don't have to start celebrating Christmas suddenly if you don't want to. But you are here now—and that’s all that matters to me.”

Dorothea smiled shyly but with more warmth than he had ever seen before. “I think I’m open to new traditions, especially involving you and me.”

For the first time in his life, Tommy Shelby felt that starting something new, something unexpected was the best gift he could ever receive.

#tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x ofc #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fucking blinders #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinder fanfiction #holiday fanfic #holiday #holiday fic #katys merry writeathon

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sneakyblinders · 2 years ago

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Superstition pt ii modern!tommy shelby x ofc

A/N: pt 2 of superstition! tommy x amandine, a new ofc! set in Louisiana in modern day. read pt i here. listen to the ambiance here. warnings: sexual themes, violence, superstition, not canon, weapons, war.

Amandine watched as Tommy pulled his clothes on. Jeans, t-shirt, holster over his shoulders, gun loaded. He pushed his rings on his fingers, his signet ring and a ring she had bought him years ago. She was surprised he still wore it. He clasped a chain around his neck, one from his brother, Arthur. He sprayed his cologne on and turned around, blue eyes beaming at her. He felt more human today.

“Ready?” she asked, already hot in her sundress.

“If you are,” he said, walking out to the living room, ceiling fan chugging away at the already oppressive heat.

The drive to Amadine’s parents house was quiet. They lived about twenty minutes from them, closer to the center of the small city they lived closest to. They pulled up to the old house, which always made Tommy seethe. It screamed old money. White brick, four white pillars holding up the second story balcony with the biggest porch on a house he’d ever seen. Rocking chairs on the porch, rocking gently in the breeze, air circulating well thanks to a ceiling fan that whirred on the ceiling of the first floor.

They could smell the food from the driveway– the smoked boudin and collards, the peach pie–from the front porch.

“Della, I think someone’s here to see you,” Roseanne Theiriot said, dark eyes serious as she met Tommy’s eyes through the screen door.

Amandine and Tommy heard little footsteps running down the tile floors, stopping short when she saw her daddy. “Daddy?” she whispered.

Tommy knelt down. “It’s me, baby,” he said.

She smiled, running to him, crashing against his chest. Tommy wrapped his arms around his little girl. This little girl who he’d only seen pictures of–only ever heard her voice over a fuzzy phone call.

Amandine had gotten pregnant right before he’d enlisted in the service and gotten sent to the sandbox. He’d been away at war ever since–a topic that Amandine and Tommy fought over often. He had the opportunity to come home on leave but never took it–always choosing to stay with his men.

“This is really him?” Della asked, looking up at Amandine.

Amandine’s emotion caught in her throat. “Yes, sweetheart. This is your daddy,” she said, nodding.

“Thomas, I need to speak to you,” Roseanne said in that eerily quiet voice of hers. Gus, Amandine’s father and Roseanne’s husband walked down the hallway, and after seeing Tommy, groaned.

“Ah, fuck,” Gus groaned.

“Good to see you too, Gus,” Tommy said, standing up, Della clutching Tommy’s legs.

“Della, baby, Grandmere needs to talk to your daddy for a minute, okay? I’ll bring him right back,” Roseanne said, talking to her grandchild in a voice she only reserved for her.

Roseanne Theiriot was a force to be reckoned with, and one of the few people Tommy feared. Her hair was black, dark eyes, an olive skin tone. She always wore flowy dresses that billowed in the wind. Many people who did not understand this life, this culture, would refer to her as a witch, a fortune teller, a necromancer, a palm reader. The mystical power that was Roseanne Theiriot scared many, and enchanted all others.

The Theiriots and the Decourdreaux’s, Roseanne’s family, had been in Louisiana for generations. The land Gustav and Roseanne owned belonged to Gustav’s family going back to the 1800’s. Roseanne was raised in New Orleans. Her mother, and her mothers mother, and all the mothers before them, had been cursed with the gift of the spirits. Gifts going back to their Creole and Indigenous American roots from before Louisiana was even a state. They made their money telling fortunes and reading palms in Jackson Square. It’s how she met Gus, actually.

Gustav’s family roots traced back to the original Acadians, French immigrants pushed out of Nova Scotia in the late 1700’s. Amandine, and as a result, Delphina, affectionately nicknamed Della, had strong Louisiana roots that tied them to this land. This culture.

