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brummiereader · 1 year ago

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Hopelessly Devoted (PART SIX)

Summary: Tommy has to reluctantly learn a lesson in boundaries after his heated confrontation with you about his foolish plan to get you to talk with him. Will Tommy finally throw in the towel and back down from his relentless refusal to let things play out at their own pace? Or will his stubbornness get the better of him once again?

Warnings: Language, angst, mutual pining, fluff

"Archie?" Polly said quirking a brow as she looked over the documents in her hand at the young boy stood at the betting shop door. " Finn's at school" she added as she turned in her chair, a tight smile gracing the corner of her lips as she beckoned him forward with her hand. " Does your mum know you're here bunking off?" She said removing his peaked cap as Archie looked down at the plate of shortbread next to the steaming cup of tea on Polly's desk. "Go on" she said nodding to them with a smile as his eyes lit up and he reached out for the biggest one on the small porcelain plate.

" Mum said I didn't have to go school today" he replied, mouth half full, his rosy red cheeks nipped by the bitter winter air ballooned with the entirety of the biscuit he had managed to fit in his mouth. "Doing deliveries for Mr Patterson at the flower shop, need the extra money now dad's been sacked by the rail works" he replied wiping his mouth as he looked down at his muddy boots, one missing a shoe lace, the other with a patched up hole on the side. Archie was one of many Small Heath children that had found themselves having to help provide for their families, forgoing education over the necessity to eat. The great war having taken the lives and jobs of many men of Birmingham had also taken the joys of childhood from their children too. Times were hard and sacrifices had to be made. Polly was not one to judge any parents decision to pull their son or daughter out of school, she only wished Archie and those like him had the chance to be children for a little while longer. For what was a summers days without the sound of kids playing outside in the street?

" Go on, have another" she winked as Archie replied with a grin that only deepened his enviable dimples whilst he picked out a second shortbread." Well I know I don't have any secret admirers Archie..." Polly said rubbing one of the rose petals between her fingers within the bouquet of flowers under the small boys arm."...so who's the lucky lady?"

" Mr Shelby" he replied brushing the crumbs of the newly stitched winter coat his mum had lovingly made for him.

" Tommy?" Polly said furrowing her brow as she looked over his shoulder to her nephew sitting at his desk in his office when Arthur and John walked in, slamming the betting shop door behind them. Five minutes peace, that's all she ever prayed for every Sunday at mass. Was it really too much to ask?

" Archie boy!" Arthur's voice boomed as he strode over, rustling the ten year old hair with his large calloused hands. " What you doing here ay? Skiving?" Arthur chuckled as he sat down on the edge of the desk pinching a biscuit from his Aunt, earning him a sharp glare and a irritated huff.

"Working" he replied standing up straight with his chin up. He was one of them now, a grown man or at least he thought he was, his muddy knees and youthful face begged to differ.

" Working ay, good lad" Arthur winked patting his shoulder as he reached for his Aunt's cup of hot tea, earning him a second glare and this time a smack on the back of his hand. No one was too old for a good hiding in Polly's eyes, something her grown nephews had learnt over the years as they continued to test her patience.

" Schools a bloody waste of time anyway Archie" John said turning his toothpick between his lips.

" Yes, a lot of good it did you and your crooked handwriting" Polly quipped back, a small smirk etched on the corner of her mouth as she returned her gaze to the documents on her desk.

" It's called doctors hand writing, alright?" John replied with a scowl on his face.

" Esme tell you that?" Arthur chuckled watching his brothers frustration at being the brunt of his families teasing.

" No it's, it's how doctors write. You know intellects" he replied pointing to the side of his head.

" Aright John boy whatever let's you sleeps at night" Arthur sniggered as he looked down at the bunch of roses in Archie's hand. " Who are these for then?"

" His Royal Highness" Polly said nodding to Tommy's office door as she picked up her now lukewarm cup of tea.

" Tommy ay? Come on then lad, let's not keep Mr Patterson waiting on any more deliveries" Arthur said as Archie nodded his head following him and John into Tommy's office.

"Arthur, John...Archie?" Tommy said, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth as he looked up from his desk, surprised to see his Finn's friend standing in the middle of the room with the bouquet he had picked out for you in his hand. And was that the card he had written for you, torn up? " She erh, she wasn't home? Tommy said clearing his throat as he stubbed his cigarette out, his eyes glaring at the handwritten note between the flowers. It was definitely ripped. Shit.

" She told me to..." Archie said as he looked to John and Arthur stood next to him trying to hold back their amusement. Their poor attempts not enough to stop the small snorts and sniggers they hadn't bothered to muffle from escaping.

"Yes?" Tommy said, his jaw tightening at the sight of his brothers clear enjoyment at the whole situation.

" ...to send them back" Archie said as Arthur John burst into a fit of laughs.

" Bloody hell Tommy, what woman sends flowers back? How many did you give her? John laughed as Arthur let out a loud snort.

" Seven" Archie quickly stated on behalf of him, not realising the further embarrassment it would cause the notorious gangster who had now sunk into his chair, his thumb brushing along his brow as the laughs of his brothers resonated through the betting shop.

" Alright, thanks Archie" Tommy said rubbing his hand down his face as the young boy left, leaving the bouquet of red roses with Arthur with a tip of his peaked cap.

" Seven bouquets ay" Arthur said inspecting them as Tommy looked out the window, his grandiose gesture now looking like a pathetic plea for forgiveness.

" She won't fucking talk to me will she" Tommy said lighting another cigarette as John and Arthur hunched over the table puzzling the pieces of card together you had ripped in a clear message directed at Tommy to fuck off.

" Roses are red, violets are blue..." John laughed before Tommy reached over and grabbed the note before his brother could read any more of his feeble attempt to be romantic.

" Sir Edmund Spense" Arthur said nodding to the card as he leaned against the wall, his thumbs resting in the pockets of his waistcoat.

" You what?" John said his face scrunched up as he turned to look at his eldest brother.

" It's a poem, by Sir Edmund Spense" Arthur sniffed as Tommy and John looked at each other, bewildered by the mere idea Arthur did anything other than beat their enemies within an inch of their let alone read or to be more specific read poems. Even Tommy hadn't scaled through a copious amount of books in order to find the romantic passage, the back of yesterday mornings paper had been enough. " I read" Arthur said as his brothers continued to stare at him, perplexed by what they had just heard." In me spare time"

" You're going soft" John said pointing to his brother as Tommy raised his brows shifting in his seat. " Never put Y/N down for a fan of poems"

" She's not, I was running out of things to say weren't I. Tommy replied looking over to the glass decanter of whisky calling to him. Was it too early to drown his sorrows for the billionth time that week?

" Yeh, wouldn't let her hear you say that" John chuckled placing a new tooth pick between his teeth, the other having been chewed to death by the ribbing he received from Polly and Arthur. "Why don't you just say I dunno, sorry. Like normal people do"

" She's avoiding me John, she won't give me a chance" Tommy replied as he looked out the window wishing himself into next week or better yet, next year. Maybe then you'd be more willing to talk to him.

" Well you're in luck Tom, 'cause here she is. With a face on her like thunder" Arthur smirked, nodding to the glass separating his office and the betting shop floor.

" Where is he, where is the rat bastard?!" You shouted storming through the building not stopping for anyone.

" Oh hell, what's he done now?" Polly said looking above her tea cup as you marched over to her, waving your arms erratically in the air, incoherent rambles leaving your mouth about her seconded born nephew as the three brothers watched on from behind the glass.

" I'd say you've got about five seconds" Arthur said as he looked out the window onto the back of the house.

" Jump and roll, don't land on your feet" John added to Arthur's observation as he peered over his brothers shoulder out the window.

" Else you'll do your knees in, but I reckon that's the least of your worries" Arthur said as he looked over to Tommy brushing his hands through his hair, bracing himself for the bollocking coming his way. "Shit, she's clocked you" Arthur announced turning around as your head snapped in the direction of the three of them. This was more than about the flowers, Tommy knew that. He had pried into your life for a second time. The only thing he could hope for was you didn't know about the first. And with the absence of a lethal weapon in your hand his hopes were optimistically high.

" Thomas fucking Shelby!" You shouted marching through his office, grabbing the flowers from his desk and launching them straight at his head, silently hoping Mr Patterson had left the thorns on. "You bastard! You bloody bastard"

" Look, I know you're angry but let me explain" Tommy said with his hand out as he watched yours clasp around the bronze sculpture of a horse sitting on his desk that was sure to knock him out if you threw it. After having a variety of household items thrown at him in in the past week he knew you wasn't bluffing, your face said it all you were pissed off, really pissed off.

" No I'm not angry Tommy I'm fucking furious!" you said, your face scrunched up in anger as you stared him down, waiting for him to admit what he had done.

" Arthur, John can you...can you give us a minute?" Tommy said as he walked forward only to stop when he saw your grasp on the bronze ornament tighten. " Lads, please" Tommy said gesturing to the door as he watched you in the corner of his eye. Sighing heavily Tommy turned to his desk as his brothers walked out leaving you alone together, leaving him to face yet another stupid idea he was responsible for. "Cigarette?" he offered holding his silver case out for you to take which you did, and then threw on the floor beside you. " Right" Tommy said as he sat down in his chair pinching his bottom lip together as he looked back at you, furious as the the night he had drunkenly embarrassed himself in front of the whole of Watery Lane. "You won't talk to me Y/N" he said lighting his third cigarette in the space of fifteen minutes.

" So you decided to force me to talk to you by sabotaging not one but three potential job offers"

" I didn't sabotage them. I merely informed them that you already had a job here, as my secretary" Tommy replied pointing his finger into his desk.

" But I dont do I Tommy? You fired me, remember?" You scoffed, a scoff you hoped would not only distract him but you from the tears welling in your eyes.

" Sweetheart look, can..." Tommy was about to say when your eyes narrowed in on him and he stopped himself before he infuriated you any more than you already was. " Y/N, can we talk as adults? Sit down without, throwing anything?" he said gesturing to your hand still resting on the statue.

" Are you patronising me?" You replied, your voice going up an octave at his suggestion you were being immature when for the past five years he had been far from mature himself.

" No I'm just...fuck sake, I can't win with you" Tommy replied throwing his hand up in the air as he leaned back into his chair shaking his head.

"No you can't, so stop meddling in my life Tommy. Stop ruining every chance I have to move on"

" And that's what you want? To move on?" Tommy reluctantly asked as he looked back to you, the uncomfortable weight now sitting on his chest making him wish he never asked the question at all.

" Yes" you replied turning your head, unable to face him and the truth that you couldn't and wouldn't ever be able to stop loving him, stop wanting him.

" You're lying Y/N, I could always tell when you're lying" Tommy said as he stood up slowly walking over to you like you would a wild horse.

"You need to let me be, let me move on" you sniffed back as your eyes cast down to the floor. " Isn't that what you've been doing, moving on? I gave you space Tommy, I gave you what you wanted for five years even though it was breaking my heart and all I wanted you to do was hold me in your arms" You said wiping your tears, furious at yourself for letting him see you this way.

"Then let me ey, let me hold you" Tommy said moving closer, his hand reaching out for you. " Sweetheart..."

"Stop calling me that!" You cried brushing his attempts away as you walked past him to his office door. You weren't his sweetheart, you weren't his childhood love, you weren't his girl. It was over, all of it over. " Boundaries Tommy, you need to learn some boundaries. Learn to leave me alone" you said opening his door looking back at the defeat on his face as you recomposed yourself. " And Tommy?" You said turning one last time before shutting the door. " If you call me sweetheart one more time I swear to god you'll find the sharp end of that ugly horse ornament aimed straight at your cock, and this time I promise you, I won't miss" and with that you left, shutting the door behind you as Tommy watched you walk past the glass on the opposite of his office, your head held high as you brushed your hair to one side not giving him a second glance. He had been told off look a naughty school boy, and just like a child he was in for the biggest lesson of his life, patience.

"I wasn't really going to throw it" you said sat beside Ada in the Garrison as she rocked Karl back and forth in his pram. "I mean, I was tempted" you added unable to hold back your laugh as Ada giggled into her glass of gin. " Ada I don't know what's gotten into me. I just want to kill him...all the time. And the worse part is I think he was trying to say sorry, and I didn't let him" you sighed bringing your hand up to your face as you closed your eyes, having recounted what had happened in Tommy's office and everything else in the past month to his younger sister at lightening speed. The rapid pace of your account of events clearly fuelled by the anger still lingering within you.

" Hey" Ada said moving your hand away, her face scrunched up with concern. "Nothings gotten into you, more like what's gotten out of you. Five years worth of pent up anger would drive anyone to the point of wanting to wring my idiot brothers neck" she said as she looked at the bags under your eyes, Tommy always did have a knack for making people feel as sleep deprived and knackered as him. "You've been bottling it up for far too long locked away in that flat.." she said as she raised her brow ready to give you a bitter reality check. "...not living"

" What...I've been living" you scoffed leaning back into your chair as you crossed your arms. " I'm breathing aren't I?"

" Right, tell me then. When's the last time you let your hair down and you know, had some fun?" she replied mirroring your actions, crossed armed ready for whatever lie you had convinced yourself of.

