#Luca Changretta angst
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This Person Who Understands Me
Pairing: Luca Changretta x Blossom OC
Summary: Blossom is in a terrible accident and Luca can’t hold himself together.
Length: 1680
Warnings: Angsty! Whumpy! Vague details of a car crash.
Ask : Hi! I was wondering if you are taking requests, if you are I would love it if you could do a luca changretta x Blossom Oc in which Blossom gets really hurt physically, it doesn't have to be his fault. Would love angst, hurt/comfort. Anyway, hope you are having a good day :) (Also Im in love with your imagjnes) slayyyyy💅💗
A/N: I missed my favorite couple 🥹 . And this story just made me want to write another one that’s all fluff. I hope this fits the bill nonnie!
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Luca’s faith was habitual in nature. He went to mass to please his mother. He crossed his chest before meals and kissed the crucifix around his neck without a second thought because that’s how the Changrettas did it. And when they needed something to believe in or wanted God’s wrath to take care of a situation, it was nice to say a quick prayer. It had always been, and he’d lived an okay life because of it.
It was one of the last Saturdays of the summer, and Luca drove home with his windows down. He was just outside the city, coming home from talking to their upstate suppliers. He had his weekend planned. Go to the office and wrap up quick, get flowers for Blossom, then tease her to high heaven until she threatens to break off their movie date. Luca was rubbing his chin, smiling behind his hand at the thought of her pulling his ear when his body reacted on its own. The hair on his arms stood up as his heart rate picked up. He looked around, not seeing anything sinister around him, yet he sighed with a shaky breath. His was the only car on the road, but he picked up speed like someone was chasing him. Or rather, like he was racing against time.
Luca had never seen his brother so green in the face, his family so quiet when he burst into his mother’s kitchen, panting.
“What happened? What’s going on?” He asked, words jumbled but the sentiment there.
“How did you,” Angel began, but his mother stopped him.
“Luca, she’s hurt.”
“What?” He stumbled back, still panting but prepared to reach for his gun and find who he needed. His mother sighed. She may not have liked Blossom, but maternal instinct was in her bones.
“There was an accident, a freak accident the officers said. A trolley hit her ambulance. Luca, calm down,” she said, raising her hands to grasp her son’s face. “It was very bad, and she’s in surgery at the hospital.”
“Which one?”
“Luca,”
“Ma! Which one?!”
“St. Mark’s.”
.
Seeing her was impossible, but leaving the hospital was out of the question. It was a car accident that sent equipment and the people inside banging into each other. They said she was bleeding internally and that her chest and legs were in bad shape. He couldn’t imagine it. She was just perfect when he’d left the night before with her warning to come back safe.
Luca moved from his chair in the waiting area and walked through the halls, not straying too far. He couldn’t catch his breath or stop his watering eyes.
“Not like this,” he murmured, loosening his tie. He walked into an empty stairwell. In the quiet, his forehead pressed against the gray wall as tears flowed. “Not like this.”
.
Saturday turned to Sunday, and his mother bit her tongue about him not attending mass. She settled for bringing him to the shoddy hospital chapel instead. Luca held the basket of food she brought, staring into the fabric of the cloth that kept everything warm.
“They said she has another operation, Luca. You won’t see her today. Why don’t you try getting some sleep?” She asked. He huffed and rubbed his eyes with one hand.
“Sometimes I say something, and Blossom can just finish my sentence. When I buy her flowers, I already know the vase she’s gonna put them in. She knows what kind of day I’m having by how I sigh, apparently, and if I need a stiff drink or a movie. We don’t even have to talk to say something, we just look at each other, and it’s known. As long as I’m here, she knows it. She knows she’s not alone, Ma.”
He could feel his mother’s stare, but he’d said his piece, and that was all. He’d spent 5 years with Blossom, and there was no telling him anything about her. This person understood him so completely, and the thought of her not being there for anything else in his life? He wouldn’t accept it.
He didn’t know when his aunts joined him or when they started to pray. But their mumbled prayers filled his ears. He attempted but found himself cursing his body for wanting food, sleep, or water in a situation like this. When he began threatening the divine himself - she better make it through this. I’m not asking - he gave it up entirely.
He sighed and looked to the ceiling again. The tears were welling, and he didn’t try to stop them.
.
“Mom was up half the night crying because you said there’s no one after Blossom for you. She really hates her.”
“Lonnie,”
“Stop interrupting me and eat.” Luca’s sister sat beside him on the outdoor bench in her school uniform. She was there from the beginning, quietly studying in the waiting room and only leaving the hospital for school because she knew Blossom would scold her if she didn’t. Lonnie sighed, leaning back.“I guess I can’t blame her. She’s caused us hell. I’ve never seen my brother cry so much and look like complete shit. First time for everything.”
Luca scoffed at her while taking a bite of the meal she’d brought. Yolanda, Lonnie, Changretta was only 16, but she was already different than him. When he was her age, he couldn’t wait to be a little older. On the other hand, Lonnie knew how young she was and used it to her advantage. She could say just about anything and get away with it.
“You really want to talk about how much everyone hates her right now?” He asked, laughing with no humor. There was a long silence, and the sound of rustling before the scent of burning tobacco wafted around them.
“What kind of woman names her child Blossom?” She asked before taking a pull from her cigarette.“That’s what I thought for nearly two years. It wasn’t just because I was 11 when I met her. A real kid. It’s because you call her that like it’s written on her birth certificate, like the big idiot you are.” She exhaled. “I remember thinking, how did you manage to find a woman who hated you and fall in love with her. And then I thought, how did you manage to get a woman who hates you to love you?”
“And now?” He asked, wondering if this was going somewhere.
“And now, I’m mad at God too.” Luca whipped his head toward her. He’d never mentioned that, not even to Ronnie. “She’s actually really amazing. I was only young when I met her, so of course, I sided with mom. But she’s always gotten me gifts and is kinder than some of those church ladies. If she yells at me for not wearing layers in the cold, she’s probably going to make me a scarf for the next time she sees me. That sort of thing. And she’s the one who told me I should try doing piano classes even if I ended up not liking them. And I don’t like it. But it was like a joke between us. She was going to come to my last recital on Thursday. But,”
Luca watched as tears dripped down his sister’s face to the white collar of her Saint Mary’s uniform. “Now she’s gotta worry about staying alive. How stupid. So yeah, me too. I’m mad at Him. But in your case, don’t be so angry you can’t care for her. Say your prayers and get some rest so that when the time comes, you won’t collapse at her bedside. She’d kill you for that.”
“When did you get so wise?” Luca chuckled a real laugh for the first time in ages.
“I’ve always been. You’re just now catching on.”
.
The sprinkling of rain that wet the concrete wasn’t enough to make the hospital close the windows on such a humid Monday. Luca stared out at the trees thick with leaves and flowers and the people who walked along the busy path below. She would like this view, he thought when he approved the room. The nurses watched her in a separate room all night, and now he’d get to see her with his own eyes. The doors opened, and he heard wheels on the tiles before he turned to take her in.
Blossom was bruised all over, black eye and busted lip included. Her chest was a spattering of purple and blue. But the worst of it was her legs. One was in a cast up to her knee, and the other was in a full leg splint with rods keeping it in place. But she was awake. The doctors spoke to Ronnie, Angel, and his mothers as the nurses helped her onto the bed. Luca couldn’t move as he watched. Blossom blinked slowly in a daze and winced through the worst of it. But soon, she was propped up by blankets, and her legs were elevated.
When their eyes finally met, he was by her side in a second, just as her tears began welling. He could only hear his heartbeat and feel a tear leak down his face as he cupped her face.
“You’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” she agreed, nodding. “A little worse for wear, but I knew you were here.”
Luca breathed a sigh of relief.
“Good. Good.” As gently as he could, he wrapped his arms around her. He moved closer and flattened his palm against her upper back to stop himself from pulling her. He just needed to hold her.
“This hurts,” she whimpered as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed, not loosening his grip in the slightest.
“I was so scared,” she whispered into his skin. She trembled in his arms, and Lonnie’s words rang clear in his head.
“You made it. You were always going to make it, and I’m here now to go the rest of the way with you.”
#Luca Changretta#Luca Changretta x Blossom OC#Luca Changretta fanfic#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders imagine#Luca Changretta angst
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“Ultimatum” Luca Changretta x Reader
Luca Changretta x reader, Thomas Shelby x sister!reader
Tommy has a choice. Your life or many.
“So, what will it be… hmm, Shelby?” Changretta asked, arm wrapped tightly but not constricting around your neck as your brother refused to meet your eyes. You were swaying slightly as a large gust of wind blow you, its cruel breath frosty and sharp.
You were stood atop a building, a tall building. It’s lankiness had never intimidated you nor even crossed your mind until that moment but now you had decided that heights weren’t for you. You were stood with several members of the Mafia, reason being your brother’s stupid Vendetta. They’d taken you in the dead of night - tied you loosely with rough ropes and blindfolded you with Luca Changretta’s own tie.
They’d woken you at dawn and Luca spoon fed you a meal, explain where you were and why and what could happen that day. And that he wouldn’t kill you but your brother could.
You were situated parallel to your brother, who was stood watching the situation unravel before him - the Italians threatening to drop you off the side of his very own building as an ultimatum for this Vendetta. The Birmingham council members were stood looking up at the bottom, pistols pointed to each of the politicians temples.
“Your sister or your precious council?” Time seemed to stop, Luca leant you back slightly so your tiptoes were barely on the ledge, desperately clawing at his forearm to stay on the side of the living. ‘Please’ you mouthed to your brother, eyes teary and vision blurry. His expression turned from remorseful back to that cold; expressionless, merciless Thomas Shelby you were so familiar with.
“I’m sorry yn” he said, but you knew he wasn’t. He spun on a pivot and left you for dead. All to protect his reputation as a politician. You screamed out, awaiting your demise and to be dropped to a sudden and messy death.
But suddenly you were pulled back from the edge and onto the safety of the rooftop, Luca spinning you into his chest and shaking his head, studying your terrified face. “I would’ve saved you.” He whispered.
#masterlist#xreader#smut#fluff#warner sister#angst#requests#Luca#Changretta#luca changretta#Luca Changretta x reader#Shelby#Tommy#Tommy Shelby#Thomas Shelby#Peaky blinders#isaiahjesus#isaiah jesus x reader#John Shelby#Arthur Shelby#Ada Shelby#Polly Shelby#Michael gray#Esme Shelby#x you#Thomas Shelby x you#Thomas Shelby x reader#Thomas Shelby x sister!reader#Peaky blinders imagine#imagine
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The Italian Beasts Beauty 18
Dinner goes sideways. Charlotte is concerned about Luca's health.
(language)
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I slammed my palms down on the dresser and looked at the old man with a stern expression scowling back at me. I was so pissed right now I couldn’t even tie my fuckin tie. I’d only been doing this since I was twelve, I could do this in my sleep. Pull yourself together Luciano.
“I thought you were looking forward to this dinner Cuore mio. Why are you so tense?” My lovely and very pregnant bride stood beside me tying the laces to her dress. I loved that light blue frock on her. I especially loved that it showed off her blossom stomach. It certainly showed off her changing frame. I was proud to have helped with that.
“I was, until I just received a phone call that two guests were being added.” I could feel the pain shooting up my jaw, my dentist had warned me I was wearing down my teeth. With all the stress in the last three years with Angelo, my father, the vendetta and marrying a Shelby woman I knew it was taking a toll on me. I loved Charlotte, she was the best thing that was ever forced on me. She was still very young and highly immature at times. Her pregnancy hormones didn’t help either.
“Who?” Charlotte knew almost everyone and their second generation grandkids by now. Italians were a very social people. They had especially taken to my little english rose, thorns and all.
“Listen to me eh?” I knew I had taken her off guard when I turned suddenly and grabbed her by her hips, forcing her into me as much as possible. I tilted her chin up to meet my hardened eyes. I hated teaching her maffia stuff, even if it was for her own protection. I liked to keep her as far away from my business as possible, luckily she preferred it that way too. “I’m pouring the wine tonight at the table. It is very important that you know this, if I tilt the wine bottle backwards, not the normal way to pour, you stop talking. That’s a sign to everyone at the table that I don’t trust our company to keep their mouths closed. You got all that.” I searched her puzzled little face hoping it was sinking in. She nodded and her brows furrowed. Great, now I had worried her with my intensity.
“I’m pregnant Amore, not feeble minded.” She smiled up at me, her dimples deepening. God, she was a living doll and she was mine.
“Yeah, you say that but you put your hairbrush in the icebox yesterday Tesoro.” I laughed as she hit my chest. I lifted her hands up to my ips and placed a kiss on each before going back to the mirror.
“It’s the baby's fault.” Her soft spoken blame on our child did not go unnoticed by me. I chuckled and shook my head.
“Let me help. Ever notice that when a man gets married, he suddenly gets helpless.” She smiled as it slipped from her lips. Where was she taking this? Luca Changretta ain’t never been helpless in his life.
“ You know, you can't blame everything on the baby. Eventually it’ll grow and your hormones will change back.” I bit back my laughter as her full red lips jutted out into a petulant pout.
Luckily I wasn’t just blinded by her beauty, I saw the tie coming up too quickly for comfort. I slipped two fingers between the red silk and my neck. Charlotte was grinning, but I didn’t trust those hormones of hers. I smack her ass and pointed to the door. We needed to get going. Get this over with. _______________________________________________________________________________ Dinner appeared normal at first, but Charlotte did notice the two empty seats. She glanced at Luca.He’d broken two toothpicks and dinner hadn’t even started yet.
The restaurant was mostly empty. It must have been reserved for them. As far as Charlotte knew they didn’t own this one. He either had threatened or paid handsomely to get a brand new restaurant vacant around rush hour.
The decor was typical of an American Italian restaurant. Red walls, black and white checkerboard tiles placed carefully on the floor. It was nice and quint, not fancy like she was used to.
She hoped who would be joining them didn’t show. Whoever made her usually stern and strong husband sweat bullets was not only a concern for her but a personal threat. She didn’t like people who upset her family.
“Hey, Luca, look what the cat dragged in.” Frederico announced the arrival of their guests. Charlotte smiled tightly. A young man that was definitely related to her husband and a peroxide blonde woman, looking way to proud of themselves, strode in like they owned the place.
“Finally, still got a fucking attitude I see.” Luca stood to full height over the table, everyone filled suit. Luca gently pushed Charlotte down to her surprise. “Your pregnant Tesoro, sit.” She nodded meekly. She was worried about him.
“ I walked in and you're already starting shit with me? I’m your fucking son, show some respect to me.” Charlotte sucked the air into her lungs so harshly she gasped. Not only was this one of Luca’s sons from a previous relationship. No wonder he was pissed.
“Show some respect, show some respect to you! Your my fuckin child” Charlotte dipped her head down demurley when she saw Luc’as hand raise.
“Respect, you aint earn any fucking respect from anyone at this table.” She saw Matteo and Frederico try to hold their boss back. Charlotte's hand instinctively went to her swollen stomach. She prayed their child would never have a relationship with their father like this.
“I showed up, pour the wine and let's get started.” Charlotte could feel her jaw unhinge. No, her baby would never speak to its father like this. She wouldn’t allow it. Who had raised this man? Clearly it wasn’t Luca.
“Fuckin insolente bambino, pour the fucking wine, ordering me about at my own fuckin table. The only reason you aint starvin on the streets with your whore is because of me! Because of my generosity.” She’d never seen Luca’s gesture this widely, not even when she’d gotten a rise out of him on his brother’s birthday. That had been partially unintentional.
“Speak to me with fuckin respect.” His voice was deep and ragged. He was going to give himself a heart attack. Charlotte sucked in a breath, a sharp pain filled her side briefly. All eyes went to her. She hated when people looked at her. She expected it after all, she looked as pretty as her late mother, dimples and all but having them be concerned and hyper focused on her wasn’t comfortable.
“Hey, you okay?” Lucas' tone was ragged and harsh. She knew it wasn’t towards her.
“Yeah, I just need to powder my nose.” It was their code that she was upset and needed a minute. They’d come up with it together during their talks.
“ Come on Bella, I’ll help you.” Matteo reached for Charlotte's hand and looked at Luca, Charlotte knew he was asking permission to touch her. He must have gotten it because she was being guided to the room.
As quickly as the pain had seared through her it had stopped. It was on her side. She heard from Luca’s mom that it was a growing pain. How much bigger was she going to get? She looked at herself in the mirror. She looked exhausted and this time it wasn’t the morning sickness that had gratefully passed.
