#angel changretta

[tommygrace]

I MEAN....

For Angel!!

[abusivelittlebunny]

I might be so late with this but I've absolutely folded these couple of months over your creativity and the way you're able to switch a button in my brain to portray such a detailed movie out of every piece you write! The characters too! I can't help but place Angel on a little pedestal I'm soso fond of!

What would I be curious of is If you ever thought of exploring more of Angel and Luca's intimdate 'brotherly' relationship, at a much lower circle in this creative inferno of works. Either if these feelings are recent or just 'fooling around' when they were younger. I've read your works with Luca's sadistic protection over his brother, that delicious Valetine's day too and well I'm simply infatuated! Thank you!

Aw thank you so much! To answer your question, Angel and Luca have definitely fooled around before with each other; growing up Luca was much more confident to compensate for Angel's shyness and he started his sexual life earlier as well so he didn't mind to show Angel the basic ropes. They didn't make a habit out of it but Luca would fuck boys and girls in a place where Angel could see and learn from it (and jack off to) and Luca also encouraged Angel to use his body to practice when they were still teens. One could say Angel's first time was with Luca, but Luca denies that, saying between brothers its just harmless fun and practice (hence why he has suggested three or foursomes with the Shelby siblings who would (pretend to) be outraged by the suggestion). But Angel very clearly remembers how Luca guided him through his first sexual experience and what a sacrifice his brother made by letting Angel put his dick in him even though Luca was a strict top otherwise; he remembers laughing at the grimaces Luca made as he grunted for him to slow down and take it easier or his first partner will not be able to walk for a week after. Luca held him close after, petting Angel through his first orgasm he shared with another person and kissed his cheek and told him he'll make sure Angel uses that big Changretta cock of his with dignity.

After that Luca brought him choir boys to practice fucking on and Luca would sit beside them and give helpful advice on how to make his partner feel better during sex, the choir boys below Angel's bigger body whining in increasingly higher pitches. Angel liked them, liked their soft freckled faces blushing crimson and liked how shy they were until the pleasure he gave them tore out honest cries and moans. No wonder Angel was more openly rough and perverted with his partners in the beginning since he learned everything from Luca.

Once when Luca really wanted to have another foursome, him, Tommy, John and Angel, he nudged Tommy and John to make out in front of them, saying it would be so hot; "Come on a little kissing between brothers shouldn't hurt, caress each other a bit, come on, give us a good show." Tommy raised his brow and said only if Luca and Angel did it first, nor expecting them at all to comply but they did. Luca chuckled and took Angel by the jaw who rolled his eyes as Luca kissed him savagely tongue first, almost climbing into his lap with the intensity of it, rubbing Angel all over and gripping his dick without any shame. Angel pushed him down on the bed and gave their boys a good show with rolling around for dominance, biting each other between kisses, trying to get the other one to moan first. They laughed about it in the end, they haven't played like that in decades, but when they looked up to their boys they saw them both shocked and extremely aroused. Luca would not stop talking about the amazing foursome they had that night for months.

[divinekangaroo]

daughter of communists - divinekangaroo - Peaky Blinders (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | COMPLETE

Audrey spoke careful, slow. ‘You’d like to borrow an Italian suit for your brother Thomas Shelby. So he might attend the funeral of poor Greta Jurossi. Who he was out walking with, for a few years.’

.

The ever-widening spiral of consequence from Greta Jurossi's death pulls a conflicted Vicente Changretta into the whirl.

.

Vicente Changretta/Audrey Changretta, (past) Greta Jurossi/Tommy Shelby, (very casual friends with benefits) Freddie Thorne/Kitty Jurossi, (briefly) Tommy Shelby/Freddie Thorne, Angel Changretta, Ada Shelby, The Jurossi Family (Peaky Blinders), Arthur Shelby, John Shelby, the Small Heath branch of the Birmingham Communist Youth Gang | Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Grief, Casual Sex, Catholicism, Italian Mafia, Racism, Italian Regionalism, Generational Politics, Fear, Rage, Love, Classism, Racist POV Character, Italian Political History (1930s-1940s), Immigration & Emigration, Racist Language, Antiziganism, Past Abuse, Fist Fights, Father-Son Relationship, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Strained Friendships, Intense Friendships, Involved Bystander, Fat Shaming, Gratuitious Background Screening of the Godfather, Violence, Curses, Complex Ethnicity, Unreliable Narrator, Foreshadowing, Dramatic Irony, Family

.