" Well, there's..." you said furrowing your brow trying desperately to think back to the last time you actually laughed, did Arthur's endearing jokes count? " Well I can't, can I? Not with him gallivanting about with god knows who stealing the fun from everyone else" you pouted, resolving to the fact you hadn't had a proper nights out in years.

" If you call moping about day and night complaining about you, then sure he's had as much fun as you" Ada replied taking a grizzly baby Karl out his pram as she lifted her blouse to feed him. " If it bothers you that much then kindly bugger off " Ada said turning to the group of workmen shaking their heads seated a few tables away as they took their glasses and moved to the bar. "And before you even say anything, that barmaid was all for show, he was angry. I'm sorry he picked the worse way possible of showing you babe" Ada said reaching her hand out for you giving it a gentle squeeze. " Why don't I set you up with someone, one of Freddie's friends, for a date" she suggested nudging her arm with yours, a mischievous glint in her eye.

" But Tommy...his your brother..I"

" Y/N stop. You're allowed to go out even if it's just for a bit of fun" She cut you off as she brought Karl up to her shoulder, gently patting his back.

" Ada Thorne, why do I get the feeling you just want me to piss him off" you squinted at her as a smile formed on the corner of your mouth. It wouldn't hurt to give him a taste of his own medicine. You thought to yourself knowing he had his henchman still keeping their eye on you.

" Hm, whatever made you think that?" she winked to you as the Garrison doors blew open and the very man who had been the topic of conversation for the past hour walked in. "Speak of the devil. Here he is, tail between his legs" Ada nodded to the door as she placed Karl back into his pram.

" More like a dog with a bone" you huffed as you turned to see him walking straight for you. God, what did he want now?

" Boundaries" Tommy said standing beside you as you sipped on your drink, crossing one leg over the other.

" Yes and? " you replied bluntly as you diverted your eyes elsewhere, the stained-glass of the Garrison windows for one.

"Well, I need some clarifications" he said as he walked around the table, now directly in front of you. Fuck sake.

" Clarifications, what do you want me to do write you a list?" You scoffed as Tommy carefully considered his reply. A list would make his life easier.

" Y/N, you gotta give me something. What do you want me to do?" he replied with a huff, abandoning the idea of a catalogue of what he could and couldn't do as he placed both of his hands on the table looming over you. Fuck you look tired. Was that his fault too?

" Fuck off Tommy, that's what I want you to do" you said scraping your chair back along the wooden floorboards as you got up and left the Garrison, leaving him for a second time that day clueless on what to do next.

"Oh Tommy, you won't be able to bring her around with your charm this time. I'm afraid this is something a quick fuck down by the cut won't fix. You need to try harder" Ada said as she stood up putting her coat on.

" I'm trying Ada, but she'll barely talk to me"

" Yeh I heard about your attempts to win her back. Seven bouquets of flowers, her place looked like a bloody graveyard Tommy, hardly romantic" she said rolling her eyes as she turned the pram to the door.

" How was I supposed to know she didn't like flowers any more?" Tommy huffed as he followed his sister out the Garrison. Maybe Ada knew something he didn't that would win you back...he hoped.

" You know Y/N better than anyone Tommy, you must have known she wouldn't have liked that tacky show of wealth. And don't even get me started on your attempts to get her attention" Ada said struggling to push the pram through the thick mud and dirt of Small Heath. " Do you not remember the flowers you used to pick her and how long you'd spend doing it?" Ada stopped, looking up at her brother as the realisation finally hit him. That over the top plea of forgiveness may have cost him a day's wages but only now did he realise how it must have come across. A cop out. And as Ada so rightfully said, tacky." She didn't fall in love with this Tommy, the Tommy that has to show everyone his worth, his status. She fell in love with this one" she said pulling out the gold pocket watch you had gifted him ten years ago from within his waistcoat that had been back in its rightful place for over a week. " Stop being the worst version of yourself and show her who's she been missing, who she fell in love with. And for the love of god stop being a bloody idiot" she said before turning onto watery lane as a glimmer of a smile played on the corner of Tommy's lips at his sister brutal but well-deserved parting words.

How many more people was it going to take before he let his stubbornness slide and took their advice. It would admittedly be the hardest thing he had ever had to do, no doubt driving him mad in the process. Tommy thought to himself deciding to call of his men from keeping an eye on you or as he corrected anyone who dared to challenge him on the matter, keeping you safe. If he was going to do this he would do it the correct way, without the grand displays or need of theatrics. For the first time in a long time Tommy was going let things play out at their own pace, relenting all control over the situation his was so desperate to resolve.

Tea why did you offer him a tea? You thought to yourself climbing the stairs with the friend of Freddie's Ada had set you up with. The evening had been a disaster. Henry, your date, had spent the entirety of the night talking about his one and only passion politics, something you had little to zero interest in. Opening the door to your place you mentally reminded yourself to have words with Ada about the complete bore she had set you up with and clarification as to what she considered a good night out, because this certainly wasn't it.

" Nice place" he said entering your small bedsit. Was he joking? It was the pokiest flat in Small Heath, nothing worked and you was pretty sure a small family of mice had moved in and made it their life's mission to steal any form of food you left out for more than five minutes.

" Thank you" you said gesturing for him to sit at the small table by your window as you turned to make the tea you was reluctantly going to have to prepare whether you wanted to or not. Desperate to get him to leave and as quick as possible you decided to forgo boiling any water and instead planned on making him the coldest brew of tea known to man. That would do the trick, wouldn't it? " Here" you said placing the small mug in front of him as your mind wandered to what had really been occupying your thoughts all evening. Tommy.

" That was quick" he replied scrunching his brow as he looked into the murky water, a few tea leaves floating on the top. "You not having one?"

" Oh no, not a fan of...that " you said twiddling your thumbs on your lap as you looked at the less than delightful concoction you had created.

" Did you even boil.." he started to say causing your cheeks to turn bright red as your brain scrambled to come up with an excuse when, as if you had been saved by a higher power there was a knock at that door.

" Excuse me" you said walking away, grateful for the opportunity to leave any further interrogations about your tea making skills. "Tommy..."

" Hey" he replied softly, a smile appearing on the corner of his mouth as you opened your front door. " You've company" he said clearing his throat looking over your shoulder to see a man sitting at your kitchen table as he threw the small posy of flowers he had been holding behind his back along the outer wall of your bedsit.

" Tommy, I mean Mr Shelby. I...I thought you two weren't erhh" he stumbled, fumbling to grab his coat, abandoning the cold cup of tea he was sure you didn't boil any water for. "Together" he said swallowing harshly as he stood at the door beside you both.

" We're no.." you replied before Tommy cut your off.

"We are" Tommy said moving out of the way of the exit as he gestured for him to leave, irritated by the mere fact he had taken one extra second to do so. With the biggest scoff you could muster you crossed your arms as you stared him down. We are...is that what the past five years had been then, a bump in the road a bloody break?

"Thanks for ruining my date" you said marching over to the cup and throwing it's contents into the sink as Tommy shut the door behind him.

" What with Henry Coggs? Interesting choice for a date. Did he not bore you to death with his political crap?" Tommy chuckled as he watched you potter around your place trying to avoid any conversation with him.

" No, I found it really interesting actually" you lied and badly. " Tommy what do you want? I thought I told you to..."

" Fuck off?" he said sitting on the edge of your table as you stood in front of him.

" Leave me alone" you rephrased as he cocked a brow at your forgetful or intentional lack of memory as to what your actual parting words were to him in the Garrison a few days ago.

" And I have. I wanted to come here and say that you're right that..."

" Oh so you don't have to be a complete drunk to admit when you're wrong" you cut him off, your guard up ready for an argument you was sure would happen.

" You really want to start?"

" Ok then, let's hear what Tommy Shelby has to say? Actually no, forget it. Please leave" you said turning to the door when he grabbed your arm and span you back around to face him.

"Y/N can you just.." Tommy huffed as he tried to keep you in place. " Will you just hear me out?" he added as he placed his hand on your other arm, holding you in front on him. " Please?" He said as you found yourself nodding, stumped for words, slightly taken aback by his willingness to open up. " I..." Tommy said wetting his bottom lip with his tongue, his mouth suddenly going dry. Could he really do this without drinking a whole bottle of whisky beforehand?

" I've been an idiot" he said pausing as you rolled your eyes. Well that was the biggest understatement of the year. You thought to yourself as you turned to walk away again. "I broke my own heart Y/N, you didn't do anything wrong, you never did anything wrong" he said the words you never expected to hear causing you to stop. " I've..shit, I'm fucking this up" he said looking up at the ceiling, shaking his head as his mind uncomfortably replayed all times he had hurt you.

" No you're not, keep going. Please" you said turning around to face him.

"I made your life miserable Y/N, all because I couldn't stand how miserable I'd made my own. Pathetic aren't I ?" he said placing his hand back on your arm his thumb gently rubbing over the soft fabric of your blouse. " I don't expect you to ever forgive me for the five years of hell I put you through, I'd be a fool to think you would. But I need you to know that I regret everything, everything I've ever done that's hurt you, that's made you cry. It's all been my fault darling, I should have never made you think it was yours " he sighed, the words he had been wanting to say for the past week if not the past five years spilling out of him as if they had been patiently waiting there, waiting for him to break down the iron wall he had built around himself. Speechless you stood there, not knowing what to say, what to do as you let his words sink in. This was possibly the first time you had ever heard Tommy admit to anything let alone his own wrongdoings. And yet he had, and as you stood there staring at eachother in silence you finally came to realise what the other had endured, had regretted. The heartache you had both thought was your own had been a heartache shared, one that was now enveloping you both in a warm hug as you finally understood each others pain. " Its getting late I should probably go" he said breaking the silence and the small bubble you had both momentarily found yourselves in. "Goodnight Y/N " Tommy said as he leaned forward pressing a kiss to your cheek, the small embrace feeling the most natural thing for him to do in the moment as his lips lingered on your soft skin for a few seconds longer in hopes you would say something, do something. But you just stood there, his unexpected confession keeping you frozen in place as a rush of emotions that you had pushed to the side for five years came hurtling towards you.

"...night" you managed to coax from your lip's as you turned your head to watch him leave, listening intently to the sound of his heavy footsteps walking down the stairs as you desperately tried to think of something to say. " Tommy wait" you called out as you ran to your door only to see he had was already left, the gate at the bottom of the stairs swinging open and close as a gust of wind blew a scattering of leaves onto the steps below you. Leaning against the door frame you brought your hand up to your head as you closed your eyes, pushing your thumb into the skin between your brows as you cursed yourself for not saying anything in response to his attempts at making amends. Was that all it took? Had you forgiven him already? You thought to yourself as you opened your eyes and looked down at the rickety wooden stairs to see a posy of flowers with a small card buried within them sitting on the weather beaten wood. Wrapping your arms around your body from the cold you sat down beside the small bouquet held together by twine. One, two, three flowers, you smiled as you counted them within the various leaves and foliage. How long had it taken him to find possibly the only three flowers still alive in Small Heath after the deluge of rain and bitter weather the whole of Birmingham had endured for the past month. You thought to yourself knowing exactly who had abandoned them on the steps in front of your home, the small gesture tugging at your memories of times before when Tommy had gone out of his way to do the very same thing. Pulling out the small card your heart skipped a beat, your eyes welling with tears at the two words staring back at you, the two words you never felt you deserved, that you felt worthy of from the very man who had written them.

