#John Shelby request

[warnersister]

How the Peaky boys would react to “you wearing a sundress” -> headcannon

(NSFW) but more implied then truly written, but still read at your own risk

Tommy🪖

🪖it was a hot day, and you were rummaging through your clothing chest to try find something suitable to wear to bear the heat outside.

🪖Tommy had headed out early, business to attend to with Alfie Solomons.

🪖he hadn’t meant to wake you, trying to sneak around the bedroom to get dressed and get out of the house: especially after a… long night

🪖but still, you stirred and whined “Tom?” You breathe with a rasped voice “s’alright, back to sleep darling” he instructed but you endured, sitting up and stretching your arms high above your head and Thomas watched as the covers fell to reveal your bare torso and it took all his self control to stop salivating.

🪖you climbed out of bed and threw the slip dress over your head, heading towards your husband who was buttoning his shirt in the mirror

🪖you turned him towards you and swatted his hands away, and he allowed you to finish buttoning his shirt for him, finishing the top button and pulling the collar down to kiss him.

🪖”Solomons is coming by today” Thomas huffed and you looked up at him with narrowed eyes “long meeting?” You ask and he shakes his head “shouldn’t be” you nod “d’you want me to come by later? Bring you some lunch?” You ask and he connects his eyes with yours “y’know y’worry me when you stay in there all day” you continue and he offers a small smile. “I’ll take that as a yes” you say, kissing the corner of his mouth and tapping his chest, ushering him out of the door. “Go on, shoo.”

🪖he smirked and grabbed his cap on the way out, whistling as he went

🪖so there you were, already sweeting with mere silk on your body

🪖you saw a dress with the tags still on, yellow and billowing at the bottom: sundress

🪖you looked it over one before deciding it was the perfect choice for today’s endeavours.

🪖you’d nipped out to the market first, collecting some supplies to make him some soup or whatever you could conjure up.

🪖you even grabbed some sunflowers too; having bought him a vase for his office, thinking it needed some life brought into it, given the volume of lives that were lost in that room.

🪖later in the day you headed to Tommy’s office, assuming that his meeting must be done by now and to feed him.

🪖you’d headed to the Garrison, greeting Harry and having a few wandering eyes following you as you approached the Blinder’s designated room, thinking nothing of it as you turned the door knob.

🪖Tommy couldn’t be mad at your intrusion for the sheer sight of you. His pupils blew out of his head as he looked you over, he’d never seen this dress before. Yet his jaw gritted at the way Alfred fucking Solomons had the same reaction.

🪖”oh I’m so sorry gentleman” you said, pivoting to leave “no no, sweetheart. Alfie was just leaving. Weren’t you?” Tommy asked and Alfie creased his brows but with the eyes his business partner was giving him told him everything he needed to know. “Yeah yeah, just leaving Tom”

🪖Alfie stood, to leave and smiled at you “lovely to see you, poppet” Alfie said, you’d always gotten along with him; you hugged him as he welcomed it, and he grinned at you “you look gorgeous you, yeah? Lovely new dress. Fabulous it is” “fuck off Alfie” “yeah yeah I’m going, bye love”

🪖Tommy looked you over as the door clicked shut with tight lips. “I’m sorry Tom I didn’t think he’d still be here-” “have you had that on all day?” He cuts you off and you raise your brows “the dress?” “Mhm” “oh yeah, found it earlier. Never worn it.” You say, spinning to give him a giddy look at it.

🪖Tommy couldn’t help but smile “c’m ere.” He beckons you over and you approach him “I brought you some lunch-” you begin “nah, got all I need to eat right here” he says and grabs your hips, prompting you to discard your basket on his desk.

🪖he sits back in his seat; opening his legs to pull you to stand between them. He gently takes the fabric between his fingers, then drags his hands so slowly up to your torso, not looking at your face. You fidget anxiously, his hands dragging back down to the hem of the dress.

🪖”dangerous wearing this, love” he says, dipping his hands under the dress to rest on your upper thighs, finally looking at you. You smile. He realises how easily the fabric is lifted, pushing you back to sit on his desk “can’t do this to y’old Tom and expect to get away with it” he says, with a tut, unzipping his trousers and removing his suspenders as he pushes your underwear to the side.

🪖”I’m buying you more o’ these.”

Alfie🧸

🧸Alfie was sat reading the newspaper in his armchair, Cyril asleep beside him when you came into the room.

🧸”so, what do you think?” You asked and Alfie looked up but had to do a double take. A white sundress with frilled straps and tight torso. “Blimey poppet, what’s this then?” He asked, dropping his glasses to the end of his nose to get a better look at you.

🧸”a sundress Alf!” You say, “y’bought it last year, remember?” “Thought I’d remember buying something like this.” He says, standing to his feet, moving to take your hand in his own “give us a spin then darling” he says, turning you as the fabric billowed as you went only for your gorgeous beaming face to return to him.

🧸”now this is fucking fabulous ain’t it darlin’, fucking fabulous. Bloody love it. Suits you nicely” he mumbles as you smile “but y’can’t wear it” he says and your face drops “y’what?” You asks, brows furrowing. “Y’aint givin y’old man heart palpitations and expecting me to let y’out of the house, flower. Not like this” he says sternly, wagging an accusatory finger at you.

🧸”but we’re got to go to the market-” you protest “nah, we ain’t” he says, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder as you yelp. He flips the rim of your skirt up so he gets a great view of your ass, smacking it lightly “Alfie!”

🧸”don’t think I won’t shag y’on these stairs, treacle, now let me get up the fucking stairs, yeah?”

🧸then later in the day when you’d finally manage to coax him off of you and out of the house to the market, there was a hand permanently on your waist. And then at some point you bent over to smell some flowers and Alfie couldn’t help but lean his hips into yours. You yelped “Alfie!” You hissed. “C‘mon love I can’t cope.” He grunts, impatiently prompting the rest of the shopping to go by faster, flipping the skirt of the dress up again when he finally got back to the car.

Arthur🍺

🍺so. Fucking. Antsy.

🍺can’t keep his fucking hands off of you.

🍺left early, didn’t he? Ended up waking you up; banging all the doors shut and all that as he clambered out of the house.

🍺you decided that was your wake up call regardless, knowing full well that if he’d have left in a state such as the one he was in last night then it wasn’t good business. Meaning it’d perk him up for you to visit him and calm down his anger during the day, even if it was only a chat to rectify his emotions.

🍺you’d gotten yourself dressed without a second thought, inly to do a double take and head right back into the house when you felt the sweltering temperatures outside the from door.

🍺you’d rummage through your clothing chest, struggling to find anything suitable for such an occasion, used to the drizzly cool downpour of the indefinite English winter.

🍺then you spotted it; the sundress

🍺Arthur had gone mad for it last year, and it was forgotten about at around Christmas time when it was way too cold for attire like that, but now was the perfect opportunity to wind him up again.

🍺and you were in a teasing mood after the way he’d slammed the front door shut and made a crack in the mahogany.

🍺so you’d slipped it on, it was a lovely shade of pink; baby pink to be exact. Arthur loved that colour on you, made him forget all his troubles and appreciate his woman for a while - especially when he couldn’t get his hands off you. So, giving yourself a once over you spritzed a bit of the expensive perfume Thomas had kindly gifted you the Christmas prior, the one you knew Arthur liked the smell of, and headed out the door.

🍺you decided to stop by the bakery on the way to his office, the bakery with the young cashier who had a large crush on you who Arthur absolutely despised, and you knew it’d get him even more rilled up knowing full well that you’d been in that dress, had leant over the counter while the young lad stumbled over his words and explained what was in every one of them, let you sample the one that the lad knew full well was your favourite, and gave you it on the house with a tip on the hat and a kiss on the hand.

🍺yeah this was turning out to be a pretty good day.

🍺so you waltzed through the building, little spring in your step as you greeted all the turning heads who watched you as you walked.

🍺you knocked on his door “fuck off” and you opened it “sorry Arth, thought you’d want some company” you say in the shyest voice you could manage to muster. His demeanour immediately changed when he heard your voice, his posture settled but when he looked at you his mouth ran dry.

🍺”brought you a bun” you say, taking it out of the bag you’d brought and knew full well he looked at the branding on the paper packaging. His jaw went slack. “Fuck me love, y’tryna kill me?” He asked, taking his cap off his head and shooting his head beneath it. “What do you mean, darling?” You asked, feigning innocence, heading to his desk as you placed the treat in front of him. “You know fucking damn well what. That bastard dress is back again” he says, grabbing your waist with calloused hands to bring you closer to him and he looked you over.

🍺”wearing the nice perfume too, ain’t ya love?” He asked meekly and you nodded “warm day and I couldn’t find anything else. Saw how quickly you’d left his morning so I thought I’d bring you something to eat” you say with a small, innocent smile as you stroked his cheek. He swallowed hard, eyes unwillingly shifting from you to the pastry on his desk.

🍺”y’ve been to that fucking bakery, ain’t ya?” He asked, gritting his teeth “well it’s your favourite-” “and that little bastard was serving wasn’t he?” He asked again, eyes narrowing “who? Daniel-” “yes fucking Daniel that little cock rocket who thinks he can get in your knickers that’s who” he seethed.

🍺then it dawned on him. “And he saw you in this fucking thing” he growled, bunching the pink material in his hands as he huffed “m’sorry Arth. Didn’t think” you reply. Liar. “Nah I think you knew. Knew to tease y’old Arthur didn’t you?” He asked, thumb drawing small circles into your waist. You replied with a small smile “I knew it! Y’little minx!” He chuckled, shaking his head.

🍺”well!“You exclaim, taking his hands and prying them from your waist as his face dropped “I’ll leave you be. Enjoy your pasty. Love you.” You say, turning to make your leave and he almost growled.

🍺”where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He asked, standing up after you as you walked back through his door, failing to suppress your smirk. He pretty much sprinted after you, grabbing you roughly and throwing you over his shoulder to turn right back around and into his office. “Got all I want to eat right fucking ‘ere. You ain’t leaving this office in this bastard dress” he promises, slamming the office door behind the two of you.

John🥃

🥃bold of you to think you’re even leaving the house with it on.

🥃he’s not like his brothers, he wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye unless Tommy was literally at the door screaming for him, and even then he was quick to reassure you before he sprinted out the house.

🥃no he liked to wake up with you, especially now there were too many kids to count running around the house.

🥃he liked to wake you up with little kisses, grab you at the waist and pull you back into bed if you tried to leave, brush his teeth beside you in the bathroom, help get the kids ready, pick your outfit, and let you tie his tie which usually took a good half hour between all the songs he’d sneak in.

🥃gave him a sense of homeliness.

🥃a bit of normality.

🥃today was no different, he’d woke you up with little kisses, rolling you to sit on top of him, legs either side of his hips as he repetitively kissed you as you giggled and tried to rise for a breath.

🥃”mammy I’m hungry!” A voice came from the doorway and you saw your agitated son pawing at his pyjamas as he looked at you desperately. “Fucking kid interrupting. About to fu-” John mumbled quietly before you were placing a hand over his mouth with wide, warning eyes. He smirked at you. “Alright mate, I’ll come, leave your poor mammy alone” John answered, finally managing to pry your hand away. “Thanks daddy” he says, giddily, as John reluctantly placed you back in bed and rolled out, chucking a shirt on and turning back to you. “Don’t move” he says, wagging a jokingly warning finger at you and you laugh “yes sir” you salute and he smirk.

🥃”right c’mon mate.” John says, grabbing your son and slinging him onto a piggy back to go grab him something to munch on.

🥃you practically jumped out of bed to go grab the new sundress that you bought last week, you hadn’t shown John yet and decided that today was the day you were going to wear it, especially now you had the quick couple of minutes of peace alone.

🥃”right, little’uns eating his breakf- fuck me” you spun around to look at your husband and smiled “what d’y think?” You ask, “g’i us a twirl” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. You did as he said and pivoted around, showing how the dress spun with you.

🥃”it’s a sundress” you say “I can see that flower” he replies, walking up to you to have a good feel of the fabric, gliding his hands from your upper back to your waist as he pulls you into him “y’can’t wear tha’.” He says simply and you giggle “why’s tha Johnny?” You ask and he raises his brows “that little name tells me you know goddamn why gorgeous.” He says “y’cannea wear it cause I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off of ya.” He says, quickly turning to slam the door shut before picking you up and dropping you on the bed, climbing on top of you and leaning in to kiss you hungrily.

🥃you move to take the dress of and he shakes his head “now, now whole point of this dress is that it’s easy access now, ain’t it?” He hums “leave it on I’ll work around don’t you worry ‘bout me.” He says quickly with his tongue protruding to lick his dry lips as he looks you over.

🥃he dips his head under the hem of the dress and eats you like a man starved. “Mammy! Daddy we’re ‘ungry!” You hear from beyond the door and John stops his movement to come back up for air and clamp a hand over your mouth to stop the sounds coming out of it. John huffs, frustrated but clears his throat. “Harriet darlin’ can you reach the milk?” He asks after a minute “I can da’.” Her little voice replies “Toby can you reach the cereal?” “Uh-huh” the other retorts. “Great and Charlie? Bowls and spoons?” “Yeah I know where they are daddy!” The little one says “perfect. Harriet want you to get the milk, the big ‘un I’m not having you using up the fancy shit your mam bought from Camden. Y’here me?” He asks “yeah dad” “Toby, grab the cereal and Charlie get the bowls and lot.” He instructs “okay!” The collective voices come out. “Hannah need you to make sure it’s all gone to plan, alright hon?” He asks “sure thing” then you hear the patter of feel heading down the stairs

🥃”and I swear to god if any of you little shits make a mess y’ll all be up for the fuckin’ high jump!” He announces loudly, before quieting down and turning back to you “where were we?”

🥃and then when you’d finally managed to pry him off of you, he begrudgingly let you wear it “don’t forget we’re going to Alice’s garden party.” You say “what?” He asks, noticing how you’ve dressed all the kids appropriately “y’ain’t going looking like that flower” he says “I sure am. Come in you lot! In the car!” You say, ushering him out the door

🥃he managed to sneak you away one or two times at the party.

Bonnie🥊

🥊Bonnie’s just as bad as John

🥊cannot keep his hands off of you

🥊”’m takin’ y’ to Bonnie Gold’s fight.” Your brother said walking into the room “wear summot nice, that dress I bought you” “why?” “Just get dressed” you nodded at Tommy, not opposed to visiting Bonnie Gold any day.