(For the Dragon Age followers who also overlap a PB fannish interest, Freddie and Tommy's relationship, if it had been able to grow in the series, will forever have bloomed into an on-again, off-again Anders & bloodmage!viscount Hawke style of rivalmance.)

[reiwanwan]

Beneath the streetlamp

While walking the streets of London, Y/n Shelby unexpectedly encounters a grief-stricken Luca Changretta. As Luca reveals the pain driving his revenge against the Shelbys, y/n offers him quiet compassion.

content includes: Mentions of angels, slight violence, Y/n is referred to as a woman, Y/n has a complex relationship with Luca.

Y/n walked the dimly lit streets of London, her footsteps echoing softly against the cobblestones. The city had a way of feeling both alive and desolate at night, the flickering gas lamps casting long shadows that danced along the walls of the narrow alleyways. She had no particular destination in mind, simply wandering to clear her thoughts, to momentarily escape the constant tension that surrounded the Shelby family.

As she turned a corner, her heart skipped a beat. Standing under the faint glow of a streetlamp was Luca Changretta, his figure unmistakable even from a distance. He was smoking, the ember of his cigarette glowing red in the darkness. Y/n’s first instinct was to turn back, to avoid any confrontation, but she had barely taken a step when she heard his voice.

“Y/n,” Luca called out, his tone almost casual, as if they were old friends meeting by chance.

She froze, cursing her luck. There was no escape now. Reluctantly, she turned to face him, forcing a calm expression as she approached.

“Luca,” she greeted him, her voice steady. She kept her distance, though, her eyes never leaving his.

He smiled at her, a cold, almost predatory smile, but there was something behind it—something darker, more tormented. “Out for a stroll?” he asked, taking another drag from his cigarette.

Y/n nodded, keeping her answers short. “Yes, just needed some air.”

Luca exhaled the smoke slowly, watching her with those sharp eyes of his. “A dangerous time to be out alone, don’t you think?”

She didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she looked at him directly and asked, “Are you going to kill me now?”

Luca’s smile widened, but there was no warmth in it. “No, not tonight.”

They stood there in a tense silence, the distant sounds of the city barely reaching them. Y/n waited, sensing that Luca had more to say. She knew that despite his casual demeanor, there was a storm brewing inside him.

He broke the silence first. “Do you know why I’m doing all this, Y/n? Why I came here, why I won’t stop until every Shelby is dead?”

Y/n said nothing, simply watching him. She had heard it all before—revenge, blood for blood. It was the code they all lived by, the cycle of violence that seemed never-ending.

Luca’s expression darkened, and for the first time, Y/n saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. “Arthur killed my father,” he said, his voice low and filled with anger. “He took him from me. And now I’m going to take everything from him.”

Y/n remained silent, though she felt a pang of sorrow for him. She understood his pain, his desire for vengeance. But she also knew that nothing good would come of it.

Luca’s composure suddenly shattered. His face twisted with emotion as he began to cry, his tears mingling with a bitter smile. He looked like a man unraveling, caught between rage and despair.

Y/n watched quietly, her heart heavy. This was not the Luca Changretta she had expected to see—a cold-blooded killer, yes, but this? This was a man broken by grief, consumed by the need to avenge his father.

Without thinking, Y/n reached out, her hand gently resting on Luca’s tear-streaked cheek. He flinched at her touch but didn’t pull away. Instead, he suddenly grabbed her, burying his face against her stomach as he sobbed.

Y/n stood there, looking down at him, her hand still on his face. She didn’t say anything, didn’t try to comfort him with words. She knew that sometimes, words only made things worse.

As Luca cried, he looked up at her with red-rimmed eyes, a strange, almost pleading look on his face. “Are you an angel?” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Are you an angel sent down by God to make me feel alive?”

Y/n smiled, but it was a sad, pitiful smile. She didn’t know what to say to that—how could she, when the man in front of her was so lost, so desperate for something, anything, to ease his pain?

“Pray,” she told him softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Luca nodded, as if in a trance, and he began to pray, his words flowing in Italian. Y/n didn’t understand all of it, but she could hear the anguish in his voice, the way he begged for some kind of solace, some kind of peace.