The Shelby’s had settled in Louisiana sometime around the 1930’s during the Great Depression, forsaking their traveler ways, but never forsaking the superstitions and beliefs that they so deeply to their core. The Gypsy beliefs that mimicked the beliefs of the Theiriots.

Roseanne pulled Tommy to the sitting room, where she shut the French doors. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it, knowing it would bother her. “I knew you were coming, Thomas,” she said in a calm voice. “The waters were disturbed before you came back.”

Tommy tried to remain unphased, although being alone with Roseanne always sent chills up and down his spine. “Is that right?”

“I know what you did in Iraq,” Roseanne said, walking closer to him, her dark eyes boring holes into his soul. “Who is Grace?”

Images of her flashed through Tommy’s mind. Her on top of him, her lips on his skin. Sinking into her. Then her gun to his temple, nearly pulling the trigger before his men stormed the barracks, aware of the mole. The rat.

“No one,” he said simply, eyes meeting Roseanne’s.

“You should know better than to lie, Thomas,” Roseanne warned, jaw clenched. “The curse,” she shook her head slightly, her turquoise jewelry rattling.

“I haven’t betrayed Amandine in any way that she hasn’t betrayed me,” he said plainly.

Roseanne slapped Tommy across his cheek, a stinging pain shooting through him. “Don’t speak of my daughter, and the mother of your child in that way,” she seethed. “She has taken care of all your filthy business and ran it through her own business as a damn cover operation, evading arrest multiple times all to continue the filth you started, just so you would come home to her.”

“She did it for the same reason I came back to this shithole,” Tommy argued. “She did it because she doesn’t want to live the rest of her days with the mark of Cain, and a curse to rival hell’s fury,” Tommy exhaled, annoyed already. “I have a child I need to introduce myself to, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be seeing myself out. We won’t be staying for lunch,” Tommy said, forcing himself past her and out the doors.

Amandine found herself back at Marie’s the next night–the restaurant she had opened the year she fell pregnant with Della. Tommy and Della were alone together for the first time. He had decided to take her to a movie and out for pizza.

Sweat ran down Amandine’s back as she grilled off steaks and asparagus, before one of her waiters came asking for her. “Somebody here to see you, Ma’am,” the young waiter, no older than seventeen said.

“Who?” she asked, unbothered by him and far more concerned with the char on her New York Strips. The muscles in her back flexed, reminding her of the gun she had tucked in the waistband of her checked pants.

“Uh, Vincent, ma’am,” he said uncomfortably.

“Alright, I’ll be out as soon as I get this ticket done.”

Vincent Camponi was a farmer and fisherman who Amandine bought her produce and shrimp off of for the restaurant. They’d fumbled into each other one night at a bar. One thing led to another, and they couldn’t keep their hands, or mouths, off each other ever since.

“Hey, baby,” he drawled, his thick Louisiana accent making Amandine’s stomach flip.

“Vin,” she began, putting her hands on his chest to avoid his kisses. “Vin, Tommy’s back. I–I can’t do this.”

Vincent’s eyes became dark, the often playful look that was in them disappearing completely. “After the hell he’s put you through? After all the neglect? What did he do to deserve you, Dine?”

His lips were dangerously close to hers. So close. “Not a damn thing,” she breathed before their lips crashed together.

That night, Amandine tried her best to sneak home, but Tommy was up, whiskey in his hand, gun on the coffee table. Della was asleep in the recliner, curled under her favorite blanket.

“Where the hell have you been?” Tommy asked, eyes heavy with fatigue.

“Working,” she said.

He checked his watch. “Restaurant closed damn near three hours ago,” he said.

“Lots of dishes,” she said, the lie rolling off her tongue easily.

Tommy stood up, stalking towards her. “Are you trying to ruin our lives? To ruin our daughter's life?”

“What are you talking about, Tom?” Amandine sneered, trying to push past him.

“I can smell his cologne on you,” Tommy seethed, backing her against the wall. “You’re the one who made your mama cast that damn spell,” he pinned her hands above her head, against the wall, his hips crushing against hers. “And you’re gonna keep the end of the damn bargain, woman,” he sneered.

“You wanted that spell as much as I did,” she countered, wiggling her hips against his. Talks of curses and spells be damned, he had a spell on her. On her body. How she craved him. How she needed him.

“What an idiot I was,” he chuckled to himself.