🥊”is his sister coming?” Bonnie asked his dad hopefully and the man smirked “why?” “J’st wonderin’.” “Yeah well keep y’eyes on the prize” Aberama told him “she is the fuckin’ prize” “try keep y’hands off of ‘er until the fights over, yeah?” He asked and him and Bonnie just shared a knowing smirk.

🥊you put on the sundress Tommy had bought you the other week, deciding it was a nice enough day to have a breeze against your skin, plus you had a pair of lovely shoes to match.

🥊so you rocked up downstairs, dress on and ready to go and Tommy just gave you a once over “poor lads gonna have a fuckin’ heart attack” John said, laughing “shut up John” you reply, as he opened the door to the car for you, offering his hand to help you up. “You look nice” Arthur commented with a raised brow “damn fucker better win this fight”

🥊”Bonnie” Thomas nodded as he entered the building, followed by his brothers, you at the back with John who’d strung an arm over your shoulder. “Mr Shelby” he nodded at him, but was clearly distracted. “Don’t you worry, Bonnie. She’s right ‘ere.” Tommy says, moving out the way for John and you to come into his view. “Hiya, Bon.” You smile “hiya flower” he manages to muster.

🥊yet, his breath had caught in his throat at the sheer sight of you. Your gorgeous face, hair done up nicely, and a fucking milkmaid dress. Some lovely sundress that other men didn’t deserve to see. Bonnie’s jaw clenched.

🥊”right, we’ll leave the two of you for a minute. Aberama, let’s chat” Thomas said, leading the others away “if he tries anything come and fuckin’ find me.” John said, looking Bonnie over once with narrowed eyes before strutting off after the others.

🥊Bonnie smirked looking at you “y’look lovely” he said quietly, approaching you “not too bad y’self Bon” you giggle as his hands wrap around you, leaning down to kiss you gently. “This fuckin’ dress. Y’do it on purpose?” He asks and you crease your brows “do what?” You hum and he sighs “I guess you’re not beautiful on purpose are you darlin’?” He grins, grabbing your hand to drag you into his changing room and lock the door behind you.

🥊he picks you up and you squeal with a laugh, wrapping your legs around his waist as he holds you against the door. He slips his hands under the hem of the skirt and holds your thighs gently.

🥊”this fucking dress” he says, chuffed that he managed to slip his hands all the way up to settle on your waist and you just smiled at him. You could feel him toying with the waistband of your panties and you laugh “Bon we’ve only got ten minutes!” You giggle and he sighs “guess we’ve got to be quick then, ay sugar?” He asks, undoing his trousers and just merely pushing your panties aside.

🥊you lean your head into the curve of his neck, muffling the sounds erupting from your mouth and muffling them with his bear skin and he slid in and out of you. “God ‘m so fuckin’ obsessed with you.” He groaned “y’know what this makes me think of?” He asks and you shake your head in question against him. “Makes me think of a mammy. What a mammy should wear when she’s pregnant ‘nd can’t get into nothin’ else.” He mumbles. “This wha’ya were tryna do t’me?” He asks “tryna get me to make y’a mammy? Cause it’s working darlin’. So well.” You whine at his remark.

🥊and when you both finish you try to pull up from his shoulder but he holds you firmly in place “Nuh uh. You dress like a mammy y’become one” he says and you can’t help but smile at his statement. Eventually, he unwraps you from his waist and lets you down onto shaky legs. A knock comes at the door “five minutes, son. Get your hands wrapped” you hear Aberama say to him followed by leaving footsteps. You smile up at him “c’mon I’ll wrap your hands”

🥊you pull him to where the wrap is, sitting him down on the bench and standing between his legs as you work on protecting his hands.

🥊He was being extremely difficult

🥊trying to wrap a man’s hands when all he wants to do is have them under your dress is an extremely difficult task as he kept groping at your skin rather than letting you work. “D’ya want your hands wrapping or not?” You ask with a huff and he smirks “would rather be doing somethin’ else.” He shrugs, but lets you finish. And when you do he pulls you into a tight hug, leaning against the fabric where your breasts were constricted.

🥊”Bonnie, c’mon lad it’s time” you heard your brother say from beyond the door, knocking on it thrice (sausage roll video lol)

🥊Bonnie groaned from under your dress (you didn’t know when he’d managed to snake his way back under there) but you grabbed his hand and yanked him from his seated position to standing; pulling him towards the door and unlocking it to take him to the ring.

🥊Bonnie pulled the hand that was dragging him, sending you flying into his chest with a force that nearly winded you as he gave you one last kiss. “Bonnie! Go!” You giggled, pushing him away and towards the ring, taking a stand beside your brothers as the match began.

🥊The rounds went by painfully slow for Bonnie; regardless of the fact that he was winning - but in reality it was only a good few minutes of pure fighting.

🥊then when the match was finished, he waltzed over to the Shelby family like he owned the place and offered a blood-filled grin as it dripped down his chin.

🥊”well done Bonnie lad.” Tommy said, lighting a cigarette. “Cheers Tommy.” He replied, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. “Didn’t y’get some money f’this match?” John asked, lighting his own. “Nah he’s got his own trophy right over there” Tommy replied, nodding at you as they all turned to see you chatting with Bonnie’s father.

🥊”just do us a favour” Thomas told him and Bonnie immediately nodded “marry her.” “Don’t have to tell me twice, mr Shelby.” Bonnie told him with a chuckle, heading to grab you to resume your activities.

Isaiah♟️

♟️haha.

♟️again, bold of you to assume that you’re getting fucking anywhere with that thing on.

♟️feel like it’d be a black sundress, one with frills on the sleeves.

♟️you’d gone for a walk with Finn, Tommy having told you both to fuck off for a while while they dealt with some deeper business; so a stroll around seemed to be the choice at hand.

♟️eventually though, Finn had gotten distracted by a sign you’d read that said ‘pretty women here shilling for a good time’ and left you to fend for yourself, opting not to follow your twin into the whore house, yet you weren’t in your own company for long, feeling a cap placed on your head and an arm around your shoulders.

♟️“Hey pretty, what’re you doing all alone?” Isaiah asked, as he feel into step with you, but came to a sudden halt almost lurching you back. “And who let you wear that?” His eyebrows raised as he looked you over. “Why what’s wrong with it?” You asked “nothin’ nothin’. J’st don’t understand why it’s not on my bedroom floor” you smacked his chest and giggled “Isaiah!”

♟️”y’shouldnt have been let out wearing this, love” he said, backing you against the wall of one of the nearby buildings. “Well I was with Finn” you reason “hmm? And where is Finn now?” He asks, taking your chin between his forefinger and thumb, forcing you to look at him.

♟️”in some whore house” you mumble in reply. He scoffs “some brother”. Then he starts again “why don’t we turn my house into a whore house and get that dress off you and into my room?” He suggests and you roll your eyes “such a way with words”

♟️”y’look fuckin’ insatiable” he says, leaning down to kiss that sensitive spot on the crevasse of your neck. “Dunno how I manage to keep my hand off you most of the time, doll” he shrugs “and in this? Fuck y’not gonna be walking anytime soon”

♟️you laugh at him “you wish peaky junior, now I was enjoying a lovely walk before you came along.” You hum, pushing him back by the chest and he scoffs “I’m a Shelby I can fend for myself” you shrug “not while I make you a Jesus.” He retorts, smirking like he knew he’d won. “Whatever, Isaiah” you say, calmly walking away

♟️he laughs loudly, running after you “c’mon Mrs Jesus we’ve business to attend to!” He announces, swiftly placing a hand onto your chest and pressing you back against the wall, lifting you up and placing hungry hands under the hem of your dress “Isaiah!” You scold, “not here!” He rolls his eyes “fine”

♟️and he places and arm under your knees and one to support your head as he carries you bridal-style back to his house. You clutch at his suit jacket and squeal at his action, holding on for dear life until you got to his home.

♟️did not wait until you got to the bedroom

♟️defo had his way with you against the door once it’d been firmly slammed shut and locked

♟️and on the sofa

♟️and the kitchen table

♟️and then bedroom

♟️(you never took the dress off)

♟️and eventually when you’d decided Tommy was probably done with his important business you managed to coax a begrudging Isaiah to the Garrison with you, who’d initially planned to keep you up all night with him but instead you were heading to a pub instead of his bed; which you’d end up in later anyways

♟️”oh she’s alive!” Arthur said sarcastically as you join them, noticing your presence and subsequently you noticed Finn’s. “How long did you last? Two minutes?” You asked and he scoffed “fuck off” “and of course I’m alive, I’m fine. It was Finn who left me alone!” You say, blame bombing your twin who looked at you with evil eyes.

♟️then Isaiah popped his head round “plus I wasn’t alone I was with Isaiah” you say matter-of-factly and Finn grits his jaw “what’ve I said about staying away from my fucking sister you fucking scrubber” Finn growls, landing a pent-up punch to Isaiah’s jaw who stumbled back slightly. “Didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout fucking her did ya?” He retorted and then he was running for the hills with three brothers sprinting after him.

♟️”men.” Polly said with a roll of her eyes

Michael🎱

🎱he wouldn’t be here nor there

🎱loved how it looks on you

🎱but hates the fact that other men see you wearing it.

🎱he makes heart eyes when he sees you in it, believing it to be the typical dress of a wife and mother; so it pretty much feeds into his delusions.

🎱the only time it saw the light of day in public would’ve definitely been when he’d been courting you. When he’d been invited to some garden party of a rich aristocracy down southwards.

🎱what Tommy failed to mention was that the Capitalist had a daughter a few months younger than Michael, of whom was extremely well spoken, and ridiculously pretty.

🎱he’d obviously weaselled his way over to you and the rest was history.

🎱and of course, history tends to repeat itself.

🎱again, you were heading to a garden party: Shelby arranged this time around, to show your initial family that the marriage between yourself and Michael was going well and therefore Tommy’s expansion to a more wealthier estate was worth the investment.

🎱”I’ll meet you there darling, business to take care of.” Michael had told you that morning while adjusting his collar, allowing you to help him straighten the tie you had wrapped around his neck. “Okay” you hummed, he always loved how you’d never pried.

🎱in reality he was off to see a man about a dog, in other terms; kill a man. Kill a man who’d been eyeing you up like a fucking slice of meat the evening prior. Eyeing you like he wanted to eat you like a man starved, as if your husband didn’t have a firm arm wrapped around your waist and oversized number of carats around your finger.

🎱even had the nerve to try talk to you, had groped at your ass and Michael covered your eyes with one hand while he clocked the bloke around the jaw with the other.

🎱never wanted a woman to see him fight, especially his woman.

🎱so he went about killing the man the next day; well he’s probably dead by now. He took his cap calmly to the man, beneath that bridge by the canal, castrated then blinded the man and left him struggling on the ground, having a couple of lesser known Peaky men surveying the area for the rest of the day to make sure no aid was to come to him, and when his struggling stopped they were to sort his body out.

🎱you made your way to the garden party independently, having worn a darling sundress; white and pristine and freshly pressed, accompanied by a sun hat and some subtle shoes; conservative enough for Michael not to complain that you looked like a whore, but skin-showing enough not to overheat in this sweltering weather.

🎱you were there before Michael, embraced by John and given a kiss on the temple by an already tipsy Arthur who was in that sort of mood where a gent gets rather happy when squidgy, it was a fine line with Arthur.. happy to angered

🎱but you entertained him, saying your hellos and greeting the rest of the family you’d married into, patiently waiting for Michael’s attendance.

🎱he was there soon thereafter.

🎱and he was fucking seething.

🎱he took one look at you as his mouth ran dry, grabbed your wrist and dragged you away from the garden getting countless opposing arguments from the likes of Ada and John questioning what he was doing

🎱but nothing could soften the red he saw.

🎱how dare you wear that dress?

🎱practically threw you into the car, you’d never seen him this upset, let alone have it take it out on you; his loving, doting housewife of whom he trophied for every mistake he made, initially he thought you were his punishment from god.. sent an angel for a devil to take care of. But he’d gotten the hang of switching into a loving husband the minute he returned home

🎱but tonight was different

🎱”Michael, darlin-” “how dare you?” He seethed and you silenced yourself “pardon?” “How many fucking times have I told you you’re not wearing this fucking dress in public, hmm? And you wear it around my fucking horny cousin?” He growls and you don’t know how to reply “he looks at you like you’re a fucking piece of meet, sweets.” He tells you, finally looking at you

🎱”undressing you with his eyes. Watched him myself.” “John has a wife-” “John hires prostitutes. Y’think he’d be a better husband?” He asks, knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel harder “no-” “no. Cause I’ve never hired a fuckin’ prostitute since we’ve been together, and I work hard for you, y’know. Got no where to take my anger out cause I love you so much.” He says and despite the harshness of his words your heart swells.

🎱”killed a man for you and I show up to you actin’ like a fuckin’ whore?” Your mouth opened agape and he chuckled darkly “think I didn’t kill that bloke? Think I’d leave him safe? Nah, not with my missus I wouldn’t” he confirms, placing a hand on your leg as he speeds back home.

🎱he stops the car and doesn’t move for a minute.

🎱”listen to me very carefully, flower. I’m going to change my bloody shirt, and you’re gonna go upstairs, lay on the bed and wait for me. Yeah?” He asks “yeah o’course Michael.” You say as you get out the car

🎱”and leave that fuckin’ dress on!” You hear called behind you.

Finn🎞️

🎞️Finn is just horny 25/8 icl.

🎞️doesn’t know what does it for him about that dress, but it does something.

🎞️it was a hot day, and the family was in some beer garden, Arthur already off his head drunk and the brothers just enjoying one another’s company after successfully ridding the threat of a rival family, the head now dead and the rest cowering to surrender.

🎞️Tommy told Finn to bring his lady friend, the one who worked at the bookshop along, decided it was time to meet the family, and so he did.

🎞️waltzed into your little hole in the wall, grinning as you peered your head around to see the customer who’d caused the door’s bell to chime, and you broke out into a mighty smile just as he did, him opening his arms for you to rush over and into a bone crushing hug.

🎞️even shared a sweet kiss as he said a gentle “hello pretty”

🎞️he noticed the dress you were wearing was new, initially not noticing it as he was too caught up in admiring you. “What’s this? Is it new?” He asked, taking your hand to spin you around. “It is” you grin, allowing the white flowing material to spin as he made you “it’s lovely” he says, noticing something about it but he didn’t know quite what.