When he finished, he looked at her with a mix of hope and despair. Y/n knew she should walk away, leave him to his grief and his madness. But something kept her there, rooted to the spot, her hand still holding his face.

“What do you want?” she asked, using the ability she didn’t fully understand herself.

Luca blinked, as if startled by the question. He seemed to think for a moment, his gaze dropping to her lips. “A kiss,” he said finally, his voice barely audible.

Y/n hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew she should refuse, should walk away before this went any further. But then she saw the look in Luca’s eyes—how broken he was, how much he needed something, anything, to hold on to.

Still holding his face, she leaned in, her lips brushing against his. It was a soft, almost chaste kiss, but it lingered, a moment of fleeting connection between two lost souls.

When she pulled back, Luca’s eyes were still closed, as if savoring the moment. Then, slowly, he opened them, and the cold, dangerous Luca Changretta was back.

“Do you still want to kill me?” Y/n asked, her voice quiet.

“Yes,” Luca replied without hesitation, though there was a softness in his tone that hadn’t been there before.

Y/n nodded, letting go of his face. “Then remember that,” she said, her voice tinged with sadness, before turning and walking away, leaving Luca alone with his demons.

[zablife]

*Skids to a halt after crashing through inbox door* DID SOMEBODY SAY SLEEPOVER? I am here, bestie!

Can I please request something spicy for my Italian husband? I will let you have creative choice over scenario. I’m craving some Luca smut in whatever form! 🤍🤍🤍🤍

Tysm for your request, Claire! I had so many ideas I wanted to share, but settled on this naughty encounter about the first time Luca makes you squirt. I would apologize for my filthy imagination, but I'm not sorry in the slightest 😂 I hope you enjoy!

18+ MDNI

Let Me Spoil You

"Luca, I'm not sure I can," you whimpered, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you studied him nervously. "I've never done this before."

"Then it's a good thing I have," he teased, sucking at the ticklish spot near your hipbone as your breathy moans filled the air. Pulling away to tongue the blossoming bruise, a mischievous smile spread across his lips as he returned his attention to your sticky inner thighs, peppering them with delicate kisses.

"Let me spoil you, principessa," he begged as though he hadn't already spent the entire evening lavishing you with attention.

You gulped and nodded slowly, opening your legs wider to welcome his touch. With a hitch of breath, you felt his long fingers slide against your dewy folds once more and into the tight clutch of your cunt.

Green eyes sparkling with nefarious delight, he wasted no time seeking the soft, spongy spot inside you that turned your legs to jelly. As he added firm pressure and lapped gently at your clit, the warmth in your belly returned with rapid speed.

Soft pants turned to whimpers as your hand fumbled in Luca's dark curls, grasping a bit too tightly as your brow furrowed at the odd tingling sensation. He drank in your adorable look of confusion, smirking at the memory of the times before when you'd stopped him, insisting you'd wet yourself if he continued. As he predicted you began to whine in a familiar high pitched wail that made his cock ache. "It's too much, Luca! I'm gonna...gonna..."

"Shhh, angel, you're doing so well for me," he cooed without giving you reprieve. Crooking his fingers against your sensitive walls in such a way that had you clamping down, hips bucking against him. He held you against the mattress with his muscular forearm, watching your face and neck begin to flush with the telltale signs of your impending orgasm, taunting, “You want it, don't you?"

A sizzle of electricity charged down your spine as he pumped his fingers within you, forcing shuddered breaths from your trembling body. Knowing you were staving off the inevitable, Luca added another finger, betting you wouldn't be able to fight the exquisite feeling of fullness. As your back arched against him, he praised, "You look so fuckin' beautiful like this." Then in that deep, commanding voice you couldn't ignore, "Cum for me, gorgeous."

Before you knew what was happening, a wave of pleasure crashed over you, black spots dancing across your vision as your legs shook. Luca moaned appreciatively as the first gush of fluid drenched his wrist, opposite hand pressing down on your abdomen to coax another squirt from your pulsing cunt. As your head dropped to your shoulder in exhaustion, Luca watched a little puddle collect with a swell of pride.

Focused on the pleasant little aftershocks rippling through your spent body, you were only vaguely aware of him withdrawing his fingers from you. The lewd squelching sound was soon replaced with the satisfied grunt of a man tasting his victory and you began to giggle. You'd never met a man who enjoyed giving pleasure so much as Luca Changretta.