“Do you love me, Thomas?” she asked, emotion cracking through her voice.

He shook his head, in disbelief of himself, of his life. “With all I fucking am,” he breathed before crashing his lips to hers.

After Tommy rolled off her for the last time that night, collapsing into exhaustion and blissed out sleep, Amandine had some time to think. Reflect. On this life. This confusing as hell love she and Tommy shared.

They’d met in high school, what seemed like eons ago now. They’d fallen head over heels in love with one another–lost their virginities to one another, shared hopes and dreams, slept out under the stars in the canals, the swamps, together in his pirogue. They’d graduated a year apart, buying their house the day after Amandine graduated.

Tommy had gotten mixed up in the wrong crowds that first year out of high school, a result of Arthur’s dealings and out of a necessity for money. The drugs had begun flowing freely when they began working as protection detail for big time dealers. And the money followed.

Amandine had proven her talent in kitchens time after time. And before he went away to war, he had bought her Marie’s–a restaurant named for her Grandmere, who taught her everything she knew about the kitchen. He had bought it for her under the condition that she would use it as a cover business to funnel his drugs through. He, Arthur and John had managed to make their own name in the business, also continuing to illegally produce their own alcohol. A form of moonshine, outlawed in the States for decades. She had reluctantly agreed.

Before Tommy went away to war, the couple, still desperately in love, bound themselves together spiritually. Roseanne cast a spell over the two of them, binding them together in love and devotion, with the warning that if their love was ever broken, calamity would befall them and all their children for the rest of their days.

The scars on their palms were from where they had bound themselves together with blood. Bodies and souls–forever bound.

Despite their awkward reunion, their wayward hearts and confused minds–Amandine knew she and Tommy would always come back together. The love they had ran deeply.

Deeper than most understood.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x ofc #tommy shelby x amandine #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby x ofc #thomas shelby #peakywomen #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #sneakyblinders #louisiana au #modern!tommyshelby x ofc #modern!tommy shelby

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cljordan-imperium · 1 year ago

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Arrow House

Chapter 3

Cw: alcoholism, memory loss, mentions of euthanasia, mentions of poison

Heaven is @call-sign-shark 's oc and Billy is my creation sort of

It isn’t hard to charm them at dinner.

While everything ---even now when things are still being rationed--- is grand you almost feel a sense of belonging.

Diane’s strangeness had eased as she sat next to her mother and Karl.

You were given the seat of honor at Tommy’s right and because Arthur Shelby barely has a clue as to why his seat is taken, he makes Charlie move down a seat.

Something Karl was counting on as he hides his vindictive smirk.

You do your best to keep your cool. All you have to do is pretend you’re fine with being talked over by the man who forgets his wife, Heaven, doesn’t want him anymore after poor dear Billy died in North Africa.

“I met him once in Egypt, we were posted to the same hospital, they called him Angel because everyone who saw him thought they were seeing one.” You mention hoping to make a good impression on the Shelbys to make sure everything Karl says behind your back isn’t believed.

Billy had been nothing like his father, odd like Diane with his silver blonde hair and eyes as blue as Tommy’s and Charlie’s. He never drank, never gave into the urge to gamble or smoke or any sort of vice.

Angel, or so he was called by everyone who met the field medic. No one died on his watch, only he did when the Gerries bombed the camp he had been in.

“When Billy comes home, you should give him a job at the hospital you opened, Tom.” He says and Tommy lies saying he’ll consider it.

From what you’ve been told and seen, it always falls on Tommy to take care of his older brother. The burden always returns to him sooner or later, Karl had said once.

You can smell the whiskey in his breath and you know his brother smells it too.

It would be mercy if he died soon.

Like the people too sick to recover in your care, euthanasia is preferable to living a miserable existence with no chance for recovery. Especially one of a doddering alcoholic who’s got nothing going for him.

But the Shelbys don’t believe in that, so they make sure Arthur can’t get anything that can kill him. Only he somehow manages to evade the safe measures.

You remember the potion you stole, the heart shaped bottle in your drawers that can give you the man you desire and kill if used incorrectly.

No.

You shouldn’t be thinking like that, what would Charlie think if he learned of it?

He wouldn’t love you if you killed his uncle.

Besides you don’t know how much is too much, or if it even works. For all you know it’s some pretty bullshit to make his mother look interesting.

But what if it does?

You decide to try it.