When she joined them at the table you could cut the tension with a knife. Both father and son looked ready to kill. Luca’s jacket was even open flashing his gun, a threat.
“Charlotte, I called you a cab. Go home and rest. I’ll see you later.” She looked around at the familiar faces. No one wanted to be here.
“Wha…”
“I gotta take care of you and that baby. Please, no arguments Angel.” Angel, his code word for don’t argue with me right now. She knew he needed her safe. He wished she could calm him down though, she knew better than to argue with him when he was worked up like this. He didn't need to worry about her either.
She bent down to kiss his cheek. “See you at home, not in prison.” She pulled back in time to see his eyes flash. She knew in that instance he couldn’t promise her that.
#peaky blinders fanfic#luca changretta fanfic#original character#arranged marriage#enemies to lovers#friends to lovers#angst
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No Negotiations (Thomas Shelby x Reader - One shot)
Summary: Tommy thought he had been very careful keeping his relationship with YN a secret, but no, his number one enemy had discovered you. And these things rarely playout well in the world of the Peaky Blinders.
Word count: 1807
Warnings: Quite a few F bombs and quite a bit of angst. Maybe it ends well, maybe it doesn't.
A/N: This fic was a request and it's been a long time coming. I'm so happy to finally post something again.
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Gif: I don't know who this Gif belongs too, but I'd love to give credit to the creator if anyone knows.
Please feel free to send me a message/comment/ask, I would love to know what you think.
If you like this, please feel free to visit my blog and take a look around! You can find my masterlist in my bio.
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It was a particularly complicated time in Tommy’s life. There were a lot of different things going down. Dangerous things. And it most definitely was not a great time to be dating anyone. But YN wasn’t just ‘anyone’. To Tommy, she had very quickly and very unexpectantly, become everything. For the past year, it was YN that kept him sane during the whole fracture between his family. And with Luca Changretta still plotting his revenge against every single member of the Shelby clan, he thanked God that he had kept her completely separated from his family and business life. She was his escape. With her, his existence was simpler, uncomplicated. Cherished. Every secret second he stole by her side recharged him, settled him in ways he could never have imagined. Every night spent warming her bed gave him hours of blissful dreamless sleep. So, when he looked up from the ringside during the Goliath vs Bonnie Gold match to see her seat empty, he found himself unable to breathe.
Tommy started the night in good spirits, just happy knowing YN was there. Even if she was sitting anonymously across the opposite side of the hall, finding his thoughts already caught amongst the quiet moments he would steal away with her at the end of the night. When Arthur grew concerned of the men in Goliath’s corner, he urged him not to worry, to calm down and enjoy the match. And even when one of the men disappeared from ringside and Arthur felt the need to investigate, Tommy thought it was his older brother’s paranoia taking hold. But when Arthur didn’t return before the second man in Goliath’s corner slipped into the crowd, Tommy instantly found his stomach in knots, his eyes gravitating to YN’s seat.
It was empty.
Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe she had slipped away to the ladies. Or maybe she found herself completely disinterested in boxing and left to wait for him at their hotel room. Or maybe the growing knot in his stomach told him something much more unthinkable was taking place. Jumping from his seat, Tommy wasted no more time, easily slipping through the crowd, following the same path as Arthur.
It was unnervingly quiet walking down the passage and into the back rooms of the venue, Tommy barely registering the excitement of the crowd as it faded into the background. Only interested in the silence around him. But it was too much. Bellowing out both YN and Arthur’s name, his voice echoed and bounced off the tiled walls around him, his call answered by a gun shot. Tommy’s blood ran cold. The deafening sound vibrated through every cell in his body as if it had pierced his very flesh and Tommy couldn’t escape the hollow feeling that YN was somehow tangled in the mess.
Tommy moved desperately in and out of doorways in the direction of the gunshot, finding nothing. Until he turned the corner into a dimly lit room. But there was no mistaking what he saw, and he knew the scene before him would be forever burnt to his memory, causing him instantaneous regret. Arthur hunched over, visibly shaken as he clutched at his blood-stained neck, working hard to regain his breath. But he was alive. And beside him lay one of the men from Goliath’s corner, in a pool of his own blood, his face half blown away. But it was YN. Standing in that very same room, a room she was never supposed to be in, that had the regret burning like fire in his throat. Backed up against the cold tiled wall her whole body was trembling, arms outstretched as her hands clamped around Arthur’s pistol; knuckles white.
Tommy stepped into the room, startling her. Terrified, her trembling body swung around to face him, waving Arthur’s pistol unsteadily in his direction. All her features were overcome with fear, drained and washed out, his regret now burning bitter in his mouth. Moving towards her, he outstretched his hands, recognition dawning across her face. And when he whispered her name, she fell apart.
Simultaneously, the pistol slipped from her fingers, as her body slid down the wall, Tommy reaching her before she hit the floor, cradling her head, whispering against her ear, “It’s okay… you’re okay. I’ve got you.” Shaking his head, he found it hard to keep control of his voice, guilt ripping through his words, “I’m sorry… I’m so fucking sorry… I didn’t want this for you… I…” Tommy felt sick seeing her this way. Because of him, she had taken a man’s life, she didn’t deserve that kind of burden and there was nothing he could do to take it back.
“Tommy.” Arthur’s hoarse voice broke through his stupor. Looking across to his brother, he was no longer hunched over, but was instead standing before him, a steady stream of blood running from a gash to his neck. Speaking again, he gestured to the body on the floor, his words rough and strained, “I don’t know who the hell she is, Tommy, but he was tryin’ to drag her out the fuckin’ door.” Running blood-stained hands through his hair, he rubbed the back of his head, “I ripped her from his grip, but he fuckin’ got me Tommy, he had me… I’d be dead. She saved my fuckin’ arse.”
Tommy shuddered, not even allowing himself to think about what might have happened if Arthur didn’t reach her in time, all while he was too busy ignoring his brother’s concerns. Sudden gratitude spilled from his mouth, “Thank you, Arthur. You were right… I didn’t listen, but you were fucking right.”
Arthur crouched down, and whispered as if there were people in the room who could listen, “Who is she Tommy, and what does Changretta want with her?”
Surely the fact that he was on the ground cradling YN was explanation enough, but Tommy answered anyway, “She’s my girlfriend… I love her… that’s the all reason he needs.” And it was those words as they left his lips, that brought about an instant and upsetting decision.
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Luca Changretta was no longer a threat. He had been dealt with in the most final way. Until the moment Arthur unloaded a bullet into his head, Changretta thought both Arthur and YN were dead, leaving Tommy’s exit plan for the mafia boss sailing through without a hitch. But there was still one thing left for Tommy to do. Something that tore at his insides, just thinking about it. But there was no other choice.
It was necessary.
Staring at YN’s front door, he took a deep breath, unable to put it off any longer. Lifting the iron knocker, he tapped it against the timber and cleared his throat, waiting for the sound of her footsteps and yet, hoping not to hear them. Never had he waited at her door with such trepidation, any stress or worries usually melted away the moment his eyes caught sight of her house. Always far too confident that he’d never been seen. God, he had been so fucking stupid.
YN opened the door with one of her breathtaking smiles, she was not going to make this easy. Fuck, he was going to miss those smiles. Burning the image to memory, he went to speak, but she leaned forward and planted a kiss to his lips, her sweet voice announcing, “Thomas Shelby… you’re late, you’re never late.” Tommy inhaled deeply, knowing that soon enough he wouldn’t be able to recall the sound of her voice, when what he really wanted was to wake up to it every single morning.
Internally nodding, Tommy realised she was right, he had been putting this meeting off all afternoon, and when she stepped aside to let him come in, he found his feet cemented to her doorstep, his voice lost upon his lips. Seeing his hesitation, her features suddenly clouded with apprehension and concern. And it tore him to shreds. “What’s wrong, Tommy? What happened?” Grabbing his hand, she pulled him inside, sitting them both down in the parlour, “Tell me, what’s going on?”
Tommy didn’t want to be inside her house, he wanted to drop the news and leave, but she deserved more, so much more. Chewing on his lip, he inhaled deeply and cleared his throat, working hard to keep his voice convincing, “YN… I… I can’t be with you anymore.” YN jumped from the seat as if he’d slapped her. Tommy’s eyes shifted to the floor, concentrating on a scratch in the timber beside his foot, “It’s not safe anymore… people know who you are now… I… I’d never survive if something happened to you... I’d never forgive myself.”
“Tommy!” A few seconds of silence followed before she called his name again, “Tommy… you need to look at me!” This was not a good idea, no good could come from seeing her face, but how could he deny her? After everything she had given him over the past year. All those stolen moments and blissful memories… memories that would keep him functioning during all the lonely nights that would follow without her.
Lifting his head, he kept his gaze unfocused, worried her expression might destroy his resolve. Not that it mattered, her words and tone conveyed everything. She was furious. But she didn’t raise her voice once. “No… No Tommy.” Her comment snapped his eyes into focus and the determination he saw; on her face; in her posture, it took him by surprise.
Shifting in his seat, he couldn’t think, couldn’t stop the internal wall of his will from crumbling, with every word she spoke. “I won’t let you do this. I could die crossing the road today. I could get sick tomorrow and die next week. I could die giving birth or fall asleep and never wake up.” Drawing a breath, she shook her head, it was barely noticeable, “People die every day, Tommy, there’s nothing we can do about it, but I’m not going to let you give me up.”
Knealing down, her hands enveloped his face, demanding his attention, “I’m not going to miss out on a life with you, how ever long or short that may be… Do you not think I’m terrified of losing you too?”
Tommy shook his head, but his wall of resolve was gone, and he knew the words he spoke were no more than white noise, “My life… it’s dangerous… Just being with me is-”
Losing patience, she cut his white noise short with unyielding hands, refusing to let him look away. Her eyes were fierce. And her decision was final. There would be no negotiations. “Just shut up Tommy, stop talking. I love you. And I know you love me…. I’m not stupid, I know the risk I’m taking. But for you, I’m willing to take it.”
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#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby#thomas shelby fanfic#thomas shelby imagine#tommy shelby fan fic#tommy shelby imagine#peaky blinders x reader
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Waving my giant antenna in the air to get you the biggest signal boost possible for this incredible series! Hoping you find your inspo soon hun ❤️.
Hello Aurora
Trying to get back into the right headspace to write My Sun, My Moon and All My Stars so I'll be reblogging my previous work as I do a quick reread. Feel free to send asks or comments if you're reading along!
#SIGNAL BOOST 📡!#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinders fanfiction#tommy shelby#thomas shelby#luca changretta#Aurora#tommy shelby x oc#tommy shelby series#tommy shelby angst#tommy shelby x original character#luca x ox
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Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x You
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/79ebc366abb5b562f998dc4170842894/a7272155b486d612-65/s540x810/ef23b2dd6aeb0a1766ddb9918313170831b227cf.jpg)
Summary: It was supposed to be an entertaining evening. Boxing fights, booze and party. It wasn't supposed to be one of the worst days of your life. || Featuring Tommy Shelby x Reader
Words: 4.5k
TW: angst+++, alteration of canon events, canonical violence, depictions of slaughter and body horror, main character death, Reader's husband dying, suicidal thoughts, graphic murder. Parts in bold are direct quotes from the show. Parts in Italics are direct quotes from preceding chapters. Also, Tommy will take more space in the next chapters.
Notes:
✞ Shorter chapter because it's extremely violent and angsty. Also, I'm super rusty so I tried to write it in a more direct style so it's prolly less poetic and beautiful.
✞ This is chapter 16 of the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes. Each chapter can be read as stand-alones but reading the whole series will make the experience far more intense.
PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT PART
The extraordinary general meeting of the Shelby Ladies Club.
This is what Polly called this unexpected little meeting in the bathroom right in the middle of the rigged fight happening a few rooms away. When you entered the lavatory with Ada complaining about the sparring between Goliath and Bonnie, Aunt Pol was taking a cigarette from the silver case she was holding while Lizzie was fixing her hair.
“I love your messy bun, Heaven.” Lizzie complimented when she saw your reflection in the mirror she was using.
“Thank you Liz. Ada scolded me and decided that it would be a better hairstyle for tonight.”
“You never style your hair except for braids and it’s a fucking shame considering how beautiful and long your white mane is.” The young Shelby sister insisted.
“If you say so,” You snorted, amused, “What are you doing here? Plotting and scheming? Leave these for Thomas.” You smirked, sitting on the edge of a sink with movements as nimble as a cat. Your little cutting remark had the expected effect: the three girls laughed with sincerity, somewhat amused by the beef between you and the family’s boss. They had eventually learned that nothing could ever ease the tension between the two of you, so laughing about the matter was the only thing they could do. A part of you couldn’t help but think that they wouldn’t find it that amusing anymore if they knew the unhealthy turn your mutual hatred had taken.
What did you feel when we kissed? A shiver ran down your spine as you heard Tommy’s husky voice, as charming as venomous, whispering in your ear. It might only have been a memory, but you could almost feel his hot whisky breath brushing your skin.
“Heaven has some news.” Polly’s voice resounded in the bathroom, snatching you from your thoughts.
“Me?” You asked, batting your bambi lashes in incomprehension before the understanding of the situation slapped you right in the face.
“Well, tell her. Now! While the men are screaming for blood.” Polly sneaked a cigarette between her thin, red lips.
Your blood momentarily froze in your pale veins for this unexpected pregnancy wasn’t something you wanted to talk about. For sure Aunt Pol didn’t mean to do harm, but the surrounding chaos and your last encounter with Luca Changretta seriously eroded your wish to have a baby. The baby who made you so vulnerable during times that were anything but good. Moreover, a quick glance at Lizzie’s sad and anxious eyes had been enough for you to understand that something was weighing on her shoulders. Something you had guessed for a few days. Something she needed to talk about more than you. The corner of your mouth turned up in a half-smile.
“Well, I discovered something about Lizzie but I think she should be the one making the announcement. Shouldn’t you, Lizzie?” You winked, replacing one of your long white strands of hair behind your pierced ear with a naive pout. Glitters of hope and gratefulness suddenly sparkled in the ocean blue of the secretary’s eyes to whom you replied with a discreet nod before grabbing Polly’s cigarette case.
“I’m up the duff. And it’s Tommy’s.”
You took a long drag on the cigarette and slowly exhaled the smoke by your nostrils as the attention was now on Lizzie. Even though Ada almost choked on her sip of gin, she quickly showed interest in the tall woman’s pregnancy. The only one you didn’t fool was old and cunning Aunt Pol who gave you a brief “okay I get it” glance before turning back to Lizzie.
It’s a girl. Call her Ruby. Ruby Shelby. She’ll be a star in a Hollywood movie.
You watched the scene with a light smile floating upon your plump and glossy lips, satisfied by the outcome of your little trick as well as the surprising unconditional support Lizzie was receiving after years of being seen only through her job as a prostitute. Admittedly, the reason behind the little push you gave to Lizzie Stark was purely selfish, but you couldn’t deny the fact that you kind of liked the woman despite never really interacting with her. She got the attention, and you got peace. It was a win-win situation.
“Congratulations, Lizzie.” You said, your siren-like voice as soft as a lazy ocean.
“She’s a real Shelby lady now. Just like you, Devil.” Polly’s smirk betrayed her amusement. You rolled your eyes teasingly before proudly showing your left hand and wiggling your small fingers to display the magnificent wedding ring Arthur had gifted you.
“What about you Hev? When are you planning to give us a little Arthur?” Ada suddenly asked, Lizzie's news had visibly rendered her sour mood better.
“I think one Arthur is enough for now, don’t you?” You got up from the sink and carefully smoothed the folds your revealing black dress, “Anyway. Ladies, let’s rejoin our gentlemen.”
“I guess the meeting is over.” Ada added with a little chuckle
Joining deeds to words, Polly gently hooked her arm with yours in a motherly gesture and guided you outside, where the crowd’s roars were echoing.
Laughs and cheers filled the room as Johnny Dog put on a show to get more men to bet on the winner of this fight. Swallowing a mouthful of gin, your seraphic traits turned into a wince at the burning sensation the alcohol left in your throat – that new batch was strong, indeed. The sweet taste that exploded on your tastebuds, when the tip of your rosy tongue licked your juicy lips, made you grin, or maybe it was the all-consuming smell of sweat and blood that lingered in the air. It might come off as surprising for other women, but you enjoyed watching fights. There was something brutal but so real about them. After all, humans were just animals wearing suits. Animals which, according to you, had barely learned to speak instead of growling.