He took such good care of you as evidenced by the gentle way he woke you after you'd drifted off to sleep, insistent on bathing you and changing the sheets before bedtime. Carrying you toward the bathroom for a hot soak in the tub, he nuzzled your check and whispered soft words of praise. “I knew you could do it, angel.”

Zablife Sleepover

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

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[mydear-corinthian]

Defense || John Shelby

Synopsis: Defending John during the ambush of Changretta's men in your home.  Pairing: John Shelby x reader (+ Michael - platonic) Warning: SPOILERS AHEAD ! (season 3 & 4), gun violence, mentions of blood, swearing, injury Notes: There will be some grammatical errors. Click here to find the main masterlist. Click here to find the PEAKY BLINDERS masterlist.

"Mom, mom, it's Christmas day!", Katie shrugging my shoulders to wake me up. A smile painted on my face just at the sight of my kids. The past few months with John have been challenging. He was held captive for six months and was on the brink death just hours before he was hanged. The good news is that Tommy was able to arrange for his release, though under quite tense circumstances. But Tommy still has my anger because he enabled my spouse to rot in prison. That's why the kids, John, and I are here right now. We've moved out of Small Health and into the country in our new house.

"Alright, Katie. I'm awake .. I'm awake. Happy Christmas," I greeted. I looked around the room and saw that John was nowhere to be found—just the kids and I. When I asked Katie where John was, she replied that he was just making breakfast downstairs. "Thank you, love. Let's go join your Dad now, eh?" I kissed her forehead and joined her to come downstairs.

I met John in the kitchen downstairs, breakfast was already placed on the table. He was in the kitchen, I assume he was still making some hot tea. "Happy Christmas, John," He walked toward me and planted a kiss on my cheek as he said, "Good morning and Happy Christmas, love. I made breakfast. Decided not to make you busy on Christmas day." I laughed at his answer. He gave me a cup of warm tea. He grabbed his metallic pouch full of cigarettes and took one. Lighting it before inhaling the toxic air.

"Bit too early for a puff, darling?", I asked, taking a sip of the tea that John made. "Just want to. Besides, it's Christmas day, y'know," he replied, releasing the air from his cigarette. I shrugged off. It was fine with me since I am a smoker as well plus he's right. It's Christmas.

A car caught my eye as it approached our house. I don't know why, but it felt like a familiar car. The Changretta's are still out there, tracking us one by one. Well- I blame my husband for it.

"John? There's a car coming by our house. We're not expecting visitors.." I looked at the window, moving the curtain a bit with my fingers. John smothered the fire and removed his cigarette right away. He reached for his weapon, which was kept under our kitchen counter table's cabinet. He immediately grabbed my arms. I startled at his touch, I asked nervously, "John, what is it?"

"Get the kids and hide. I'll check who it is," he ordered. My hands found his cheeks as I cupped them. My eyes were slowly filling up with water. "How about you John? I already lost you once and I'm not doing it again."

When his head was already in the noose, I thought I had lost him. awaiting the death angel's arrival to welcome him. I want my children to have a father in their lives. I wish to avoid loneliness. Also, I don't want him to be alone.

"You won't and I'll be back. Just go and hide for me. You understand, (y/n)?" he kissed my lips before going outside. I grabbed the kids immediately, telling them to go to the attic first. My son asked, "What happened, mom?"I got on my knee, now the same height level as my son. I brushed his hair with my finger. "It's nothing to worry about, love. Just go and keep your siblings safe in the attic? I'll be there in a while, okay?" My eldest son nodded in agreement, taking his other siblings up to the attic, and keeping them safe.

I followed John outside. Holding my sheriff gun tightly on my dominant arm.I saw him talking to someone. He put his rifle down, making a conversation with the person. I can't help but be curious and follow him. I sighed in relief, turns out it was only Michael. But that doesn't mean that there's going to be bad news.

"Michael, what are you doing here on Christmas day?" I can't help but ask, I was just beside my husband.

"We need to go now." Michael said.

"To whom?" my husband asked.

"To Tommy. He told me to tell you," he responded.

Fuck. Tommy again. What does he fucking want this time. I can't help but simmer in frustration, my mind fucking with annoyance and exhaustion. After what happened last time, I'm not going to risk my loved ones safety again.