🎞️”why are you here?” You hum with narrowed, suspicious eyes as you leant your chin against his dress “aren’t I allowed to say hello to my favourite girl?” He asks with a smirk “yes but I can tell there’s something. A look in your eyes.” You say and he sighs, defeated “party at the Garrison” he says “when?” You ask “right now” he says and you laugh “Finn I can’t just shut shop at 12 oclock on Thursday!” You say, as he reaches into his pocket, throwing ten whole pounds onto the counter “Finn! Where did you get that much money?” You gasp “don’t worry bout it. Enough for you to close?” He asks and you scoff “I can’t accept ten whole pounds, Finn” you tell him “sure you can cause I’m not having it back” he shrugs, pulling your hand to coax you out the door “okay fine!” You surrender as you relent, allowing Finn to pull you out the door and in turn, you lock your door behind you.

🎞️then when you showed to the party, you were greeted by tipsy cheers and hellos as Finn introduced you to his family, Polly and Ada immediately dragging you away to have a separate conversation as they question you about everything to which you giddily go along with.

🎞️John came to stand with Finn, where he was stood still; drink in hand as he watched you interact with his family. “What’s up, Finn?” He asked, nudging him with his elbow and Finn finally broke out of his trace to smile at his brother. “Nothin’.” He shrugged. “Can’t be about your missus, y’head over heels for her.” John said, and Finn immediately raised his brows in panic “no! no! Nothin’ like tha.” Finn said, shaking his head. “Then what is it?” John asked, looking at you, trying to figure his younger sibling out.

🎞️”dunno. It’s summot about that dress” Finn said, eyes raking over you as he tried to figure out what it was and his brother chuckles “easy access, mate.” John said and Finn creased his brows “y’what?” “Sundresses mate, fuckin’ kill me. Easy access innit? Don’t have to even take the dress off” John told him matter-of-factly, necking the rest of his beer in one. Finn’s eyes darkened and John couldn’t hold in his laugh at the realisation that Finn had settled that that was what it was.

🎞️John claps him on the back “if y’wanna sneak off I’ll cover” he said, but by the end of the sentence Finn had already started after you “cheers, mate!” He said to John “sorry, stealing her” he said to Polly and Ada against their judgement, dragging you away from the conversation and into the Peaky office inside the Garrison.

🎞️you giggle at his actions as he locked the dork “what y’doin sill?” You ask “party’s outside!” You say, as he picks you up and holds you against the door, dropping his hands for them to head under the hem of your skirt “right, ‘nd I’ve just figured out that this dress is driving me fuckin’ crazy” he says “you’re fuckin’ insatiable” he says “d’you even know what that means?” You ask and he shrugs “find me a dictionary later or summot.” He says

🎞️”what’s up with the dress” you ask, as he undoes his trousers “easy access innit?”

Aberama🌞

🌞Aberama is a cultured bloke

🌞by that I mean he’s had many a trips around the sun, and in that time good women are few and far between in his opinion

🌞so regardless of you being substantially his younger, he was positive that you were the woman for him and therefore he had to have you.

🌞recently you’d moved into his vardo with him, having left the urban life behind.

🌞he’d woken up one morning to the sun blaring at him through the unclad opening of the vardo, stretching his arms above his head in a mighty yawn, almost certain it was almost midday by this point; especially after the long trek they’d had to get to this sight the night prior.

🌞he reached his arm over, but the spot in the bed was cold and empty, a lone spot where you should’ve been laid. He creased his brows, shooting up in bed to a sitting potion, realising that you were no longer in the vardo at all.

🌞he groaned. Damn you and your early rising tendencies.

🌞he rubbed his eyes and pulled on a pair of undershorts, smirking at the remembrance of the night prior once you’d arrived. He popped his head out of the doorway, looking left and right but curiously not being able to find any trace of you.

🌞he climbed down the steps and placed his hands on his hips, walking around the side of the wooden structure towards the lake that trickled slowly downstream. And that’s where he found you:

🌞his gorgeous bride.

🌞he’d always told you that he never expected you to conform to the traditional gypsy wife role, never needed you to bear him any more children or do the cooking or cleaning. Hell, you could lay around all day doing nothing and he’d look at you with the same adoration he always does. He didn’t even expect you to want to live in a vardo, yet you’d shown up with a bag and a smile when offered.

🌞 yet you refused, you demanded to help. Demanded to conform. You would cook the rabbit he’d kill (given you’d been a bit sick at the initial sight of it). And you’d kill his clothes, paying no mind to any blood shed on it.

🌞you were knelt against the river bank, ringing some clothes out you just washed then placing them into a small wicker basket, in a dress he didn’t quite recognise.

🌞”what y’doin up, sweetheart? Thought I told y’to relax today” he started, beginning towards you. Your head spun and those wide, innocent doe eyes gleamed back at him “had a big journey last night. No good f’little girls to be working the day after” he said, matter of factly with a stern look.

🌞”just wanted to get these clothes washed” you mumble, placing the final garment in the basket. “And what’s this you’ve got on, hmm?” He asked, as you look at your clothes “oh it’s a dress” “Mm I can see that, darlin. Just never seen it before” he tells you and you stand to give him a little spin. “My sister bought it for my birthday” you said and he grunts, gently grabbing your hips to pull you into him and sway you back and forth along with the breeze, dancing to nature’s music.

🌞”well y’know what these dresses are?” He hums and you shake your head, placing both hands on his chest. “These dresses are the kind that mammys wear. The kind you’d wear when they’re all pregnant and swelled up with little babes.” He says, accusingly. “Kind that little wives wear that are asking for a hiding” he warns

🌞”didn’t mean nothing by it, abe. Just thought it was nice” you admit and he smiles “I know you did, princess. Just an innocent little flower y’are.” He shakes his head.

🌞”but y’ve seen the other mammys around the camp haven’t you? Seen how they’ve dressed. Think you know what you were doin’ to your old man” he teases and you shake your head “m too old to be a da’ y’know. Way too bleeding old. Punishing me ain’t ya? Just asking for a little’un” he tuts and you giggle as he picks you up bridal style and carries you back to the bed where he’d began

🌞”Aberama! The clothes!-” “Can fuckin’ wait” he grunts “got a little’un to put in ya first” he says, dropping you onto the bed and lazily flipping up your skirt to do what he did best.

🌞make your skin fucking crawl.

[alicent-targaryen]

TOMMY, JOHN & ARTHUR SHELBY ▸ Peaky Blinders, 2.1

requested by @jomarch-wannabe

[wonderlanddreamer]

i please want a hurt/comfort where mr t. shelby gets buried alive and y/n comes to the rescue plz

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Buried beneath the earth, Tommy's only hope lies in your relentless determination as you push beyond all limits to bring him back.

Warnings: Threats, Violence, Emotional Distress.

Tommy Shelby awoke to a suffocating darkness. His first instinct was to move, but the moment he tried, he felt the crushing weight of the earth pressing down on him from all sides. Panic surged through his veins, his heart pounding in his chest like a war drum. He forced himself to take shallow breaths, trying to conserve the limited air and stave off the rising tide of claustrophobia.

Buried alive.

The realisation hit him like a sledgehammer. His hands trembled as he felt the smooth, wooden walls of his coffin, the grain of the timber cold and unyielding under his fingertips.

Tommy's mind raced, a torrent of thoughts and emotions swirling in the darkness. Fear, anger, and despair threatened to overwhelm him, but he clung to a single, stubborn thread of hope. He was Tommy Shelby, leader of the Peaky Blinders. He had survived worse than this—war, betrayal, the constant dance with death. This was just another battle.

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to think logically. He needed to find a way out. His fingers traced the edges of the coffin, searching for any weakness, any sign of escape. The wood was solid and unyielding, the nails driven in with cruel precision, but Tommy refused to give up.

As he struggled, he began to pound on the lid of the coffin, the sound of his fists striking the wood echoing back at him in the confined space. He hoped against hope that someone would hear him. His knuckles split and ached, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop.

The rhythmic pounding became a metronome of desperation. Each impact sent jolts of pain through his arms, but he welcomed it. Pain meant he was still alive, still fighting. And Tommy Shelby was nothing if not a fighter.

Your heart pounded with a mixture of fear and determination as you stepped into the dimly lit alleyway, clutching Tommy's revolver with a steady hand. The moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows that danced eerily around you. The air was thick with the scent of damp brick and refuse, adding to the oppressive atmosphere. Tommy had told you everything you needed to know—who he was meeting, when he'd be home, and what to do if he didn't return. You'd gone straight to Arthur and John, but waiting around helplessly was never an option.

You were going to find him.

Your normally soft and calm demeanour had been replaced by a fierce resolve. The adrenaline coursing through your veins sharpened your senses, and your eyes scanned every corner of the alley with heightened awareness. You'd tracked down the weakest link among the men who had taken Tommy, a low-level thug named Billy, known for his cowardice. He was the kind who folded under pressure, and tonight, he would break.

Billy was leaning against a brick wall, nervously lighting a cigarette. The flickering flame briefly illuminated his anxious face. He barely had time to react before you grabbed him by the collar and shoved him against the wall, the cold barrel of the revolver pressing into his temple with unyielding force.

"Where is he?" you demanded, your voice low but deadly serious, each word laced with an icy resolve that sent shivers down Billy’s spine.

Billy's eyes widened in terror, and the cigarette slipped from his lips, landing in a puddle with a faint hiss. "I-I don't know what you're talking about," he stammered, his voice quivering, betraying his fear.

You pressed the gun harder against his head, your anger flaring like a wildfire. "Don't lie to me. Tommy Shelby. Where is he?"

Billy's resolve crumbled visibly, but he still hesitated, his eyes darting around as if searching for a way out. That hesitation earned him a swift, hard punch to the gut. He doubled over, gasping for air, his wheeze echoing in the confined space of the alley.

"Talk!" you barked, your voice reverberating off the alley walls, amplifying your fury. "Or the next one won't be so kind."

Billy wheezed, his face contorted in pain, each breath a struggle. "I-I swear, I don't know!"

You didn't have time for this. You grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back, forcing him to his knees. The rough pavement scraped against his skin as he fell. "Wrong answer," you growled, pressing the revolver against the back of his head, the metal cold and unforgiving. "You have one last chance before I paint this fucking alley with your blood."

Billy's resolve shattered completely, his voice a desperate plea. "Alright, alright! They buried him! Out in the old graveyard, near the edge of town. Please, don't shoot! That's all I know, I swear!"

You released him with a shove, and he crumpled to the ground, whimpering. Stepping back, you kept the gun trained on him, your eyes blazing with a mix of fury and determination, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on your shoulders.

"If you're lying, I'll find you again," you said coldly, your voice a promise of retribution. "And you won't get a second chance."

Billy nodded frantically, tears streaming down his face, mingling with the dirt and grime. "I'm not lying, I swear!"

You turned on your heel, your mind focused on only one thing: saving Tommy. With every step you took towards the graveyard, the weight of the revolver in your hand reminded you of who you were fighting for.

Your breath came in rapid bursts as you sprinted towards the old graveyard, each exhale forming a cloud of vapour in the cold night air. The revolver was clutched tightly in your trembling hand, the metal cold and unforgiving. You had sent a frantic message to John and Arthur, but waiting for them was not an option. Every second counted, and Tommy's life hung precariously in the balance.

The graveyard loomed ahead, shrouded in an eerie silence that was broken only by the rustling of leaves in the wind. The moonlight cast long, ghostly shadows over the tombstones, giving the place an otherworldly feel. As you approached, the silhouette of a man standing over a freshly dug grave came into view. Your heart lurched with a mix of fear and steely determination. Tommy was down there, buried.

You moved closer, trying to stay hidden in the shadows cast by the ancient, crooked trees. The man, however, was vigilant. His eyes caught a glimpse of movement, and without warning, he fired his gun. You ducked instinctively, the bullet whizzing past your ear and embedding itself in a nearby tree trunk. Adrenaline surged through you, and you charged forward, driven by the desperate need to save Tommy.

The man met you head-on, and the two of you clashed violently. You swung the revolver at him, but he dodged with practised ease and landed a punch to your gut, knocking the wind out of you. You stumbled back, gasping for air, but your resolve remained unbroken. You lunged at him again, grappling and struggling with every ounce of strength you had. The sound of your scuffle echoed through the graveyard, a cacophony of grunts, curses, and the dull thud of fists meeting flesh.

Below you, in the suffocating darkness of the coffin, Tommy could hear the muffled sounds of the struggle above. His consciousness was slipping, each shallow breath a battle against the crushing weight of the earth. The faint sounds gave him a glimmer of hope, yet a surge of helplessness washed over him. He wanted to fight, to protect you, but he was trapped, barely able to move, let alone breathe.

"Get the fuck away from her," he thought desperately, his fists weakly pounding against the coffin lid. The fear of losing you gnawed at him, making his already limited air supply feel even thinner, his vision blurring as he teetered on the edge of unconsciousness.

The fight above was brutal. The man managed to get the upper hand, pinning you to the ground with his weight pressing down on your chest. His breath was hot and rancid against your face as he reached for his gun. Panic flared in your chest, but you fought back with all your might, clawing and kicking, refusing to give in.

Just as the man raised his gun to finish you off, a gunshot rang out, and he staggered back, clutching his shoulder. You looked up to see John and Arthur rushing towards you, their faces grim with determination and their guns drawn. They fired again, and the man crumpled to the ground, his threat neutralised.

John and Arthur rushed to your side, pulling you to your feet with a mix of concern and urgency. "Are you alright?" John asked, his voice tight with worry.

You nodded, your breaths coming in gasps, each one a struggle against the adrenaline coursing through your veins. "Tommy...he's down there," you managed to say, pointing to the freshly dug grave.

Without wasting another second, you dropped to your knees beside the grave and began to dig frantically with your bare hands. The dirt was heavy and unyielding, caking under your fingernails and turning your hands raw and bloody, but you didn't care. You had to reach him.

"Hold on, Tommy!" you called out, your voice shaking with emotion. "We're coming! Just hold on!"

With John and Arthur's help, the hole grew deeper. The three of you worked in a desperate frenzy, scooping away the earth that entombed Tommy. Finally, your fingers brushed against the rough wood of the coffin lid. Your hands were raw and bleeding, but you didn't stop. With a surge of strength fueled by sheer willpower, you pried open the lid, revealing Tommy's pale, dirt-streaked face.