On tea that could be blamed for the change in taste by claiming it was a new blend you decided to try.

Now do you lace both teas or only try it on one?

Lace both

Lace one

#well...#laced tea #interesting #charlie shelby x reader #eva smith shelby #tommy x eva #arthur shelby x ofc #arthur shelby x heaven lavey #billy shelby #karl thorne #diane shelby #peaky blinders fanfiction #saltburn au

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midnightswithdearkatytspb · 2 years ago

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“Fear, that is what he felt. Every single day, 'cause all the boys would play. Don't you dare be weak, emasculated freak. Last up on the fence, tell me where's the sense? // It's okay to be not okay. It's just fine to be out of your mind. Breathe in deep, just a day at a time. 'Cause it's okay to be out of your mind. // I don't want this body, I don't want this voice. I don't wanna be here but I guess I have no choice. Just let me live my truth, that's all I wanna do. Baby, you're not broken, just a little bit confused.” — Imagine Dragons • “It’s Ok”

“Arthur, I love you on your good days and on your bad days. You need someone to show you that it will be okay, even when you feel it won’t be okay. Even I have my dark days, where I don’t want to get out of bed, and that’s okay. As long as we realize we must live for tomorrow and each other.” Arthurs angel put her forehead against his and kissed him as his tears started to dry.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is it’s okay not to be okay and fuck what others think, my love. As long as we have each other, we can be a little not okay together.” Arthur scoffed and pulled his angel in, kissing her full force. Being a little out of his mind with her wouldn’t be so bad as long as she was at his side.

#my moodboards #arthur shelby #arthur shelby moodboard #arthur shelby x ofc #arthur shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders moodboard #moodboards #ktk post #lyrics #music #imagine dragons #it’s ok imagine dragons #it’s ok

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peakyblindas · 3 years ago

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Quiet (Arthur Shelby x OFC)

Arthur isn’t any good at dates, he hates fancy restaurants and art galleries, but he knows the countryside.

Sorry this is so short, I lost the thread of the plot but I think this is cute anyway <3

Tagging: @stone-hearted-seymour @julyzaa

The field was peaceful and the shade was a welcome hideaway from the noon sun. Pearl unpacked the picnic basket and placed the sandwiches on the tartan blanket.

“I did some corned beef and some chicken…” She unwraps them “I wasn’t sure what you liked.”

The sandwiches looked lovely, somehow perfectly cut, with perfect white fluffy bread.

“And some pop..” Pearl produces two glass bottles: “One is orange, the other is dandelion and burdock.”

“Sandwiches and pop?” Arthur chuckles “We belong on a fucking postcard.”

He reaches for a sandwich and wolfs it down like he hasn’t eaten for a week, crumbs and butter lodge themselves in his bushy mustache.

Pearl laughs and pulls out her handkerchief, she wipes away the crumbs.

This was a sweet, quiet moment, something just for them and them alone.

She could get used to quiet moments like this with Arthur Shelby.

#OC: Pearl Stone #arthur shelby x ofc #Arthur Shelby #peaky blinders fan fic

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interstellargatorskinboots1812 · 3 years ago

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TAPPED INTO YOUR MIND & SOUL UPDATED MASTERLIST

UPDATED OCTOBER 2022

SUMMARY

Arabella Shelby is tired of the antics of her twin brother Tommy. She hates how she is always left on the back-foot of what is going on. As a fierce and intelligent force to be reckoned with, she knows she is more than capable of dealing with the more unsavoury side of the Shelby Company Limited.

She’s made a decision that if Tommy won’t allow her to come out of the shadows, then she will make light of her own, elsewhere. But will a deal with the devil be the answer to her problems? Tommy has a proposition for Arabella and one that will see her tied to his most untrusting of business associates. Will Arabella take the plunge and start a new life in Camden, beside the most eccentric and sadistic bread makers and leader of the Jewish Gangs in London, Mr Alfie Solomons?

CHAPTER ONE: Satisfaction Seems like a Distant Memory CHAPTER TWO: SHE'S THUNDERSTORMS CHAPTER THREE: Middle of Adventure such a Perfect Place to Start CHAPTER FOUR: Judith & Holofernes CHAPTER FIVE: All Things are Subject to Decay and Change CHAPTER SIX: A Fugitive, But You Don't Know What You're Running Away From CHAPTER SEVEN: 'I've Done Some Things that I Shouldn’t Have Done CHAPTER EIGHT: How Many Secrets Can You Keep?