Your lips pinched the cigarette as you took another drag you quickly blew, your eyes following blood spurting from Bonnie’s nose and splattering the ground. Although quieter than Polly, Lizzie, and Ada, who were laughing, screaming, and sometimes nudging you in excitement at each violent blow the Romani boy gave back to his opponent, you had a lot of fun. Until a peculiar but familiar feeling blossomed within.
It started with a chill creeping down your spine and ended up with light tremors shaking your frail silhouette. Instinctively, you raised your piercing gaze and searched for Arthur somewhere among the crowded rows of folded seats. Your usual calm demeanor faltered as you noticed that your husband seemed troubled by something, rapidly glancing from here and there, attempting to read the room for whatever reason. He didn’t even pay attention to you, far too busy observing the men that were around the boxing ring. Eventually, Arthur stood up and left, his steel blue eyes fixed on someone he followed through the depths of the building. Let me do my fucking job! That’s what he barked at Tommy, or at least what you thought you overheard.
You frowned as a strange sensation rippled through your mind – like a distant, haunting whisper of something looming, a threat. Nervously swallowing your saliva, your first reflex was looking at Tommy. You couldn’t place it, but the odd feeling gripped you tightly like an omen you couldn’t shake, warning you of an approaching storm. It seemed like little King Shelby shared your inner agitation though, for his mesmerizing turquoise eyes dived into yours with the same nervousness and incomprehension. Whatever the many reasons behind your hatred, you were definitely on the same wavelength at this very moment. The silent conversation, expressed through brief eyebrows and eye movements, was more or less the following:
-Where is he going?
-I don’t know. It’s prolly the booze and the pills.
-It’s not. I’ll check.
-Don’t fucking do that.
You stood up from your seat with a clenched jaw and, feeling the vibration of this bad omen quaking your soul itself, you nimbly snaked in and out through seats and followed Arthur’s steps. As was the case for your husband a few minutes ago, the dark corridor into which you rushed engulfed your ethereal silhouette like a hungry giant.
“Fuck.” Tommy mumbled, straightening on his seat and leaning forward, “Fuck.” He repeated, torn between his own doubts and his disdain for you. Nevertheless, if there was one thing he had learned since you joined the family was that your gut feelings were never wrong. You proved it several times, starting by foreseeing Charlie’s abduction. The dark-haired gangster sniffed and nervously rubbed his chin, his catlike eyes going back on forth between the corridor and the crowd. A few minutes later, Tommy finally left the fighting pit.
Something was definitely off.
Cautiously walking through the maze of dark hallways dimly lit by a bluish light, you tried to ignore the maddening beat of your heart that was drumming so loud you felt it hammering in your temples. You didn’t really know where you were heading, nor where Arthur went, but the more you moved forward, the more this unbearable feeling of dread and panic invaded you. Your aimless wandering came to an end when the strong and metallic smell of fresh blood and the atrocious sight that followed jumped at your face.
No.
Your heart nearly stopped when you saw him – your husband, slumped on the ground, blood soaking through the collar of his shirt as it gushed from the wound across his throat.
No!
Time seemed to slow down, and your heart seemed to stop as you took in the scene: the gun the Italian bastard was holding in his steady hand aimed at Arthur’s head.
Panic crashed over you like a tidal wave, washing away everything but the rage that had piled up within you during all these years. In that moment, something primal and destructive snapped inside of you. In a blur of rage and raw instinct, and with a guttural scream that seemed too inhumane to come from you, you launched yourself at the mafioso, who barely had the time to turn around. Another furious shriek escaped from your quivering lips, similar to the rabid screech of a wounded banshee, and with your fingers curled into claws, your sharp nails slashed across his face.
“PUTTANA!” The man yelled and gasped, taken aback by your unleashed fury.
The mafioso fired with his gun in a desperate attempt to kill you but the brutal impact between your two bodies threw him off balance and the shot reached the wall instead of your brain. As his spine crashed against the tiled ground, Changretta’s henchman dropped the weapon. You gave it a brutal blow to make it slide away from him.
Another wave of insults followed as he realized that he struggled to overpower you. You were fighting like a cornered animal, wild and relentless. Your claws scratched him again and again, leaving raw and jagged lines of blood all over his face. The mafioso's strength was starting to falter as he realized that you weren’t just fighting to win; you were fighting to kill him, your body moved by the instinct of a bloodthirsty beast that refused to be caged.
"Stop it, you fucking bitch!" A scream of utter pain brutally tore the air as, completely out of your mind, you dug your thumbs into his skull, pushing harder and harder in an attempt to gouge his eyes. The Sicilian man produced a second sound so twisted that it seemed beyond anything a human throat could produce. The more you pushed with your thumbs, the more you felt his eyeball turning into a viscous pulp. The feeling of the moist and warm liquid on your fingers didn’t stop you. Nor the man’s wails of pure agony, with its pitch far too high and too broken.
“Ajùtami! Ajùtami!” He pleaded, his hands felt the ground in panic, searching for anything he could use to push you away from him. Anything to make you stop. Realizing that nothing was around him, not even the thread he used to attack Arthur, he managed to overcome the pain and gather his strength to grab your throat.
With your air squeezed, you wheezed and removed your fingers from his skull to claw his strong hands. “S-Stop!” Panic flooded you as your vision blurred, black spots dancing at the edges. The harder you fought, the harder he strangled you. Seriously lacking air, you clawed at his arms, desperate to breathe, but his grip was iron. Now you had to do something and do it quickly if you wanted to have a chance to save Arthur.
Your thoughts raced, frantic, until instinct took over.
I love your messy bun, Hev!
The judas stick – now you had a chance. With one quick movement, you brought your hand to your bun and your fingers fumbled for the sharp metal judas stick that was holding your hair in place. It came in handy. With a choked sound, you drove it upward and sunk the sharp edge of the stick into the man’s side.
One time.
Two times.
Three, four, five, six…
Side, chest, shoulder, face…
Each impact was vicious and powerful, tearing through the flesh like butter and drilling into organs and bones with the sheer will of maiming your enemy. Hot blood splashed all over you and around, but you didn’t care. The only thing that made you stop stabbing him was when you felt the man’s grip loosen around your throat until his arms dropped on the red-smeared ground in a loud thud.
“Fuck!” You sucked in a sharp breath, your voice hoarse from being choked. However, you quickly got up from the corpse to run to your husband. “Arthur!” You screamed, rushing to his side, your hands trembling as you knelt beside him – or rather as you dropped to your knees, your legs unable to support your weight anymore. Panic seized you even more violently as you saw Arthur's deep wound and the blood—too much blood.
“No, no, no… not like this,” You whispered, voice cracking. You couldn’t lose him, not here, not now. Never. Your fingers brushed over his chest and, in your deepest desperation, you looked for his pulse. A pulse you found, but which was becoming slower and fainter as seconds flew by. “Arthur! Please!” You started sobbing, tears streaming down your face and mixing with the fresh blood that was painting your skin in a disgusting shade of red. You had to face the truth: Arthur was dying. The damages were too serious and the bleeding too much… But you were a witch. The gift of healing was coursing through your veins. The only problem was that if you tried to save him by using your magic, you’d hurt the baby. After all, that was what happened when you tried to kill Luca Changretta with a heart attack.
The baby.
Your husband or the baby?
Your heart painfully raced in your chest. Your erratic breathing and your sore throat made you feel like you weren’t getting enough air.
“I’d love to have kids with ye, eh. Little white-haired and blue-eyed us running barefoot in the forest… Little embodiments of our love brightening our life.” His voice was merely a whisper now for he was slowly falling asleep, “I’ve always wanted to be a dad… but thought I was too messed up for that.”
You could save him. You had to. Despite this torture of a dilemma and the harshness of the decision, nothing could change your mind, not even the feeling of your heart shattering into millions of shards. Closing your eyes, you placed one hand over his throat, the blood warm under your palm, and the other on his chest. Wasting no time, you channel all your strength – the connection sparked, and the raw, untamed magic you inherited from your mother surged through you. It seemed to work at first, his pulse lightly responding to yours.
But the more the magic surged, the more you felt a terrible pain in your belly. It started as cramps but quickly escalated into suffering so high that you felt like someone was stabbing you. A trembling squeal escaped from your red lips. You were killing it, you knew it. You were killing your own baby.
"Come on, come on," You muttered, pushing harder, forcing your will into his body. "Stay with me, Arthur," You whispered, tears streaking down your face, each sentence cut by muffled cries of the mafioso you had slaughtered and who was still alive— not for too long to be honest. He seemed to say something in Sicilian but you couldn't understand what. And you didn't care. "Just... stay with me." You gritted your teeth, doing your best to put up with the pain.
Click.
You froze.
“You nosey little slut. You should've stayed with the others.”
Your heart missed a leap at the unknown male voice, carried by a thick Italian accent. The mafioso’s colleague looked at you, gun pointed right to your head.
"Remember me?" He asked with a wicked smile, recalling the moment he had offered you a cigarette a few hours ago. During your brief chit-chat, he told you that his name was Damiano but you didn't make the connection between Changretta and his Italian heritage.
“Don't cry, you're going to meet with your husband again very soon." the imposing man added, a few seconds away from ending your life. However, Damiano didn't know what you were capable of. Even less now that you were driven by pure rage and despair.
“Shut the fuck up!” You suddenly yelled, your claws firmly anchored in your husband to make Damiano understand that no one would snatch him from your arms. Your voice, a seductive melody that could enchant like a siren’s song, suddenly sounded monstrous. Raw and primal, the way you screamed the threat echoed in the entire maze of hallways and made Tommy’s blood freeze in his veins, a few corridors away. “Fucking die!”
Damiano didn't know that he never stood a chance. You sealed that man's demise with one blunt arm movement as if you had wanted to chase a mosquito from your face.
"Wh-What..."
Damiano, fell on his knees next to his dying friend, and writhed on the floor. With his two hands pressing on his chest, he suddenly started to choke and, right after, threw up a great amount of thick blood. Apart from the vomiting, blood soon seeped from his eyes and ears, bubbling like something inside was boiling them alive.
"P-Please!" He begged but you didn't stop. The man obviously tried to scream but the only sound he could produce was disgusting gurgles.
"Don't worry, you're going to meet your friend pretty soon." You replied with a cold and sardonic tone before closing your fist, the man's lungs responding to your gesture by imploding in his chest. Like his colleague's arms did a few minutes ago, Damiano's whole body crashed against the floor with a thud.
Quickly, you shifted back your attention to your husband and kept giving him all your energy while ignoring the black dots that were dancing in front of your eyes, as well as the awful, unbearable stabbing sensation in your core. You were definitely hurting yourself by using your power that much but you didn't give a fuck. “Arthur, please.” You growled, a feeling of dizziness building up so bad that you didn’t even hear the hurried footsteps that were coming closer, nor the hoarse, familiar voice of your brother-in-law.
"FUCK!" You exclaimed. You were losing Arthur again.
The three bodies lay strewn like discarded puppets, their lifeless forms twisted and broken on the blood-flown concrete floor. The once clean backroom had transformed into a nightmare realm of gore and horror that made Tommy's stomach turn upside-down.
The Peaky Blinder's boss took two steps back and brought his calloused hand to his mouth, fighting against the urge to puke – and God knew it took him a lot considering the atrocities he witnessed and did during the war. His turquoise gaze scanned the room, which had turned into a slaughterhouse. A fucking pool of crimson blood. First, he saw the limp and distorted corpse of Damiano, whose eyes were open wide in horror despite him being dead and cold. The terror in his frozen facial expression left no doubt about how awful his last moments must have been: he had suffered, and he had suffered more than a lot. Then, he caught a quick glimpse of the second victim. With his eyeballs reduced to a reddish foul mush, the lacerations on his face, and the abnormal number of stabbing wounds, the mafioso’s body was so maimed that it looked disgustingly grotesque.
Then he saw Arthur.
"Oh my God. Oh my fucking God — Arthur!"
Amidst the chaos, where the air hung heavy with the acrid and pungent scent of blood, Tommy's screams echoed far away in the distance as you knelt there, eyes wide open and silent tears streaming down your cheeks, mixed with dark trails of ruined mascara.
Tommy reacted immediately and knelt near his brother with a panic so uncontrollable that it swept away every ounce of coldness and self-control he usually displayed. He slapped his brother's cheeks several times in a vain attempt to help him come back to a conscious state but it didn't work. Thomas Shelby's fist hit the floor with frustration as the feeling of powerlessness crept into his heart. He was losing another brother and there was nothing he could do to save him.
But you could.
"Heaven, d'ya hear me?"
You let out a muffled whimper, or at least you thought you did as your senses saturated with one unique sound: a relentless ringing that echoed in the hollow caverns of your mind. With each pulse of your heart, the sound intensified, threatening to consume the last remnant of sanity you had left. The world around you had seemed to fade into obscurity, your sight blurry and reduced to only one color: red. Vibrant red splattered everywhere, on the walls, and yourself but most of it was on the floor. In fact, the ground itself seemed to writhe beneath the weight of the corpses, as crimson rivers flowed freely, painting the concrete in shades of crimson that gleamed like freshly spilled paint.
“Oi! Listen to me!” Tommy’s powerful voice suddenly snatched you from your daze just enough time to catch your attention and plunge his turquoise iris into your Arctic eyes.
“I—I can’t. I can’t, I can’t...” You repeated in a whisper, just like a broken record, because your husband’s pulse was weakening again, blind to your exhausting and painful efforts. Arthur was dying, your baby was dying and the intensity of the pain you went through was so insufferable that all you wanted to do was curl up in a ball and wait for death to make this nightmare stop.
Tommy rapidly shifted his body to be by your side, his sharp eyes focused, but softer than usual. “You’ve got this,” he whispered, meeting your panicked gaze. “Keep going. Don’t stop.” He pressed his hand firmly over yours, steadying the trembling fingers that worked to save his brother. His voice was low, gravelly, but laced with a quiet strength he tried to share with you. His grip was warm, grounding you in the chaos, his presence like an anchor. At that moment, the weight of the world felt momentarily lighter with him by your side. You replied to his help with a muffled sob.
"You've got this!" Tommy tried to keep you from falling apart but the sight of a thin trickle of blood slowly running down your nose worried him almost to death. He looked at you and he knew. He knew that you had given everything – every ounce of your energy to save his brother, your magic now drained. Your hand trembled, still pressed to Arthur’s chest, but the world around you was seriously fading to black.
Caught amid this Hell with Tommy by your side, you didn't hear nor feel Polly, who had found the crime scene.
"Oh lord please help us, oh Lord, oh Lord..." Polly cried, horrified by the bloodbath as well as by the sight of you clinging to Arthur's limp body. She had already lost one of her nephews and couldn't bear the weight of losing another one. Not her sweet Arthur. Not him,
"We're fucking losing her too!" Tommy exclaimed, "fucking help me!"
"Heaven!" She called, grabbing your shoulder and shaking you but all you did was scream one last time. A haunting and otherworldly wail that pierced the darkness. A sound so agonizing and inhumane that it seemed to tear at the very fabric of existence. It echoed across the building, carrying with it the weight indescribable of sorrow and despair as your arms tightened your grip around your dying husband.
The smell of blood hid Tommy's musky perfume that was tingling your nostrils. The deafening ringing in your ears covered Polly and her nephew's voice. Your breaths came shallow and weak, your body becoming heavier as darkness crept in. Slowly, your eyes fluttered shut. In one final movement, you collapsed beside your husband, your last thought a silent hope that he would live.
Or that you would at least die trying to save him.
✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language. gif by the wonderful @alicent-targaryen.
✞ Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @cherubswhispers @lokigirlszendaya @justrainandcoffee @mischievouslittlecreature
#Arthur Shelby#Arthur Shelby x Reader#Peaky Blinders#Peaky Blinders imagine#Tommy Shelby#Tommy Shelby x reader#Arthur Shelby x oc#Paul Anderson#Heaven Shelby#Peaky blinders oc#John Shelby#Polly Gray#Luca Changretta#Luca Changretta x Reader#Arthur SHelby imagine
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Congratulations, I adore your story!!
Could you please do 23 with angst and then fluff? Thank you so much I appreciate it!💕
Thanks so much for sending this in, anon! I’m so happy you like my stories! I decided to go with Tommy for the character and chose “I don’t want to go.” for the prompt because it was the 5 word #23. I hope you don’t mind that. Enjoy! :)
I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!
Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!
To Keep You Safe
Tommy Shelby x Reader
Warnings: season 4 spoilers (like right from the jump), language
Word Count: 1042
Summary: (Y/N) and Tommy discuss the decision to have her go into hiding while the war with the Changrettas rages on.