"'Tommy told me' What are you, his fucking parrot?" I argued, my brows knitting together in frustration and in anger. "It's the fucking 'Black Hand'! The mafia! The New York fucking mafia!" Michael debated.

John and I's eyes widened.

The New York fucking mafia? Fucking mafia? Well, fuck us.

John noticed a wagon full of hays stopped exactly in front of our house. 3 men appeared wearing suits and a black hat. Guns out, pointing at the three of us.

"John, no!" Michael shouted but John didn't listen.

John cocked his rifle, shooting the three men. Michael and I did the same. One of their men got hit by our bullets and immediately fell. I was so preoccupied with aiming that I failed to notice that Michael and John had already been wounded and were lying on the ground with blood dripping off of them. I gave them a look. My eyes grew wide with terror and shock. I cried out while squeezing them together. With bullets squeezing his leg, John moaned in pain.

My heart stopped instantly. It seemed as though I was the one going to die. Time and gravity seemed to have stopped. My world came to an end. In front of me, time appeared to be motionless and lacking any sensation of reason or meaning.

Bringing back to my senses, I immediately tore my dress and tied it around my husband's leg, applying pressure to his wound. I did the same thing to Michael too, but John's wounds were much worse than his.

2 men stopped shooting and were heading towards my direction. I grabbed my gun, pointing it at them. "Stay where you are or for God knows what, I'll fucking shoot the both of you." I irritably said.

The two of the men can't help but laugh at what I said. Did I make a fucking joke?

"Very funny. You're a Shelby but you are also a woman. A woman can't shoot! I bet that gun isn't even loaded. How funn-" The man suddenly stopped speaking. His body fell to the ground, blood pooling out of his head. His eyes still opened.

I shot him, directly on the head with no mercy, guilt, and remorse after.

"Well, I'm afraid you lost your bet."

The remaining man was about to shoot me but my actions were more faster than his. I shot him multiple times, emptying the bullet chamber of my gun. "For your information, I shoot better than anyone in the Shelby family. I am a former assassin," you said to the dead bodies in front of you.

Before I left, I said,

"And you don't fuck, with the Peaky Fucking Blinders."

I went back to John and Michael, reassuring both of them that they were dead and that I'd call Tommy and an ambulance right away. John looked at me, and he slowly smiled, "Well that was offensive." I chuckled at his response but hey, it was true. I do shoot better than them. "Stay with me, John. And you too Michael. God doesn't want you guys above there yet."

I ran like there was a race, I reached out for the telephone, calling the hospital to get an ambulance. After that, I called Tommy, rage feeling in every part of my body.

"Black hand, the Mafia, the Changretta's. They were here Tommy. They were fucking here. John and Michael have been shot!"

I hung up the phone and gave it an aggressive touch. I groaned and clutched my hair in a fist. I almost lost my husband again. I quickly made my way to the attic and told my kids they could leave since it was now safe. I told them about their father and uncle while simultaneously assuring them that everything would be alright.

Later on, the ambulances came. They took Michael and John and I went too. The kids stayed with the kids. "Thank you, for backing us up, (y/n). I don't know what to do without you." John thanked me, and his hand grabbed my palm, stroking it with his thumb. I kissed his forehead, muttering an 'I love you'.

"I'm always here, John.

Always."

The End

[evita-shelby]

Persistence

Luca Changretta x shelby sister!reader.

Reader is younger than John and Ada, but older than Finn

Cw:mentions of sex, loss of virginity, older man/younger (consenting adult)woman

Gif by @daebom

He has wanted you since he last saw you.

You had grown up from the little girl who’d lost her mother into a beautiful young woman. He had seen you at his cousin’s wedding and known he’d do anything to have you.

That night he spent between your legs wasn’t enough, your virginity wasn’t enough. He needed to own you, to marry you and make you exclusively his.

So when Angel began seeing the Shelbys whore turned secretary sometime after Christmas, he took his chance. It was bound to blow up and it had by February. Angel had been beaten within an inch of his life by John Shelby, Angel’s right hand completely missing John Shelby and leaving Grace Shelby injured enough to divorce her husband and best of all, forcing Thomas Shelby to negotiate a peace.

Luca choose you. His little sister in the flower of womanhood, looking like an angel waiting to be ruined.

“I’ll be good to you, carissima.” He promised with a kiss of your hands.