"I'm sorry"

NEXT PART

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#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine

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harryfeatgaga · 2 years ago

Note

HIII i’m going to london this week, pls give me all ur recs & also harry-esque things to do 🫣

also if anyone has been to paris, recs for that too🤲🫶

oh man I have a whole ass note that I typed up for a friend who visited so ill put that under a cut here cause its long JNFHJIK

and paris I didnt get to do much when I went but the eiffel tower obvi and the lourve if you have a lot of time cause its fucking huge jNBFHGHUJI and we went to Ferdi for dinner its where like bella gigi and the kardashians always go but its honestly so good imo jfnhbhujiek

here is my london tips note:

London

Camden Market: takes a bit to get there (on northern like most likely if you are in central) about an hour: would def be a tad activity, theres lots of shops and markets and food stands decent prices too

Soho: tourist trap city but super fun and always crowded has all the chain stores and such and china town is there I tried a few different Chinese places all were super good

Carnaby Street: In soho main attraction with all the shops and restaurants and bars

Shoreditch: cute area new and up and coming

Spitalfields market: in shoreditch, super cute market closes early though usually around 5pm, has cute vendor shops and lots of fun food vendors and has cute shops around it as well (humble crumble had amazing desserts and dumpling shack had the best dumplings I ever had)

Brick Lane: lots of Indian and other asian cuisine foods and great bakeries, on the weekend it turns into an outdoor market with lots of vintage shops and food vendors

Notting Hill/Portobello road: super cute also takes a bit to get here, def recommend going on the weekend especially for portobello market its only open Saturdays and Sundays: streets of vendors and markets and street food, the cute pastel colored houses are all over for good insta pics

Hyde park: huge and cute for picnics but you dont need to go here any park will do tbh

London Eye: super cool it was $33 when I went, waited in line for about 45 mins and then you’re on for 30 mins if you have time its cool but not a need

Westminster Abbey/Parliament square/Big Ben: same area you will probably wanna go here just for the walking tour its cool to see and take pictures but its basically like a time square lots of tourists just walking around taking pictures *strawberry tours: free walking tours of west end landmarks to see all of them ^^^

Also recommend the Jack the Ripper tour they do if you are into true crime/horror*

Trafalgar Square/Picadilly Circus: very close together you can walk from one to the other, also kind of like a time square full of tourists taking pictures

Regent Street: right next to picadilly circus more up scale shopping and fancier stores has a super good Zara though

Ronnie Scotts: jazz club open till like 6am in soho

Hampstead Heath: so beautiful but VERY muddy wear rainboots or shoes you dont mind getting filthy if you’re gonna walk around

Covent Garden: cute market with mostly chain stores, theres a shake shack in there which I frequented often lol and has lots of cute areas surrounding it

Oxford Street: lots and lots of shopping huge primark there which I did most of my shopping

Baker Street/Bond Street: more shopping not a necessity to go to

Harrods: super cool to see but also a tourist trap but the food market is insane so if you’re gonna go anywhere in there I would just go to that

Selfridges: a smaller harrods but also not as fancy and expensive

Kensington: such a fun and cute area lots of cute cafes and cute shopping areas and has the classic looking houses like in the parent trap

Chelsea: next to Kensington super cute and fancy nothing really to do though

Primrose Hill: suer fancy are has the huge park and hill where you can see the London skyline amazingly (hill is a bitch to walk up but view is worth it imo) the pics of harry in that weird body suit with organs were there lmfao and also Eleanor is always walking her dog there lmfao

Borough Market: on the Southside of the river (across from central London) but super cool food vendors open mainly during the week till 5pm

Oxford Circus: huge strip of stores, restaurants etc similar to id say 5th ave in nyc but way more cool

Liberty London: kind of like a fancy Macys but has way cuter stuff and stores

Farm girl: theres one in notting hill and one in soho I went to the notting hill one, amazing breakfast but you need to make a reservation in advanced if you wanna go

Victoria & Albert Museum: free and has the harry cardigan (also Harris reed exhibit but that was $25)

Salisbury’s: great for cheap food if you end up cooking and meal deals, also super cheap bakery items, I would get a croissant every morning for 95 cents

Boots: super cheap food like a 7/11 and meal deals

Pret A Manger: sign up for 1 free month trial to get up to 5 free barista made drinks a day

Boots: convince store and pharmacy all in one like a CVS

Simmons: great chain bar with cheap drinks and fun vibes

Weatherspoons: basically an Applebee’s with cheap drinks and food

Gails Bakery: good bakery items and lunch food

The Ivy: theres multiple locations but great for a splurge dinner one night, soho or covent garden ones look most fun, we did covent garden one

Sketch: the infamous pink room tea place but they just changed the pink room smh but it has other cool rooms if you want to splurge one day and do tea and brunch and of course the iconic instagramable bathroom is there too

Ole & Steen: chain, good cafe and coffee shop for a quick lunch

Kanada-Ya: good ramen place

Eataly London: multiple restaurants and wine bars

#london recs

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casspurrjoybell-32 · 11 months ago

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Taken - Blue Moon Series - Chapter 3a

*Warning Adult Content*

Elder Cyrus

I paced in the doorway watching intently as Avery stood behind his desk and talked quietly on his phone.

It's been almost two weeks since I lost Lakota's trail and ever since I've been agonizing over his lose.

I had to find him before I went insane and tore apart this whole country.

"Alright, thank you," sighing Avery sat at his chair and slumped back throwing his phone on the desk.

"Well?" I asked marching in front of his desk and placed my hands on it.

He looked up at me with an exhausted expression before shaking his head.

His eyes were full of pity and I held back a growl.

"No one has seen Lakota," he rubs his eyes.

"It's been two weeks and if it's who you think it is than none of the packs would have seen him," I snarled, baring my teeth with frustration.

"I'm so sorry, Cyrus."

This just made me growl even louder, I was so tired of people giving me their damn sympathetic glances and murmuring to them themselves about my misfortune of losing my mate before we could fully bond.

I remember when I came back in to the house muddy and wet from my three day hunt for Lakota only to come back empty handed.

Connor and his mate were the first ones to hear my problem.

Teagan's reaction to the kidnapping of his brother was nothing more than a deep frown and I knew my problem was lost on him.

They were never close since they didn't know each other so I went looking for the Alpha and at least got help there.

He called the Head Elder before making a whole bunch of calls to the neighboring packs.

Now all I get from the Head Elder is that he's 'Working on it'.

And Avery had reached his limit of phone calls.

Even the dozens of search teams from a few neighboring packs have come up empty.

I'd reached a breaking point in all of this.

I was turning away when Avery's phone rang and I heard him answer.

"Heath," the weary voice was renewed with the Head Elders call.

"What?" this made me turn back to look at him.

Avery had a frown on his face.

"You can't be serious, right now?"

He stood straighter at what the Elder was saying and nodded even though Heath couldn't see him.

"I will," his gaze traveled towards mine for an instant before averting his eyes quickly from mine and his lips thinned tightly.

"Okay..." he hung up.

"What is it?" I practically demanded.

He refused to look at me at all.

I opened my mouth to demand to know what was happening but a knock at the door stopped me.

"Come in," Avery called.

A thin young wolf came in sticking his head in the door, he couldn't have be more than thirteen.

"There is some visitors here for you and they say that," he looked over at me.

"Lakota is with them."

That was all that needed to be said as I rushed out of the office.

"Cyrus, wait," Avery called after me as I raced towards the front door.

Why was he trying to stop me?

I reached the staircase and practically rolled down it in my haste.

The moment I touched the hard marble floor at the entrance, I threw the front door open and came to a complete halt.

The familiar scent of flowers from the day Lakota was taken hit me like a freight train.

An instant growl left my lips as I stared at the large group of tall and impressively dressed people, there were a few enforcers standing guard as stalked forward.

"Cyrus," Avery exclaimed as he came up behind me but my eyes were instantly drawn to the group surrounding a smaller form dressed in a dark shirt and jeans that fit him rather loosely.

Lakota.

I was taken back by the fact that I was seeing his human form rather than a wolf.

"We want to talk with your Alpha," a man with an slightly harsh but exotic accent stepped forwards, he wore a dark crisp suit and shiny shoes.

"And why is that?" I snarled stepped up to him threateningly.

He just smirk at me and looked over my shoulder.

"I am," Avery's voice sounded behind me but I was too focused on Lakota and reached out to him.

"Come here, sweetheart," I pleaded and I watched him look at me with those big gold eyes, the relief in his gaze made me want to drop to my knees.

He rushed past the group of strange people who surprisingly stepped aside to let him and ran into my arms.

I held him to me tightly with such desperation to finally feel those tingles after so long.

I buried my face in his neck, inhaling his scent to calm my raging nerves only to catch something that wasn't there before.

"Lakota?" I questioned as I pulled my face away a fraction, my eyes were drawn to a movement behind him.

A tall man stood inches from us and I found myself snapping my teeth together with a warning snarl for him to back off.

His brown eyes looked me right into my blue and felt my body stiffen.

"Cyrus," Lakota stepped back from me and looked over his shoulder to the man.

"This is Gale. He was the one who took care of me, while I was gone."

Ignoring the weird sensation in my body, I snatched Lakota's arm tightly and thrust him behind me, blocking Gale's view of him.

"I don't care what he did, he took you and I'm going to rip his throat out."

"No," Lakota broke out of my hold and put his small hand on my chest as if that would hold me back.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Why are you protecting him?" I barked in growing anger.

"Because they are mates. You blind fool," the accented voice said beside me and looked to see the man in the suit.

I frowned deeply at him and snatched Lakota's hand and pulled him to my chest in a protective hold.

"That's impossible," I forced through clenched teeth.

"He's my mate."

"Well... that surely didn't stop the boy, from marking my son," he smiled, smugly.

My gaze traveled towards Lakota and I saw a red tint rising in his cheeks as he stared at my chest intently.

"Lakota, is that true?" a sting in my chest was growing as I watched the guilt in his face grow more and more.

"I'm sorry, it happened so fast," was all he said.

I looked up, to glare at the so called 'mate' and I growled at him.

"You're not taking my mate from me," and I was deadly serious.

"Let us go inside shall we?" said the man in the suit to Avery and surprisingly he nodded letting my mates kidnapper inside his home.

'What the hell is happening?'

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theshelbyclan · 4 years ago

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Castle in the Sky

Summary: You’re the daydreaming sibling of the Shelby’s, but when the adventure spills over into real life, it’s not as great as you’d imagined

(Gif by @nofckingfighting) A/N: A sweet anon requested: can I have request please Something like this Tommy was very protective over y/n and she gets hurt by one of the bad guys and sees blood on her face now all bruised but Tommy wants revenge Omg if you do so thank you so much for my request! ❤️ Huge fan of your works!This is set around season 1, back in the good old days when the only real enemy was Billy Kimber, remember those days? So easy… anyways, hope you like it J Words: 2933 ***

You were only nine when you started as a bookie’s runner for the Peaky Blinders. Nothing about this was special, half the kids of Small Heath worked for them, but there was just one difference: the Shelby’s were your brothers. It was a good job in many ways, because it meant not only being able to help your brothers, but people were inclined to give you a bit extra, just for being a Shelby. You imagined they thought it good luck.

“Y/N, take this to the other side of town, will you?” Tommy requested as he sat hunched over a newspaper. You protested a little, “Why me? I’ve done all of mine for today…” “This one’s extra, alright?” “Who is it?” you could never hide your inquisitive nature. But you only showed it around your brothers; to the rest of the world you were just quiet and practically invisible. He smirked slightly, “Someone who’ll pay up big. That’s why I need you to do it. Can’t trust any of the other kids not to steal…” “I have some homework to do, Tommy.” At thirteen, you were still at school, which was a minor miracle in Birmingham. “Tell you what: if you just do this one job, I’ll get you magazine you’ve been talking about, eh?” now he looked up and met your eyes. “Book, Tommy,” you smiled, “You might have heard of the concept? It’s a little like a magazine, a little like that newspaper, but with more pages? Some find it challenging, but once you get used to it…” “Alright, little miss know-it-all,” he grumbled without malice, “Go on, take the slip, make sure he bets all. Off with you. Stop outsmarting your old brother, eh?” He winked to make sure you were comfortable and you returned it with a big grin. “Where?” “Digbeth,” Tommy’s nose was back in the newspaper, “behind the Golden Dragon.” ***

As you were walking through the streets of Small Heath on your way to Digbeth, you were daydreaming. In a way it was strange just how different you were from your brothers, because the entire Shelby clan was very realistic, trying to make their way in this hard world, where you would rather pretend all day you were the main character in some story. The books you read, it was all an escape to you. So while you were walking, the people and factories disappeared. In your head, you were walking through the woods, on a secret mission that your king gave you. With the top-priority letter in your pocket, you remembered what he’d told you before you left: “If you get caught, eat the letter. If they capture you, make sure to be brave and never divulge its contents to anyone. And if all else fails, you must make the ultimate sacrifice. But remember, you have to memorize the contents of the letter first…” Wouldn’t it just be easier to memorize it now and destroy the letter immediately? You pondered on the matter… In the distance, you could see the mountains and the towers of another kingdom, and you knew your enemies were near. Without anyone noticing, you put a hand to your pocket and could feel the reassuring rustling of paper underneath your fingers: the letter was still there. If it would come to a fight, how would you go about it? If there were just one man, the small dagger in your boots would suffice. If it were two, you’d distract one, maybe by throwing the veil you were wearing, quickly turning around to kill the other and then back to the first one before he had time to recover. If there were more than three, you’d run, because you were the fastest after all. You’d get to higher ground and attack them from there, like a deadly shadow they could never see coming. As you smiled to yourself, you left the daydream for a short moment. You looked down and saw the muddy shoes you were wearing, marching through Birmingham mud. In the distance, all you saw was smoke and factory pipes. But it was honestly all you needed: your imagination did the rest. The real world barged in when you delivered the slip in Digbeth. Everything went smoothly at first. Your big brown eyes persuaded him to indeed bet big, and you were quite satisfied with yourself, knowing Tommy would be too. But you still had to walk back with a lot of money now in your pocket.