Things were heating up in the vendetta between the Shelbys and the Changrettas. What both sides thought would be a quick battle had now turned into a full-on war. And after Luca managed to get to Michael in his hospital bed and try to get him to switch sides, Tommy was convinced that no one was safe.
He called a family meeting. He arranged it in the morning and it was set for that evening. The air in the room was so thick with tension that you could practically cut it with a knife. (Y/N) noted that they were currently in the midst of a thunderstorm, which she had a feeling was foreshadowing for what was to be talked about.
And oh boy was she right. Things were quiet between her and Tommy that night. Neither of the two spoke a word to the other before they both went to sleep.
(Y/N) didn’t really sleep much though. No matter how many times she wished it wouldn’t, tomorrow still came.
Soon enough, there was a man in a car sitting outside their Watery Lane home.
“I don’t want to go,” (Y/N) huffed as she crossed her arms. She was aware of how much she sounded like their three year old daughter, but she quite frankly didn’t care.
“You have to, love,” Tommy insisted, not wanting this to turn into something bigger than it had to be.
“Why?” she asked, her one eyebrow quirking upward.
“Don’t fucking start…” he trailed off with a sigh.
“You owe me a reason, Thomas. I’m not just going to be shipped off into the fucking wilderness for no fucking reason,” she harped on, sharing her feelings about the decision that had been made — essentially without her consent — the night prior.
“You know why,” he told her, insisting it was common sense.
“Enlighten me anyway,” she shrugged.
“(Y/N).”
“Tommy.”
“It’s to keep you safe!” he finally came out with it, his voice raising as his eyes went wide, showing the frustration and stress he was currently under. “It’s to keep you fucking safe.”
(Y/N) was taken back by his outburst, but she really should have expected it. She was poking a bear; a powder keg that was bound to explode sooner or later. “You’re keeping me safe here, though. And besides, it was agreed between the both of you: no civilians. No women or children,” she pointed out in a softer voice, recalling the rules of the vendetta that he’d told her a few weeks prior.
“Yeah, I know that was agreed upon,” Tommy started, nodding as a sigh escaped his lips, “but with how things are going…we need to expect everything. And I can’t have you get taken by him or his men as a way to get me. So I need you to go. Just for a little while.”
Silence fell between them as she took a minute to think things over. The last thing she wanted to do was leave Tommy’s side while all of this was going on.
“I don’t want to leave you, Tommy,” was the next thing she said. She couldn’t get through the sentence without choking up, tears brimming up in her eyelids.
Tommy exhaled a breath before he closed the short distance between them, taking her into his arms just as her body began to shake from her sobs. “It’ll just be a little while, love,” he spoke in a soft voice, his chin rested on the top of her head as he rubbed her back in a comforting manner.
They stood like that for a few minutes. (Y/N) had no shame in crying into her husband’s suit coat. She didn’t want to let him go and leave because she was afraid that this would be the last time she’d see him.
“Hey, the car’s waiting outside,” Tommy was the one to speak first. He loosened his hold on her as he did, moving his hands to her shoulders so that he could bring her out at arms length.
“I know,” (Y/N) nodded, sniffling as she wiped her tears away. “I’ll miss you, Tommy,” she added then, looking at him with watery eyes.
“I’ll miss you too, love,” he responded without a second thought, raising one hand to run it down her cheek.
“Make sure you go visit the kids for me…or at least send Pol or someone if you think it’s too risky,” she added, thinking of her children who were currently residing at her parents’ home.
“I will,” he assured her with a nod.
(Y/N) took a moment to look at her husband then, making sure she could commit every part of him to memory. She didn’t know when she’d see him next. Her bottom lip began to quiver as that thought stuck in her mind.
“It’s just a little while,” Tommy repeated what he’d said to her before.
“I know,” she nodded, holding back the tears. “I love you.”
“I love you,” he repeated the phrase, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. (Y/N) held him there, making their embrace as long as it could possibly be. But eventually she had to pull away, and as she did, she finally decided it was time. “I should go.”
“I’ll come get you when this is finished,” he promised her, their eyes locked as he spoke.
“Just stay alive,” she said to him, sending one last smile her way before they finally broke their embrace so that she could grab her things.
Tommy ushered her outside and made sure she got into the vehicle. He then gave the driver and his accomplice strict instructions on what to do. After sending one last smile to (Y/N), he let them go and headed back inside.
He took two steps away from the door and placed his hands onto the side table sitting there so that he could brace himself as he leaned back against it. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes for a moment, his family flashing in his mind. Then he released the breath he’d been holding and stared straight ahead. This vendetta would be finished soon, and he’d make damn sure of it.
**tags are in a reblog, so that hopefully the notification gets sent
MASTERLIST
#tommy shelby#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby x y/n#tommy shelby x you#tommy shelby blurb#tommy shelby imagine#tommy shelby fanfic#tommy shelby fanfiction#peaky blinders#peaky blinders x reader#peaky blinders x y/n#peaky blinders x you#peaky blinders blurb#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders fanfiction#peaky blinders imagine#fanfiction#fanfic#k’s 3.5k celebration
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— BloodHound —
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/f3ba9f63414be989632b392ff253e4a5/59863cb8979745d1-e4/s540x810/094b73ad4ea007b1f83c06f411b9e534b1f3fc23.jpg)
Thomas Shelby x Assassin! Male Reader
SUMMARY: Luca changretta is on the hunt for the Shelby family wanting revenge for the death of his father. Thomas’ family is already involved with the situation and wants to keep them safe and goes to Alfie for some help. Alfie gets him on contact with an assassin, one who keeps every inch of his body covered and a mask to hide his identity. Thomas isn’t sure how to feel about the appearance; everyone calls the him the BloodHound.
CONTENT/WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, NSFW, mentions of death, slight reader x Luca, some Alfie and reader, language, blood, gore, betrayal, semi mite reader, angst, mentions of sex, prostitution, clubbing, alcohol consumption, trauma, 1920s history, small descriptions of reader.
『 Chapter One 』
….coming soon
TAGS: @prettorett @one-green-frog @mooonboyyyyy @harleyzoom @tslmn1031 @justalonleyboy @riddle-me-this-1948 @inspector-m3 @xx-rfg-xx @thelordsergei @sadcatrei @multifandomsimp69
|| If you wish to be tagged comment below! ||
#male reader#Thomas Shelby x male reader#Thomas Shelby#the peaky blinders#the peaky blinders x male reader#cillian Murphy#bloodhound series
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Part 26: Do You Love Me
Summary: More miscommunication makes the situation between Tommy and Lucy go from bad to worse.
Word Count: 7,074
Warnings: Angst, insecurity, violence, suicidal thoughts, PTSD, nightmares, minor character death, and references to past torture and sexual assault.
Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter
Chapter 14: Good Intentions
She woke up with a tortured scream, half flying upwards out of bed, kicking and scrambling. The covers got all twisted around her, half pinning her legs, and that only fed the panic coursing through her. It wasn’t until Shadow jumped to his feet and shoved his big head into her face that she fully processed where she was and what was happening.
Breaths heaving, she looked around the room, taking in the familiar furniture and decor. Shadow poked at her chest with his cold nose with a small whine. Trouble meowed.
Drawing in ragged breaths, Lucy closed her eyes, focusing on filling her lungs with air. It was okay. She was alright. She wasn’t in that alley anymore while Matthew and his friends descended upon her. Or dangling from the ceiling while Luca Changretta carved into her. She was safe.
Nightmares had always been a common occurrence for her. But they’d been getting worse lately. More frequent and somehow even more vivid and frightful than they’d been before. On the rare occasion that she actually did manage to fall asleep in her room at the yard, Charlie often had to come in at some point in the middle of the night to gently shake her awake because she’d started screaming in her sleep.
Wiping at her forehead, she winced to find that it was drenched with sweat. Giving Shadow and Trouble a few pets, she then forced herself up, heading to the washroom to splash some cold water on her face. For a moment, her eyes lingered on the bathtub, swallowing down the lump in her throat at the memories of the last time she’d bathed in it with Tommy.
She got cleaned up and dressed in a slight daze. Her head felt all fuzzy from both her nightmare and spending a large chunk of the night sobbing into her blankets. The very beginning of a headache was starting to throb at her temples.
It was so early in the morning that the sun was only just starting to settle up in the sky. So it did not surprise her that she was one of the first people down for breakfast. Shadow remained at her side, watchful. Every once in a while, his ears twitched.
She found Arthur at the window, leaning so close to it that his nose nearly touched the glass.
“Arthur?” she was still adjusting the cuffs of her shirt while she approached him. Looking around the room, she craned her head to peer through the doorway leading into the dining room. She caught sight of Frances and a couple of maids bustling about in there, working quickly to try to clean up the broken glass before breakfast was to be served. “Where’s Linda?”
Arthur’s shoulders shuddered, a fist rising to his mouth. Lucy watched the reaction sadly. He had not treated Linda well, and she could not entirely blame her for leaving, but it still saddened her to see him so distraught. Tentatively she rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing once in sympathy.
“Come on. Let’s go get some food,” she tried to encourage, pulling him towards the dining room.
“No,” Arthur stepped away from her. “I think…I think I’m just going to go.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded.
“Okay,” Lucy gave him a tight hug. He felt very skinny, almost frail, in her arms. “I’ll see you later.”
He shuffled away with only a small murmur of acknowledgement. She watched him go, hands buried in her pockets with a frown painted on her features.
“Miss. Winters.”
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Her jaw tightened at the voice. Shadow's hackles rose slightly, but a hand on the base of his neck had him quieting, though not without a small growl rumbling in his chest first. “Good morning, Mr. Mosley.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
“Breakfast is being served in the dining room,” she gestured, hoping that he would leave her alone.
No such luck, it would seem, as he leaned in closer to her, looking around theatrically. “No Mr. Shelby?”
“He’s probably still in bed. It’s quite early.” Though not for Tommy, who was often up at the crack of dawn. But she wasn’t about to tell Mosley that.
“Mm. Interesting, isn’t it? What relentless lengths he has gone to in order to establish his claim over his wife,” Mosley chuckled. That slow smile twisted the bottom half of his face when he looked at her. “And yet, this is the third time in less than a day that he’s left you alone.…” he reached out a hand that she jerked her face away from, an action he seemed to take complete delight in. “Ripe for the picking.”
Bile rose up in the back of her throat. “Mr. Mosley…”
“I’m glad, however. There’s something that I wanted to speak to you about.” He kept trying to crowd into her space, and while Shadow sitting between them helped buffer him a little, he was still far too close for her liking. “As I’ve already mentioned to Mr. Shelby, your affair with him…it has the potential to cause issues should it ever come to light.”
Lucy gulped. “We’re being careful…”
“A single woman, employed by a man who she is known throughout Birmingham to have had a relationship with during at least one stretch of time while she was working for him…that has the potential to insight quite the amount of gossip. Don’t you think?”
“If it’s gossip you’re worried about, Mr. Mosley, I suggest that you turn your attention to your own affairs. I’m sure many people would have lots to say about your very close relationship with most of your wife’s female relatives.”
Briefly, the mask of amusement he kept across his face faltered, replaced instead by a flicker of annoyance and something far darker. Beside her, Shadow growled again. Lucy tightened her grip on his lead. But Mosley seemed to pay no mind to the dog, taking a step closer to her.
“I have spoken to Thomas, and we have concluded that the best way to handle your particular situation is through two potential avenues. Either you leave his employment, or you find a husband.” That shark-like smile was suddenly back in place. “I already have several potential candidates in mind.”
Lucy felt as though she’d just been punched in the stomach. Her lungs constricted painfully. Her stomach heaved. She had to ball her hands up into fists to hide the slight way that they started to tremor.
“Tommy agreed to that?” she asked, her voice coming out sounding very small. Mosley’s smile widened.
“He said that he would consider it.”
The next breath that she managed to draw into her lungs was shaky. Quickly, she looked away, feeling the burn of tears starting to build up in the back of her throat.
“You have a say, of course. But I think we both know that you’ll do whatever it is that he decides for you.”
Her jaw tightened at the implication. “He knows how I feel about marriage.” Only half true. He knew how she had once felt about marriage. But he did not know that her feelings on the subject had softened with time. At least when it came to the idea of being married to him.
Mr. Mosley tilted his head. “Then…I wish you the best of luck in finding employment in the future. It may be hard, with your reputation for fucking your employer.” His eyes darted over her shoulder into the dining room. “Oh! Would you look at that? Breakfast.” And with a sleazy smile, he stepped around her and walked away, as if he had not just potentially brought what little remained of her world crashing down around her ears.
Tommy…had agreed to consider getting rid of her. Seemingly without even putting up a fight on her behalf.
Again.
Lucy stood there, staring straight ahead, so shocked and heartbroken that she couldn’t even move.
Was this not the ultimate confirmation that everything she had been thinking was true? If he was willing to send her away, or push her into marriage with another man, did that not indicate in absolute certainty that he no longer wanted her?
Forget about want. He didn’t even love her anymore.
“Miss. Winters?” It was Frances’s soft voice that drew her out of her trance, finding that the housekeeper had come up right beside her. “Are you staying for breakfast?” She thought that she might’ve detected a trace of hope in Frances’s eyes.
Lucy stared at her, then looked over her shoulder to where those who had spent the night at the house were beginning to gather to eat.
“No,” her voice came out weak and hoarse. She had to clear her throat before trying again. “No. Actually, could you have a car and driver brought around for me?”
“Now?” Frances’s voice filled with dismay.
“Yes.”
“You don’t want to wait for Mr. Shelby–?”
“No. I think it’s better if I just slip away this morning. In fact, tell Mr. Shelby that I’d rather he not bother me for a little while. Unless there’s something urgent that needs to be done for work.”
Frances hesitated. “He’ll want to see you…”
Lucy shot her a sad, understanding smile. It was sweet of her to try to make it sound like Tommy still cared for her. “No, he won’t.” With Frances following her, she went to the entryway, slipping on her coat and pulling on her gloves. “Let him know that Linda’s left Arthur. Maybe this time for good.”
Frances nodded, though her expression was troubled. “Yes, Miss. Winters. Car will be around in a moment.”
“Thank you.” She flexed her fingers back and forth, eager to be out of the house soon. It echoed with too many memories and residual feelings. The paintings watched her when she moved, and she could hear voices in the walls, see ghosts walking in the rooms. All of a past life. A life she once had here.
A life that was gone.
It took only a few minutes for the driver to come around with the car. She was gone before Tommy even set foot outside his room.
∗ ∗ ∗
“Frances, where’s Lucy?” Tommy asked as soon as he’d descended the stairs. He’d gone to her room as soon as he was up and dressed, eager to tell her about the compromise he’d worked out with Lizzie. She could stay here. At home. With him. And he would make sure that she never felt like she needed to leave ever again.
But she hadn’t been in her room. So he’d headed downstairs, assuming that she’d already gone down for breakfast.
Frances looked away, shifting from foot to foot. “She left, sir.”
He froze. “She what?”
“She was up early this morning. She spoke with Arthur and Mr. Mosley, and then she requested a car and driver to take her back to Mr. Strong’s.” She fumbled with her hands. “I tried to stop her, but…she was insistent.”
Tommy blinked, processing. “Did she say anything before she left?”
Again, Frances hesitated. “She said…to tell you that Linda has left Arthur. Maybe this time for good. And…” she paused, biting her lip. Tommy raised an eyebrow.
“Yes?”
“She said that she doesn’t want to be bothered. Not unless it’s something urgent related to work. At least for a little while.”
Tommy stared at her, not fully understanding.
What did I do wrong now?
He was more than aware that last night could have gone better on a whole array of accounts, but he didn’t think that he’d done anything that terrible to cause her to want nothing to do with him at all.
“Did…did she say why?”
“I’m afraid not, sir.” Frances’s eyes were sympathetic.
He sighed heavily, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking out the window. “Alright, thank you.”
“Mr. Mosley was just getting ready to leave.”
“Right.”
He went with her to the entryway to say his goodbyes, and watched from the window as Mosley got into his car and finally drove away. Relief washed over him potently, a little of the tension going out in his shoulders.
Even after Mosley was long gone, he stayed standing there, frowning as he gazed out towards the road that led up to the front of the house.
Why was she so earnestly running away from him? Was that what she wanted? Space between them? Separation? His chest burned agonizingly at the thought.
He was aware of Frances hovering by the door, watching over him with worry in her eyes. Tommy pinched at his brow. God, it wasn’t even nine o’clock in the morning and he already needed a fucking whisky.
“Where’s Arthur?”