And he has, treats as you deserve, gives you all you could possibly want and shows you how good a real man can make you feel.

You don’t love him, not yet anyways, but you will. Persistence was the key to success.

Luca has always been a patient man when it comes to love.

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 55: Resolved Debt

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

For the rest of the day I keep myself busy by cleaning out the entire house. Every time I look over at my suitcase in the corner my stomach ties into a knot. Maybe Alfie’s right. I shouldn't be here. All that’s happened since I got here has gone from complicated to worse. And- 

Okay, where is Thomas? I take another glance out the window. Mr. Solomons has returned with his gang but Thomas is missing. He wouldn’t forget to accompany his friend back to his car. Did something come up?

I leave Charlie asleep on the sofa and stick my head out the door to call across the street.

“Where’s Thomas? I thought he was with you.”

Alfie looks up and sees me shouting. He motions for his men to wait and walks over to the front steps, leaning his cane on the railing.

“The man left for some errands. Mentioned something about the foundation or whatever.”

“Just him? No one else went with him?”

He scoffs. “How the fuck would I know?”

That doesn’t sound like Thomas. All these weeks he’s stressed about security and keeping in pairs. He would have told Alfie where he was going.

“Alone…” A light flicks on in my head and panic sprints through me. Polly! “That’s means-! I need to find him!”

I lurch forward to start running but Alfie reaches out and grabs my arm. No no no! This must be what Polly set up! Changretta will want to get Thomas alone so he can kill him-!

“Whoa, whoa.” Alfie tugs me back. “Whatever this mess is, you are not in it.”

I try to pull away. “Polly did this! She-!”

“Not. Your. Business. You want something to do? Go tend to his boy.”

“I-”

“Verena.” The Jewish gangster gives me a certain look. “We both know that a father without his son is the worst thing we can let happen to him. He needs someone like you to look after Charlie.”

“I have been!” I cry out with a cross between rage and despair. “And he never tells me anything! I am not going to wait for a note saying he’s been shot!”

“Steenstra, coming from a man who knows how Tommy thinks, let me say this. He has strange ways of showing affection.” Alfie, seeing that I’ve calmed down a fraction, pats my shoulder. “I’ll leave it at that.”

Yes, because that cleared up so many questions! I watch the man stride back to his car and see him give a final wave as the vehicle starts driving away. So I’m subjected to what all other Shelby women struggle through. Staying safe indoors while I wait for Thomas to tell me what’s going on. 

Thud! The sound of the back door sends me sprinting down the hall. No more of this-! 

“Polly?”

The Romanian woman walks past my shocked face and starts to light a cigarette.

“What a surprise,” I droll darkly. “Are you here to apologize to Charlie for killing off his dad?”

She flicks some ash into the sink. “Tommy isn’t dead.”

Not dead? Not…? Okay, then what did happen? She can’t hide it from me! Polly’s worried just as I am!

I clench my fists and march straight up to her. “Somebody better start telling me what the fuck is going on right now-!”

“We’re holding a family meeting,” Polly explains all too calmly. “I’ll explain everything then. Right now, keep your head clear. You don’t need to pick up Tommy’s hot-headedness.”

“My head clear? My head clear?” I hiss. “Do you have any idea how hard I’ve been trying to keep a clear head throughout these past weeks?”

Polly just shakes her head and walks off to see Charlie. My shoulders slump and I lean against the wall. Not Polly too. Is Ada the only other one who understands this insanity? Can somebody tell me anything?

Knock knock.

I cannot handle any more of this. That better be a bloody angel because, dear God, I need some good news-!

“Hello.”

Thomas. It’s Thomas. Alive. Holding a parcel.

“Thank Christ. You son of a bitch!” 

My anger fazes into frustrated relief and my knees buckle. Thomas uses his free hand to grab me just before I can crumple to the ground. He stands me up and I bury my face into his warm coat. At the same time I weakly pound a fist against his shoulder, still raging about his return.

“Y-You could’ve- I thought you were going to die!” I gasp. “What happened, Thomas? What the fuck is going on?” I look back at the parcel. “And what is this? More guns?”

Thomas clears his throat and helps me stand straighter. “Verena, about the argument from before. I understand that you’re only looking out for your family. None of this is your fault. I know you’re not working for Changretta.”

“Thomas… That’s really sweet, and I accept your apology, but just moments ago I was about to pull my hair out worrying about if you had been killed!” 