*** Almost home, there were only a few streets to go. Your head was back in the clouds and this time you were imagining you were a spy during the war. Silently, you moved through the streets, making yourself invisible and pretending every man wearing a hat was the enemy. So each time you saw one, you changed directions or hid for a second. It was a fun game, until you realised the enemy wasn’t wearing a hat. “Now, what’s a pretty girl like you doing on the streets, all by herself?” A man with a heavy Cockney accent popped up next to you and your heart nearly jumped out of your chest. You opened your mouth to reply, but no words came out. In your dreams, you always knew what to say, but in reality it wasn’t so easy. The man approached you and you noticed he’d cut you off from your one exit out of the alley, “It’s Y/N Shelby, isn’t it,” he grinned. “No,” you managed to say, “you got the wrong girl.” He grinned again, “Nice try, sweetheart. We’ve seen you at the Garrison. They don’t allow little girls at the pub, unless they’re a Shelby.” This was all true. You felt your hands getting clammy. “Tommy sent you, didn’t he?” Again, you tried to remember what the hero in your stories would do. She’d run, climb the building and then throw a knife right between the eyes of the man. Or she’d say something clever, just to distract him, and then turn around and escape when he least expected it. He took another few steps forward and you could smell him now, a smell of strange smoke and the river, “Do you know who I am?” Nailed to the ground, you shook your head. “I work for Mr. Billy Kimber. Ever heard of him?” You turned to see if you could escape, but then realised the other side of the alley was blocked by two more men. Neither of them were wearing hats. Cold sweat of fear ran down your back. The man in front of you started laughing, “There’s no running, sweetheart. Just give it to me.” At once you realised he was referring to the money in your pocket, but for Tommy’s sake, you wanted at least to try to be brave, “I don’t have anything.” He sighed, “Don’t play with me. I’m not the kind of man to play with, and neither is Mr. Kimber,” his voice was suddenly low and menacing, “Your brother thought he could, thought he would get away with fixing a race, he did, and now he’s going to be put against the post and shot. Don’t think I won’t do the same to you.” You gulped, but still thought of Tommy’s disappointment in you when he would find out you’d been a coward. So you took a deep breath and said softly, “It’s not yours. This money is ours. You can tell Mr. Kimber to go fuck himself!” It didn’t come out as strongly as you’d hoped. Like a crack of thunder, he swiftly slapped you across the face with the back of his hand. All the air was knocked out of your lungs in a second and you stood gasping for air, as you felt some blood trickling down your chin. “Give me the money,” he demanded again. And then, like your heroes, you pretended to reach for it in your pocket. Suddenly, you turned around and started running into the other direction, hoping to slip past the two men before they could stop you. But it didn’t work. One grabbed your arm and when you tried to push him away, he punched you hard. All strength left you in an instant. The second one started fumbling in your pockets and instinctively you kicked him, which earned you another blow to the head. More punches followed and your head was spinning. As you looked up to the sky, you remembered wanting to get back home, to your castle, where all was well and safe. In the end, they left you on the ground and the money was gone. Your last thought was: Tommy is going to be so embarrassed.

*** “Y/N?” You opened your eyes, but couldn’t see for a moment. “Y/N,” the familiar voice repeated, “Come on, yes, let’s get you home. Polly, Polly will know what to do, yes…” Strong arms lifted you up and rocking with his familiar limp, Curly carried you back to Watery Lane. When he’d taken you into the kitchen, Aunt Polly flew to your side in seconds, asking, “What’s happened?” Uncertainly, Curly explained and as he did, he started to become upset over your state. That’s when Tommy came in and started to calm him, while keeping an eye on you all the time. “Sweetheart,” Aunt Polly had taken a cold cloth to the cut in your lip, “Wake up… Come back to us…” Again you tried opening you eyes and you finally managed this time. But all your concern was with Curly, who was still anxiously fidgeting with his cap in hand. “Don’t worry, Curly,” you croaked, “I’m alright now. You did good, carrying me here.” “Polly will know what to do…” he kept on repeating. Tommy put a hand on his shoulder and it had an immediate calming effect, “It’s alright, Curly, go back to Charlie, eh? We’ll take care of her now.” Before he left, you said to him, “Curly? I’ll stop by tomorrow, see about that beautiful horse of yours, alright?” That put an immediate smile on his face, “Yes, she’s a beauty, alright… And she needs her princess to ride her! Back to that castle in the sky…yes…” When he’d gone, you lowered your head again and sighed deeply. Carefully, you felt your face and only then realised how awful you must look. “Who did this,” Tommy demanded at once. Polly glared daggers at him, “You did, I presume?” “Me?” “I told you again and again not to use the little ones to run errands. Sending them across half of Birmingham with money in their pockets, and look what happens!” For a moment, Tommy seemed to be speechless. Then he protested, “They’re invisible, Pol. Nobody knows they’re carrying anything.” “This one did,” you interjected, “because he knew who I was.” “How?” “Said he was with Kimber,” you whispered as the memories came back to you, “said he’d put me up against a post and he’d shoot me, like he’d do with you…” In a sudden fit of rage, Tommy grabbed a chair and flung it across the room. Polly snarled at the gesture and then turned to you, “Stay here. This cloth is cold, keep it against your eye, or it’ll turn black in half an hour, and I can’t take you to church looking like that. I just need to have a word with your brother.” You took the cloth and didn’t dare to look at Tommy, who was now being taken away by his aunt like he was ten years old again and in trouble. Aunt Polly closed the door behind her, but you still tried to hear as much as you could. Most of it was lost, but when they started shouting you heard bits like “putting your little sister in danger!” and “this is Billy fucking Kimber, Thomas” and “family first”. At first Tommy protested with “I didn’t know they knew her” and “Kimber is getting weak”, but eventually he shouted out in defeat, “I fucked up, alright? I’ll fix it. I promise.” When they came back, Tommy looked like a dog that’d just been kicked. So he retreated into a corner and started smoking, still sulking a little. Aunt Polly lifted your head up by placing a finger under your chin, “You won’t look pretty for a week, but it’ll heal.” You shrugged, not caring about being pretty at all, and muttered, “I feel like an idiot…” “Why?” your aunt demanded, “because big men decided to go after a small girl?” Tears started forming in the corners of your eyes, as you admitted, “Because I wanted to be brave! In my stories I’m pretty and strong and the hero, but in reality I’m just like a mouse. No one notices me and I’m useless…” “Sweetheart,” Polly softened her voice and crouched down next to you, “Just because you can’t fight like Arthur or John can, doesn’t make you useless. We’re all stuck here, in Small Heath, and there’s nothing pretty about that. But you reading all those books? That’s what’s going to make this easier. You can pretend, and that’s worth more than you’ll ever realise.” You smiled back at your aunt, who always knew what to say to make you feel better. “I’m off to the chemist to get you some powder against the pain,” she kissed the top of your head, “I’ll be right back, love.” After she’d gone as well, you sighed again and dropped the cloth. Her words mattered, of course they did, but it didn’t change the fact that you weren’t happy with yourself at all. For starters, you still couldn’t bear looking at Tommy. “Y/N,” he grumbled, which convinced you even more he was angry and disappointed, “Tell me what they looked like.” “They didn’t wear hats…” Impatiently he waved a hand, “Apart from that. What else?” “I don’t know,” you shrugged, “it all happened fast, Tommy. They had that accent that Kimber has as well.” “Fucking Cockneys…” your brother breathed. “Tommy?” you tried carefully, “I’m so sorry, but I lost the money. I tried to keep it. When they asked I told them to fuck off and then I tried to run and even fight, but they still took it. I’m so sorry…” He held up a hand to silence you and locked eyes with you, “You told them to fuck off?” “Yes, but it didn’t help…” “You actually told them to fuck off?” he frowned, “Usually you’re too shy to even say anything to strangers…” “I was angry,” you explained, “and I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Tommy walked over to you and much to your surprise, he was smirking, “So you told them to go fuck themselves, and then you fought them?” “Yes?” “Did you hit any of them?” You thought about it for a second, “I think I kicked one in the balls and hit the other in the face.” His grin grew even wider and he mumbled to himself, “Wait ‘till I tell Arthur about this…” “Why?” you protested, “So he can laugh at me as well?” “No, sweetheart, he’ll be the proudest brother ever. His little sister, who everyone thinks is a little mouse too scared to do anything? She fucking hit a grown man and told them to go fuck themselves. Now that’s a hero in my book!” His laugh was contagious and you had to join in. But soon you became uncertain again and asked, “Are you not upset I lost the money?” “The money’s not important,” his face grew serious again in an instant, “but you are.” “Really?” you whispered. “Yes,” he took your face in his hands, “Listen, Y/N, this is what’s going to happen: Billy Kimber threatened my little sister, so I’m going to put himup against the post, and shoot him.” “And then what?” “Well, what usually happens in your books? Maybe I could learn something from them, eh?” A warm feeling of being appreciated for who you were came over you, “You’d take his kingdom and his skull would be put up on the gates, as a warning for all future enemies.” “That’s fucking dark,” Tommy raised one eyebrow, “But I like it.” “Me too…” you smiled at your brother. “I mean it though, Y/N. Kimber touched you, so I’m going to shoot the bastard. I won’t let anyone fucking go near you again.” And just like that, you felt safe enough again to continue dreaming. *** A few weeks later, everything had turned to chaos, both in the Shelby household as in the whole of Birmingham. Tommy didn’t speak to anyone of what happened to you, he hadn’t even apologized, but he wasn’t like that. He told you he’d fix it, promised you revenge, and that was even better. When the men were counting minutes in front of the Garrison and Billy Kimber’s army arrived, you were sitting at home with a book. You couldn’t really concentrate, because you knew there were too many of them. You pretended some angel would appear to save them all. There’d have to be no bloodshed, because this angel would be on your brothers’ side. That angel came in the form of your older sister Ada. She’d always had flair. In the end, only two bullets were fired. You listened to them both. One killed Danny Whizz-bang. The other killed Billy Kimber. Nobody knew, but as Tommy fired, he didn’t have business on his mind.

As he aimed, he saw his little sister’s face, all bruised and battered.

He whispered, “for Y/N,” and shot.

Bang.

***

Masterlist

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xxblackballoonxx · 3 years ago

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The Heart Underneath: 1914 Part 1

***This fic is being posted simultaneously on FanFiction.net and Ao3. I originally began it in 2016, and then life was life, and now I’m bringing it back because it deserves to be finished! I intended this story to be canon, but I cannot accept the events of the beginning of Season 4, so I’ll write it with the ending that I intended. Rating M as of Chapter 10 ***

Chapter 11 Chapter 13: 1914 Part 2

The Heart Underneath

Chapter 12: 1914 Part 1 (18 and 19)

It was a Wednesday in mid-August, 1914. Martha returned home from dropping off a dress commission and the house felt too quiet. She could feel dread seeping in to her bones as she walked slowly through the front parlor, catching low voices in the kitchen.

She entered the room and the conversation stopped, Arthur, Tommy, and John turning their heads towards her. The grim look on John’s face told her all she needed to know.

“No.” She whispered, holding on to the doorframe as she watched John’s eyes pool with tears.

Before John could speak, she turned and ran out the front door, taking a sharp left turn down Watery Lane.

“Mar! Martha, wait!” John yelled as he chased after her.

Martha ran as fast she could, running through and from all the despair that was about hit. John kept pace behind her. She ran until she could run no further, stopping inches from the cut. She dropped to her knees, her head in her hands, and screamed until her voice went hoarse.

John stood a few feet behind, his heart breaking. He knew it was better for Martha to let out everything she was feeling, but it was painful to watch. To know that a choice he was making was hurting her. He waited until Martha went limp and then walked over to her.

“Mar?” He said softly, kneeling beside her.

She turned to look at him, eyes swollen with tears, a blank stare. He put his arms underneath hers and gently pulled her up, but she clearly wasn’t going to be able to walk on her own. Too much shock. John wiped her face the best he could, all the while her eyes distant and somewhere else.

“Come on, my love, let’s get you home.” John finally said, reaching down and picking her up.

Martha wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned her head against his shoulder, as he held her close to his chest. Her legs hung loosely over his arm, and she had gone pale. They walked through the streets, the shortest route home, and John felt like he was both carrying a thousand tons and then nothing at all.

They arrived back at the Shelby home, and John opened the door, turning sideways to carry Martha through. He found Ada sitting in the parlor, eyes red. He motioned that he was going upstairs and Ada nodded to confirm.

John got Martha into their room and then sat her on the bed carefully. He removed her muddy shoes and then her skirt and shirtwaist. He turned to take off his own muddy clothes when he heard her clear her throat.

“Why?” She asked, voice breaking.

He knelt in front of her, resting his head on her lap. He nearly cried as he felt her hands rest on either side of his face. Coming back from wherever she had been.

“It’s our duty, to go fight. A bunch of us from Small Heath made an agreement, sign up together, hopefully go over to France together. Safer in numbers, maybe.” He said, his own voice breaking, trying to hold back tears.

“When?”

“We all agreed to take two weeks to get our affairs in order, and then volunteer. Maybe another week after that.”

“Three weeks.” Martha whispered, it hurt to speak the words.

John wrapped his arms around her, his head against her stomach. He could feel her tears dripping down into his hair, and his own down his face and into the fabric of her petticoat. He knew he’d have to go sooner or later, and he’d rather go with his brothers and friends from the neighborhood. But it was destroying him to think about Martha left behind without him.

He got up and laid down on top of the made bed, pulling Martha into him tightly. She cried against his bare chest, arms wrapped around him, desperately holding on. John ran his hands through her hair, cursing the world for doing this to her. To him. To both of them and all of them.

“I promise I will do everything I can to come back to you, Mar.” John whispered to her.

Martha finally fell into an exhausted sleep, and John fell asleep with her. When he awoke, he checked his pocket watch to find it was well after supper time. He felt her stir in his arms and was concerned that she hadn’t eaten any supper.

“Are you hungry?” He whispered, but she shook her head no.

“If I bring something up for you, will you please eat? I’m worried about you.” He whispered again.