“He left not long before Miss. Winters did.”
For fuck’s sake, could people please just stay in place for once? What was with everyone scattering all of a sudden?
“Alright, thank you, Frances.”
She nodded, but paused before heading to the door like she usually did. “I’m sorry, sir.”
He gave her a shake of his head, not needing to ask what she was referring to. “Don’t have anyone to blame but myself.” Looking back out of the window, he thumbed at his brow, wetting his lips and drawing in a shaky breath.
He could get into the car and go to her. Find her amongst the horses in the stables at the yard and tell her that he’d done it. He’d fixed things, like he promised. She could come back home, with no worry over breaking Lizzie’s rules or inciting conflicts. Things could go back to the way that they were.
But he hesitated. She was upset with him. As she had every right to be, about all sorts of things. And she clearly didn’t want to be around him. As evidenced by her asking Frances to tell him to leave her alone.
He would respect her wishes, he decided. Even though it killed him a little to not immediately seize the opportunity to bring her back home. The last thing he wanted to do was further upset her by stomping on her boundaries. And she couldn’t avoid him forever. They would have to interact for work eventually. He’d tell her about it then.
And, perhaps, he was a little frustrated with her. She kept pulling away from him. Every time that he tried to reach out, without fail. A switch had turned within her since he told her of the deal he’d struck with Lizzie. He’d been locked out of her mind, with no combination to get back in. And it was driving him mad not knowing what she was thinking. Each time that she rejected him, it hurt a little more. He didn’t know how much more of it he could take.
Would getting her exempted from Lizzie’s rules be enough, or had he already so irrevocably broken things that they could no longer be fixed?
∗ ∗ ∗
“I can’t believe him,” she whispered, sitting with her knees tucked beneath her, a cup of tea held in one hand.
“It might not be exactly what you think it is,” Charlie tried to reassure her gently. Lucy sighed.
“Yeah, maybe.” But her tone was not convinced.
“You’re really going to trust anything that comes out of that fascist prick’s mouth?” He shook his head. “Talk to Tom first, before you start getting too upset about it. I sincerely doubt that he’d ever even consider sacking you. Or marrying you off to someone else.”
“He did it to John,” she pointed out.
“That was different.”
“Was it?”
Charlie cast her a baffled look. “Of course it was. He loves you. He’d rather saw off a limb than let someone else marry you.”
Setting down her mug on the table between them, she stood, walking forward a few paces with her hands jammed into her pockets to stare out over the canal. She could feel Charlie still watching her from his seat.
“Why? It’s not like he’s ever going to marry me.” She couldn’t help the slight way that her voice caught on the words.
“Do you ever regret not marrying him when you had the chance?” Charlie asked. Lucy sighed. It certainly would have solved a whole hell of a lot of their problems. If she’d just managed to get over herself and do it.
No point thinking about any of it now. It wasn’t like she would ever get the chance, anyway.
“Yes,” she answered in a soft whisper.
“You should tell him that.”
The wind pulled a little on her hair, stinging where it whipped across her cheeks. “It wouldn’t do anyone any good.”
“You don’t know that.”
Looking back out over the canal, at its tempting rushing waters, she felt herself slip, then drop a little further down into the well of despair she was already lost deep, deep within.
“Yes, I do.”
∗ ∗ ∗
Lucy was only half paying attention to the conversation between Tommy and Ben, too busy working tirelessly over finishing up reports from her spot seated at the round table in the middle of Tommy’s office.
The days following the ballet had been rough. Arthur was an absolute mess after Linda left, and Michael was clearly still up to something, though she’d had limited time or ability to figure out what exactly that was. Tommy had respected her request that he leave her alone for a while. This was the first time they’d seen each other since the party. When she’d come in, he and Ben were already talking, so she’d just sat down and started in on her work.
“Younger,” Tommy called as the man stood to leave. “Please don’t listen to my sister’s opinions of me. They are always hopeful. Therefore they are always wrong.”
She shot a smile to Ben when he passed her on his way out the door, the door closing heavily behind him. Tommy stood from his chair, cigarette in hand.
“I wasn’t sure if you were going to come in today,” he commented after a moment. She glanced up briefly from her stack of papers, then looked back down again, unsure what to even say to him.
His shoes thumped against the floor as he made his way over to glance out the window. He turned back to look at her. Coughed and glanced down at his shoes. “I miss you.”
She looked back up at him, frowning. “What do you mean? I’m right here.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Tommy…” she leaned back in her chair, pressing her fingers to her temple in an attempt to stave off an oncoming headache. “I…” she looked away at the bookshelves in the corner. She sucked in a deep breath, reminding herself to be strong. “We can’t.”
“Why not?” he asked.
“It’s better this way.”
“Better for who?”
“Oh, I don’t know, how about your fucking wife, Tommy? Your kids, who don’t have to live in a house where their parents are having screaming matches every night!?” she stood up from the table, striding towards him, suddenly furious.
“So what? We’re not allowed to be happy? We have to spend the rest of our lives being miserable?” Tommy argued back, voice raising.
“Yeah, well you seem to be doing just fine to me,” she spat out bitterly.
“What the fuck does that mean!?”
“Nothing,” her voice softened as she turned away sharply.
“Hey!” He grabbed her by the arm, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to hold her in place and force her to remain facing him. “You’re the one who left!”
“And you’re the one who made that deal with Lizzie in the first place without even thinking of me!”
“Which I fucking fixed! Which you would know about, if you would stop dodging all my attempts to talk to you.”
She froze, brows pulling together. “What do you mean, you fixed it?”
Tommy drew in a ragged breath, voice lowering from the raised pitch it had been in a moment ago. “I worked out a compromise with her. The new rules still apply to anyone else, but not to you.” He reached out to touch her cheek, but she pulled her face away, searching his eyes, not even sure what exactly she was looking for. He sighed and dropped his hand. “You can come back home. Things can go back to the way that they were.”
She could have sworn that she saw a hopeful spark in those big blue orbs, but chalked it up to just wishful thinking.
A part of her wanted to fall into his arms, let him whisk her away and back to Arrow House so they could return to carrying on like they had. But the rest of her, the part now in control, recoiled at the thought.
“No,” she whispered, still staring at him, her lips parted and brows drawing inwards. Tommy jerked back as if she’d slapped him, eyes widening with such deep hurt she wondered if it would have wounded him less had she actually cut him.
“What? Why? The rules don’t apply to you anymore, love. We don’t have to worry about sleeping together under that roof, or any of that nonsense about me not being able to touch Ruby a day after–”
“This isn’t just about Lizzie’s rules, Tommy,” she shook her head back and forth furiously, voice rising again in hysterical frustration. He was so smart. The smartest person she knew. How could he not understand? Was he unaware of it? Or was he just toying with her; doing what he needed to keep her close, like he did with the likes of Lizzie, Jessie Eden…
Was it not enough that he’d already broken her heart? Did he really need to drag her back to the place where she was obviously so unwanted just to stomp on it some more? To…what? Assuage the guilt he felt for falling out of love with her? Or was it duty and responsibility that he felt he still carried for her that made him so insistent?
“Then what? What is it?” his eyes were imploring, both hands gripping at her upper arms. “Tell me,” he practically begged.
“I can’t go back. Not when I know she only changed the rules because you twisted her arm on it–”
“Actually, I didn’t really have to–”
“Just stop it, Tommy!” she snapped. “Just stop it! You don’t have to keep doing this. There’s no need to keep pretending, or feeling guilty, or whatever the fuck this actually is!”
“What the hell are you talking about!?” his voice rose alongside hers, frustration and bewilderment crackling across his face.
A sob heaved its way out of her lungs. “I don’t want to talk about this right now. I already understand, isn’t that enough!?”
“Understand what!?”
The question, combined with her continued downward spiral, only served to make her more angry. He didn’t love her anymore. They both knew it. Why was he so insistent that she say it? Did he not understand that, by making her actually speak aloud the truth that she’d come to believe since he’d chosen Lizzie over her, he risked destroying her completely? “You know exactly what!”
“No, I don’t! I can’t, when you won’t fucking talk to me!”
KA-BOOM!
Whatever response she would have come up with was interrupted by a thunderous boom and the spray of broken glass as the window behind Tommy blasted inwards. One moment she was standing in front of him and the next she was seized up in Tommy’s arms, sandwiched between the desk and his body as he curled around her in a protective shield. Her hands fisted with the lapels of his suit jacket, ears ringing and eyes squeezed closed.
For a moment, neither of them moved from their position scrunched down against his desk. Lucy blinked sluggishly, squinting at the broken window in an attempt to process just what the hell had happened.
“Are you alright?” Tommy asked. When she didn’t respond he leaned off of her, hand on her face. “Lucy, hey, are you okay?”
She stared at him with wide eyes. Her hip ached a little from where he had slammed her into the desk, and her ears were still ringing, but other than that she seemed uninjured. “Y-yeah. Yes.” She reached out an unsteady hand to cup his face. “Are you?”
He nodded, straightening to take in the damage. Had it been under other circumstances, she would have been amused to notice that he had somehow managed to keep ahold of his cigarette in his right hand. “C’mon,” he took her tightly by the hand, guiding her swiftly out of the office and towards the front door.
“What was it?” she asked, pulling her gun from its holster against her ribs when she noticed him taking out his.
“Car bomb. I think. Ready?” He rested his hand on the doorknob. She nodded and he pushed it open. They filed out into the street, guns raised as they scanned the area around and above them for assailants. There was no one. Ben’s car that was parked just outside the office was in flames.
“Check the car,” Tommy told her as he rushed towards the collapsed figures of three children who had been playing in the street. She jogged over to the burning vehicle, careful to keep away from the raging flames, and peered in. She could just barely make out a figure in the driver’s seat. Unmoving. The smell of burning flesh made her recoil. Tommy was shouting instructions to one of the women from the office who had ventured out to see what was going on. He helped haul two of the three dazed children to their feet and usher them inside. The third child, the one closest to the car, wasn’t moving, Tommy instead hefted the little boy up into his arms, the child’s limbs limp as a rag doll’s. Tommy sat down heavily on the curb with the boy’s body still cradled in his arms. Cautiously, Lucy approached him, holstering her gun and sitting beside him.
“Ben’s dead.”
He nodded, swallowing hard. She rested a comforting hand on his knee.
“Lucy, listen–”
“Later,” she shook her head, eyes fixed on the boy’s dead body held tight against Tommy’s chest. The smell of the burning car was still fresh in her nostrils. “We’ll sort it all out later.”
“When?”
She didn’t have an answer for him, instead just squeezing the hand on his knee.
“When you left,” his voice was shaky, eyes staring at some point faraway, “you said that we could still be together.”
She bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from sobbing. Instead she just leaned into his side, arm wrapping around his back while her head rested on his shoulder. His cheek immediately came to settle on the top of her head.
“I know,” she said, and closed her eyes. For a while they sat there, a question balancing on the tip of her tongue, trying to muster up the courage to ask it. “Are you going to send me away?”
Tommy looked over at her sharply. “What?”
“Mosley told me what you two were planning.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He said that you are either to sack me or marry me off to one of his friends.”
Tommy let out a harsh breath, shoulders heaving.
“Are you?”
“No. Of course not, sweetheart. I’d never send you away. I’d never let any of his people touch you.”
“He said that you were considering it.”
“That’s just what I told him to get him to stop badgering me about it.”
“He seemed pretty insistent.”
Tommy released another trembling sigh, eyes going to where Ben’s car was still burning. “I know. I’m working on it. Don’t worry. You’re not going anywhere.”
She nodded, suddenly feeling a little silly for having believed Mosley. Even after Charlie had tried to dissuade her from doing so. Next to her, she could feel Tommy’s eyes boring into the side of her head. He scooted a little closer to her.
“That’s not all that this is about though, is it?”
She felt her brows pinch, considering if she should just ask him the other dreaded question. Maybe the answer wouldn’t really be what she expected it to be.
She was just about to speak, when the police and ambulance arrived.
∗ ∗ ∗
Tommy stepped into his and Lucy’s London apartment, sweeping off his cap and shrugging out of his coat after closing and latching the door behind him.
The image of Ada, silver tears rolling down her cheeks when he told her of Ben Younger’s death, kept replaying in his head. The smell of burning rubber and flesh was still lodged in his nose, and he swore that he could still feel the weight of the dead ten year old boy in his arms.
Good intentions. That was all he’d had, and now a child and his sister’s lover were both dead.
If only he’d gone carrying on as he had. None of this would have happened. And he wasn’t just talking about his professional life.
If he hadn’t tried to patch things up with Lizzie, if he had continued to allow her to wallow in her resentment and bitterness towards him without interference, he would not have lost the love of his life.
He was unable to get the devastated look on Lucy’s face while she shouted at him before the bomb went off out of his head. Her refusal to return home burned, chewing away at his already fragmented heart.
She no longer wanted him. It wouldn’t surprise him if she left for good soon. Every time he let her out of his sight, he wondered if it would be the last time that he would ever see her.
Anyone you touch…
He closed his eyes against Ada’s words. They all really would be better off without him, wouldn’t they? They certainly would be a whole hell of a lot happier.
Push the button. Unlock the door and come home to me.
He had. He had pushed the button so fucking fast, bracing for the rush of flames of a bomb igniting the entirety of his car. Disappointment crushed over him like a mountain falling upon his shoulders when the reprieve that he longed for did not come, the engine merely starting smoothly.
Coughing softly into his fist, he went to the main bedroom, hesitating in the doorway when he found Lucy sitting up on her side of the bed, in one of her nightgowns but reading and marking up some documents by the light of the lamp on her nightstand. Sensing his presence, she looked up.
“Hey,” she set aside her work. “How did it go?”
He wetted his lips. “She cried.”
Lucy nodded, expression grave, eyes observing him carefully. Tommy shifted from foot to foot, eyeing the space next to her in the bed. He wanted nothing more than to clamber in and lay his head on her. Let her hold him and stroke his hair and help melt away some of the agony he was in. But she did not want that anymore. Clearly, considering she’d refused his suggestion that she finally come home and they put this madness of separation behind them.
He didn’t deserve that type of comfort, anyway. Certainly not from her, when he’d already put her through so much. He would no longer burden her with his problems.
“Anyway,” he hefted in a deep breath, the awkwardness between them close to killing him. “I’ll go…sleep in the other room.”
Lucy frowned. “You don’t have to…”
“It’s fine,” he took a step back. “Goodnight.” He did not wait to hear her response, closing the door softly between them. He rested his hand longingly against the heavy wood separating them, throat spasming with the force in which he swallowed to try to keep himself from crying.
I’m so sorry, my sweetheart. He wished that there was a way for him to convey to her the true depth in which he regretted ruining what they had. Slipping away to the second bedroom, he stripped out of everything save for his pants and climbed into the crisp white sheets, sprawling out on his back.
It wasn’t that he was giving up, he just had no idea what more to do to try to mend things between them. Not when she wouldn’t even talk to him about what was really wrong.
He would not be getting much sleep tonight, if any at all. He knew that already. So instead he resigned himself to staring up at the canopy, and allowing his miserable thoughts of self hatred and regret to consume him.
∗ ∗ ∗
Lucy stared at him blankly after he finished relaying the new plan for dealing with Mosley to her. Blinking slowly, she looked down at her hands, clasped in front of her on the table. Tommy shifted from foot to foot anxiously. He’d sat her down at the round table in the Birmingham office after they’d gotten in from attending the funeral of the boy who’d died in the explosion. They’d walked together down the street, following the carriage carrying the tiny coffin as the horses pulled it along. Lucy’s shoulder had brushed against his every few paces, as if in an attempt at comfort.
He knew how what he had just told her probably looked, and wondered sorrowfully why he couldn’t seem to stop fucking things up when it came to her.
“Why him?” she asked, finally.
“He was the best sniper in our company.” When it came to this job, he wasn’t going to risk anything less than the best.
“I could do it.”
He shook his head. “No.” It physically hurt him to look at the wounded expression that crossed her face.
She probably thought that he was trying to replace her. Giving the job that had always been hers out to a man in a straightjacket. She ran a hand through her hair and leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest and looking down at the floor. Tommy wanted to wrap her up in his arms and never let her go.
“Love, listen,” he said gently, sitting down in the chair beside her. “When this is over, there’s going to be a massive investigation. Heads will roll trying to figure out who was behind it. We can’t be linked to it.”
“I won’t get caught–”
“They will hunt you until you are, love. But this way, they’ll just attribute it to a madman who still thinks he’s in the middle of a war. There won’t even be a need for further investigation.”