"Tommy!" you cried, reaching in to pull him out. His eyes fluttered open, and he took a gasping breath of fresh air, each inhalation a victory over the suffocating darkness that had threatened to consume him.

"We've got you," Arthur said, his voice choked with relief as he helped lift Tommy out of the coffin. "You're safe now."

Tommy's eyes, though glassy and unfocused at first, gradually locked onto yours. Despite his weakened state, the fierce protectiveness in his gaze was unmistakable. "You shouldn't have come alone," he rasped, his voice barely more than a whisper, worry mingling with gratitude in his tone.

"I had to," you whispered back, tears streaming down your face as you helped him out of the grave. "I couldn't lose you."

John and Arthur worked quickly, their hands steady despite the gravity of the situation. They supported Tommy on either side, helping him to stand. His legs were unsteady, and he leaned heavily on them. You wrapped your arms around him, feeling his warmth and the steady beat of his heart against your chest. Relief flooded through you, mingling with the lingering fear and adrenaline.

"We need to get him out of here," John said urgently, his eyes scanning the graveyard for any signs of additional threats. "There could be more of them."

Arthur nodded in agreement. "Let's move. Our car's not far."

You helped them guide Tommy towards the exit of the graveyard, moving as quickly as his condition allowed. Each step felt like progress, a step away from the brink of disaster and towards safety. The cold night air was a stark contrast to the oppressive atmosphere of the grave, a reminder that you were alive, that Tommy was alive.

As you reached the car, John opened the back door, and you carefully helped Tommy inside. He winced in pain, his body protesting the movement, but he managed a weak smile in your direction. "You really are something else, darlin’," he said, his voice raspy but filled with admiration.

You brushed a strand of hair away from his face, your fingers lingering on his cheek."I told you, Tommy. I'm not losing you."

Tommy managed a faint smile, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "I know, love. I know."

You could feel the weight of the night's events pressing down on you, but there was a sense of peace now that Tommy was safe. You gently cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the dirt and grime. His eyes closed briefly, leaning into your touch as if drawing strength from it.

"You're my everything," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "I couldn't bear the thought of losing you."

Tommy's hand reached up to cover yours, his grip weak but full of warmth. "You saved me," he murmured, his voice thick with gratitude. "You always do."

You leaned in, your forehead resting against his, your breaths mingling. For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, bound by a love that had proven unbreakable, even in the face of death.

"I love you, Thomas Shelby," you said softly, your lips brushing against his in a tender kiss.

He kissed you back, his lips warm and reassuring. "And I love you, more than anything," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

You held him close, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your own.

As the car sped through the quiet streets, you held Tommy close, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your own. The city lights flickered past the windows, casting fleeting shadows across his face. In the cocoon of the car, with the world outside rushing by, you found solace in each other's arms, knowing that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

[springtyme]

My requests are currently open for Peaky Blinders and Criminal Minds ♡

Characters

Tommy Shelby Arthur Shelby John Shelby Alfie Solomons

Spencer Reid Aaron Hotchner Derek Morgan Emily Prentiss

[mindful-of-ideas]

Headcanon: Peaky Blinders

-Being the second youngest Shelby and being really close to John and Esme (fem!reader)

A/N: requested by anon right here, thanks again! Sorry for being a little late, I hope you like it.

As a kid, John always tried to shelter you. All of your brothers did, maybe trying to protect your innocence for just a bit longer, but John was the one who was trying the hardest. Arthur just didn’t know how and Tommy, as much as he wanted to shelter you, needed to make sure the rest of the world wouldn’t eat you right up.

Not having a mother was really hard. Sure, you had Polly and Ada, but it never felt like having a real mom.

Still, your childhood was filled with beautiful memories. You remember the boys taking you and Finn out whenever they could. You would go to the beach or just run in a field of flowers. Every day out of Birmingham was like a blessing to you. You couldn’t stand its ashy damp streets and its misery that seemed to seep out of every crack in the walls. John was always there to make sure you wouldn’t forget those beaches and fields.

“Y/N!” John called out coming up to you and Finn sitting on the ledge of the bridge, throwing rocks in the water. “What?” you asked, trying to slick back your hair that was getting frizzy from the humidity. “Look what I got for you,” he said pulling out the prettiest seashell out of his pocket. “Wow! It’s for me?” “Of course!” he said stuffing it in your hands and ruffling your hair.

Seeing you happy was enough to make him smile.

Then John got married and had children, and already you could feel the two of you drifting apart. You hated that. You hated it because you were jealous of his kids. You, you were his kid for so long and now you could see how easily you could be replaced. You hated it because those kids had a mom, which you could never have. But mostly, you hated it because you felt so bad about being jealous that you were the one who decided to put some distance between you and John. But it didn’t last very long.

“Y/N? Come here!” John said, hearing you walk in the house, “Come here I said!” he said grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards him, “Come sit with me for a second, will you? We barely talk anymore, what’s going on?” He pulled you onto his lap “I don’t know…” you said, “Why would you even want to talk to me anymore…” you mumbled. “What was that?” “Nothing…” “Y/N?” he said putting his hand on your head and pulling you close to his chest. “You’ve got your own kids now, why would you spend your time caring for me?” “I will never stop caring about you, Y/N. You’re.. you’re like my own kid, okay? Don’t ever forget that.”

After that, you stop being afraid to hang out at John’s place and you grow quite close to Martha too.

But that all stopped when the war started.

You got really scared when John was sent away to fight. It felt like the world had decided to rip away the only beautiful thing in your life. You were scared that everything was going to go dark while he was away. And what if he never came back…

While John was away, you were always around to help Martha. You helped her with the groceries, watched over the kids or even cooked. She was really nice to you too. She would brush your hair, braid it, let you try on makeup, and dance with you in the kitchen.

But John came back and she was the one who ended up leaving you. It was really hard on you. You stayed locked in your room for days, barely coming out to eat. John would sit in front of your door trying to coax you out. You could hear him cry sometimes. And you cried too. Because you missed Martha. Because you wanted to be there for the kids. Because you were supposed to be the one making John smile.

You got out of your room, slowly sitting down on the floor by John’s side. You weren’t crying anymore, but couldn’t really bring yourself to smile. You rested your head on his shoulder. “Do you remember her favourite song?” you asked quietly. “Of course I do,” he said,” she will dance to it all the time. You did too.” “So did you,” you added. “Maybe we could put it on… and dance…” “I think I would like that…”

At first, you were completely against John marrying Esme. Why would he marry someone he doesn’t even know! And why replace Martha! You understand it, of course, from a business and strategic point of view, but that’s all.

It doesn’t take long for you to notice how happy John is with her. So as much as you want to hate her, you can’t bring yourself to do so. When John finally presents you to her, you can’t hide how happy you are.

“Y/N, this is Esme, my wife,” John said proudly. “Hi,” you said, waving your hand shyly. “So you’re the famous Y/N,” Esme said, crouching to be on your level. “Famous?” you asked curious. “Yeah, famous,” she said pushing back a strand of hair behind our ear, “John can’t shut up about you, acting like a proud dad and stuff.”

And that was enough to make you fall in love with her. After everything, the war, Martha’s death, you felt like you were going back to your old self. You were happier than ever, always smiling and ready to help out.

Esme was really grateful for you too. John’s kids were still young, and seeing you close to Esme, trusting her, made them feel more comfortable around her. Very much like Martha, she took care of you, but unlike her, she wasn’t trying to keep you in the house. She would push you to go out and explore the world on your own.

You could tell something was wrong when her cocaine addiction was getting out of hand. You tried your best to be kind to her but she always seemed down and moody.

“Esme,” you said unsure. “What is it, sweetie?” “You… you… you look like you’re not feeling well,” you finally said. “I’m okay,” she mumbled, “don’t worry about me.” “But I can’t help it!” “Come here,” she said, quickly wiping and tear from her face, “Come on, smile for me, you’re our ray of sunshine aren’t you?” “Yeah…” you said smiling weakly, “But Esme, I really am worried…” “Shhh, let me do your hair for you,” she said spinning you around, “That will put a smile on your face, right?

Moving to the countryside estate is probably the best thing to ever happen to you. Esme was the one to invite you, saying that this could be your first step to getting out of Birmingham. It feels like living in a childhood memory. You would enjoy long walks in the field with the dog, drinking tea on the terrasse and watching the sunset over the trees. You were older now, of course, but you would still fall asleep to John telling stories to his kids.

It all gets destroyed, torn apart, when John is killed. A big red stain is spreading across your perfect life. You can’t stay there anymore, it makes you feel sick. You try going back home, spending time with Finn, then going to Ada’s, but nothing seems to be working. You start to spiral down

If people doubted you were a Shelby, they believe it now. You’ve been up to all sorts of troubles, petty crime, drinking, and fights, but nothing could fill the hole in your chest. Ultimately, you wound up getting a bunch of guys really pissed off. Something about you being a prude or something. You were so drunk by then that you could barely remember what they said. You could however remember how scared you were when they cornered you in an alley near the Garisson. You could remember how badly you wanted John to just show up and get you out of there.

It was Esme you showed up. She had been looking for you ever since you left the countryside estate. She brings you back home and tends to your wounds, making you feel at home once again. 

“I didn’t mean to cause that much trouble,” you said. Esme was finishing up the bandage on your arm. “It’s alright Y/N,” she said,” don’t worry about it.” There was a long silence before any of you spoke again. “Why are you doing all this?” you finally asked. “Cause I care about you,” she said, picking up a hairbrush and sitting behind you. She was taking her time, slowly detangling the knots in your hair. “But…” you started, not knowing what to argue. “Cause you’re like my kid,” Esme said, cutting you, “And I’ll be there for you no matter what!” You turned around, suddenly hugging her. “I love you,” you whispered in her ear. “I love you too,” she whispered back hugging you tighter.

[novashelby]

Please flood my inbox with requests!

I do:

~Smut

~Fluff

~Angst

I can write really raunchy smut, and I have almost no limits. Except for underage/animals/incest. But I am a super kink/fet friendly person. So, BDSM, water sports, slapping, spitting, choking, CNC doesn't bother me. Stepcest is fine. Age gap is fine. Dubcon, non-con okay. It's fiction. DDLG is fine, but I can't do actual baby things like diapers and binkies. I get a bit uncomfy with that.

So, just write what you want...no shame. If I can't do it, I'll let you know. 18+ only.

Send shit in and I'll bang them out this weekend. ^_^

I am going to clean my apartment for the next two hours. FLOOD MY INBOX!!! I have 3 requests in the works right now. Along with Beg for It Part II.

[call-sign-shark]

I’m listening to Ultraviolence by Lana Del Ray and I can’t shake the feeling of a fic with Arthur based off this song. I feel like it fits him so well! I can just imagine a toxic relationship between him and the reader where he hits her or harms her in some way (intentional or not) but she keeps going back to him

“He hit me and it felt like a kiss..”

Plssss lmao the way this works so well

No need to do anything with it, just wanted to share because I know you’re a slut for Arthur like I am

“Because I know you’re a slut for Arthur” SIS YOU’RE SO RIIIIIGHT. HE’S MY SOFT KITTEN. 😩

Ultraviolence || Dark!Arthur Shelby x Reader

TW: angst ++, abusive husband, toxic relationship, depiction of domestic violence, alcoholism, if you think this trope have a good ending you should not read it, no proof reading: this is raw, unedited and prolly super badly written??

Words: 1k

Each inch gained by the clock’s needle, your heart raced more as if it feared to be pierced by its the sharp steel. Nibbling on your fingers’ skin compulsively, you sat on the large luggage you prepared one hour ago because you knew that when Arthur came home after midnight, he was not the man you fell in love with anymore. His gruff voice, usually lavishing you with the sweetest pet names he could find, would call you deadly nightshade — because when you looked at him with fear and fury in your oh-so- beautiful but teary eyes, it felt like a caustic poison was running through his veins, burning him from within and dissolving his sanity.

The door opened, your soul wept.

“Oi Y/N, where the fook are ye?” The gravel in his tone, who used to make you shiver with desire, sent shivers of fright down your spine. You took a deep breath, struggling to keep composure: this night would be the last you suffered from his violent love. After months of hesitating, coming back to him almost crawling, you decided that this nightmare had to stop. Somehow, you knew you had to flee from his claws before you ended up dead and cold — either by suicide or by his hands.

He stumbled in the living room, an empty bottom of whisky hanging from his hand. His steel blue eyes, half closed due to the amount of alcool he drank and cocaine he snorted, were looking for you, “Bloody hell Y/N, a good wife always welcome her husband when he comes back home. So be a good fookin’ woman and come greet your ol’ Arthur with the warmth he fucking deserve.” He grunted, before his frightening gaze fell on you.

He looked at you, and you could hear the sirens howling in the back of your head.

“What the hell?” He whispered at the sight of your packed stuff, slowly understanding your intentions, “Are you fucking serious?”

“I can’t do this anymore Arthur,” words left your mouth, falling from your quivering lips, “This is going to kill me… I’m sorry.”

“You wanna leave me?” He asked, bewildered. The sound of the bottle shattering on the wooden floor echoed in the living room, answering to the screams of his own heart breaking. You hated yourself at the idea of hurting him but you could not do it anymore, loving him was really hard. At first your thought it would be enough to save him, to heal his soul and mind, but love was not enough— your love was never enough.

“I’m sorry.” You got up and grabbed your luggage, before making your way to the door. Yet, Arthur firmly grabbed your wrist as you passed by, his grip so sharp it bruised your skin almost instantly.

“You’re not going anywhere, love.”

“Let me go. Please Arthur, if you love me you have to let me go.”

“I said you’re not. Going. Any-fookin-where.” He retorted, his hoarse voice growling with more hatred as anger boiled within him.

“Let me go you fucking bastard!” You bursted out, panic overwhelming your aching soul as you felt his nails digging into your skin.

The horrific sound of the blow that followed made the skies shook with sorrow. Pain stung your cheek, its burning sensation spreading on all the left side of your face. You let out a woeful whimper, tears flowing from your eyes almost instantly. He hit you, and it felt like a kiss, because it was his way of loving you when he was drunk.

“YOU AIN’T LEAVING ME, YOU POISON. I’M ARTHUR FUCKING SHELBY RIGHT?” He barked.

His hand grabbed you a second time — but it was not to make you dance anymore, like he used to do when you were kids.

Pain rain down on you,

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence.