She thought a moment and then nodded. He carefully got up, lit the lamp near the bed, and went downstairs. He found Polly in the kitchen, chain smoking.

“How is she?” Polly asked, taking in John’s red eyes and rumpled clothes.

“In shock, I think. I’m going to bring her up something to eat, I’m worried.” John sighed, sitting at the table for a moment.

He dropped his head down, and Polly placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll fix you both a plate.” She said and got up from the table.

Ada walked in a moment later, and whacked John on the arm.

“Ada, the fuck was that for!?” John yelped.

“I already smacked Tommy and Arthur, you’re just getting what you deserve. To leave us here. To leave Martha?! Why, John?” Ada yelled.

“We have to, Ada. It’s either now or later, and now may mean staying together. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt Martha, and it’s fucking killing me already. I don’t need a reminder.” John responded back angrily.

Ada wrapped him in a tight hug and mumbled an apology. John hugged her back, knowing she was scared and upset.

“You two have to take care of each other while I’m gone, like when we were little, yeah?” John said in a softer tone, holding Ada’s shoulders.

“We will. I’ll take care of her for you.” Ada replied.

Polly handed John two plates and he headed back upstairs. Martha had gotten herself ready for bed, and the color was starting to come back to her face. John handed her a plate, and she picked at it, eating a bit for his sake.

************************************************************************

John woke before sunrise the next morning, his dreams filled with terrible thoughts of something happening to him in France. Of never seeing Martha again. He forced his mind to think back to happier moments: her 16th birthday, their days at the fair, late nights laughing in bed together.

He gently shook her awake.

“Johnny?” She mumbled.

“Come for a walk with me.” He said quietly, getting out of bed.

They both dressed quickly and made their way downstairs, using the kitchen door. John took Martha’s hand, and they walked a familiar route. There was something he had to do, and had to do it before he left.

The empty house, the scene of their first real kiss, appeared in front of them. John led Martha over to the steps, and took a deep breath.

“There’s something I need to ask you, love. This isn’t the way I thought I would do it, not the way I planned it at all. But I can’t leave without doing this. I need us to belong to each other in every way, before I go.”

Martha searched his eyes and a realization started to form. John took both of her hands in his, and looked down at her, like his life depended on it.

“Martha Connolly, will you marry me?” John asked, his voice shaky.

Martha smiled, even in spite of the circumstances. She knew men all across England would be doing something similar in the weeks to come, but in this case, she knew it wouldn’t be only because of the war. It was just simply adjusting their plan, to make sure they were married before John left.

“Yes, John Shelby, I will marry you.” Martha replied.

John grinned and bent down to kiss her, lifting her up in his arms and spinning her around. Martha laughed, and the sound of that laugh stayed with John for the rest of his life. And so did the way her hair glowed from the rising sun, the glint in her green eyes as she looked down at him, propping her hands on his shoulders as he held her up.

Martha could barely breathe as she looked into John’s grey blue eyes, every emotion he’d ever felt for her coming straight through. They had one of their silent conversations, an acknowledgement of all the fear and worry that was to come, but also the strength their commitment would give each other.

“I love you, more than anything in the world.” Martha said and wrapped her legs around his waist.

“I love you, too, darlin’.” John replied as he rested his forehead against hers.

John held Martha to him tightly, her hands locked around his neck, and the rest of the world disappeared. The only thing he could focus on was the girl he loved, and how beautiful she looked in the morning light. Martha leaned forward and kissed him, wanting to make every moment together last as long as possible.

“John, there’s something else.” Martha said as he lowered her back down to the ground.

“What is it?”

“If something should happen to you, over there … and I was left without anything of you, I couldn’t bear it. I know you’ll do whatever you can to come back, but if you can’t, I need a piece of you with me, John. I couldn’t go on otherwise.”

John looked at Martha, her eyes watching his as he made his way through her words. The gravity of what she was saying, and what it meant.

“Are you sure, Mar? Are you absolutely sure?” He finally asked, taking her hand again.

“I’m sure. And the sooner the better, so that we have the most opportunities. No one will care if it’s before or after the wedding.” Martha responded.

John nodded and smiled, relieved that Martha smiled back. At least a little of her humor was returning after the shock she'd had the day before.

“If we head back now, might get a chance in before everyone wakes up.” John said grinning, and Martha had to laugh.

They walked back home as quickly as they could, hand in hand, and quietly went back up the stairs to their room.

While John would of course remember his wedding night, this particular morning seemed to be more important, and to Martha as well. They would both think back to it often, when the distance of war weighed heavily, John freezing cold in a trench, Martha back home in Small Heath, desperate for news.

It was almost too much, the way John undressed her, held her face as he kissed her, taking time to make sure she was ready. Martha tried to memorize every touch, every look, every kiss. He spent longer than usual removing her stockings, he wanted to remember every inch of her skin.

John slowly made his way up her body, tracing every freckle, listening to every sigh that Martha made. He turned her head to kiss every part of her neck, locking their fingers together above. He ran his other hand back down, caressing each of her breasts, nipples hard from arousal, and then down her stomach to her center, where his fingers ran back and forth.

Finally, he positioned himself and pressed into her in one go. Martha called out his name quietly, her fingers digging into the back of his neck, pulling him in closer to her. Their lips met again in fervor, taking advantage of every moment to be one. John picked up the pace, his need for her overwhelming.

“I’m close.” He murmured in her ear and she nodded.

Martha felt it come on, as John continued to hit one particular spot, and she cried out into his shoulder, trying to muffle the sound. He could feel himself emptying into her, the spasms of her body pulling him deeper, the sensation so intense he saw stars. He bit the pillow next to him as he said her name.

They were never completely sure, but both believed it was the moment they had conceived their first child together. And neither would ever forget.

************************************************************************

Simplified WWI Historical Context:

Following the assassination of Austrian Archduke Franz Ferdinand in June 1914, Austria declares war on Serbia in July 1914, which begins the war.

Germany declares war against France on August 3, 1914 and the plan was to invade Belgium to reach France. After Germany's refusal to respect Belgium's longstanding neutrality, Britain declares war on Germany on August 4, 1914.

Within the first 8 weeks, over 700,000 British men volunteered to join the British army. A strong sense of duty, moral obligation, and adventure were the largest motivating factors. By the end of the war, over 2.6 million British men volunteered, another 2.5 million drafted. It's important to note that the conscription (draft) act was not passed by British parliament until 1916. Also important to note that it was often looked upon unfavorably if you were an eligible British man and did not fight in the war at any point.

At the time, WWI was the most brutal war to ever be fought, casualties high, and was the beginning of modern chemical warfare. Poisonous gas was introduced for the first time on the battlefield by Germany, beginning in wide-scale use in 1915, leading up to the introduction of mustard gas by Germany in 1917, which had absolutely horrendous effects on the human body, particularly the lungs.

The death toll, especially for young men 25 and younger, was so great in Britain that after the war, women outnumbered men at 109 to every 100 men in the 1921 census. The age group of 19 years old had more loss than any other. This generation was largely (and still is) referred to as the "Lost Generation" in Britain.

Shell shock, a term invented during WWI, was a large scope term that encompassed the post traumatic stress that soldiers faced after the horrific events of the battlefield. Treatment for shell shock was often rudimentary or completely ignored, as it was not well understood and was something most soldiers hid as much as possible, out of shame. The term PTSD would not be coined until 1980.

Peaky Blinders has always done an incredible job remaining historically accurate to the war events, as well as recognizing and diving deep into the trauma WWI soldiers suffered.

For further reading, see Vera Brittain's "Testament of Youth", considered one of the best pieces on the subject of the Lost Generation, by a writer of that generation.

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starofgold · 3 years ago

Text

Let’s play a game from the Sage’s world 1

As Nero was glaring at the basket emptied of eggs, Cain was having a morning run in the yard. The cool breeze was good for his mood, and the sunlight was pleasant.

“Hey.”

“Good morning.”

Cain raised his head at the voices from not far away. Still running, he held out his right hand and touched Shino’s hand then Lennox’.

The two people whose hands Cain touched appeared in front of him, where there had been no one. That was something he saw regularly so Cain wasn’t surprised at all. Without missing a step, he smiled widely at them, who were moving around quickly.

“Morning! Shino, looks like you’re winning today?”

Shino’s eyebrows knitted sullenly at Cain’s casual question. He pointed at Lennox with his thumb over his shoulder.

“I’ll win if there is a prey.”

“Yeah, I’ll probably lose my head in that case.”

Lennox didn’t protest the assertion but nodded in apparent admiration. He might have an advantage in martial art skills and body size, but Shino knew how to fight to take down his opponent when he had his magic focus in hand. And then there was Cain, who was not as powerful as Shino when it came to magic but possessed the talent of a commander, something in short supply at the Magic Manor. He could estimate the outcome of a battle, raise the spirit of his soldiers, and direct them. Under his command, probably even humans could go beyond their limits.

At the moment, such personalities were taking a break and looking up in the blue sky.

“Looks like it’ll be sunny today.”

“It’d be nice if there’s rain though. Heath loves rains. Still he said that the rain at the Magic Manor was a bit different from the rain at the Blanchett Castle.”

“Maybe that’s because there’s less forest around here. It must be tough in the Southern Country when there’s rain?”

“Yeah, the soil is thin there. Such dust-filled wild lands will become muddy and floods will rise.”

“Floods are scary. They happen a lot in my hometown, so there’s a song about moving the furniture to the rooftop when the water gets too high.”

“Heh, sing it then.”

“Come, come, quickly ~. Ah, such trouble ~”

“That song is way too chirpy. It doesn’t sound like there’s trouble at all.”

“People are always singing and dancing in Cain’s hometown after all.”

“Ahaha! I guess so.”

As Cain laughed and puffed up his chest with pride, Shino pointed to the clear sky.

“It’s Arthur.”

All three of them looked up at the same time.

However, the shining sky was completely empty to Cain. Because of his Curious Affliction from the Great Calamity, he couldn’t see other people unless he touched them.

“Looks like he’s returning early from the castle. Wave at him, Cain.”

Cain waved his hand as Shino directed. When he was imagining the sight of his Sovereign flying on his broom in the blue sky, Shino and Lennox let out a cry at the same time.

“Ah….”

“What’s the matter?”

“Something fell down. It was like someone was half-asleep. That was dangerous.”

A chill ran down Lennox’s spine as he pushed his glasses up. As Cain was at a loss about whether he should mount his broom and fly up even if he couldn’t see anyone, something touched his heel.

It was an egg.

However, that was a colorful egg with arms and legs. It seemed to be hiding behind Cain’s shoe.

“What’s this?”

Cain bent down and picked up the egg. It shook its limbs wildly in an attempt to escape Cain’s hand.

Shino and Lennox gathered around him.

“What’s that?”

“How’s Arthur?”

“No need to worry. He’s safe in his room.”

“Is that an egg? Let’s crack it open and have a look.”

Cain was relieved by the assurance that Arthur was safe. Following the others’ suggestion, he placed his thumb on the round egg. As he was about exert some force, he paused.

“Will this one spread out its limbs when I break it? In a ‘I’m dead’ kind of pose?”

Lennox pushed up his glasses and nodded.

“Perhaps. Still, is that what a professional soldier would say?”

“If you don’t want to break it then let’s boil it. I want to know what it tastes like.”

His curiosity stirred up, Shino poked at the egg. Cain looked at the egg one more time and slowly shook his head.

“I can’t do that. I got attached while holding it like this.”

“What? You Central wizards think everyone is your friend way too easily.”

“That’s probably not a Central wizard thing. That’s how we people of City of Glory are. It doesn’t take long for us to treat someone as our own.”

“Whatever. Just don’t expect feelings of friendship from me.”

“Come on, have a look. Isn’t it cute waving around its arms and legs like this?”

“Let’s try pulling its legs then”

“That’s a no too!”

“We should try pulling its limbs and peel off the shell. Maybe there’s some cool creature inside.”

Shino, who grew up in a forest, loved watching eggs hatch to see baby animals come out. It delighted him when that was a creature he had never seen before. However, Lennox spoke up before Shino broke the egg’s shell with his finger.

“I think that isn’t a living being. It’s someone’s magical prank item. I’ve seen something like it before.”

“A magical item for playing pranks?”

“Yeah, such artifacts are popular in Western Country. Apparently poor wizards with weak magical power make and sell them to the nobles.”

“An artifact? So Nick isn’t a living being?”

“Nick?”

“This one’s name.”

“You already gave it a name?”

Shino made an exasperated face at Cain, who was caressing the egg.

“Lennox, you said this is a magical prank item?”

“Yeah, a magical artifact to make people laugh. Like a bag that gives off laughing sound when you press it, or a barrel with a pirate inside which would jump out when you stick a knife in it.”

“Maybe it’s some kind of weapon disguised as a toy for pranks? Come to think about it, isn’t it making a strange sound?”

Cain frowned when Shino pointed that out. He quickly tossed the egg in the air and drew his sword.

Without any mercy, he cut it into two with a single stroke.

“Nick….”

It was Lennox who reflexively murmured.

The broken egg burst open with a bang. From it appeared dazzling complex patterns of red flowers and gold lines.

The egg lingered in the air as it drew out those beautiful images.

“So that’s a prank item?”