She looked at him with slightly narrowed eyes. “I’m very annoyed that you’re making this make sense.”
Tommy made a sound that could have been the beginning of a laugh. There she was. There was his girl that he had missed so much. He knew she was still in there somewhere. His hands cupped her cheeks, forehead pressing to hers. “Don’t worry. You’re still my favorite assassin.”
“I was looking forward to putting a bullet in his fucking fascist face.”
“I’ll make sure you have a front row seat,” he petted her cheek with his thumb. “Alright?”
Her lips twitched upwards into a small smirk, hand resting over his own. He had missed this; the feeling of comradery. Of it being them against the world.
∗ ∗ ∗
The asylum was cold and eerie. The guard searched them rather thoroughly upon their arrival. Lucy could sense Tommy watching him like a hawk the entire time that he patted her down, supervising in case the guard tried to push things too far with his touches. But he didn’t, and they proceeded to follow him down the white hallways without incident.
The sounds of indiscernible cries and screaming echoed in the cells that they passed. Tommy kept checking over his shoulder, to make sure that she was still behind him.
The man Tommy told her was named Barney was huddled in the corner of his cell, strapped in a straightjacket, eyes darting around wildly. But he seemed mostly lucid as he spoke to Tommy. Lucy remained quiet, save for briefly introducing herself when they first entered, and sat watchfully in the corner, eyeing up her replacement.
No, not her replacement. It was just for this job only. At least that’s what she kept trying to remind herself.
Barney seemed, well…nice. It was almost sweet to listen to him and Tommy reminisce about the time they had spent serving in France together. He reminded her a bit of a puppy, Lucy decided. It was the way he had perked up at Tommy’s mention of a beautiful French waitress they had encountered. Or the way he stood at the bars, watching them leave, smiling and murmuring in excitement at his impending break out.
“Barney seems like fun,” she commented after they walked out of the asylum. Tommy smiled a little.
“You should have seen him before. You two would have gotten along great.”
“Horrific place, though,” she glanced over her shoulder at the asylum.
“Yes,” he agreed, deep in thought.
“Do you really think that this is going to work?”
“Why? You don’t trust me?” his voice was teasing, but his eyes were sad.
“You? Absolutely. I just hope that your sniper hasn’t lost his touch after all these years.”
“He hasn’t.”
“Alright then.”
She had been feeling particularly guilty ever since their fight in Tommy’s office. Both for brushing him off and avoiding him, and also for still not having truly sat down and talked about any of it like he so clearly wanted to. But at the same time, the painful sting of feeling unwanted continued to prickle at her. It was hard to fully believe that Tommy was as broken up over her being gone as he claimed to be.
Even when staying over at the apartment, he’d taken to sleeping in the second bedroom. If that wasn’t an obvious enough message as to how he felt about her, she wasn’t really sure what was.
Fuck, she was so damned confused. She missed being able to read him like a book.
A painful feeling of something else, something tied to the feeling of being unwanted, twisted inside her. Because it didn’t really matter if he was as upset as he claimed, because he had still chosen Lizzie over her. And now, he had chosen another person, one he hadn’t directly interacted with in ten years, to give her job to.
A hand brushed over hers, quietly demanding her full attention on him. His blue eyes were stern.
“You’re not being replaced,” he said.
“No?” she tried to keep her tone light, though she was certain that he could see the doubt in her eyes.
“He’s going right back there once the job is done,” a gloved thumb rubbed along her knuckles. “I promise.”
There was no room for argument, no dishonesty in his eyes. Hope, cruel and malicious, flickered in her chest. She nodded trustingly.
“Okay. Let’s go kill Oswald Mosley.”
∗ ∗ ∗
“I had more complicated strategies in mind for Mr. Mosley. Then he spoke badly to my wife. It’s gonna be a busy few weeks, brother,” Tommy said to Arthur before walking away. Arthur answered in the affirmative, rubbing his hands together and going to assist Charlie and Curly with unloading the boat carrying Chang’s shipment of opium that they’d arrived on.
Lucy remained standing where she had been stationed by the very edge of the canal. Staring with her eyes straight forward, her entire figure going stock-still at the words Tommy had just so casually uttered.
Lizzie. He was going to kill Mosley, for Lizzie.
Not for business reasons, or political ones. Not because he’d insisted that he either sack her or marry her off. Not for the good of the country, or the safety of the family, or even because wiping that fascist, dangerous piece of shit off the face of the earth actually was the morally right thing to do. No; he was doing this for her. For his wife. The mother of his children.
The woman he loved.
Lucy felt her heart constrict inside her chest, splintering in half agonizingly.
Below her, the waters from the cut raced past in a wild surge. She thought of how easy it would be to just step off. One tip forward. A slight unbalancing, and she would go into the water.
Would anyone even notice? Would anyone even care? Or would she be left to sink beneath the dark black depths, for the fish to eat out her eyes and the water to swell within her lungs?
Lizzie had replaced her in his heart. Barney was replacing her in her job as one of the gang’s assassins. They had a whole network of spies that Isiah was more than familiar enough with to run on his own if he needed to, and Adam could easily pick up the brunt of what she did at the London office. The rest of her various professional duties could be divided up between the rest of the family without fuss. The kids had Lizzie to mother them.
She was not needed. Not wanted. Not even loved anymore.
Maybe Tommy had never even really loved her at all in the first place.
She’d started to foolishly allow herself to hope again, just a tiny miniscule amount, after the car bomb went off outside the office and he practically dove on top of her to protect her from the blast. But that must have just been the result of the old instincts of the soldier he’d once been. Not a symptom of any enduring love for her.
Mist curled around her ankles, as if trying to coax her to the water. Just tip forward. You don’t even have to take a step. Just lean into the embrace of the black current, and the water will do the rest. You can be with Grace again. No one here will miss you anyway.
Tempting as the offer was, she did not move. She was unable too, so crushed by one simple realization that she was incapable of any other motion, thought, or speech.
She had lost Tommy forever.
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#peaky blinders#tommy shelby#my ocs#lucy winters#lucy winters x tommy shelby#tommy shelby x oc#love me where i'm most ruined#lily writes
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No Son Of Mine (One Shot)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/5a99e279110816ef8bf020256fd22092/2165aad0f9efbc8f-03/s540x810/78b1caf190d5f4ccf99b48220b5a2310245e6996.jpg)
Summary: Justice had finally been served in the wake of John's death. But with all acts of violence comes consequences, one Tommy must face when his trusted friend Johnny dogs stumbles upon the now orphaned baby of the traitor and his wife he and Arthur had both murdered in cold blood all in the name or revenge. With no child of their own and Graces refusal to send him to the orphanage, Tommy begrudgingly takes the child into his care. Will Tommy ever show young Oliver the love of a father he deserves? Or will he continue to see him as nothing but a burden the heavens had cruelly punished him with?
Warnings: Language, mentions of murder, mentions of blood, angst, fluff
Authors note: A lovely reader of mine popped into my messages and kindly asked me if I could write this story for them. I'm sorry for the long delay hun, I can only blame my procrastinating brain for my tardiness. Anyway, I hope i did your prompt justice. Enjoy!
"Right, we done?" Tommy said raising a brow as he wiped the blood that had splattered onto to his crisp white evening shirt looking to his brother Arthur nodding his head in response, his chest heaving up and down as he brushed his bloody hands through his hair, both having been sidetracked from the nights festivities.
" Fucking scum" Arthur sniffed wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he gave one last kick to the lifeless body at his feet. A cascade of events since John's death had led up to this very day, and Tommy and Arthur both simultaneously agreed without the need of words that justice had finally been served. Luca Changretta had been dead for almost a fortnight, the vendetta was over for all but the two surviving older brothers. That was until tonight when both Arthur and Tommy were unexpectedly called away to the news that Johnny dogs had found exactly who they'd been looking for. The traitor, the informer, the bastard that had given John's address to the Italians. A Peaky Blinder, one of their very own men.
" What about her?" Arthur spat a splutter of saliva laced with blood to the ground, the result of one lucky punch from the chancer that had tried his luck with the towering gangster. He'd put up a decent fight, one Arthur enjoyed watching before his patience grew thin and he pummeled his fist into him, each snap and break of his bloody face crumbling into something unrecognizable before being shot point-blank in the head. No one wanting or willing to hold him back. Not even Tommy. No forgiveness was given that dark night, only the sweet mercy met at the end of the barrel of a gun.
" Collateral" Tommy replied as he rubbed a cigarette across his lips not giving the nights events one ounce of remorse. This was for John after all.
" Collateral?" Arthur sniffed feeling a pang of guilt hit his stomach. Women and children were not to be harmed, an unspoken agreement before time in all dealings in war between men.
" Yes Arthur, fucking collateral alright?" Tommy snapped as he marched over to his brother whose eyes hadn't left those of the lifeless woman laid on the muddied ground below him " She ran into the line of fire brother. She all but killed herself" Tommy finished growing impatient with Arthur's weighing guilt. The last thing he needed was his number one soldier to be hit with a moral compass.
" Lads, we've got ourselves a wee problem" Johnny rushed over breathless as he loosened the neckerchief from the vein pumping angrily on the side of his neck. Fuck sake, Tommy thought to himself as he threw his cigarette to the ground. Things could never go smoothly, as smoothly as murder could go that was.
" What kinda problem?" Tommy replied as he and Arthur followed him into the small bedsit from the courtyard that two dead bodies had yet to be disposed of. The commotion resulting in the curiosity and twitching of the neighbours curtains, not one of them daring to or even contemplating in the slightest to inform any person of authority. Who would they go to? The police? The mere thought was laughable.
"Just a small one" Johnny replied taking two steps at a time up the rickety wooden stairs elaborating no further on what exactly had thrown a spanner into the works.
"A small problem Johnny eh? That's a big fucking problem!" Tommy ranted shaking his head as the three men entered the flat met with the sound of a newborn baby wailing in his woven bassinet, his bottom lip wobbling with each cry that furiously left his little lungs.
"Well he's small ain't he?" Johnny replied as he tilted his head looking down at the baby boy bundled in a white knitted blanket. You'd think with the the small army of children Johnny had fathered he'd be in his element. But that couldn't be further from the truth. Johnny was a natural with children, but a natural with children that had been weened, potty trained, and able enough to drive a four wheeled vehicle and shoe a horse. In basic terms, teenagers. But nonetheless wee babbies in his eyes. Newborns were all but a loud messy mystery to him.
" Jesus fucking Christ..." Tommy huffed pinching his brow as his mind frantically tried to come up with a solution as to what in the hell he was going to do now.
" Bloody hell, bloody fucking hell!" Arthur bellowed as he kicked the chair beside him, the gravity of what they had just gone hitting him far more than any sin from the long list he had committed in the past. They had made a child an orphan, and Arthur's regret and new-found faith in the almighty was about to turn into a furious rage of self-inflicted guilt.
" Hey, hey!" Tommy said cupping Arthur's head in his hands in a vice grip, trying to snap him from the pit he was intent on falling in. " Johnny take the child and go start the car" Tommy said loosening his hands as Arthur's head cast down with shame at his sudden outburst. No reading of scriptures would ever be able to tame the raging fury from igniting within him at any given moment, no matter how hard he tried. " And Johnny, light a fire. Just as we did for John" Tommy finished reminding Arthur who this was for, who they were avenging.
" He won't quit!" Arthur panicked as he held the baby in the back seat of the car, fumbling with the hand stitched blanket as Tommy drove full speed down the country lane back to Arrow house were the night of meeting with dignitaries was surely over.
" He ain't a bloody chicken is he?" Johnny said as he reached over from the passengers seat taking the bundled up child into his arms. " Like this, look" Johnny added resting the baby's head on his shoulder as he silently prayed to every ancestor to take pity on him, promising them that the next child to be birthed with his last name he'd be the epitome of a modern father to.
" Shut him up Johnny!" Tommy shouted, his jaw clenched at the increased wailing in his ear, his nerves on edge by the constant reminder of the nights events he now had to deal with as he slammed his foot down on the pedal with Arrow house in sight.
"Grace!" Tommy's voice bellowed through the walls of the their house. Every guest had already left, the grand entrance cleared of tables of the most prestigious of all champagnes imported from France mere hours ago. A night of free food, free booze and music in return for them delving into their pockets. But with the host having been otherwise occupied for most of the evening it was a night wasted, one he would begrudgingly have to endure for a second time.
" Tommy..." Grace said as she hurried down the stairs pulling her ivory night gown around her as she watched Tommy pace back and forth with a cigarette hanging from his lips in the grand hallway.
" Here. You wanted a baby, now you have one" Tommy said as he took the child from Johnny's arms placing him into hers before storming off to his office and slamming the door shut, leaving his wife wide-eyed in confusion as Johnny and Arthur stood there sheepishly without a word.
" Frances, some warm cows milk and another blanket please. That will have to do until the morning" she said softly not wanting to startle the child anymore as she gently hushed his sobs away into small whimpers and sniffles. " One of you going to tell me what happened?"
It had been an hour, three whiskys, a packet of cigarettes and the rubbing of one's brow back and forth as a pounding headache settled onto his forehead since Tommy had shut himself away in his office, shutting himself away from the consequences of the night.
" Tommy?" Graces voice quietly announced as she entered the room with the newborn bundled in her arms soundly asleep as a flash of love at seeing his wife in her element softened her husband's face. Her motherly instincts that had been waiting to be freed finally being put to use after the longing for her own child.
" I've rung the orphanage" Tommy bluntly replied, the sweet moment that had captured him bitterly snatched away by no one else but himself as he stubbed out his cigarette. " They're coming first thing tomorrow to..."
" The orphanage. Tommy..." Grace interrupted him, her angered voice raising just above a whisper in response before being cut off herself.
" I won't hear anymore on it Grace. He can't stay here, that's the end of it" Tommy stood up throwing his lighter on a stack of paperwork as he rested his hands on the mahogany desk in front of him, looming over the list of numbers he had been calling as he huffed out a cloud of smoke.
" The end of it is it Thomas?" Grace scoffed as she walked forward, her eyes narrowing in on her husband with every step she took. " You made this child an orphan, he is your responsibility now. That's the end of it" she said coming to a stop in front of his desk as her husbands jaw tightened at her words.
" What about John's kids eh? They've been made orphans, hm? Grace? " He said as his wife turned her back on him as she headed for the door, Tommy's raised voice enough to startle a small whimper of cries from the baby boy now waking up from a deep slumber.
" When will it end Tommy?" Grace said as she came to a stop at the door. Tommy's relentless need for revenge against anyone who had dared to cross him leaving a string of orphans, elderly burying their own children and children burying their own parents. " A son Tommy, isn't that what you've wanted? What we've wanted?" she sighed, a deep wave of sorrow filling her heart as she looked down at the sweet child in her arms, a child she had yearned for during the unforgiving nights she had held onto her husband as tears streamed her face. Loss after loss breaking her already shattered heart.
" He'll be no son of mine"
Six years later...
" Elbows off Oliver" Grace reprimanded with a small smile of affection at the breakfast table to the child who had grown into a dimpled cheeked young boy as she rubbed her swollen stomach.
" Yes mummy" he replied kicking his legs back and forth as he wiped his cheeks from the egg soldiers he had just enjoyed as Tommy eyed him over the newspaper in his hand, reaching to caress his wife's stomach.
" He'll be here soon" Grace smiled to her husband lacing her fingers between his as she glanced over at her son that had no knowledge of who his birth parents were or the night that had brought him into their life, never wanting to or willing to send him into turmoil with the truth at such a young age "A baby brother for you Oliver " she winked to him as he grinned from ear to ear at the idea of having a sibling all whilst trying to stack the remaining pieces of toast into a strong hold that would keep the soldiers from the fiery dragon his imagination had conjured up. His attempts rendered futile when his tower of toast came crashing down onto the recently polished floors.
" Grace..." Tommy huffed folding his newspaper in half throwing it on the table in front of him, his patience easily tested with anything the small boy did that caused the slightest of inconvenience.
" Don't play with your food darling" she corrected him as Oliver's eyes darted to his father and the irritation clearly expressed in the creases of his furrowed brow. "Go clean up those buttery cheeks before I leave ok?" She smiled as the boy nodded in response while sliding off his seat only to stand on the scattered toast below him, causing a mountain of crumbs and further mess.
" You heard your mother" Tommy huffed lighting a cigarette as he looked down at the waste of food and the disorder that came with the child that had created it. " Oliver" Tommy pinched his brow as the little boy stood there doe eyed looking up at him nervously through his lashes.