“I’m … Im so sorry…” Arthur kept saying over and over again, his hands on both side of his head as he pulled his own hair, devastated with the view of crimson stains on your face.

Panicking, he then grabbed your chin and almost suffocated you with his lips, assaulting your bleeding mouth with desperate kisses, “I’m so sorry Y/N, it won’t happen again. I just don’t know what crossed my mind, it wasn’t me… it was the fucking whisky! The bloody snow! I won’t do it again, I swear doll I will never hurt you anymore… I— I love you… God I love you so much I’ll die without you.”

His blue eyes overflowed with tears of gold, like lemonade.

“Arthur… I —“ Words choked in your throat as you saw him cry. The monster had left, leaving him sobbing like a beaten child. He raised your gaze toward yours when you called him, and you knew he was your gentle Arthur again.

But you could not forgive him again and again.

Could you?

He would be the death of you.

“Please, I’ll do anything for you. Please, Y/N.”

The cacophony of your mind almost made you wince, for your thoughts crashed against your skull in a messy bacchanalia. Run away, you had to run away… so why did your body remained petrified? Why did you gently stroke his hair, looking at him, desperately in love?

It was stronger than you, stronger than reason, you hated to see him cry. You despised the way he was hating himself, genuinely guilty.

But you had to go.

To go.

But you stayed.

Don’t beg, stop telling me you love me. Please.

Please I can’t. It’s never enough.

Give me all of that ultraviolence.

“I love you too, Arthur. I love you forever.” Your voice was merely a whisper as warm blood ran from your nostrils, tainting your lips and dying on your chin. Your fingers gently grazed his neck as you knew he loved — all you wanted was to stop his pain. To see him smile with that stupid, irresistible grin that made you fall for him.

“I can’t lose you, Y/N.” His lips laid a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth, the tip of his tongue tasting the blood. His voice was filled with sincere love, “I’ll change. I swear to God I’ll change for you,” Somehow he really believed in what he said, but the truth was he would never change… And you knew it.

“You won’t lose me — maybe you could — help me putting my stuff back where they belong?” You stuttered, your whole body about to collapse in his arms for it just wanted to feel his touch.

“Of course I’ll do.”

Arthur smiled.

You did too.

But Angels cried,

for they knew that he hurt you and it felt like true love.

Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts with me honey, know that you can make yourself at home in my ask box, especially when it’s about babyboy Arthur.

I love this Lana’s song so much, and I completely understand the vibes you felt. It would suit so well in a Dark!Arthur fic — in fact I loved it so much I could not help but write a little something for ya! Even though I do feel in-character Arthur would be far too terrified to hurt Reader and would not physically harm . Maybe being rougher, bruising her with his grip without doing it on purpose. But he would not hit her (cf: office scene with Linda in S5). Yet — I decided to go dark with this one because, as you said, “he hit me and it felt like a kiss” is just perfect for this sad trope.

[runnning-outof-time]

Requests are OPEN!!!

I’ve been missing writing longer stories, and now that I’ve completely emptied my ask box, I figured why not open my requests again?

My requests are now open for Tommy, John and Arthur Shelby!

Make sure you check out my Rules of Requesting before sending something to make sure that your idea fits what I’m willing to write.

You can also check out this List of Prompts if you’d like to send a request but aren’t sure what to send.

I look forward to hearing from you and writing your ideas! 😊

[thomashelbyswife]

Gif Requests Are Open ♡

Darlings! 💋 I am absolutely thrilled to share that as we celebrate hitting 1.6k followers, I've made a heartfelt decision to open up my gif requests. I want to express my sincere gratitude and appreciation for each and every one of you. Your support means the world to me, and I am truly grateful. I hope you'll drop in and make this celebration even more special. I'll be eagerly looking forward to all your amazing requests! 🥰 Thank you from the bottom of my heart!

Rules For Requests:

- I will be making gifs for anything related to Peaky Blinders.

- My requests are open for Tommy, Arthur, John, Alfie Solomons, Polly Gray and the rest of the Peaky Women. Grace is an exception, but if it's with Tommy, I'm accepting. (Cause it has Tommy in it) And of course, Jack Nelson is always welcome too :D

- I also make gifsets for the beauty of each seasons aesthetics, quotes or unique parallels in general (feel free to just spark your creativity with anything so i can work my magic to bring it to life, I would love that!)

- And If I end up taking a bit longer with my gifs, it just means I'm putting in extra effort to make them perfect for you all. I want to make sure I meet your requests! :D

Sending you all my love, M. 💋

[crowwritesaway]

Requests are Open.

Emergency Commissions are Open.

$10 for 1k words plus a surprise gift

Fandoms I write for

- Vikings

- Peaky Blinders

- Yandere Male x Reader

- American Psycho

- House of the Dragon

I also create fictional characters if you’re interested.

I’ll write

- Angst/comfort

- Yandere

- x Reader

- NSFW (+ $5 for commissions)

I don’t write

- Aged up characters

- 1ncest

Dm is open for requests/commissions.

[worldofworldz]

PLEASE SOMEONE SEND A REQUEST!!!!

Anything goes. I also write for slashers

[warnersister]

Peaky blinders headcannon ->

“the boys finding out the reader is a virgin”

Find the request here

Tommy🪖

🪖Tommy had been courting you for a good few months now; much longer than he would any other woman. But he quite liked you so he was more than willing to make an exception for the lovely young lady that had just moved to the area.

🪖You’d moved for a fresh start, away from your past and to Birmingham. You’d packed your bags and left home and got on the train - taking it as far as it would go and got out when the conductor pleaded with you to disembark as they’d start the journey back to your beginnings.

🪖You’d accepted the job at The Garrison, noting the sign in the window as you aimlessly wandered the streets, mindlessly questioning your intentions. The sign in the window was almost a call from God and you hurried inside, being greeted by the bar man and a few raised eyebrows at the young girl with her life in a suitcase and hair all tangled. “Y’alright love? Look like you need a drink.” You shook your head. “A job is what I need. Still hiring?” You asked and he looked you over once. “When can you start?”

🪖So eleven months deep with a flat and a job you were quite happy in Birmingham. Your specialty straying away from being a barmaid and more towards being a hostess and front of house staff. You’d seat people and prepare the hotel lodgings upstairs, and arrange rooms and port for pesky business when it came down to it. And in the process you’d captured the attention of a certain blinder who believed he had no business interfering with the life of a young maiden just getting back on her feet, but you entertained him so who was he to be so austere and deny himself such pleasures?

🪖You were shutting shop on a Saturday night, footfall substantial and you’d finally managed to kick all drunkards out of the pub after much struggle and a bit of help from John Shelby, who’d tipped his hat and went on his merry way. You’d grabbed your coat of the hanger, hearing the door bell chime behind you “we’re closed” you announced, pivoting on your heel “I know.” That all familiar voice sounded and you peeked your head. “Alright, Tommy?” You ask, getting your bag and fastening your coat; preparing for a cold winter night in Birmingham.

🪖He stepped closer and you, in turn, stepped backwards until you were trapped against the bar. “This has gone on for long enough,” he says gruffly, staring deep into your eyes and studying your face. You’d raised your brows “what has, Tom?” He shook his head and chuckled slightly. “You and I; ‘m so sick of seeing you and not being able to have you for myself.” He tells you, right arm wrapping around your waist and head dipping slightly.

🪖Your hand came up to hold him where he was and he stopped, in question. “Not like this Tommy.” You say, looking away but he grasps your chin gently to pull you back to face him. “Not like this?” He hums “Thomas, I’ve never..” you lead off hoping he’d understand what you were implying. He thought for a moment before it clicked. “Never?” You shook your head “never.” His Adams Apple bobbed as he swallowed a lump in his throat “never.” He mumbled. “And how should I go about this the right way?” He asked, settling his hands on your hips and smiling slightly.

🪖“Dinner and a nice walk.” You say and he nods with a hum. “How’s tomorrow?” You shake your head “not leaving Harry to deal with your lot on a Sunday.” “When you next off?” He asks “Friday.” “Then we’ll go out on Friday.” You nod and smile, but point a judging finger at him. “No guns” he smiles “yes sweetheart, no guns.” “And no peaky business” he shakes his head “no business.” “No fighting either, at all” you warn and he chuckles “I promise” you lean your hand up to caress his face and he leans into your touch. “Take that bloody razor blade out of your cap too.” He raises a brow “how do you know about that?” “You underestimate the amount of times I’ve carried Arthur out of this bar and nearly sliced my hand on that thing.”

🪖“I want to see Thomas. No Shelby.” You say and he blinks. “Then Thomas you shall have.” “May I walk you home?” He asks and you smile up at him “you may” and he offers an arm to walk you to your house, looking forward to taking the last of your innocence the following Friday.

Alfie🧸

🧸Alfie recently started attending his local synagogue, at first yes: to reconnect with his faith, but now it was to see the young woman who attended every day, volunteering as your father was the rabbi. Albeit that sounding wrong, Alfie thought the rabbi was bordering on ancient and you were younger than him, but you were nearly twenty six so that wasn’t too bad.. right?

🧸“Ah Mr Solomons, back again I see” the rabbi commented, noted the recent inclination of Alfie’s presence at the house of God. “Well, been trying to reconnect.” He told his superior. “With God or with my daughter?” The rabbi asked and Alfie’s brows rose. “E-excuse me?” He choked on his words. The rabbi smirked with a slight twinkle in his eye “I’m not stupid” “no, of course you’re not-” “I’ve seen how you’ve been eyeing her.” Alfie quietened for a moment. “Well, y’see she’s a lovely young lady” “I agree, that’s how I raised her.” “And I’d like to ask her for dinner, with your blessing, f’course.” Alfie began to ramble but his elder cut him off.

🧸“Not with the business you’re in, Alfred.” And his mouth ran dry. “For her I’d get out of it, move to Morecambe, open a bakery, marry, have kids, y’know I’d raise them proper.” Rabbi Kaplan again hummed “but that sort of business isn’t the kind you can get out of, is it?” “You did, Abe.” Alfie corrects him and there’s a moment of contemplative silence. “You’re right I did. But no one hurts a rabbi.” “Then I’ll get ordained.” Alfie shrugged. Abraham looked at the man before him. “Gods punished me enough. He knows how much physical pain I’m in. And ‘m not gettin’ any younger. Neither’s she. ‘nd I never wanna be in this business anymore. Wanna settle down, dogs, kids, grandkids, the works.” Alfie says and Abe’s tongue protrudes from his lips to lick his dry lips as he thinks.

🧸“If I allow this, he’s watching.” The man looks up “I know.” “And if I allow this, she calls all the shots.” Alfie nods “wouldn’t have it any other way” “as in she says no, means no. She wants to go for a walk at two in the morning, you take her. She wants to come here, you bring her. She wants to get married, you wed her.” The man took two steps closer so him and Alfie were closer than any Rabbit should be with his child “she tells you to jump of the docks, you jump.” Alfie’s eyes don’t falter. “Done.” Abraham closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face “alright, you have my blessing.” Alfie nods, trying to suppress his glee, shaking the rabbi’s hand and walking towards the front of the synagogue where you were sat counting donations.

🧸“Excuse me missus” Alfie clears his throat and you look up at him, swallowing with a lump in his throat “yes?” “I was wondering if you’d like to go for an eat to bite, I mean a bite to eat, I mean-” you giggle at him “yes Alfie I’d love to go out with you.” Alfie sighed in relief and smiled down at you noting how the rabbi had wandered off elsewhere. You sealed and locked the cash box, storing it where I belonged and Alfie held his arm out for you to take “shall we?” You grin back at him “we shall”

🧸You’d been seeing Alfie for going on several months, and today he’d arranged for a restaurant to be shut down in order for the two of you to enjoy some peace and quiet together. You’d enjoyed a lovely romantic meal, accompanied by a bouquet of white tulips and a sneaky kiss to Alfie’s cheek, which he was grateful that they were covered by a large beard - disguising his beat-red features.

🧸Alfie was walking you back to his house, as you’d both previously agreed that you’d stay for the night and head towards Morecambe Bay the following day: to pick out a cottage on the seafront.

🧸You had some clothes at Alfie’s house, for events such as this where you’d decided to stay or go elsewhere the following day without needing to drop back home for anything. You were uncoiling your hair, and your gentle giant came around to hug you from behind, kissing up your neck until you giggled from being tickled, turning to kiss his lips.

🧸Your eyes surveyed one another’s for a moment, him leaning back down to kiss you in a more seriously insinuating manner - sciatica obviously not bothering him today as he managed to pick you up and lead you to his bed. “Alfie wait,” you say quickly and the man immediately stopped “what’s wrong treacle? If y’don’t want to we’ll stop here ‘nd-” “no it’s not that” your left hand fiddled with the rings on your right “what’s wrong flower?” He caressed your cheek gently. “Alfie I’ve never done anything before.” You say and his brows form a line in confusion. “Y’what?” “Alfie I’m a virgin.” You say and time almost stands still, Alfie nearly felt sick as he’d been handling you like a woman of the night and not a dignified young lady of whom was vastly inexperienced. “‘M sorry alf.” You say, looking down. Alfie grasps your chin and forces your eyes to connect with his “it’s me who should be apologising, sweetness. Your old man didn’t know. ‘V been handling y’ like ‘y know what you’re doin’.” He says gently. “And if y’ don’t want to, we don’t have to.” “No Alfie I want to.” And you could swear you could see the hearts forming in his irises, lenses constricting into something unnatural but simultaneously not animalistic. “I’ll take good care ‘f y’ love, just lay down for Alfie and let ‘im work his magic, yeah?” He says, laying you back gently on the bed, vowing to handle you like a porcelain doll in a box of feathers.

Arthur🍺

🍺You were several years younger than Arthur, he never felt like you were - he was as immature as any lad two decades his senior, but with you he never felt his age.

🍺The peaky blinders had been invited to a lavish banquet, black tie, chandeliers, live orchestra, the works. And Arthur never shied away from an opportunity to show his lover off, especially when that dress hugged you perfectly and your matching black gloves made you look so dainty and proper. He was proud to waltz into that event, feeling almost smug with ‘such a babe’ on his arm.

🍺The evening began wonderfully, three courses, all of which Arthur found laughable as he questioned the waiter why his entree was only a piece of rocket and slice of undercooked stake. Drinks were flowing and he was happy to get tipsy while to congregated with Polly and Ada, smitten to see you engaging so well with his family and them requiting his adoration for her.