Shino turned to Cain and Lennox. He shrugged.

“Can you laugh at that?”

“Not me. People with the temperament of Western Country residents may find it funny.”

“I would laugh if that were picture of a monkey making funny faces or something like that!”

Shino found it a bit of a pity that they didn’t wait to break the egg in the presence of the Western wizards. Chloe would likely burst out laughing hard.

There was a rustling sound. Lennox looked down at his feet. Many eggs with arms and legs like the one they saw before were loitering around.

If one listened carefully, one could hear the little voices of the eggs.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #6 #anni 1 book

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moral-turpitudes · 4 years ago

Text

Golden Ring: Part 2

Trigger Warnings: Angst, Fighting, Swearing, Fluff, Gore, Smoking, Drinking, etc.

Word Count: 1,833

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Requested by: @captivatedbycillianmurphy (thank you!)

Summary: When the Shelby’s are on business, there’s no such thing as rest, not even for Y/N.

A/N: Totally had “Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked” by Cage The Elephant stuck in my head while writing this. (Also fun fact: they’re from the city I went to college in and they did a free show on campus once which was lit).

Part 1 | Part 2

Tommy drove through the late-night fog and along the dark roads that led to their warehouse, the wheels creeping by ever so slightly on the dirt covered streets. The gears shifted as he put the car in park and got out, and walked towards the old building.

He pulled out a cigarette and rubbed it against his lips as he walked further into the darkness, the only light coming from what he assumed were his brothers cigarettes in the distance.

“Aye, who the fuck are you?” One of the men asked, who was most definitely not his brother.

“I could ask you the same question. Why are you on my property?” Tommy asked, the light from a cracked window seeping in, illuminating the two men’s faces.

“Well if it isn’t Mr. Thomas Shelby. We’re here to take your stock. The weapons. The drugs...What are you going to do? Call your brothers? Make your whore of a mother appear out of thin air or something?” He asked.

Tommy sighed, straightened his coat, and took his hat off nonchalantly, flipping it around in his hand as he looked down at it, before landing a hard punch to the mans jaw.

His other friend quickly took off towards the door with two bags full of cocaine.

“I wouldn’t run if I were you mate. You won’t get far.” Arthur said blocking the door with John next to him holding a shotgun.

Tommy then grabbed his cap tightly and pulled his hand back, sending the razor blade straight towards the mans eye. He slashed open one of them to where he’d be barely be able to see out of it, and the other he cut out completely, leaving the man screaming bloody murder as he walked towards his brothers.

“Where are the other men aye?” He asked grabbing the man by his collar.

“By the cut, I heard them fighting so I stayed here with him.” He said pointing to his partner bleeding out on the ground.

“They aren’t there anymore, you little London boy. You don’t mess with the peaky fookin’ blinders and live to tell about it.” Arthur said inching closer to the young man.

He was shaking as he realized he was the only one of his gang left, his boss surely plotting his death the longer he stayed in Small Heath.

“I’ll give you one minute to run out of here, because I don’t think you’re worth killing just yet. You tell your boss that if he wants to do business he’ll come to me directly, or I’ll have to come to him, and he won’t want that.” Tommy said menacingly as he held the young man by his collar.

“Al-alright. I will, can you let me go?” He asked.

Tommy held him there for a couple moments just to watch him struggle before letting him go. The young man dropped to the ground and ran straight out, leaving his friend and other deceased gang members behind.

“Now, what did you lot do with the others? I’m not digging any graves tonight.” He asked, his eyes landing on John.

“Well Arthur beat two of them to a pulp. I told ya he would go feral.” John said giving a sideways glance at Arthur.

Arthur smacked him in the back of the head before he continued.

“Well John-boy shot one in the head, the other is drifting down the cut with 3 bullet holes in his chest. Do we have to fookin’ retrieve them now Tommy?” Arthur asked.

“If you don’t want the coppers to get on us again, then yes. I’d imagine it would frighten the women and children walking past the cut as well, we don’t want that.” Tommy said before heading towards the door.

He looked down at his golden ring before looking back at his brothers who angrily spoke up.

“You’re just gonna leave us here to do the dirty work then aye Tommy?” John yelled.

“I have some things to do. You’ve both buried worse, just make their graves deeper this time.” He said before looking at his pocket watch.

“It’s Y/N again isn’t it Tommy? Bastard can’t even handle a murder job without wanting to run home to his spouse!” Arthur said, chuckling as John smirked.

“You’ll understand someday Arthur. Just get to work or I’ll make sure you’re both buried with that gang of fools instead of buried in company work tomorrow.” Tommy said before stepping outside and lighting another cigarette before heading home.

Back at home, the sun was shining brightly through the bedroom window with you laying in it’s rays, the sun warm on your skin as you draped yourself across the sheets as sleep eluded you still.

Your eyes were tired, with dark circles starting to form as the thoughts danced around in your head at where your husband could be. It had been 3 hours since he’d left, not that time meant much when he was away, it always seemed to blur until he came home.

As you stared at the old stone fireplace, you could hear the door cracking open downstairs as familiar footsteps heavily echoed through the hall and up to the bedroom.

He cracked the door open as light as he could, not wanting to disturb you if you were asleep, but you moved so you were facing him as he entered the room, meeting his tired eyes and blood stained hands and face. His clothes weren’t much better off, knowing that would be a pain to wash out.

“You haven’t slept...” He said taking his cap off and looking at you. He undid his dress shirt and took of the suspenders that clanked as he set them down on the table.

“I told you I probably wouldn’t be able to, you know that my love.” You said as you curled up on the sofa, the robe around you shifting with your movements.

“What can I do to help ya then aye? I can’t have you passing out at work.” He said coming over to sit on the floor next to you.

You lazily ran your hand through his hair as he leaned into your touch. The blood from earlier still glinting off his face in the sunlight.

“Well you could go take a shower, you’ve become so used to being covered in blood you forget it’s all over your face.” You said giggling slightly, he smiled and you felt him laugh a bit as you dropped your hand to his shoulder, massaging it lightly.

“You’re right about that, do you want to join?” He asked, looking over to you as he smirked.

“Only after you’ve washed the blood off, and on one condition.” You said.

“And what is that?” He asked.

“You lay with me for a while since you’ve been gone more often than not this week...that might help me sleep, at least until we have to get to work.” You said.

He smiled and nodded in agreement before getting up to rid himself of last nights business. You reluctantly getting up from the comfort of the sofa to join him in the steaming shower not soon after.

Showers always made everything better in a sense, so after it, you had no trouble falling asleep in Tommy’s arms.

You awoke later to the sun shining even brighter than before, signaling the afternoon, and you felt his warm arms still holding you as you lifted your head up slightly to look at him. He looked peaceful when he slept, or at least when he slept near you. Other times he’d be wide awake as the sounds of shovels and the muddy tunnels plagued his mind.

You carefully got up to not wake him and looked at the clock on the wall, lightly ticking in the distance and your eyes growing wide at the realization.

“My god...oh no...not again!” You said hurriedly.

“Thomas wake up! Thomas!” You said shaking his shoulder lightly.

His eyes shot open and he sat up immediately, looking around the room for any danger.

“What is it Y/N?” He said groggily and calming down as he saw you frantically getting ready.

“We overslept! Polly’s gonna kill us! We can’t be late to another meeting...you know this.” You said scurrying into the bathroom as you heard Tommy swearing under his breath.

He walked in as you were doing your hair quickly and putting in minimal effort to look presentable. Tommy was shirtless and standing behind you brushing his teeth, with his pants and belt undone as he’d hurriedly thrown a new pair on.

“You can finish getting ready and I’ll wait in the car.” You said moving out of his way and slipping your shoes on and grabbing your coat.

That was always the one little thing he loved about you, as you would always get ready quickly which often came in handy when he’d steal you away before other meetings or parties, and you still looked remarkable even if you put in minimal effort.

Not long after you started the car, he was bounding out the door and climbing into the drivers side, giving you a quick peck on the lips before speeding off towards the shop.

You looked at the watch Tommy had gifted you a while back, it reading 12:30pm as you both headed towards the familiar streets. People looked on as Tommy sped slightly through the streets earning some concerned glances.

With a lurching stop, Tommy parked the car and help you out, letting you inside the shop first as he followed.

“Y/N...Thomas...nice of you to join us.” Polly said smirking at you both as you walked in to the packed meeting room.

Tommy shook his head as he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before sitting down and lifting a cigarette to his lips, wincing as Polly loudly re-hashed some of the news and plans involving the business.

“Tom, the London boys boss is wanting to meet you. Your message was delivered.” Michael said, eyeing him as he lit his own cigarette.

“When will he be here? 3 in the morning?” He asked, yawning on cue as you smirked, remembering the annoying events of last night.

“Actually yeah...What? That’s what he said...” Michael said confused.

You and Tommy shared a knowing look, as he rolled his eyes back to his brother.

“Alright...tell him it’s doing me a disservice but I’ll meet him...with backup of course.” He said looking to John and Arthur, they seemed just as tired, and still wearing their clothes from last night.

“For fucks sake. As long as you bury him this time Tom.” John said.

Tommy smirked in response, turning his gaze to you as you lazily rested your head on your arm, Polly glaring at you until you straightened up.

As much as you loved your husband, it was a known fact in the Shelby family that the wicked never rested. So you sighed as you accepted your fate, knowing sleep would elude you once again until business was done.

Tag List:

(If you’d like to be added/removed just shoot me an ask/message!) :)

@msbzowy, @nofckingfighting, @aranoburns, @sighonahurricane, @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes, @gaytommyshelby, @wowjeena, @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby, @inglourious-imagines, @thebloodyshelbys, @tsolomons, @blinder-secrets, @reveparade, @shelby-fanatic, @ta-ka-shi-ma, @psychkunox, @peakyxtommy, @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @dreamwastakenx, @lovemissyhoneybee

#katiesfics #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders oneshots #peaky blinders fanfic #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x y/n #katiesWIPlist

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kvetchlandia · 4 years ago

Photo

Dave Heath New York City c.1957

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix, angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night, who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz, who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated, who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war, who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull, who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall, who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York, who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls, incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between, Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind, who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo, who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford’s floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi’s, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox, who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge, a lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon, yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars, whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement, who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall, suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark’s bleak furnished room, who wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts, who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night, who studied Plotinus Poe St. John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the cosmos instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas, who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels, who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy, who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain, who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa, who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving behind nothing but the shadow of dungarees and the lava and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago, who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets, who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed, who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons, who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication, who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts, who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy, who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love, who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may, who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword, who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman’s loom, who copulated ecstatic and insatiate with a bottle of beer a sweetheart a package of cigarettes a candle and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness, who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake, who went out whoring through Colorado in myriad stolen night-cars, N.C., secret hero of these poems, cocksman and Adonis of Denver—joy to the memory of his innumerable lays of girls in empty lots & diner backyards, moviehouses’ rickety rows, on mountaintops in caves or with gaunt waitresses in familiar roadside lonely petticoat upliftings & especially secret gas-station solipsisms of johns, & hometown alleys too, who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hung-over with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices, who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open to a room full of steam-heat and opium, who created great suicidal dramas on the apartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion, who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of Bowery, who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music, who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology, who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish, who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom, who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg, who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade, who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried, who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality, who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer, who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles, who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other’s hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch or Birmingham jazz incarnation, who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity, who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes, who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other’s salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second, who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz, who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave, who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury, who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturers on Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy, and who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia, who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia, returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East, Pilgrim State’s Rockland’s and Greystone’s foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon, with mother finally ******, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger in the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination— ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you’re really in the total animal soup of time— and who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipsis catalogue a variable measure and the vibrating plane, who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soul between 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head, the madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death, and rose reincarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America’s naked mind for love into an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio with the absolute heart of the poem of life butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years.

--Allen Ginsberg, “Howl, part 1″ 1956

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hughiecampbelle · 5 years ago

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A Garden Of Apologies (Thomas Shelby Oneshot)

Character/s: Thomas

Word Count: 1,295

Inspired By: Flowers by iyla

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @death-of-a-mermaid @lotsoffandomimagines @woahitslucyylu @obsessedunicorn24 @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16

A/N: 1.) I love this song 2.) Sorry for the spam of fics lately!!! I always fear I'm being annoying when I post a fic every few days, especially with the tag list included!!! It feels like I'm bothering people!!! Is this a common thing or just ya gurl overthinking? Also, y'all would let me know if I was being annoying, right? :P Anyways, I'm really happy with how this turned out! I hope you like it as much as I do! Feedback is always appreciated!!! 💜💖💜

FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO.

WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

Spitting roots, breathing petals, dead leaves in his vomit, instead of apologies, instead of the proper words an adult should be able to say to the person he loves. With every regret, every forgotten anniversary, rushed date, ever back handed compliment and passive aggressive comment, came another bouquet. There weren't enough flowers in all of England to keep him out of trouble. There weren't enough in the whole world to heal all the wounds, your nights spent plucking thorns from your palms, tending to broken glass and spilled water, another vase gone, cleaning yourself up enough to be presentable when another bouquet found its way on your doorstep. An abandoned baby. A stray dog. Something to care for, another reminder of his failures, of your rotting relationship. One by one, taking over, taking up space, until you were sure the smell of flora would finally suffocate you. A choke, a sob, a sad attempt at crawling your way to help. What a beautiful final place of rest. Colorful. Bright. Alive. Ironic.