" Go on" Grace smiled reassuring him as he ran to the door. " You're to harsh with him, he's scared of you" Grace said snapping her head to Tommy as he left the room.
" He doesn't listen" Tommy stated as he stood up taking a drag of his cigarette as he watched the boy through the crack of the door running up the stairs. " Stands there looking gormless whenever I tell him to do something, just like his traitor father"
" Tommy!" Grace said as she put the breakfast dishware down, crashing them onto the table in one loud clatter of knives, forks and spoons as she hurried to shut the door. " Don't ever let him hear you talk like that!"
" Well maybe he should know, eh Grace ?" Tommy said coldly stubbing his cigarette out, the pain from his brothers death never fully grieved, only ever making itself clear through the unfair coldness he showed to the child his wife had lovingly taken in all those years ago, raising him solely on her own over the watchful eye of him always standing from afar.
" You'd like that wouldn't you Tommy? Wouldn't have to keep up your facade anymore" Grace replied as she walked around the table. " Your his father, he knows no different. Just like this one" she said resting her hand on her stomach. " You're breaking his heart Tommy" she said taking his hand trying to reason with his stubbornness and the relentless friction he had undoubtedly created in the house the three of them shared. "I'm going to miss my train" she sighed as she closed her hand around his placing a tender kiss to his lips before turning to leave as Tommy followed behind her, watching from the door as she knelt down to Oliver in the entryway.
" Can't i come?" the young boy sobbed as she brushed his tears from his rosy cheeks. " Please?" he sniffed turning to see Tommy leaning against the door frame watching from afar, always from afar.
" I'm sorry darling, not this time" she replied a look of concern in her eyes about leaving him alone with Tommy, silently wishing this one time he would push his unenthusiastic demeanor aside and at least try if not for her then the little boy who thought the world of him. The same little boy with a determination that matched the very man who would brush off any attempts he made to impress him. Tommy's hate for the man that had fathered him clouding every parental instinct in his body. " I'll bring you something back" she winked giving him a hug before she fixed her hat and hesitantly turned to the door, leaving the young boy standing in the hallway sobbing as Tommy cruelly turned his back on his tears and shut the dinning room door behind him.
" Dad, Johnny, watch me!" Oliver shouted as he precariously placed one foot in front of the other climbing the large oak tree shading the evening sun on the grounds of Arrow house as Tommy and Johnny dogs watched on from the patio door. The young boy hell-bent on getting to the very top after seeing his uncle Arthur climb the very same tree two weeks earlier as he watched on in awe.
"That 'a boy!" Johnny shouted back pulling his cigarette from his mouth as he waved back. " Found 'em Tom" he turned to Tommy in a hushed voice as he leaned in. "They live up north in Yorkshire, factory workers in the local pressing center. Dirt poor, drunk ol' man that beats his wife within an inch of her life and too many mouths to feed" Johnny added as he watched Tommy's eyes following Oliver's every move.
" He's gonna fucking fall" Tommy huffed under his breath as he stood up straight, already on guard for the inevitable. He never fucking listens, why would he never listen to him?
" Tom, you listening ?" Johnny said as he pulled the address of Oliver's uncle from his pocket. " Grace will never forgive you Tom, he's her whole world" Johnny added as Tommy took the piece of crumpled paper from him, the decision to send Oliver to his family having been made after the unexpected news of Grace's pregnancy, a decision made solely by him without her knowledge. It's better she didn't know, better for him that was. And when the day did come, he'd tell her his family claimed him back. What grounds would she have to fight them? She'd be distracted with the birth of their son, she'd forget...wouldn't she?
"Dad look!" Oliver shouted trying to get his attention, determined to show him how far he could climb, how he was as fearless as any other Shelby before he misplaced his foot and came tumbling down to the ground.
"Oliver!" Tommy shouted throwing his cigarette into the grass as he and Johnny ran over in a panic. " What did I tell you eh?! What did I fucking tell you?!" Tommy shouted, all words of expected comfort and love absent from his voice as anger and frustration took over.
"I'm sorry..." he sobbed looking up to his dad as Tommy removed his cap from his head, running his hands through his hair as he looked down at the bloody cut on his hand, every ounce of his being telling him to cradle the boy in his arms that knew nothing but him as his father.
" Ay, up you get" Johnny said helping him as he gave him a pat to his back. " Just a scratch Oliver ay? No broken bones. Nout to worry on. Ain't that right Tommy?" Johnny said in attempts to reassure the sobbing boy and Tommy who was about ready to snap again, his jaw tightened at the sight of Oliver's cheeks streamed with tears, muddy and red from the blow of the fall.
"Get inside" Tommy said placing his cap back on as he started marching back to the house, ignoring the pit of fear in his stomach at how things could have taken a turn for the worse under his watch of the boy Grace had entrusted him with. " Boys don't cry Oliver. Soldier up and wipe those tears" Tommy harshly stated as he left him and Johnny by themselves as he made his way to his office, shutting himself once again away from any more responsibility, anymore damage his presence caused.
" Come on lad" Johnny said putting his arm around him as Oliver sniffed back his tears feeling foolish that he had not only fallen but cried In front of his father, the man that never cried.
Sitting back in his leather chair Tommy rubbed the weight of the guilt that had settled on his forehead with the tips of his fingers as the night drew in, the soft hue from the crackling fire the only source of light in the blackened room he had locked himself in for the remainder of the evening. The impending birth of his child had unexpectedly thrown Tommy's thoughts into an uncomfortable disarray. Out of sight out of mind had been Tommy's only solution to the feelings that had started to arise in him that fatherhood had threatened, that fatherhood had been threatening him with for six years. Oliver was more like him than Tommy dared to admit. The child's strong will and refusal to listen one of his own cruel making. Why couldn't he love him like he already loved his unborn child? How long could he keep this up? Would he be that man, unashamedly favoring one child in front of the other? With too many questions dominating his thoughts and his wife's gentle voice absent to soothe the demons he had created for himself, Tommy did what he only knew how to do. Drink himself to the bottom of a whisky bottle. Heading up to the second floor of Arrow house with the finest bottle of Irish whisky in his hand he stopped at the top of the stairs, small whimpers and cries coming from the room at the end of the hallway capturing his attention. Oliver's room.
" Frances!" Tommy called out as he waited for the the housekeeper to deal with what he knew he couldn't. "Fuck sake" he huffed under his breath after waiting in place for someone to come before he found himself walking down the hallway to Oliver's room. There, with his knees curled up to his chest Tommy watched though the crack of the door as Oliver rubbed his hand back and forth over the bandage wrapped tightly around his injured wrist, his small frame illuminated by the cast of the gentle moonlight shining through his bedroom window. Running his hand down his face Tommy opened the door as Oliver quickly turned around pulling the blankets up to his chin.
"Oliver?" Tommy questioned placing the bottle of whisky on the side cabinet as he walked over. " Why aren't you asleep?" Tommy said more bluntly than he intended to as he stood by the bed, feeling a wave of unease wash over him as he noted the small blanket Oliver was clutching onto. The very same blanket he was wrapped in the night they had found him. Grace had kept it, something he would have known if he had ever sat and read him a bedtime story, if he had ever woke in the night to hush the nightmares away from his worried mind, if he had ever even entered his room in all of the six years he had lived under his roof." Let me see" Tommy said in a gentler tone as he sat beside him on the bed. " Oliver let me see" he said when no response came from the whimpers the small child was trying to stifle. Boys don't cry. " Please?" Tommy sighed resting his hand on the child's back as his head fell into his other, the guilt of six year of taking the life of his parents settling on his shoulders pushing him further into his elbow digging into his leg as his head grew heavy with regret. Sniffling, Oliver turned around with his hand out as Tommy cradled it gently in his own, the difference in size causing Tommy's throat to go dry. The hate for his father's betrayal that of a grown mans doing, not this young boys that Tommy had cruelly burdened him with for six years " First of many battle wounds eh?" Tommy smiled to the young boy as Oliver's face stayed unchanged, unresponsive to Tommy trying to ease his worry. Had he done this? Made the child is his care so frightened of him he couldn't even a coax a smile from him?
" Soldiers don't cry" Oliver said pulling his hand away, his bottom lip turning down at the thought he wasn't as strong as his father, a soldier like him.
" They do Oliver" Tommy said as his brows knitted together at the thought that young Oliver had taken his words to heart. What else had Tommy said in the past six years, what else had he unknowingly taught him?
" You said boys..."
" And I shouldn't have " Tommy answered before he could finish as the boy wiped his tears from his youthful cheeks whilst a small silence filled the room, the strain from their relationship left empty with nothing further to say as Tommy desperately tried to search for the comforting words he knew Oliver needed to hear. " You want your mum don't you?" Tommy said swallowing harshly as he turned his head to the rays of moonlight cast on the wooden floor " I'm sorry Oliver, I'm..." Tommy huffed pinching his brow as he clasped his hand around the child's shoulder. "... I'm not very good at this. You gotta help me out here. Will you help me?" he said as he gently squeezed his shoulder, rubbing his thumb back and forth as the barriers Tommy had kept up started to fall around him as he desperately scrambled to gain back the wasted years he had been adored, loved unconditionally, a love he had never once reciprocated . " Get some rest" Tommy sighed patting Oliver's shoulder, his plea for help left unanswered as he stood up when a small hand grabbed hold of him.
" Tell me a story, please?" Oliver asked as he sat up in his bed looking up to the man he had always looked up to, always waiting for an ounce of affection.
" That what your mum does eh?" Tommy replied as he sat back down, adjusting the covers lovingly around the boy, if not a little overly enthusiastically as Oliver was now in a tight cocoon of covers and blankets with his arms securely fastened by his sides. " A story..." Tommy mused aloud, his eyes looking up at the ceiling as his brain mulled over all the potential tales that could see him sleeping in the guest room for an undefined amount of time if Grace ever found out, when the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile you would think had never seen the light of day let alone witnessed by anyone but himself. Arthur had made him swear in blood to never mention the day his gangly legs had gotten in his way causing him to fall from would could have been the very same tree Oliver had fell from earlier that day in attempts impress a girl three decades ago. " Arthur made me swear never to tell anyone, but you won't tell him I told you, right? Tommy said as the boy nodded his head, understanding the severity of pinky swears and the fate of death if you ever spilled.
" Cross my heart" he nodded with all the seriousness he could muster as his little face twisted into a stern expression, a worthy match to Tommy's own infamous pout. He was a Shelby after all, Tommy thought to himself as his heart suddenly filled with pride.
" That's my boy" Tommy said as he turned to sit beside him, wrapping his arm around his shoulder as Oliver nestled into his side " My son eh? Tommy nudged him into his body as the boys eyes beamed up at his father's loving gaze. "My son..."
#tommy shelby#thomas shelby#tommy shelby fanfic#tommy shelby imagine#tommy shelby x son#peaky blinders#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders imagine#tommy shelby one shot#cillian murphy
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Hi Lovely!!! I was so suprised no one did a Luca ask so if ur inbox is still open, could we have 9 or 10 with Luca please? Love love love your work 💕
Hi babe! Thanks so much for requesting this :) I hope you enjoy where I took it!
Words - 357
Warnings - Violence, angst
“A life where I don’t wake up next to you every morning isn’t a life worth living.”
He tells you this often, usually as you bask in one another's arms while the morning light creeps in slowly, both the morning and you barely woken.
Luca never fails to make you feel anything short of completely adored, worshipped, even. He's romantic, and not afraid to show that. He treats you like you are worth your weight in gold, a man whose intentions you never need to question.
This is why you cannot fathom his silence since leaving New York to enact a vendetta. This is not Luca, therefore you know, you feel it so sharply in your soul, that all is not well. He'd never not check in with you, never allow you to become embroiled in worry and turmoil. It isn't him, and it never has been.
Your entire being aches in loneliness for the warmth of his body against yours, your heart pining for his love, but weeks pass and still nothing. You hear on the grapevine that his crew has returned to the city, but there is no word on Luca. Not until the awful truth finally reaches your ears.
"Tommy Shelby shot Luca in the head. The Changretta mob is no more. Capone is moving in, taking it all. They all work for him now."
You never did suffer traitors well.
Matteo never saw it coming as he swaggered with purpose through the streets of Brooklyn, streets that the mafioso giant of Chicago now presided over with an iron fist, Matteo his Capo of the Tri-State area. All he has on his mind is his new-found power, revelling in the whispers that state Capone wishes to elevate him even further than that.
Those are the last thoughts that enter his mind before a bullet blows a hole in his skull from behind.
Some might think you foolish, to gun a mobster down in the middle of the street in broad daylight. You no longer care, though, because a life where you don't wake up next to Luca every morning isn't a life worth living.
#luca changretta fanfiction#luca changretta x reader#luca changretta x you#peaky blinders fanfiction#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders fic#luca changretta fanfic#luca changretta fic
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𝗝𝗔𝗡𝗨𝗔𝗥𝗬 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 𝗙𝗜𝗖 𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗦 (𝟮)
༝༚༝༚ = Black/POC Works ⎢ 24’ Fic Rec M.List
ONE CHICAGO:
Connor Rhodes
Mine — @halsteadlover
Dream Partners — @sjhhemmings
Comfortable — @kiddbegins
Babysitting 101 — @iamwhoami
Emergency Love — @callsign-dexter
Plan — @lcvesjj
Jay Halstead
Kiss It, Kiss It Better Baby — @halsteadlover
Haunted — ^
Night Struggles — ^
Our Little Family — ^
A New Milestone — ^
Under Fire — ^
Shadows From the Past — ^
“Ladies love a guys who’s good with kids” ⎢ Part 2 — @poppadom0912
Uncle and Niece (Platonic) — ^
Love on Ice — ^
30 Hours — @dandelionfairyyy
Halstead’s Favorite Duo — @ballarkeselection
Exciting — @fangirlfrom-hell
CPD Gala — @hereforhalstead
Home — @deanstead
The Way You Are — @loislane41319
PEAKY BLINDERS:
Alfie Solomons
Interviews for New Beginnings: Part 7 — @muneca-lemon-steppa
Request 24 — @fandom-puff
Living with Alfie Solomons — @heavencanbeaprisontoo
The Silent Treatment — @warnersister
Luca Changretta
Living with Luca HCs — @heavencanbeaprisontoo
Thomas Shelby
Me Time — @garrison-girl-08
Daddy’s Princess — ^
Tommy Convincing His Wife to Stop Being Angry — @wutheringcaterpillar
Of Bending and Breaking — @call-sign-shark
Mr. Forgettable — @mrkdvidal1989
Time After Time Chapter 14 — @all-mirth-no-matter
Wedding Day — @cillianthinker
When She Laughs, The Heavens Hum a Stun Gun Lullaby — @saintmuses
SONS OF ANARCHY:
Filip “Chibs” Telford
The Last to Know — @kdogreads
Imagine Being Chibs’ Old Lady ⎢ Part 2 — ^
Imagine Taking In the Teller Boys With Chibs — ^
Very Soon — ^
My Dove — ^
Ruin — @bullet-prooflove
No Words — ^
Teach Me How to Ride — @violentdelightsandviolentends
Pussyfooting — @indifferent-depravity
Happy Lowman
Violent Little Thing — @fanficimagery
Your Family Disapproving of Happy — @imagineredwood
Angst to Fluff Prompts — @ravennaortiz
Flash Fic Request — @withmyteeth
Cocoa Wars — @darqchilddaydreamz
Miss Me — @marvelous-slut
Just for Today — @obsessedasusual
Jackson “Jax” Teller
Relentless — @violentdelightsandviolentends
Heatwave — ^
Insomnia — @spaghettificationandpretzels
You Aren’t Meant to Be Back Until Christmas Eve — @rebelwrites
Only Mine — @thisreadswhatever
Fluff Prompt — @youvebeenlivingfictional
I’m Sorry — @pumpkin-writes
Rescued — @garbinge
Harry “Opie” Winston
Nowhere to Be — @drabbles-mc
Stolen Sweater — @i'm-just-a-mississippi-girl
Good Honest Work — @spaghettificationandpretzels
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The Italian Beasts Beauty-17
Charlotte Changretta's hormones are making Luca enjoy taking meeting. (sassy Charlotte)
Hormones and cannolis
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Luca's pov
“I brought you your favorite pastries.” I offered her a little brown sack hoping my offering would appease my little blonde goddess. She snatched the bag like a starved animal as I waited for her to check the tribute, see if it was sufficient.
It seemed to be because she started munching, allowing me time to maneuver behind her as I gently rubbed her hips and back. Her body was aching and this kid wasn’t even the size of a pea yet.