🍺You’d stood at the bar, trying to gain the attention of the bartender to order yourself another rum and coke and your date an umpteenth pint. “Hiya can I just have a rum and coke and an apple juice?” You ask the man and he raises an eyebrow. “He’s so drunk I don’t think he’ll tell the difference.” He laughs and nods, heading off to get the top of shelf rum Arthur had requested he’d serve you earlier.

🍺“Gorgeous night, isn’t it?” A voice asked from beside you and you peer left, a young gentlemen with slicked back black hair asked as he knocked back the rest of the whiskey he’d been nursing for a while, requesting another as well as your drinks being on him. “Yes lovely.” You say shortly. “Well I was just thinking-” he begins smugly, before hissing and you look back at him quickly to see whatever is the matter. His finger was drawing blood as the new glass he’d been given was chipped on the end, in turn slicing the edge of his finger. “Oh dear, here let me help” you grabbed one of the inscribed handkerchiefs from the pile and applied pressure on his finger, only noticing your proximity when he chuckled. “What a first acquaintance” you laugh and agree. “You’re good at this” he hums “nurse in the war.” You say, not really wanting to reflect on the past.

🍺“May I buy you another drink for your troubles? Or possibly dinner?” He inquires with an up quirked lip. “No thank-” “I think she’s quite happy with the fella she’s got, son.” An angered voice quipped from behind you through gritted teeth, an arm snaking around your waist as the boy’s face ran pale. “Mr Shelby, sorry she didn’t say-” “she shouldn’t have too. Now fuck off before I kick the living daylights out of ya.” Arthur threatens and the previously smug man makes himself scarce.

🍺“Arthur,” “c’mon. We’re leaving.” He says, dragging you through the crowds of people and hailing a taxi, still gentlemanly opening the door for you but clambering in beside you, the smoke billowing from his ears fogging the windows. “Fucking little boy thinking he can talk to my fuckin’ woman, fuckin’ bastard” he reiteratively mumbled under his breath until he reached his house, roughly taking you from the car and throwing a wad of cash at the driver.

🍺As soon as you entered the house you were trapped against the closed door, his lips attacking yours unexpectedly as you struggled to keep up with his might. “I’ll show him who you fuckin’ belong to” “Arthur” “little boy makes up nothin’” “Arthur” “scream my name so the little bastard will fuckin’ hear me” “Arthur I’m a virgin” the man stopped immediately, expression stopping form angered to a more gentle one. “Y’what love?” He asks quietly, tight grip on your trapped wrists loosening “I’ve never had sex before Arth, sorry for not telling you.” You could see him visibly sobering up. “Oh my darlin’ m’sorry I didn’t know.”

🍺This was the only time you’d made Arthur feel his age, his lover a virgin. “I’ll take good care of you sweetheart, if y’let me.” “Show y’ what you’ve missed out on” he chuckles and you laugh, allowing him to pick you up to carry you up the stairs and into the bedroom.

John🥃

🥃Waking up this morning and getting married to a stranger wasn’t on your bingo card. But here you are. Kneeled at the alter beside a smirking young lad who was in a similar situation. “By the power invested in me, I now declare you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” The stranger smiled and you and kissed your lips sweetly.

🥃The reception was just as hazy. Drinks were flowing and laughter was heard. Your father and Thomas Shelby seemed at peace for once and all was right with the world. When slow dancing, John had held you close and embraced you like you were young lovers wed, not total strangers at the chapel. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear and smiled as you giggled back at his remarks, fighting with icing on the cake and having an overly fun time with one another’s families after the initial shock from the morning. After all, he was incredibly charming and you couldn’t get out of a gypsy marriage that easily. Not in post-war Britain.

🥃You headed back to the Shelby Manor in a car strung with cans, attached by young children earlier in the day. You looked out the window to the vast house, feeling a hand tugging gently on your hair, the owner tucking it behind your ear as you looked at home. “Glad we’re married cause I could never pull you if I tried, gorgeous.” He comments and you laugh. “You’re joking. One drink and I’d be a gonner.” “At least we got to skip the funny business” he took your chin between your forefinger and chin “cause your all mine now, darling”

🥃He’d hurried you to your room quicker than anticipated, giggling like school children up to no good. He’d kissed you tenderly once inside, behind closed doors and away from the interference of all other prying eyes.

🥃He spun you gently, hands dropping to focus on the details of the backing of your dress; unthreading and untying the intricate lacings applied to keep the gown tight to your person. The dress fell and pooled at your ankles, him attacking the now bare skin with open-mouthed kisses and gentle pecks to the untouched skin.

🥃Coming to your front, he cornered you backwards in small steps until your legs hit the bed and you fell backwards onto it - him on top of you, kissing down your bodice animalisticly. “John?” He stopped and looked up with a hypnotic gaze in his eye “yes love?” “I’ve never had sex before.” You say shakily and he stops all movement. He falters for a moment, before climbing slightly higher in order to be face to face with you “never? You’re a virgin?” You nod back and he swallows the heavy lump in his throat as his briefs tighten.

🥃“Well then what an opportunity to consummate the marriage, aye darling?” He smirks “if you’ll let me that is” you smile and offer a kiss to his lips, him getting the green flag and go ahead to give you the absolute night of your life.

Bonnie🥊

🥊Bonnie was an old fashioned lad. From a young age he drempt of the stereotypical traveller lifestyle - never a singular home, him the homemaker, wife on his arm and umpteen kids running wild. It sounded like heaven. And from the moment he’d set eyes on you Bonnie had decided that that was your role - destined to be by his side. You weren’t a gypsy yourself, but he was certain he could sway you but either way he was happy to compromise as long as he had you.

🥊Tonight was one of, if not the, biggest night of his life thus far. The largest and most important fight he’d ever partake in, not only against the reigning champion which would secure his fate of being the new ruler, but also performing in front of the Peaky Blinders - prove himself to the trust Tommy Shelby had bestowed upon him. And most significantly, you were watching.

🥊He was stood in his changing room, allowing you to gently wrap his hands while his father gave him a pep talk. “Five minutes son.” His dad said, patting his back and nodding at you as he left to give you a minute alone before his spotlight moment. You finished wrapping the cloth around his palms and took his face into your hands, forcing him to look at you. “How we feeling champ?” You ask, trying to wake him up from his dystopian trance. “‘m scared m’love.” He mumbled as you frowned slightly. “Why’re you scared? Talk to me Bon, get it all out. You scared about the Shelby family? I’ll kick ‘em out-" “scared ‘m gonna disappoint you.” He says and you falter.

🥊“Bon you could never disappoint me, why would you think that?” He sighed, looking away before beginning to admit his desires. “Just wanna make you proud. I want to marry you and give you my children and travel as a family. But if I lose you won’t want to do that.” He grumbles. You chuckle slightly. “You’re such a dafty, Bon.” You say and his eyebrows crease. You lean into kiss him as he happily requites the gesture. “Bonnie of course I want to be with you either way. I don’t care if you loose, hell I don’t care if you don’t want to fight and walk out, I’ll walk right out with you.” You say.

🥊“I never knew you felt like that but I’d love to marry you Bon and have your children and I’d be willing to travel with you. I just need you to stop fretting and go win this. I love ya Bonnie.” You say, leaning your forehead against his. “You mean it?” He asks, giddily. You nod “I do”

🥊“God if I win this we’re gonna get started on those kids.” He says, getting riled up as the minutes tick down. You laugh at him “anything you want, Bonnie. Always wanted my first time to be with you.” You say and time stops. His father knocks on the door to hail his son out to the ring.

🥊“BONNIE!” “You’re a virgin?” “Yes” “BONNIE COME ON!” “And you want me to take your virginity?” “Yes Bonnie I trust you. Now go.” He hurries out of the door reluctantly, all riled up and heading for the ring.

🥊The knockout was inevitable, his opponent out cold in a matter of rounds, blood flowing freely from Bonnie’s nose as he celebrated by raising his hands victoriously above his head, father and Blinders crowding him to pat him on the back and exchange congratulations. But none of that mattered. It was just faint ringing in the background. All he could see was you stood a fair way back from the celebrating men climbing over the limb body on the ground no one had seemed to care too. He looked upon your innocent doe eyes and soft smile staring back at him as he blew you a kiss; and never has he been so desperate to get away from his own party.

🥊And after a good few hours and countless attempts to get you all to himself, you were back in Bonnie’s humble beginning: laid on your back as your boy thrust into you gently, trying not to hurt you while simultaneously trying to adhere to his desperation for you. “Faster Bon, please.” “Wanna give me a child? Is that it?” He asks and you nod meekly, as he quickens his pace desperate to bed his maiden in his own place called home.

Isaiah♟️

♟️Isaiah had been trying to get to you for many many years. Countless attempts proving fruitless from not only your rejections, but also your elder brother’s: Finn’s. Any time Isaiah had any suggestion on courting you he was shot down by his friend, who’d smack the back of his head and scold him for thinking such things. “I’ll cut your dick off and shove it in your ear if you keep thinking about my sister with it” he’d tell him.

♟️But tonight, oh tonight. Darling you looked ravishing. The Blinders were celebrating a grand festivity at Shelby Manor, someone was getting married.. or someone was dead, Isiah needn’t have cared less. Because when you cascaded the stairs, Mary Jane’s on foot and tight black dress clung to your bodice, Isaiah had to physically refrain himself from grabbing you from the get go.

♟️Sure, he’d mingled with others and drank freely with the brothers; but not once did he stray his eyes away from your figure, never letting you out of his sight. Not when you looked so delicious and drinkable, mouth running so dry he’d have to reiteratively lubricate it with whiskey. A bit of the good ole’ ‘Dutch-Courage’, aye?

♟️Finally noticing an opportunity when you brother wasn’t lingering over your shoulder, scolding you for wearing such a gown, Isaiah made his move. He slivered to the bar beside you, where Harry was offered a well-paying job serving for the evening and told him to get you another of whatever it is that you were drinking. “Your brother lets you wear a dress like this?” He questions, knocking back the rest of his whiskey and hailing for another.

♟️“No. But I am not Finn and he is nor I” you tell him, nursing the edge of your glass with your finger absentmindedly trailing it. He leant closer. “Tell you, if you were my woman that dress would be on the floor of my room right about now.” He promised and you shivered at the thought. “But I’m not your woman, am I Isaiah?” You rhetorically ask, sipping and please to feel the alcohol running down your throat.

♟️“Oh god if you were.” He said, trailing off. “I’d have you married, knocked up, never not pregnant. Have your last name Jesus. My dad would do the ceremony, y’know. Get you a nice little bouquet and pretty white dress I get to ravish you in afterwards.” He said “well you’ve got it all planned out, huh Mr Jesus?” You snort but you are backed against the bar, two hands either side of your waist as your belittled by the taller between you.

♟️“Believe me I’ve dreamt of the day since I first saw you, just your fucking brother wouldn’t let me.” You eye his lustful expression. “As I said, Isaiah. I am not my brother, nor is he I.” You repeat slowly, relaying that your older sibling(s) had no say in what was going on at that moment. “You’re playing with fire, little girl” he warned “then let me get burned” you say, batting your eyelashes doe-like and innocently, as you dared him to make the move your core had been dying for for decades.

♟️His nostrils flare as you wrap his tie around your hand and yank at it harshly, bringing an ear close to your lips to offer a promise never before foretold. “Isaiah I’m a virgin” you whisper, before releasing his tie and straightening his suit. He follows the lump in his throat before surveying the room once and looking down at you, grabbing your hand to drag you through the crowds of people and into the safe proximities of his bedroom for newly discovered events.

♟️The evening died down and the chatter faltered, as Thomas Shelby announced a new betrothal in the family. However he was unable to promise the two, because the bride and groom were missing.

Michael🎱

🎱Oh god I’ve been waiting for this one. Michael absolutely eats that shit up.

🎱You and Michael were first acquainted when himself, Thomas and John travelled to the Cotswolds in order to engage in some legal business with the Wentworth family - Tommy spoke business with the ceo of the family, while John entertained the mother and Michael; the daughter.

🎱Michael was an old fashioned man with old fashioned views. He liked his women obedient and untouched and willing to listen to his every word - just like they were supposed too.

🎱They were welcomed into the home by several butlers, two to open the grand doors - three to take their caps and the others to lead the family to their guests. “Thomas Shelby.” They heard, and a dignified gentleman descended the stairs, an unnecessary cain in one hand, the other wrapped around his wife as they descended the central staircase to the visitors, a young lady trailing behind.

🎱“Archibald Wentworth.” Thomas smiled at the man and nodded out of respect. The man walked up to him and shook each of their hands firmly. “How longs it been old chap?” He asked Thomas. “Too long, old friend.” Thomas replied, and they engaged in friendly conversation as neither had seen each other since their fathers dealt with similar business in their own youth. The elder woman approached John who kissed the back of her hand and she curtsied, him remaining respectful as their shared introductions. You however, approached Michael who looked back at you fondly. You curtsied to him and he bowed slightly. “It’s a pleasure Mr Gray.” You say, voice soft and unbroken. He took your hand and kissed the back of it gently. “All mine, Miss Wentworth.”

🎱“And please, do call me Michael.” He told you, smiling gently. “Well in that case you’re compelled to call me Yn.” Michael studied your face; never in his twenty one years of existence had he seen such beauty before. Your skin was fair and undamaged - soft to the touch. Your nails were clean and manicured with a neutral colour. Your hair was cascading down by your ears, as if instructed to sit perfectly, framing your face. You eyes were innocent yet appeared all-knowing - your mouth formed into a graceful smile. And you carried yourself with such proper dignity; it was admirable.

🎱“Yn my darling?” Your father spoke from beside him and you turned to face him on command - trained to do this. “Yes father?” “Please will you accompany Mister Gray into the living area? I’m sure you’ll both be quite comfortable in there.” You nodded once at the man. “Certainly, father.” “It was a pleasure to meet you gentleman, and see you again Mister Shelby.” You say to the other two, before leading Michael into the living area - which was nothing short of double the size of his childhood home.

🎱“May i offer you some tea?” You ask, as you settle in the room. “That’d be lovely, thank you.” You nod as the maid by the for stepped out to grab tea. “Normally I’d make it myself, however it is improper to leave your company unaccompanied.” You joke and he laughs in response. Soon, the tea arrived and you served it for Michael, who took the cup and saucer thoughtfully and nodded in thanks.