CHAPTER NINE- You are the Unforecasted Storm

CHAPTER TEN: It’s Much Less Picturesque Without her Catching the Light

CHAPTER ELEVEN: Under the Warning Light

CHAPTER TWELVE: Have You No Idea That You’re in Deep?

As always, please support my fanfic with a reblog, or even better with a comment. Nothing makes you motivated to write like some fic appreciation,

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novashelby · 9 months ago

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Would my Peaky Blinders community enjoy taking part in a community secret Santa? I notice we all pretty follow one another and /or communicate in some ways. We are a chill Fandom for the most part.

How it would work:

On October 1st, I will set up a way for people to submit their names(URL). And set the deadline for October 7th. I will use a generator to set up and match people to others.

Obviously, I am the one dealing with the URLS, so my name won't be in the "bucket". But I will be dealing with the oversight and people can ask me questions. I can even talk to their person without revealing who and what.

You HAVE to be over 18. Ageless blogs cannot join. EMPTY blogs cannot join. You should have some writing on your blog. I'll get to specifics later.

What you would do for your person: write a 1,500 one shot based off what they seem to like. Obviously, if they love intense smut and you are a fluff queen, you shouldn't write things that make you uncomfy. And vice versa. Don't write smut for someone who seems to mostly write fluff. It's a gift 🎁 so, I don't think it's right of anyone to expect any certain thing.

Again, specifics to come later.

All fanfics should be posted no earlier than December 20th and no later than 25th.

Once I know people are actually interested, I will answer questions and make a mass post explaining everything better.

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call-sign-shark · 1 year ago

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Little Lamb part. 2 || Arthur Shelby x Reader x OFC

Summary: You discover that Arthur is already married when you are faced with his wife. Worst, she seems to already know about you. Did she see you flirting with her husband? (Yandere! Arthur Shelby x Reader x Yandere!OFC)

Words: 1.3 K

Notes:

✞ 0 proofreading, it's also prolly bad written but it's just a little something I write for fun.

✞ Heaven in Reader in the ongoing Arthur x You series Heaven in Your Eyes.

PREVIOUS PART

Six months ago.

She hasn't stopped crying since they came back from the doctor's office. With his long and bony fingers lost in her wild silver mane, Arthur gently massages his wife's scalp in a desperate attempt to chase her troubles away.

"It's goin' to be okay, love." His usually loud baritone voice had turned into a tender hush. Gathering all his protective nature to remain the reassuring one, he presses a kiss on top of her head,

"No, it's not! What's wrong with me?!" She roars through her sobs, her fists weakly hitting Arthur's chest in frustration as her pain blends with a self-targeted rage. Usually, Heaven Shelby is not the emotive kind — quite the opposite, the young French girl's tears were as scarce as the most precious stones, only falling from her aquamarine eyes when the situation was truly catastrophic. Arthur himself could hold count of the few times she cried on a single hand. Yet, she seems unable to stop, her face hidden in the crook of her husband's neck and her salty tears dampening the fabric of his shirt.

"Don't fucking say there's someth' wrong with ya." Trying his best to remain gentle, Arthur shifts a little before cupping her doll face and then forces her to face his stern steel-blue eyes. The look she gave him, filled with inconsolable sorrow, broke his heart into pieces.

How he hates watching her in pain — it makes him feel powerless and boiling from the inside because, this time, there is literally nothing he can do to fix it. Nothing his fists can destroy, nothing his kisses can heal. All he has is words, and God knew how bad he is with them. "I don't care if ya can't have a baby, what matters is you. Only you." Still, he tried, wiping her tears and the remnant of her mascara with a soft caress from his thumbs. “Please stop crying…”

"But you've always wanted to be a father." She said through gritted teeth, her fleshy lower lip trembling and her eyes overflowing once again as she fought against another wave of uncontrollable sadness, "The night of our wedding I promised I'll give you a family and look at me! Look at me Arthur! I can't even be pregnant! This is... This is fucking unfair..." Her voice cracked. Unfair that John could spawn a whole football team. Unfair that Tommy got Grace's pregnant after fucking her only once when she came back from America while she couldn’t for the life of hers. Arthur let out a long exhale through his nostrils before wrapping his arms around her waist again, forehead pressed against forehead and eyes locked together in a tender embrace.