Maybe then he'd deliver them himself to your grave. Maybe not.

Roses. Daisies. Tulips. Chrysanthemums. Dahlias. Azaleas. Lilies. Jasmine. Blood turned pink, purple, white, dripping into the water, the roots, ruining the whole plant. Good. Your anger turned towards them, as if they were to blame. Vases smashed against the walls. No words, just screams, yells, needing to get it out somehow. Listening from bed. The same routine. He'd come home to a crime, a murder, nothing new in his line of work. Disappointed you hadn't at least used a gun. Made them suffer, suffocate, scream for help, your fingerprints all over the scene. The shine of his shoes muddied by limp leaves begging, torn petals crying. He loves you, you love him not. You love him, he loves you not. Guess you'd never know the answer. He always did keep you guessing. It used to ne so charming. Bending, cupping the glass in his own calloused hands, disposing of it without a word. He wasn't sure how to talk to you anymore, to communicate, instead holding all the things he would have said in his palms, in a pile of curse words, in shards of sorry's, and shiny little excuses. He wasn't sure how to feel anymore, what to do, what to say.

He wasn't sure what you were anymore.

Your husband, if that's what you wanted to call him. Someone you used to recognize. Vines around your finger, tightening, cutting off circulation. Purple, swollen, bloated, dying. Every time you took it off, there was relief, the lack of pain you hadn't realized was there in the first place. He left early, slipping away, as if it never happened, the rest of your home, your garden, untouched. In some ways, they were the fights you never had. Fussy, decaying, shrivel in up. Taking on the emotions the two of you emitted. All the words you left unsaid. Inhale the tension, the sighs, the cries you hid from one another. Exhale what could have been. A resolution, a rekindled relationship, the marriage you always dreamed of having. Instead there was a quiet resentment boiling, brewing, and a careful bitterness seeping into staged smiles and counterfeit kisses. It was poison, and one day it would kill you.

You used to love them. The bloom in spring, coming to life, sprouting between cracks in the cobblestone. Admiration for the fighters, the ones willing to do anything to get their way, move their way up in the world, unaware of the neglect, the lack of thought for the rest of the world. A one track mind. That's what he was, whether or not you realized it at the time. His come up was grand, and bold, blooming in the light of day after so much time spent clawing his way up. It deserved a celebration, a commemoration. Underneath the cracks, though, you were left behind. Forgotten. Abandoned. Left to drown in the downpour, to wilt, over watered. With you, your dreams of the life you'd have. A home far away, getting out of the Small Heath. A family of your own, children to raise, to cherish and love. A hope of growing old together. All of that withering the second business took off. That was when he forgot, opting to file through papers, sift through cigarette smoke and an endless supply of secretaries, instead of making time for you, for all the conversations you were supposed to have.

This can't be love.

It was never what you expected. Marrying him, it should have been a dream. Instead, you watered each plant every morning, moving them when they needed light, cursing the constant cloudy weather. Watching them grow, thrive under your care. Strong, healthy, happy, you hoped. In a home like this, without words, you doubted a child would ever thrive. A little boy, Aster, and a girl, Iris. Maybe you'd give up on flowers altogether. Name them what he really loved, what he cherished above everything else in the world; Money and Power. Re-pot them when they grew too big, outgrowing you, the small space available by the window, leaving the same way he did. A funny thought, a sad one, too. It was only you and your plants. Something to hold on to when there was nothing else. The last proof he gave a damn about you. There'd be another one for you. Wrapped snug in paper, snipped at the stems, crawling with regret, with the weight of the world on its tender leaves. The only thing you had to nurture, to love, searching for a cradle, something for it to sleep in.

Your home. Lacking warmth, security, everything you ever wanted. Grey skies, grey roads, grey people. Was this his way of adding a little color to your life? A cottage, a farm, fields of green where the flowers lived outside instead of in. Warmed by the sun through the windows, your cheeks properly kissed. Time would be slower than before. No hustle, no chasing after cars. The air would be so much lighter, sweeter, softer. You'd finally be able to breath. Your world would be honeyed, glistened in a foggy kind of yellow, the rest of the world oozing away. Nothing could touch you there, nothing would rot. You'd die in Birmingham. Family, money, business, all of it too important to leave behind, too crucial to be far from. It's what he lived and breathed. Your dream of thin linen nights and stars you could actually see with the lack of smog, of watching bunnies scurry and birds chirp would be buried with you.

This was your life. A let down.

He hadn't always been like this. Not when you were first together, not even after your wedding. Attentive, caring, comforting. He was your sense of safety, your sense of security. A gate around the garden walls, keeping the bugs, the animals, the sharpness of any pair of sheers out, away. He told you what he could. Enough to share, to plant the seeds, water them, but never enough to put you in danger, to invite a parasite in your life. That was enough for you. It would be now, if he shared that much. Somewhere, between then and now, he lost that, choosing work over everything. Business before love. Screaming fits, sleeping on the couch, maggots, all of it hushed. You shared the bed, the soil, but it wasn't what it used to be. It never would recover, too many questions, too many onlookers, dirt kicked up, stems stepped on, the hands of others wandering along the lock of the gate. It wasn't sacred anymore. Nothing between you two grew anymore. You weren't sure it ever would.

Fuck flowers and fuck Thomas Shelby.

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lovebitesimagines · 5 years ago

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Aligned- Chapter Three.

Holy crap, this chapter has been hella requested. I hope you guys enjoy!x

Masterlist.

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Tags: @biba3434 @i-love-you-green @lilianaswhatever @buckyboobear @between---the-bars @darkwolfpeanutskeleton @starkgaryan @labyrinth-of-thoughts @beaushelby @onlythechicagoway

Wanna be on the tag list for this series, or another? Just lemme know!

Warning: Swearing.

You’re having to come to terms with Tommy and Grace, but will he believe you when you find out some important news?

You were used to this. Nearly every man you had started to fall for, had gone off with somebody else. You had spent countless hours scrutinizing every aspect of your appearance, criticizing new found insecurities and flaws in the reflection of your mirror, wondering why you were never deemed worthy. The stomach drop sensation, the anxiety at seeing them again -you knew the heartbreak routine as well as the back of your hand. You could almost label yourself an expert.

But with Tommy, it wasn’t like he had opened an old wound. Every feeling you had once thought you were adept in experiencing, felt fresh and new. The heartache was as if you were suffering it for the first time. You lost count of how many shards your heart had splintered into, since everything took place two nights ago.

Your mind was cruel. It was as if your brain relished in forcing you to replay the events in your mind, a sadistic slideshow of your shortcomings. Of course Tommy would have gone for somebody like Grace. She was petite, her hair a shade of blonde that made her appear to glow. Her voice was angelic, even when she spoke it forced people to stop and listen. You could never possibly compare to somebody like her.

You didn’t know what you had been expecting with Tommy. Your arrival in Small Heath had come as a surprise to everybody, including yourself. Times like these though, you did yearn for the familiarity of your old life. You were frightened at where you were now, unaware of how this could possibly happen. It was completely against all the rules of science. Time travel- if that is what this could even be called- was impossible.

Yet you thought that you and Tommy possibly shared something special. The countless late nights you had spent together, telling each other things that no one else knew, your future together that he described to you…that had to mean something to him. He believed you when you told him about how you got here, the information not changing the way he had looked at you. You refused to entertain the belief it was meaningless to him, finding the thought completely out of the question.

Yet your mind continued to harbour the question, consistently playing on repeat. You didn’t even have respite in your sleep, your dreams conjuring up shiny brand-new doubts, which then went onto dominate every single waking moment. You hadn’t slept properly for the past few nights. Living with The Shelbys’ didn’t make the situation any easier, but you didn’t have any other option. You had no escape.

You knew that you couldn’t hide from The Garrison forever. You needed the job, the security of receiving a steady pay check to keep you on your feet, to allow yourself to eventually find somewhere else to live. You splashed cold water upon your face, in a fruitless attempt to appear more put together. A quick glance in the mirror in front of you, confirmed that this was a waste of time. The dark bags under your eyes betrayed you, shouting out about your lack of sleep to the entirety of Small Heath. And if that wasn’t bad enough, your waterline was rimmed with a dark shade of red- a result of the tears that had dampened your pillow case the past few evenings.

You chewed down on your bottom lip. The last thing on Earth you wanted to do now was to leave your room, but you knew that if you spent one more day in your sanctuary, suspicions would begin to arise. It was difficult enough convincing Ada that you were okay, blaming your lack of sleep on being homesick. You hated having to lie to her. The necessary action just didn’t feel right, leaving a sour taste in your mouth.

You didn’t pay much mind on what to wear to work, opting on a casual dusky pink dress. It needed ironing, possessing more wrinkles than you first thought. You pulled it over your head, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles with your hands as the fabric lay upon your body. It proved to be ineffectual, your actions having no impact upon the state of your dress. With a defeated sigh, you piled your hair on top of your head, a few curls breaking loose and framing your face. You quickly powdered your face, trying anything that could possibly hide your imperfections, before grabbing your bag and quickly rushing down stairs.

Luckily everybody seemed to be out of the house, or still asleep in bed. You gripped the front door handle, squeezing your eyes shut for a second as nerves paralyzed you. You took a deep breathe, opening your eyes as you turned the handle, stepping out onto the streets of Small Heath.

It was raining outside, the fine misty kind that clung to every strand of your hair and inch of exposed skin. It left little droplets upon your arms, mingling in with the goose bumps that had begun to form. Your shoes sunk into the mud slightly, leaving a thin layer of dirt to cling onto the soles. You inwardly cursed the weather, knowing that it did nothing but demolish any chances you had at looking somewhat presentable. At least due to the weather, the streets where significantly quieter than they would have been, allowing you to commute to work undisturbed.

You dug inside your bag for bag for the keys to The Garrison, your fingers brushing past the odd tube of lipstick and variation of coins. Your fingers fumbled with the cold metal as you tried to grasp them, the keys slipping out of your hand and onto the wet, muddy floor below.

“Let me get those” Arthur grunted from behind you, kneeling down to pick up your keys. You jolted slightly, unaware that he was beside you. He turned the key in the lock, pushing open the door and allowing you to walk inside first.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you here today” he stated, heading towards the bar. The corners of your mouth turned up in a small smile at his words.

“Didn’t want to let you down” you answered, trying your best to make your voice sound cheerful and optimistic as you made your way towards your office.

“That’s my girl” Arthur laughed, beginning to collect empty classes from the bar top.

You pushed open the door to your office, throwing your bag onto the empty arm chair that was stood beside the door, before lowering yourself onto your desk chair with a defeated sigh.

Your head hurt.It was a consistent throbbing in your temple, a result of a lack of sleep and heightened emotions. Your vision hazed slightly, hot salty tears spilling out onto your cheeks. You were frustrated and hurt and felt betrayed almost. You hated yourself for trusting Tommy so easily, yet he made it feel almost effortless to do so. You initially didn’t have any doubts in your mind about him, he encouraged secrets to overflow from between your lips. He had made you look like nothing but a fool.

“You didn’t have to come in today” Arthur stated. You hurriedly wiped the tears away from your eyes, turning to face Arthur. He was lent somewhat awkwardly in the doorway, his back pressed up against the frame. His face was a picture of concern, as his eyes bore into yours. It was a surprising show of tenderness from the eldest Shelby sibling, who initially had despised you. Since beginning work in The Garrison, he had softened towards you and you had classed him as one of your close friends.

“I didn’t want to let you down” you whispered, swallowing softly. Arthur sighed softly, as he made his way towards you. He pulled over an armchair, placing it beside you before flopping back onto it.

“This is about my shit-head of a brother, isn’t it?” he questioned, his eyes never leaving your face. You nodded softly, earning yourself a frown from Arthur. “Fuck him”.

“I just feel…second best. He made me believe that we had a future together, but the moment she came in, I’m forgotten. I feel like an absolute fucking idiot” you blurted out, blinking rapidly as you realised how much you had said. You glanced at Arthur, worried that you had potentially said too much. He leaned forward, softly grabbing your hand to hold in his.

“Trust me (Y/N). You are absolutely fucking not second best. My brother is the fucking idiot in this situation” he whispered softly.

“I understand what you’re trying to tell me, I really do. But how can I ever compete with someone like her?”

“Check those fucking references” Arthur stated, his eyes lighting up. “Check those fucking references and get that Irish bitch out of here”. He gave your hand a soft squeeze, before standing up and leaving you alone in your office.

You looked back at the papers that where piled upon your desk, suddenly feeling renewed after hearing Arthurs words. You scanned over the piles of documents that where placed upon your desk, before finding what you had been looking for. You carefully picked it up, dialling the first number upon the telephone, holding the receiver up to your ear.

“Hello, is this The Farmers Arms?”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You leant back in your chair, placing down the phone. You had spent the majority of your morning double checking Graces’ references, the information that you now knew weighing heavily within your mind. You rubbed your temples softly, closing your eyes for a brief moment, as you tried to comprehend what you now knew.