🎱“It’s a lovely home you have.” You smile up at him. “Thank you, I’m sure my father works tirelessly to afford it.” “You’ve no job?” He asked, awaiting the words that he was utterly and totally in love with you. “No, I’m trained in etiquette - to be polite, to cook and to clean.” Michael listened to you thoughtfully. “So you’re kept awfully busy then?” You nod. “Busy however I don’t mind it, I get to live in this glorious building with a loving family and life skills. What more could a girl want?” You confirm and he was sure his eyes were forming hearts.

🎱“And I’m sure you have quite the line of suitors with your beauty.” You giggled but tried to compose yourself. “No sir.” His eyes widened in mock surprise. “Surely you’re already married, how has a man not captivated a lady such as yourself. I’d do it myself if it wasn’t for the line of men ahead of me.” You looked down, blushing, before looking back up at Michael. “There is no line and there are no suitors. It is simply me, myself and I.” You tell him.

🎱“And you Michael? Have you a wife?” You asked, batting your eyelids. “No, in your words it is simply… ‘me, myself and I’.” “And what business do you do yourself, Mr Gray?” You ask. “That is not the sort of information for a lady’s ears. It is not good business.” He almost scolds and you nod. “Oh I understand, my father is not too dissimilar. Staying safe in your business, I hope?” He basked in the way you simply understood, didn’t pry. “Not quite.” He said, raising an eyebrow. He rolled up his left sleeve slightly and you gasped. “Oh you poor man,” you say. “You must treat these with oil, that way they shall heal better.” You scold, touching his skin gently. “Well if you were my wife you could sort it out for me.” “Oh certainly Michael, I wouldn’t allow you to come home damaged as such without properly patching you up.” You say, seriousness written all over your facial features.

🎱“And what do you do with the rest of your time, this afternoon per se?” He ponders, sipping his tea. “Well as you said yourself I’m quite a busy person regardless of what I occupy my time with.” You peer down at the dainty wristwatch wrapped around your wrist, Michael estimated the small device at a hefty sum. “At two o’clock I have etiquette lessons.” You say “and at three?” “At three I read in my library” “how about four?” “At four I have a date.” His face dropped. “A date? With who?” “William Wordsworth.” You giggled at his expression which sighed a breath of relief. “Oh I see, she lives the poems she could not write.” He says, quoting the famed poet. “More like she writes the poems she could not live.” You reply, and Michael notices a longing stare as you probably imagine the life you would have, if not the heir to an infamous delegate.

🎱“And no man has yet compared me to a summers day.” You admit. “You have not yet met your Shakespeare.” You smile, enjoying how he understood your references. “Nor my Victor Hugo” “ah but you have not yet died so nobody may quote ‘Demain, dès l’aube’.” He spoke matter-of-factly. “For I am always the poet, never the poem.” You speak; in words of your own. And Michael cannot stop himself from reaching up with his free hand to caress the soft skin of your cheek gently. “It is impossible. How can a man write anything short of a novel about a maiden so fair?” He question, and you find yourself absentmindedly leaning into his light touch.

🎱“You’re a charmer, Mr Gray” you speak, voice barely above whisper “I’m no charmer, just a man who knows what he wants” he leans to whisper in your ear “is it working?” He meets your eyes with a cheeky grin on his face. “Certainly.” You both finished your tea and the trolley was taken away, miscellaneous chatter arising from each of your lips.

🎱“Madam?” A voice squeaked from the door behind you both. You spun on a pivot to look at the young maid by the entrance. “Yes Beth?” “Mister Wentworth has requested you and Mister Gray return to the foyer” she said, avoiding your stare. “Thank you Beth, we shall be there shortly.” The woman nodded before clicking the door shut behind you to allow you to make your own way there along with the company. Michael’s face contorted: annoyed, but relaxed it when you faced back to him.

🎱“I believe it is time for us to depart.” You tell him. “When may I see you again?” He asks, holding your hands in his own. “Whenever you wish, Mister Gray; should my father allow.” You tell him, before slowly leading him back to where you originally met. There, the rest of the men along with your parents stood as you’d left them - engaged in unwavering chatter. “Ah, Mister Gray - treated well I hope?” Your father asks and Michael nods at the man. “Certainly.”

🎱After some goodbyes and a hug for your father’s old friend Thomas, Michael smirked at you and kissed the back of your hand and whispered promises that you shall meet again.

🎱The men walked back to the car in silence, Thomas lighting a cigarette once inside. “How’d you like her?” He asked, eyeing Michael before nicotine smoke billowed from his lips. “She’s a lovely young lady.” Michael tore his eyes away from his cousin and back to the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of you as you drove away; but to no avail.

🎱“She’s a gentle lass. Innocent and proper.” Thomas continued and Michael squinted at him, wondering what the man was getting at. “Doesn’t need corrupting.” “I know that Tommy, what you on about?” “We’ve come to a business agreement with Archibald Wentworth. They in exchange for protection and a good deal of Shelby business, his daughter would marry a gentleman.” Thomas stubbed the last bud out on the leather of the car. “I trust you can fit that role?”

🎱Before either of you really knew it the two were being wed on the great estate of the Wentworth Mansion, both smiling at each other at the end of the aisle like giddy school children with a secret. Within the hour you were husband and wife and Michael had the life and wife he had so hoped and dreamed for.

🎱The reception was a glamorous event; dancing and drinking and the celebration of you being safe, and the Shelby name moving up in the social hierarchy of local reputation. Yourself and Michael had snuck off for a moment alone with one another, to discuss the whirlwind of a day and plans moving forwards together. “May I say my darling you look absolutely divine.” He comments, taking your hand to make you do a full 360 turn to display your attire to him. He swore the dress was adorned entirely in Tiffany crystals. “Thank you, you are too kind.” He tuts “I can never be too kind to my wife.” He smiles.

🎱“And may I be so reckless to say I cannot wait to get this dress of you either” he smirked and you raised your brows as your cheeks reddened. “If that is no problem of course, my lady?” He confirms and you nod. “I apologise for my experience, for I have never before been with a man.” You admit, bashfully and his mouth ran dry. “Never?” You shook your head in confirmation. “Never, Michael.” You say and he gleefully picks you up to spin you around as you laugh at his response. “Well my darling, I hope you know I am prepared to take more than good care of you this evening. And of course continue the family name.”

Finn🎞️

🎞️You were the first girl Finn really cared about. Sure, he’d been on dates and hired whores to satisfy his desires. But he’d never really given much thought into actually taking his time with a girl. Until he saw you working at the bookshop two streets in the wrong direction from the Garrison.

🎞️Him, Isaiah and Bonnie were basically being little shits on the streets of Birmingham when he’d saw you organising shelves through the window, brow furrowed and tongue slightly protruding from your lips as you struggled to place an old hardback on the top shelf. The other two lads had carried on walking whereas Finn had stopped, the other two halting a few ways down to road to figure out where their third had gone, turning to see him awestruck at the bookshop window.

🎞️They hurried back, laughing at the boy who was notably illiterate. Finn could not read, nor write but was staring into the bookshop. “What y’ doing Finn? No picture books in there!” Isaiah joked, straining to see what Finn was so intently staring at. “Ah the girl” Bonnie elbowed him. “She won’t want you mate.” Isaiah informed him “she’s got Shakespeare and Wordsworth. You don’t even know who I’m on about.” And Isaiah was right. You did look dignified and well read because you were. And he was just Finn.

🎞️But he found himself two street in the wrong direction every day nearly, at least when he could find time to slip away. And Isaiah and Bonnie were sick of their lovesick friend ditching them to stare at a stranger awkwardly through a window. Then one day, when the three were repeating their galavant from the first time they saw you, Isaiah shoved him in the door.

🎞️The bell chimed and you turned from your stepladder “just a minute!” You climbed down and approached the disheveled boy at the door. “Can I help you?” You ask “book” he says and you crease your brows “…book?” Isaiah chimed in behind him “he wants to buy a book” he confirms as he smacks Finn around the back of the head. “Any book in particular?” “My first alphabet!” Bonnie exclaims, and the two boys begin cackling loudly and Finn grits his teeth and pushes the two out of the door.

🎞️“Eh what do you recommend?” He asked, scratching the back of his head and his eyes wander on all the paved backs of untouched literature. “What do you like? Fiction? Non-fiction?” Finn looks at you gone out. You look around for a simple poetry book you know is easy to understand “here, try this it’s one of my favourites” Finn nods and turns the book over in his hands and has a quick flick through. “How much do I owe you?” He asks, pushing his hand into his pocket. You shake your head “just come back and exchange it once you’re done.” Finn nods. He could do that. He thanks you and begrudgingly heads out the door to his friends who were still hounding him for the situation and he just smiles at you through the window.

🎞️Finn was getting ribbed week in and week out by both his friends and older brothers, Arthur drunkenly questioning in front of everyone why he hadn’t hired any whores recently and why books were appearing by his bed when he couldn’t read. The family laughed as his face reddened, Isaiah explaining that the lovely young lady down the bookshop had his interest peaked.

🎞️“Y’got her in bed yet?” John asked with a smirk and the younger boy elbowed him sharply. “No.” He mumbled. “No? Ol’ ‘just want a shag’ here hasn’t gotten a lady in bed?” His brother joked. “No she’s not the kind of lass I want to put off.” “Ah” Tommy ruffled his hair. “She’s the real deal then?” He smiled while lighting up another cigarette. Finn thought for a moment before nodding. Yeah, you were the real deal.

🎞️“Date” Finn said as he crashed through the door of your bookshop. You raised a brow at him. “Date with me, please.” He says, panting. “Finn are you alright?” You ask, placing a hand on his back. Me nods, heaving and placing his hands on his knees. He’d just ran here from being with his family. “Do you want to go on a date with me?” He asked when he’d finally gotten his wind back. You smiled and nodded. “Yes I would Finn, when?” “Now.” You raise your brows. “Right now?” “Yeah. If you’d like.” You look down at the dainty wristwatch you were wearing and decided it was wishful thinking if you thought that you were going to get any more footfall in the next hour before you closed. You hummed and nodded. “Sure, let’s go.”

🎞️Finn took you to one of the nicest restaurants in Birmingham in walking distance, waiter seating you quickly after he noticed who Finn was, handing the two of you two open menus. You looked over the options, but was soon distracted by Finn’s conflicted face. “You alright, Finn?” He nods. “What’s up?” He ponders for a minute before mumbling something. “Sorry?” “I can’t read and this has no pictures.” He admits sheepishly, averting his eyes from yours.

🎞️“You can’t read?” You ask, mulling over the past several weeks where you’d be too-ing and fro-ing with Finn with your book recommendations. “But you’ve been borrowing books for months-” “just to see you.” He says, looking down as a smile began to grew on your lips. “I understand if you want to leave. You’re smart and pretty and I’m just an illiterate gangsta.” He says, mentally readying himself for your leave. You placed your hand on top of his where it was laid on the table. “Finn that’s so sweet.” His brows shot up. “You did that for me?” You ask, biting your lips as he affirms your question. You place a chaste kiss to his cheek as you realise just how much the blinder truly cared about you.

🎞️“Let’s get out of here.” You say, breaking the silence. “Seriously?” He asks, moving closer for a more private conversation. “I’m serious. Let’s go.” You say, “really? We don’t have too if you don’t want too-” “Finn Shelby. Let’s go.” And you didn’t have to tell him again, running back home like two giddy school children, hiding away in his room for the rest of the evening, ended by you laying on his bare chest while he drew shapes into your relaxed shoulder.

🎞️“That was better than I expected for my first time.” You admit, staring at the ceiling. It takes a few minutes for Finn to clock onto what you’d just said. He looks down at you, movement of his thumb faltering. “You were a virgin?” He asks, lump in his throat growing as he forced himself to swallow it. “Yeah.” He smirks.

🎞️“Nice.”

[alicent-targaryen]

JOHN & ARTHUR SHELBY ▸ Peaky Blinders, 3.6

requested by @call-sign-shark

[wonderlanddreamer]

Heyyy, welcome to my blog. My name is Daisy and I am firmly planted in my Peaky Blinders era. My ask box is always open for requests, questions or a friendly chat.

Click here, by order of the Peaky Blinders.🖤

This way to the Upside Down.❤️

Find my random edits here.

Credit to @cillmequick, @bunnysrph, @strangergraphics and @saradika-graphics the lovely graphics used on this account. 🫶🏻

[hb-writes]

"Try that again, I dare you" for Peaky Blinders Clara and either Tommy or John? ^^

“Try that again, I dare you.” 

John said the words as he snatched Clara’s wrist in his hand, holding her there beside him—trapped, caught in the act. 

Clara wasn’t often this silly…this instigating…this playful, so John hoped she read his exaggerated threat in the way he intended—as a joke, an invitation to keep going. 

Clara shrank back from her brother, twisting away from him and trying to pull her wrist free while John effortlessly held her still, pretending to go back to work with the ledgers though he was intimately focused on her struggle for freedom.

John wasn’t watching Clara’s free hand though and he didn’t notice as the girl’s hand darted up to tickle the spot beneath his chin, all while continuing her endeavors to free herself. 

John let out a yelp of surprise and a small bit of involuntary laughter before pushing back from the desk to pull his sister into his lap, tickling her with an efficiency and vigor that has Clara dissolved into a fit of giggles and flailing limbs in a matter of seconds.

💠 FIVE LINE FRIDAYS 💠

send me an ask with the first sentence of a fanfic and I’ll write the next five-ish.

[mindful-of-ideas]

Preference: Peaky Blinders

- Being the youngest Shelby sibling

Characters : Arthur, Thomas, John, Ada and Finn

A/N: Based on this request here, by anon. I'm sorry it took so long!!

Arthur:

When you were a baby, your mom always made a point that all the boys were to help take care of you. She understood that the age gap between you and them was big, but she wanted to make sure that you had a relationship with your brothers

So, every now and then, Arthur would help by babysitting you. He would tell everyone he hated doing it, but the truth was that he loved it. There was something about you that calmed him. Maybe it was how tiny you were, how fragile you looked, but every time he held you, he felt much more calmer. Even as you got older, that feeling stayed. Every time you would be alone together, he would be more calm and gentle. When he stayed overnight to look after you, you didn’t have to be scared of the monsters under your bed, because you would fall asleep in his arms before even getting to bed.

As you grew up, however, you started to notice how violent Arthur could be towards others, and that scared you. So you drifted away from him slowly. You knew he would never hurt you, but his strength was still enough to scare little ten-year-old you.