"Listen, little one. I don't care about babies. Don't care about anything in all this fucking world as long as you're by my side. If you can't have children and wanna grieve about it well it’s fine with me, but if you do want one we'll find a way. I promise we’ll find a way.”

"Arthur told me about you." No matter how patient and calmly she expresses herself, you can't help but feel each of her words like painful razor blades.

Discreetly behind the bar, your grip clenches around the wooden counter for you are convinced your legs wouldn't handle your weight if you let go of it. "Made me curious about this new pretty barmaid, even though the last one ended up dead and cold. Gun wounds in the chest area are pretty deadly. I truly hope you'll last longer."

As you stand there, eyes wide open and face dropping a few shades paler, an overwhelming wave of terror crashes through your body and leaves you petrified. Every muscle tenses, locking you in place as your heart pounds furiously in your chest. You don't know what it is about her — the frozen beauty, the frightening discourse, or the faulty contact in her eyes when she smiles — but it made cold sweat trickle down your spine. . "Oh, eeerr... I—" You try to speak but your brain just doesn't cooperate and your breath remains stuck in your throat. All the confidence you've built these past few weeks is destroyed in one batting of her doe lashes.

She notices it.

Hell, you're so obvious that everybody does.

"Hey," She says, her creepy smile withering and the ice of her iris melting, "I was just messing with you, little Lamb." Nimble, she leans over the bar and reaches for your face, her sly fingers offering you the most gentle caress you've ever felt grazing your skin. Her flesh is cold, smooth like marble, but despite everything the physical contact sends warmth into your soul, and in consequences your body quickly retrieves its ability to move, "I'm sorry, I knew I was terrible at making friends but not that much." The white-haired doll winks before stepping back to give you more space to breath, concluding her sentence with a little candid chuckle.

"Oh no, it's my bad!" You quickly replied, a sense of utter guilt washing over you for having thought she was being a bitch by trying to scare you, "I haven't got much sleep lately and it makes me quite sensitive. You've done nothing wrong." With a grateful exhale, you close your eyes briefly, savoring the sensation of safety as well as the fragrances of her refined perfume that envelop you. A shy smile finally enlightens your face.

"I wish I'd look as pretty as you when I'm sleep-deprived but unfortunately, I turn into a goblin when I don't have my beauty sleep." Her joke sweeps away the remaining tension and snatches genuine amused laughter from you. Heaven finally offers you one last smile before making her way to Arthur, who was sitting further, far too busy talking with John and Finn.

"Hey! Your glass of wine!" You call her.

"It's yours! Cheers, babe." She replies cheerfully, almost singing as she leaves your side.

You've tried to hate her, you’ve really tried, but you couldn't.

She didn’t make it easy either.

During the same evening, each time you came to the Shelby table to refill their glasses, you ended up quickly distracted from the pain of seeing her all snuggled up against Arthur's chest by how kind and bubbly she was when you were around. Always complimenting you and eager to chat with you — little insignificant and transparent you. So much that a part of you felt horrible at the thought that you have been flirting and planning to get involved with her husband. When they left the pub late at night -or rather early in the morning-, you found a ridiculous amount of money on the table, and under those banknotes was a little bracelet made of daisies, their stems carefully intertwined together by skilled fingers.

Did you wear it? Of course, it was made with love.

In the days that followed this unexpected meeting, Arthur's wife came to the Garrison and always left a homemade something for you to eat since you had told her that you struggled with eating more than one meal a day due to your financial problems. The food wasn't just good, it was certainly the most delicious dishes you had ever tasted. France, they say, has one of the finest gastronomy in the world and you learned the veracity of this statement the best way. It didn't take long for both of you to become friends first, then inseparable after some time.

Alongside this very unexpected friendship, Arthur's demeanor toward you hadn't changed the slightest — which didn't help forgetting about him. Every slight touch, every smile, and every word exchanged made your heart race in your chest the same as before, if not faster.

Lost and torn by the conflicting feelings of a friendship you genuinely cherished and your growing affection for your best friend's husband, you felt like your own reflection in the mirror was judging you. But if there was something you weren’t it was wicked.

Maybe that was why this battle between desire and loyalty had led you to stutter the following statement to the white-haired and crystal-eyed angel:

"Heaven, I'm so sorry. I think I am in love with Arthur."

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