You pushed yourself up off the chair you had been sitting on, your thighs numb from being sat down for so long. You made your way out onto the bar, your eyes scanning the room in search for Arthur.

“I didn’t know you were in today”.

Your heart stopped at the sound of Tommys’ voice. He was sat in an armchair in the corner of the room, the area surrounding him slightly darker than the rest of the pub. He delicately held a lit cigarette in between his fingers, his eyes watching you as you moved further into the room. Your hands began to get clammy at the sight of him, nervous sweat beginning to sheen lightly upon your skin. It made things feel worse, seeing him when you least expected too. You felt the wounds open up again, when they had only barely begun to heal.

“I had some errands that needed doing” you stated, praying that your voice didn’t give Tommy any indication as to how you felt. You stopped a few meters away from him, gripping the back of a wooden chair in front of you.

“And those where?” he queried, taking a drag of his lit cigarette. He raised an eyebrow as he spoke, his expression daring you to expose everything that you had recently found out. The eye contact made you feel uncomfortable, but you refused to be the first to break it, despite the fact that it made your hands begin to tremble slightly.

“Have you seen Arthur?” you asked, your voice breaking slightly towards the end of the sentence.

“Answer my question”.

You swallowed hard, gripping the chair harder in an attempt to calm your trembling hands. You had been hoping to bump into Arthur, to inform him first on what you had been told. You doubted that Tommy would be the right person to know first, afraid of how he would react if he heard the news coming from your mouth. Yet being subjected under his glacier blue glare, you heard the words spill out from between your lips before you could stop yourself.

“Grace has been lying about her references. She hasn’t worked in any of the places she claimed she has. No one round there knows her, and therefore I believe we shouldn’t trust her. Who knows what else she has been lying about”.

Silence settled uncomfortably between you and Tommy, the only noise that could be heard was the soft sound of your breathing. His facial expression remained unchanging, unbothered by the news he had just heard. He lifted the cigarette up to his lips, taking another drag before continuing to talk.

“I know” he lifted himself up from the chair, carelessly stubbing out the cigarette on the table in front of him, before making his way towards the door. He turned to face you, before continuing to talk. “She told me. If I remember, we also hired somebody else with no references and no reason to trust them. She will continue to work here”.

The door slammed shut behind him, increasing the finality of his words. You knew then that no matter how hard you tried, you wouldn’t ever matter to Tommy Shelby. You glanced down upon the wooden floorboards, as if you could almost visualise the shards of your broken heart scattered carelessly underneath your feet. Hot tears burned your cheeks, as they spilled out from your eyes. You didn’t know if you were angrier or hurt at Tommys’ words. In that moment, you swore to yourself that was the end.

Tommy Shelby would never make you feel that way again.

#Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x oc #Peaky Blinders #PEAKY FOOKIN BLINDERS #by order of the peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #new fanfic #peaky blinder fanfic #Tommy Shelby fanfic #Tommy Shelby imagines

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nfornaomi · 3 years ago

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London photo dump 😊. Took a few days off over Christmas to head to London with Rob and Laura to visit their parents. We spent most days just relaxing at home, reading books, watching movies, playing games, and eating copious amounts of food. I’m very happy to report I tried a plethora of Christmassy British food for the first time - mince pies, Christmas pudding, and Christmas cake! They’re actually almost all the same ingredients-wise - minced raisins and other fruit mixed with a ton of sugar 😅 but of course I loved it all.

From the photos - we stumbled upon a Christmas market walking from Tower Bridge to the Globe theatre, took a long walk around Hampstead Heath in true dismal British weather (I don’t think my shoes have ever been so muddy!), admired Buckingham palace and the guards in their funny fluffy hats, finally saw Big Ben’s face after years of restoration, and gawked at the giant Christmas tree in Covent Garden 😄.

#travel #London #Christmas

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illuxions-x · 5 years ago

Text

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑✨

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑶𝒏𝒆.

𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝:

⋆

Melanie-Ann Lowe was sitting contently on her glossy white bed skimming quickly over a thick science book in preparation for the Hawkins annual science fair held in early December. The girls friends had all entered as a group and needed to come up with some unique ideas.

One boy, Dustin Henderson, who had been neighbors with the girl since before she was born, was like an older brother and they had a rare friendship deeper then most people would like to admit.

She made a frustrated sigh and closed her book, not finding any ideas.

Getting distracted and looking out of her fingerprint ridden window to see two lights glide down her street, one stopping across from her house, and the other continuing into darkness.

Dustin turns around, seeing Melanie on the top story with her glowing yellow light, he gives her a toothless smile and a wave before walking into his house.

The two had a plan.

Laughter erupted from the room next to hers, distracting her from her gaze. Her sister Audrey and her best friend Robin Buckley were hanging out at the Lowe house for a 'study' date, but the younger girl knew they were just eating food and talking about boys.

Smoothly she exited her room, tiptoeing past her sisters room, down the narrow staircase to the main floor, which was dark and quiet, with so little sign of any people.

The Lowe parents had left for a trip to New York for an important news article, so Mel was in the care of her sisters. Her dad, Bruce Lowe, had a cushy job at the Hawkins Post, and had worked there for 20 years, since he graduated high school.

Her mum, Loretta Lowe, was a ripe example of a trophy wife and went with her husband on expensive trips. Melanie loved them, like any average person would, but she missed them as they weren't around as much as other parents.

Valerie was the girls oldest sister, and knowing her room would be empty, as she was most likely at a school party, like most nights. The sisters were all very different personality wise, but similar with their mothers fair looks, fought but seemed to get along for a majority of the time.

Snatching a packet of Doritos out of the cupboard, she walks back to her room and shuts the door behind her. Picking up the textbook again, but not being able to concentrate. After a few minutes of staring into nothing, she hears a knock on her window.

"shhhhhhhh! My sister w-will hear you!" the girl whispers, opening her window slowly but cautiously.

"Come on! We can go now, hurry up!" Dustin replies practically dragging her out the window, knowing that her parents had left earlier that morning, and her sisters didn't care enough to worry. Melanie takes her brown backpack, which was always filled with essentials and snuck out of her house.

"Step quieter w-will you, or we-we'll get caught." the blonde squeaks, while attempting to not step on the dead autumn leaves to get to her bike. Walking it down her steep driveway, turning on their front lights then riding off down a back road.

It being a Sunday night, most houses were sleeping and minimal cars were driving around. The pair perk up when they hear distant music, but continuing at the same pace, along the road parked cars start to slowly multiply and the music becomes more distinctive.

Not surprisingly was the party being held at (What Audrey and Robin called him,) Steve 'the hair' Harrington's house, as the two rode past, slowing down just slightly, did Melanie recognize a particular face from the front yard.

Seeing Valerie there only made her bolt off faster down the road, with the curly haired boy right behind her.

Darting down a back street and keeping to it for a few minuets did they find themselves at the junk yard. Leaning their bikes against the abandoned bus and going inside, the duo sat on a seat facing each other and unpacked the food they had brought in their bags.

"How w-was the campaign? Also p-pass the skittles." the girl asks making herself comfortable in the seat, her tiredness causing her stutter to worsen, "It was great! But we lost the dice right before we got to see if Will survived." Dustin hands Mel the packet in return for a whole Kit-Kat bar.

After many laughs and bubbling conversation, a shrieking noise in the woods motivates the two to head back home. Going a different way than before, to avoid getting caught by the girls now possibly drunk sister.

"See you tomorrow Lanie!" the boy shouts as he goes to his window to sneak back in, Melanie walks her bike back up her driveway, climbing up the wood used to keep the Vine wall growing upwards, walking across the roof and opening her window delicately.

⋆

An agitating beeping awakens Melanie from her slumber. Taking off her pink flowery covers, the cold early November air that hit her bare legs made her visibly shiver before she arched her back also stretching her arms in the air.

She had decided to have a shower later the previous night after her annual meet with her neighbor. Changing into some light blue jeans and a black and white striped long sleeve, with mismatched spotted socks to go with it.

"Do you want a ride this morning?" asks Val, grabbing her car keys with Audrey and Robin in tow. The older girl sporting bloodshot eyes framed with dark rings, and voice croaky.

"I'm riding with Dustin today, see ya!" The younger girl skips through the door with her slightly muddy pastel pink backpack in her hand.

Knocking on the Henderson door quietly, hearing faint footsteps and door open, with the young boy smiling brightly whilst slipping a cap over his naturally messy hair.

"How w-was your night?" the blonde asks, "Alright, you?" "yeah same."

Riding off to the opposite direction they went the night before, and up the slight hill that always killed their leg muscles, they rode all the way to Hawkins Middle School in little time, where their friends Mike and Lucas were standing around. She frowns slightly noticing the absent person and parks her bike into the stand before catching up with the two.

"Isn't W...W-ill here?" She calls out, her hair blowing in from the wind. Making her push it out of her face.

"He could have just slept in?" Lucas thinks, "Probably." agrees the girl.

"Maybe he just went to class early again," says Mike, "he's always paranoid Gursky's gonna give him a pop quiz." laughs Dustin as they continue walking into the school, the others nod. The group were interrupted by a voice behind them.

"Step right up, ladies and gentlemen! Step right up and get your tickets for the freak show!" Melanie's head whips around to see James and Troy, two older boys who loved to torment her friends.

The group don't dare to move, it was a regular occurrence, they were quite used to it by now. Troy looks them up and down, giving a glare at Mel, the girl scrunching her nose and turns her focus on her shoes, not wanting to make eye contact with the older boys.

"Who do you think would make more money at a freak show, 'Frog-face,' 'Midnight,' 'Toothless'? or M-M-M-Melanie" he says snickering,

"Ooof. Tough call, tough call." James interrupts, eyeing Dustin, "I'd go with Toothless." He sneers.

"My teeth are coming in, I told you a million times, it's called cleidocranial dysplasia-" The curly haired boy gets irritated, "I told you a million times!" Troy mocks him laughing with his friend.

"Do the arm thing." he demands, if Mel was bold enough she would roll her eyes, but she stood statue still, scared of the consequences. Dustin hesitates before stretching his arms out, causing the bullies to make a disgusted face.

"Gets me every time! Every time!" Troy exclaims before shoving the group as he walks away into the school laughing.

"Numbskulls," Lucas whispers under his breath, making the blonde giggle.

"I think it's cool, it's like a superpower or something, like Mr. Fantastic!" Mike tries to be optimistic towards his friend. Mel reaches for is hand and gives it a squeeze in attempt comfort. Smiling slightly in response.

"Yeah, except I can't fight evil with it." replies Dustin before the group pick up their bags and walk to class, still confused as to where their friend could be at the time.

⋆

A swarm of Middle Schooler's scramble to grab their books and bags and hurry out of class after the bell chimes, talking loudly about latest gossip amongst themselves.

"Remember, finish chapter twelve, and answer twelve-point-three on the difference between an experiment and other forms of science investigation-" the teacher stops after realizing that there are no more children in the class to hear his reminder.

"So did it come?" Mike asks as the four huddle around the teachers desk in anticipation. Melanie's smile falters when Mr Clarke hesitates, "Sorry, boys," she gives the teacher a pointed look, "and girl, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but..." the four all sigh in frustration, not pleased they would gave to be patient another day.

"It came." He finishes.

The group look up with a wide smiles and Melanie jumps a little with excitement, pulling Lucas along with her by the upper arm, as the four run through the now deserted halls, their footstep echoing, straight to the A.V room. Mike gets the door open first then Dustin pushes past Lucas and Mel to get through second.

"Hey!" they both say simultaneously, yelling at Dustin for cutting in, he just gives the two a smirk and stands to the right of Mike, who was sitting in the chair, while Lucas stood to the left and Mel with her hand on Mikes shoulder, leaning in to get a closer look.

Mike places the headphones over his ears.

"The Heath-kit ham shack, ain't she a beaut?" Grins Mr Clarke, pointing to the new radio.

"I bet you can talk to New York on this thing-" exclaims Dustin, the teacher just gives a smile, "think bigger,"

"California?" adds Lucas, "bigger,"

"Australia?" the girl squeaks, Mr Clarke nods. "Holllly shit." Says Mike, getting a look from the teacher and a playful hit from a giggling Mel.

"Oh man, when Will sees this he's going to totally lose his shit-" Lucas bursts out, "Lucas," Mel scolds though she was giggling,

"sorry."

"'Ello, this is Mike Wheeler, President of Hawkins Middle A.V. Club-" begins Mike in a terrible Australian accent, only to be cut off by Dustin.

"'Ello, this is Dustin Henderson, Secretary and Treasurer of Hawkins Middle A.V. Club, do you eat kangaroos for breakfast?" everyone cringes at the accent and just as Mel's about to be passed the headset by Dustin, there's a knock on the door.

The blonde recognizes one of the men as the principle and the other as chief Hopper. She grows curious, her eyebrows furrowed, assuming something was wrong.

"Sorry to interrupt, but may I borrow Michael, Melanie, Lucas, and Dustin?" The familiar man asks. The group share a puzzled look, all silent as ever contemplating what could have happened.

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#stranger things #st #fanfic #story #oc #mike wheeler #dustin henderson #eleven #fanfiction #season 1 #part one #series #NETFLIX #will byers

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