However, one day, you came back from school with a black eye. Some guy had been teasing you and you finally had enough. The thing was, when you punch people, they tend to punch you back, hence the black eye. Upon seeing your face, Arthur went completely mad, but you tried to calm him down.

“You should see his face, this is nothing,” you said pointing to your eye.

“Still…” he grumbled, “let me take care of him.”

And after that day, Arthur decided he was going to teach you how to fight. This was something you have secretly always wished for since on one hand you wanted to be like your brothers and train, and on the other, you wanted Arthur to teach you again. Again, yes, because when you were younger and he was still babysitting you, he had taken the time to teach you how to draw. Everyone kind of knew he used to draw when your mother was still alive, but we were almost certain you were the only one who knew he still did it. Now, you were no master painter, so you would usually take out a book or study while he would draw, trying to furtively glance at what he was doing.

Even if he wasn’t babysitting you per se, you kept this up until you were finished with your secretarial studies. He would sometimes stay overnight on Tommy’s request, to keep an eye over you. For a period of time, it was the only way you could see him. You had decided to keep up with your studies, as your mother (and Tommy) would’ve wanted. Secretary sounded like an easy way out of Birmingham and a life away from crime. But as you got more and more educated, Arthur became more and more distant. You never truly understood it. How did learning about shorthand and typing meant that you didn't need your older brother anymore? When you moved out to work in London, you almost lost all contact with him.

After a few months of being a secretary, you got bored, bored and exasperated. You couldn’t stand the weird creepy men that were constantly flirting with you and the endless paper job that always had to be done for the next day but was almost never even used or looked at then. If it was only up to you, you would revisit the way the whole company worked, but it wasn’t. So, one day, you made a show of yourself and finally snapped. You screamed at everyone and left, going back home, going back to Birmingham. News travelled fast, and since Tommy had been the one to recommend you to that company, everyone knew what had happened before you even set foot in town. Arthur, he was overjoyed. Why? Because you just proved that you COULD be a little like him. But his joy just made you feel worse. You wanted to cry. You had lost your only way out of crime. You locked yourself in your rooms for days before someone could finally reach out to you, and it was Arthur. He didn’t say much, mumbled some kind of apology. But he sat by your side and waited. He waited until you rested your head on his chest and wrapped your arms around him. Then, he hugged you, held you close, just like when you were younger.

Tommy:

Tommy never really showed interest in you when you were younger. The age gap was big enough that you understood why he didn’t really care. And, truth be told, you didn’t mind that much either. Just because he didn’t show any particular interest, it didn’t mean that he didn’t care. Because he did. He cared deeply. After your mom died, he made sure you were never missing anything. He’s the one who decided that you and Finn should be raised by Polly. And he meant it when he said raised. He trusted her to make you into the best version of yourself and to make sure you could, if you wanted, live a life away from crime. He loved you enough to know that he wasn’t the best person to raise you.

When you were younger, he never babysat you. However, Polly always made sure to ask your brothers first when she needed help with you and Finn. She would also ask them when she didn’t need help. If it was only up to her, you would’ve grown up in the same house as your brothers, or in a house where they would always be in and out of, the way it would’ve been if your mother was still alive. But she knew this was impossible. Still, Tommy would sometimes come over to dinner or watch over you for the evening. Sometimes Polly proved to be convincing and Tommy would babysit you all day or all night. These were your favourite times. Maybe it was because you didn’t see him much or maybe it was because he was the only one to never baby you. He talked to you almost as if you were an adult and was always real with you. He would also answer all of your questions, even the craziest ones.

“But how come the trains can manage the curves, the wheels look too straight to handle that?”

“How about I take you to see them someday?”

“You would?”

“Of course.”

When he stayed the night, you would do everything to stay up as late as possible. But as it got darker and darker, you would get more and more scared. You could hear weird noises coming from outside, or was it from under your bed? Tommy, however, knew you could be reasoned with. You didn’t have to be afraid of the monsters under the bed because he could convince you, even for just one night, that they weren’t real.

Growing up, you stayed close to him. As unpredictable as he could be you knew you could always rely on him. He would help you no matter what. When you landed your first job, he sent you flowers but never came to congratulate you face to face. He knew how hard you were trying to appear as strong, tough and independent and he didn’t want to mess that up for you. Whenever he was in London, he would make sure to have dinner with you, paying for everything, of course. And you never asked where the money came from. As much as he tried to keep those dinners casual, he would always end up asking you too many questions about your work, your ambitions, your future.

He wasn’t disappointed when you lost your job, saying however how amazed he was that you lasted so long. He took you out to dinner that night, to celebrate “standing up to assholes and staying true to yourself”. He didn’t ask if you needed help to find a new job but left a flyer for a job in a science lab at your flat that night. It also mentioned that there were opportunities to go up the ladder by taking classes that they would pay for. You had always been a quick learner and weren’t too bad at science and math at school.

You got the job and invited him to dinner straight away.

“Of course you did!”

“You know what’s funny?”

“Umh…”

“At my old job, they were always saying how I need to have more chemistry with my boss, guess that won’t be an issue now.”

He snorted and started laughing.

It was one of the few times you had managed to make him laugh.

John:

John was already a teenager when you were born and he just had no time to give to a baby. That’s when he told his friends anyway. And to the girls, once he figured out they found it cute, he would say he was taking care of you. In reality, he did take care of you. Unlike Arthur and Tommy, he was home most of the time and had to help around a bit so that your mother wasn’t overwhelmed. He would mostly run errands but much preferred to stay home and take care of you. Once your mother died, he stayed around. In his mind, there was no reason for him to stop being there for you. Even if Polly thought he was more foolish than his brothers, more prone to make mistakes, she knew she could trust him when it came to taking care of you. She had no problem leaving Finn and you with him for days if she needed some time to herself.

Being around John always made you feel happier. There was something to him that just lifted your spirit, and made you want to laugh even when you were sad. He couldn’t quite bear seeing you unhappy or scared either. If you were afraid of the monsters under your bed, he would hunt them down for you, creating magical weapons with anything he could find just to see you smile before you fell asleep.

If you ever had problems, or just needed someone to listen to you really, you would go to him first. He would never judge you, of course, but as you got older he would sometimes scold you. Maybe it came with having kids of his own, you weren’t quite sure.

“Polly told me about the boy.”

“What, how did she know. That’s what I came here to talk about!”

“Y/N, you can’t just go around punching people.”

“He tried to… do… stuff to me.”

“Alright, where’s the bastard then!”

“Arthur is already on the case.”

“You told him all that?”

“No, he just saw the bruises and asked for a name, I gave it to him.”

“You okay though?”

“Yeah… I’m okay…”

He knew that if you wanted to talk more about what happened you would be back. And you were. It took you some time but you eventually told him everything. There wasn’t much he could actually do, but he listened and that was enough.

To everyone's surprise, he was the one who helped you the most when you moved to London. You wanted so badly to prove to everyone that you could make it on your own, but the truth was that you knew nothing, nothing at all. It took weeks before your apartment started to resemble somewhat like home. You were surviving of canned food and still hadn’t figured out how to do your laundry.

“Y/N, you know you can buy something else than canned food, right?”

“I know…”

“You know but…”

“But how do I cook it… what do I do with it?”

He laughed.

“Come on, we’ll buy some stuff and I show you.”

“While you’re here, how do I know when my laundry is clean? How long do I have to let it soak? Do I really need to split the white and the colours?”

And he had the answer to all your questions. With his own experience as a father and all the times he helped your mother as a teenager, it felt like he knew everything.

To him, you were always going to be the best aunt to his children. It was maybe the one thing that stressed you out, him having such high expectations about something you couldn’t really control. One day, Katie told you she hated you out of pure 5-year-old rage. You left the house that day crying, thinking you had failed as the coolest aunt. When he learned about what happened, John laughed before comforting you. He explained to you how Katie didn’t really mean that and that she actually probably already forgot about the whole thing. As he said that, the little girl came waltzing into the room and, as she saw you, her face lit up and she rushed over to hug you.

Ada:

When you were younger, she was all over you. She would dress you up, put makeup on you, take you out to do all the girly things. She was maybe the only one of your siblings to not shy away from showing you love. She would hug you and cover you with kisses whenever she could. She also made sure that you felt empowered, which was really important for her. Never did you feel like you were less just because you were a girl. You never had to be afraid of the monsters under the bed because they were too scared to go after a strong little girl like you.

Things took a turn once you got accepted into the typing program. You couldn’t tell if it was jealousy or not but she abruptly stopped making time for you. She wasn’t particularly rude or anything, just less present. One day, she came by to talk to Polly but found you, sobbing, instead. To your surprise, she didn’t hesitate and rushed to your side, trying to comfort you as best as she could. It was like the last few months of coldness never happened.

“What happened? Talk to me Y/N, I’m listening”

“It’s that stupid Beatrice and her stupid mom!”

“Who?” she asked, knowing you wouldn’t answer.

“She keeps making trouble in class, messing with everyone,” you said between sobs, “and she blames everything on me!”

Ada brushed your hair away from your face.

“And her fucking mom is the teacher, so of course she never believes me! And they talked of kicking me out… and… and… oh Ada, I’ve missed you!” you said hugging her tightly

Once you stopped crying and explained everything properly, she told you how to deal with Beatrice, in true Shelby fashion.

“And if that bitch messes with you again, I’ll handle it myself,” she added smiling.

After that, you had a lot of catching up to do. She explained how at first she had been jealous of you for finding an easy way out of Birmingham, but in the end, realized that it wasn’t such an easy way out in reality and that she could never do what you were doing. She respected your choice and told you how she admired your strength. It made you feel weird yet weirdly happy to know that the person you had looked up to all your childhood as a strong empowered role model was now looking up to you.

Once you moved to London, things got better. Even if you were younger, she was your best friend. And her little boy loved you! You were still not the best with children but you would do anything for that boy, just like you would do anything for John’s kids. When you got your first job, she took you shopping just like when you were younger. She was so happy for you.

And once you lost your first job, she didn’t say anything or taunt you. She took you out shopping again, to keep your mind off of things and let you hang out at her apartment as much as you needed. She was the first person you told about your new job at the science lab and she was even more happy for you than before. Once the classes started, she even helped you study and she was quite good at it. She could remember more of the stuff than you could, often finding weird but effective mnemotechnic tricks. You told her that she should apply herself, pushed her to do so, but she kept refusing. You were scared that by pushing her you might anger her again. This time, however, you took the time to talk to her before things got worse. She told you how, even though she was good at remembering the stuff, she didn’t have any interest in it. Not like you did. She didn’t take offence at you trying to help her find a job outside of the family business but it just wasn’t for her. You respected her choice and since then have been the best of friends.

Finn:

He has always been your best friend. Yes, you were younger than him but it wasn’t by much and it never really mattered. Unlike your older siblings, you barely had any memories of your mother and, when you were young, you couldn’t really see why they hated your father so much since you almost never heard of him. This shared lack of memories made you bond with Finn. Maybe you couldn’t remember your mom teaching you the alphabet, but you could remember the tone of her voice when she sang to you at night. You remembered her sweet and flowery smell when you would hug her and the coldness of her hands every time she went to pick you up from the couch to put you in bed. These things seemed too abstract to share with anyone else but Finn. He was the only one who could understand. He had this sensitive side to him that he would only reveal to you. The way you could both just lay on the floor and reminisce at such futile things war always a comfort to you.

When Polly took you in, there was no going back. You became inseparable. You shared a bedroom, tucked away at the end of a dark hallway. You weren’t afraid of the dark or monsters under the bed, you were too old for that now, but the eeriness of that hallway always made you both jumpy and left you on edge. Finn and you would then come up with the funniest stories to try and calm yourselves before going to bed. It almost always involved killing the obviously not-real monsters, just in case. You didn’t have to be afraid of the monsters under the bed because you would team up and invent the most successful monster repellent.

School was always a bit hard for you. A girl, a Shelby girl, trying to stay quiet and just do what they were told looked weird, out of place. You would literally be quiet and stay out of everyone’s way but still get picked on. It was like people wanted to get a reaction out of you, just to then shove in your face the fact that you were indeed just another Shelby. You were grateful for Finn and his friends. As soon as he took notice that you were being picked on, he made sure that his friends and he would hang out close to you. You had a few friends yourself, but they tended to scatter when bullies approached while Finn and his friends would always step in. He was also close to a few girls from his class and if they found you just reading alone outside, they would sit around you, playing with your hair, not letting anyone get too close. You weren’t scared of the bullies, you truly believed you could punch them in the face and win, but you hated the attention. You just wanted to go to school, learn, have fun and be left alone.

As Finn got older, he started ditching school more and more often. That was why he wasn’t there when you had to defend yourself.

“You managed?” he asked.

“I did.”

“I knew you would.”

“Right…”

“I’ll be there next time, I promise. But come here. I bet everyone told you they would beat up the guy but no one took the time to look at your eye?”

He was one of the only one of your siblings to actually know how to handle cuts, and bruises, and burns. Even the flu stood no chance in front of Finn. You were glad he was skipping less and less classes just to make sure you were okay. Maybe he couldn’t do math to save himself but he had a natural talent in understanding the human body. And its mind. You truly believed that if he stopped sleeping in English classes, he would get something better than average. He had such a wild imagination and such a great empathy, an understanding of human nature.

“That’s actually decent,” he once said picking up one of your essays.

“Thanks, I learned from the best,” you said pointing at your copy of Hamlet.

“Ahh Shakespeare…”

“No, you! Idiot. It’s your copy, and there are notes all over it!”

He was a bit bumped when you moved to London, mostly because he felt like he was trapped in Birmingham. He thought it was too late for him to deviate from the Peaky way. He had doomed himself and had to live with the consequences of his own decisions. You didn’t believe that, obviously, and made sure to let him know that, whenever he would realize it too, your door was open.

And he came. He was knocking at your door before you even learned that Tommy had kicked him out. You helped him as best as you could, but money was tight and, if you wanted Tommy to keep giving you your allowance, you had to hide the fact that Finn was staying with you. You didn’t agree with Tommy’s decision. Family was family. Kicking him out of the business was one thing, leaving him to fend for himself after promising him everything was another. Tommy knew that Finn had nothing apart from the Peaky Blinders. What he did was unfair. You hoped that with time, Tommy would come around and change his mind. Meanwhile, you had to get this boy a job and he was in luck. Your friend at The Daily Herald had just told you they had been looking for young boys to help around with the printing presses.