She was barely pregnant but already she was so uncomfortable and I felt bad for her honestly. Charlotte was short and a petite little thing. I can only imagine what her fragile body was feeling right now.
She couldn’t get the morning, or all day sickness, as she appropriately called it,to ease up. All morning and night she was in the bathroom on the floor, her arms draped over the porcelain as she emptied her already void stomach.
I would try to hold her hair back and rub her lower back. Sometimes it was appreciated, other times I was worried I’d pull back stubs, my hands taken off.
She’d threaten, then apologize and cry.
Her Aunt in Birmingham had recommended ginger tea, it helped but she was grumpy and sore all the time. Truthfully I was worried about her. I hadn’t really been around the women in my life when they’d been pregnant so I really didn't have much to compare it to.
She was miserable though and now seemed to be annoyed by my touch.
“That's what got me into this mess.” she said between bites. I chuckled into her hair.
“All pregnancies are different Tesoro. Ma said I was a dream, Angelo, not so much.” She snorted at my statement. She’d been reading a book on pregnancy,birth and child rearing. She may have read that statement but it doesn’t mean she understood, yet. I had no doubt we’d have a ton of kids with her libido.
“Oh, there won't be anymore pregnancies, you had enough kids. I’m taking Polly’s tea contraception recipe after this baby comes out.” She seemed resolute but I knew better. I’d seen several ladies in my own family that seemed to dislike babies or hell, even men, but once they held that little bundle of joy their whole attitudes changed.
“Oh, don't say that, you may change your mind once you hold our baby.” I was sure she would.
“Why don't you get pregnant then and carry the baby?” A pout adorned her face, her full lips coating in powdered sugar. I chuckled at her suggestion and wiped away the sugar. All the sweetness I was probably gonna get from her lips until this baby came out.
“That ain't the way God designed it Angel.” I wish I could take away her pain. I hated feeling helpless.
“We’ll God clearly….” I felt bad shoving the cream filled pastry into her mouth, Charlotte was more irritable than ever. Didn’t need to drag her to confession anytime soon. He hated going out right now. Smell aversion, the doctor called it.
Can only imagine what incense would do to her stomach. Maybe the holy water would calm her down, who knows.
I walked down the hall grateful to be locked in my office all day. I loved my little English Rabbit but honestly I’d rather face down a loaded gun right now then be in the same room as her.
“Coward.” She called out while my door closed to my office. She wasn’t wrong at that moment.
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“Come on, you're half Italian, enjoy what your papa wants to feed you.” In truth I loved to eat anything Italian, Pastries, pastas, bread and on occasion my husband.
We’ll taste him at least.
Oh, if my body didn’t ache I’d begging him to fuck my attitude out of me.
Ada and Audry assured me that hormones and being uncomfortable were part of creating a baby.
I now understood why Ada had only had one.
Since my husband was held up in his office I had to find something to do with myself today besides going back to bed.
Maybe I’d call Audrey and she can teach me to knit.
I felt my stomach lurch, the call would have to wait. It was time for me to sit on a cold marble floor for a while and lose my breakfast.
This baby better be the cutest baby in all of New York, no the world.
#peaky blinders fanfic#luca changretta fanfic#original character#Charlotte Shelby#Charlotte Changretta#arranged marriage#friends to lovers#angst with a happy ending#enemies to lovers
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The Things I Would Do For You
Luca Changretta x fiance reader
A/N: Requested by the lovely @cillmequick. Based on this list of prompts. Prompt was "It terrifies me what I would do for you." Here's a twist for you, this was going to be dark and I made it fluffy!!
Warnings: language, mention of a weapon, brief fight, angst with fluffy ending
You could hear the brewing argument from the kitchen, your brother’s high nasal voice clashing with the manly tenor of Luca's. You gritted your teeth as you willed him to stop, but each time Marco dared to raise his voice to your powerful fiancé, you seethed with indignation.
Unable to shut out the sounds of his disrespect, you foisted another deft chop at the cutting board, imagining your brother’s neck there in place of the vegetables. Just when you thought you would scream, the voices ceased and your hand froze in midair.
Heavy footsteps thudded across the floorboards and the kitchen door swung toward you with a rush of warm air. Your eyes instantly shot across the room to your brother in question. However, the dark look of disapproval resting on his brow announced his decision before he had need to speak it. "You're not marrying that stronzo! I've already told him I'm sending you to Sicily next month."
That’s when your simmering temper climbed to a blazing inferno. Whipping around to face your brother head on, you announced, “I won't go! No one can keep me from him.”
The haze of anger overtook your body before you realized you were swinging at him, the large butcher knife still clutched in one hand raising above your head in a menacing swipe. He grasped your shoulders in an attempt to overpower you, crashing you both into a nearby wall and knocking the weapon from your hand and the air from your lungs.
The harsh metallic clang of the knife reverberated off the tiles like an alarm bell, the shock separating you to opposite corners of the room. Gasping at what you’d just done, you scrambled off the floor and dashed down the back stairs to the alley. Feet pounding against the creaky wooden steps, you rushed to find somewhere to hide.
It was Luca who found you pressed tightly against a wall, clutching a packet of cigarettes to your chest. You hadn't noticed they were crushed in your fist until his long fingers unfurled yours gently, a sigh escaping as he plucked one out and placed it to his lips.
There was only the rush of your desperately beating heart as you watched him light it for you. Handing it over into your trembling fingers, he patiently waited for your shoulders to relax with the first long drag.
You were waiting as well. A confession on your lips you knew he needed to hear. Blowing smoke over your shoulder to avoid his gaze, you shamefully admitted, "I'm not a good Catholic girl like you think, Luca. I could have hurt Marco tonight."
His eyes softened as he reached to stroke your cheek. "You couldn't hurt anyone, cara mia."
You shook your head against his hand. "I could if you asked me to," you declared, staring into his eyes earnestly. "It terrifies me the things I would do for you." The lovesick twinge in your voice assured him of your loyalty, making his chest swell with pride.
He enveloped you in a tight embrace, head resting upon the crown of your head as he promised, "I would never ask you to. As long as you're my girl, you'll be taken care of and protected."
At those words you began to cry softly. Luca cradled you there, stroking your back with his large hands and the silence comforted you until you began to think of Marco again.
"What do we do about my brother?" you asked with a sniff.
"I'll handle it. You don't have to worry anymore," he said, tilting your chin up to meet his twinkling eyes. A charming smile spread across his face as he added, "There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."
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Tag List:
@peakyswritings
@evita-shelby
@shelbydelrey
@alanadetigy
@severewobblerlightdragon
@lovemissyhoneybee
@theshelbyslimited
@kittycatcait219
@callsign-fangirl
@red-riding-wood
@polishcrazyone
@elenavampire21
@little-diable
@lyarr24
@jomarch-wannabe
@the-fangirl-diaries
@kmc1989
@helen06dreamer
@chaosinkest1996
@thegreatdragonfruta
@pietroxreader
@galactict3a
@ietss
@mostly-marvel-musings
@justlulu
@cillmequick
@darklydeliciousdesires
@the-wise-old-elf
@justrainandcoffee
@call-sign-shark
#Luca Changretta fanfic#Luca Changretta imagine#Luca Changretta x you#Luca Changretta x reader#Luca Changretta x y/n#Luca Changretta
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National Anthem
Chapter 12
Cw: miscarriage, prophetic nightmares, death, mention of kinks, some sex, angst
To those who playes 2 truths 1 lie, so sorry lol
Taglist: @thegreatdragonfruta @zablife
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Jack’s smoked through tomorrow’s cigarettes trying to make sense of it. Rosie dreamt of doctors performing a lobotomy that apparently killed her, Junior dreamt he’d be shot in the head as he rode in a parade.
Laurie used to have nightmares of dying in mud and rain until he died in a trench in France in 1914. His sister Katie had dreams of coughing and choking on her own blood. Their mother once said their father had cursed blood, and that was why he got killed when he was a boy.
The gangster remembered all those times his enemies cursed his name and now wonders if curses can be passed on to children. He should talk to his wife about this, she knew more about this bullshit anyways.
“Tell me what?” speak of the devil. Wearing her velvet robe and braving the cold just to see what’s bothering him. They should be in bed, his witch trying to keep warm cuddling with him and thinking about the bungalow in Florida and that hammock in the backyard.
“Junior dreamt he died.” He could lie, he’s done it before, but he’d also like to sleep in his own bed instead of the couch tonight. Besides Eva would kill him for not telling her about this new development.
“Well, he did get pretty sick, there were times I thought he wouldn’t survive it.” She admits joining him on the freezing porch. He’s banned from smoking indoors because his witch couldn’t stand the smell when she was pregnant and now the habit stuck.
“Not that, he says he saw himself as an adult waving at a crowd and being shot in the head.” Jack takes one last drag of his cigarette before handing it to his wife. Eva only smokes when shit’s too dire to take on without one or in the wonderful occasions where she came from uninterrupted sex. Too bad it’s the former.
“When I see death happen, it usually doesn’t. You didn’t die that day in your office, the neighbor’s kid didn’t get hit by a car and I have yet to die.” This was more of a reminder than an actual explanation for this. Apparently, she can only predict a real death if it’s coming for people she doesn’t like or knows well.
“You can teach him and Joey how to shoot when they’re old enough if it eases your mind.” But it isn’t a real guarantee that this applied to the kids. She admitted she was scared about losing him that day, held him tightly that night and those after as if he might die.
Fucking hell, he never thought he’d have to deal with this shit when he decided Eva was gonna be his wife that day.
“Do you regret it?” she asks fearing he might. Evie’s mind reading has become so normal to him he’s no longer surprised his witch catches on to his thoughts like that. Makes it easier to unburden himself with her, doesn’t even have to voice it half the time.
“I never have and never will, sweetheart.” Jack is a man with few regrets, he never does anything unless he wants to and when he doesn’t, he sticks with it to the bitter end. Choosing her would never be one of them.
By May Junior’s nightmares are almost forgotten. Everything goes so well it is scaring her.
They have a house in New York now, a lovely mansion too big for them with servants catering to their every whim and armed men loyal to them. Jack’s success had merited such a move and after Junior’s nightmare, he was loath to leave them behind now.
Luca Changretta was gearing for a war overseas while Jack laid out the framework for their takeover from right under his nose. Even his Family were considering killing him to prevent the White Hand from taking their place.
They were making strides in society, all the must have invites, rubbing elbows with the right people and teaching people not to fuck with them. They’ve just returned from Calvin Coolidge’s inauguration after rubbing it in their competitor’s face.
John D. Hertz had been the unlikely bastard to learn that last year. He wanted protection from the Checker Taxis and his other enemies and would’ve gotten it if his words about her hadn’t pissed off Jack. Something that had caused an attack on the company stocks with the help of their connections.
Now it was the turn of the men who owned the rights to a western movie Eva foresaw making it big.
It had started with a movie house that refused to let Eva into their establishment on their first few dates as man and wife, then the entire chain out of spite and now Jack was aiming for Hollywood after securing New England and most of the East Coast.
She hasn’t rewarded him for this achievement yet, and because nothing else has managed to get her to shake off the unsettling images, Eva decides to wake him early on his day off. He won’t mind, loves it when she makes use of his morning wood for their mutual pleasure.
Would erase the nightmare from her mind along with her refusal to have another baby so soon after Kitty. He loves breeding her, loves seeing her fat and needy and loves its when her tits are full of milk.
He's a dirty bastard, anything and everything will find its way into the blessed times they can have fantastic uninterrupted sex. The new house lets them do that more often. Sometimes they’ll lock themselves in that room far away from the family wing made just for their sexual escapades and go at it like unhinged demons.
“Nightmares again?” As expected, Jack is very amenable to a good fuck before breakfast. Their three older children were at school and Kitty was sleeping like an angel, gave her the perfect opportunity to forget what haunted her dreams.
“I want to forget them.” She admits it in between kisses knowing he won’t say no. “Help me forget them, Jack.”
“As you wish, sweetheart.”
It is to no one’s surprise that Eva finds herself pregnant by Father’s Day. She is not happy about it, there is a terribly bad feeling about this pregnancy. Eva blames it on her vanity and loss of figure, not wanting to burden him with what she saw in her reading that day.
She won’t tell him the cards say they won’t be born.
Not all pregnancies agree with her.
Though not as bad as Rosie’s, this one is one of the bad ones. The doctor hasn’t put her on bedrest ---even if he did, she’d ignore it--- but you could tell something wasn’t right by the way she carried herself.
There’s something she’s not telling him, something his witch believes he can’t tell from looking at her. Been married for six years on the dot, Jack wagers he knows her better than anyone now.
“What’s wrong, Evie?” he asks, cornering her in her powder room as she got ready for their anniversary dinner tonight.
“Fucking department store didn’t have my color again.” She grumbles after applying lipstick a shade brighter than she likes. Evie likes to make herself up like a vamp, with dark burgundy lips and darker eyes to sell the whole mystical beauty look she has.
“Eva.” He warns against her lying and gets to the point. “I know there’s something you’re not telling me. Something about the girls we’re having.”
“Nothing’s wrong, just pregnancy fucking me up. Now hurry up, we’ll be late for the reservations.” Half true.
She’s weepy and tired all the time. Her sex drive going from wanting to kick him off the bed if he breathes in her direction to seeking him out in his office as if he hadn’t fucked her before he left. Still got five months to go, a lot could happen between here and January.
The nursery is half decorated, she’d put off ordering a crib for the twins and acted as if she were tempting fate this time around.
“I tell you everything, Eva, why won’t you do the same?” he asks her as they head downstairs, she turns to give him a look for guilt tripping her about it and in the next second she missteps and falls the rest of the way down.
Jack’s too beside himself to leave her side. The fall hadn’t been too severe, no bones were broken, no lasting head injury nor internal bleeding. The babies hadn’t made it as she fell on her stomach enough times to kill the poor things.
She hadn’t been told yet, the doctors had suggested he be the one to break the news to her after seeing Eva’s medical history. Jack has no idea how he’s going to confirm that her heavy bleeding is because they lost their unborn daughters.
Two tiny little things that barely looked human inside the doctor’s receptacle. Rosie had dolls that small, he thinks as he looks away from the babies they hadn’t even considered names for yet.
“I didn’t see them in the cards, they were never going to be born.” His wife finally tells him what she was hiding for four months. Just because the cards said nine babies didn’t mean all of them would live, she explains, and he listened to what she had resigned herself to as they mourn their dead babies.
His triumph over the Black Hand on January 1926 finds him smoking in the veranda after Eva tells him she wants to try again because the cards say they’ll have a baby boy next year.
#evacore#eva nelson#jack nelson x oc#jack nelson x eva smith#national anthem fic#cw: miscarriage#cw: death
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Hello! If you didn't come here from my masterlist, here is where you can read my other works!
I'm open to writing pretty much everything -- angst, smut, fluff, etc. I specialise in dark!fics and nothing is too wild here (though I reserve the right to decline requests if I don't feel comfortable writing it) but will try my best with all requests and welcome a variety.
(But I'll love you more if you send me the most twisted, filthiest shit.)
I will add or remove characters to those I write for as I feel up to it, and will cross out those who I am not currently open to receiving requests for. **(Currently only feeling inspired for writing Cill characters.)**
If you send on anon and do not hear back from me about your request in a day or two, this means I have accepted your request.
Currently only accepting MxF requests, will likely do x reader, 2nd person POV if not specified, but I can happily write from third or first person POV as well! If you'd like it specifically from one character's perspective, or whatnot, please let me know that, too.
CILLIAN MURPHY
Tommy Shelby
Jonathan Crane
Jackson Rippner
Robert Capa
Neil Lewis
Raymond Leon
Tom Buckley
Emmett (A Quiet Place)
Jim (28 Days)
Jonathan Breech
Robert Fischer
Jim (The Delinquent Season)
Lenny Miller
Will add more as I watch and rewatch more of his films! If you have a character to request who's not on this list, send it in anyway and I'll watch what I need to for it.
PEAKY BLINDERS
Tommy Shelby
Arthur Shelby
Luca Changretta
Aberama Gold
Alfie Solomons
John Shelby
GAME OF THRONES
currently closed
EDITS/GIFS
If you'd like to request a GIF set, I'm also open to requests but know that I don't do these very often! Here is my masterlist for edits.
Cill characters
Peaky Blinders
Game of Thrones
← MAIN MASTERLIST
#requests#cillian murphy#tommy shelby#jonathan crane#jackson rippner#robert capa#neil lewis#raymond leon#emmett a quiet place#jim 28 days#will add more characters#fics#fanfic#fanfiction#fic requests
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