“Here, here. Let’s get inside.” Thomas ushers me back into the warm house and shuts the door. “I know, none of this has been fair for you. And the Hudson-”

“Don’t mention the car, Thomas. I needed to stop keeping quiet and thought that it would help-”

“Oh it does, love.” Thomas licks his lips. “It’s a gorgeous car. But I still owe you a big apology for this whole mess. So to make it up, Charlie and I picked out this a few days ago. Thought you’d like it.”

He passes me the box. Why does he look… scared? Excited? It’s hard to tell. And why is the box light? I remove the top and peer inside. It’s- It’s… A beautiful white coat! An elegant, warm coat that feels almost too soft to the touch. He picked this out for me?

My jaw drops and I immediately start shaking my head. “Thomas, I cannot accept this. It’s too much.”

Thomas sees the joy in my eyes and refuses to take the parcel back. “‘Course not. You need something to keep you warm here. Please.” He puts a hand over mine and gently pushes the box further against me. “Please take it.”

“It’s genuine fox fur!” I gush. “This must have cost a fortune! If I wear this half of England will come running expecting me to be some prime duchess or somebody important.”

“You are important. To us.”

He didn’t say ‘to me.’ Is this an apology for the argument or saying sorry for pushing me onto the ‘women to pay no mind’ list?

“Thanks again for watching Charlie.”

He’s had his hands full with this vendetta business that he’s had no time for his own son. A steep understatement. So was I wrong? Thomas really does care? He just… has strange ways of showing affection.

I grudgingly accept the gift and smile warmly. “You never need to thank me for watching him.”

Thomas closes his eyes and rubs his temple. “There’s so much I need to thank you for, love.”

Then why do I still feel pushed away?

“Thomas.” I hold up the coat. “You don’t need to apologize with this. Just promise me you will keep me informed. Promise me.”

He leans against the wall I’ve backed him into and sighs. “I can’t.” His piercing blue eyes look down at me with something I can’t quite decipher. “You know why.”

I bite my lip and take a deep breath. “Yes. I know why. But it doesn’t hurt to ask again.”

I love you, Thomas! And it makes me saddened with worry and sick with anger that I will never be good enough for you.

Thomas starts to reach over but holds back. “I know you still believe I’m worth saving. But- But all I’ve given you are more problems. You don’t-”

“Tommy.”

Polly cuts him off and motions for him to follow her to the parlor. Did she do that on purpose? How am I supposed to pry anything out of Thomas without being interrupted?

Thomas sits in an armchair, an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips, and stares at Charlie playing with his blocks. He doesn’t notice right away when Polly offers him a drink.

“What do you think you’re going to tell Arthur?” she asks.

Thomas doesn’t blink. “I’m going to tell them the truth.”

“Did she like the coat?” Charlie asks shyly from the floor.

Thomas doesn’t answer right away so I speak for him. “I love it, Charlie. It’s beautiful. Did you help pick it out?”

He grins proudly. “Yeah! It was the softest one.”

In the corner of my eye I see Thomas look over at me. He’s still holding something back. But what?

Polly moves over to look out the window. “They’re here.”

I will have to wait for another time. Again. I was so close to telling him.

Another family meeting. Another awkward silence while everyone waits for Thomas to speak. This time I choose to wait with Charlie in the hall while everyone else gathers around the table.

After a minute Arthur speaks up. “Heard there was a shooting today.”

Thomas nods. “Yeah. I killed three men today. Now our enemies will have to wait.”

Arthur and I exchange the same look of surprise, while Lizzie and Ada don’t look the least bit shaken. That’s what was waiting for Thomas today. But he lived.

Charlie tugs at my skirt and points to his dad. “Was daddy in trouble?”

“No, no,” I whisper and kneel down next to him. “Your vader just met up with some bad men.”

“Suppose they took you by surprise?” Arthur asks gruffly.

“No. I knew they were coming.”

Hold the phone. He knew?

Polly speaks up. “A few months ago I received a letter from Luca Changretta, offering to spare my son if I gave up Tommy. And I gave Tommy up.”

“Which is the plan that Polly and I agreed on,” Thomas explains. “I knew Luca would want to pull the trigger himself so I used this as a setup to bring him in.”

He locks eyes with me and sees my growing irritation. All this time? He knew all this time what he was getting himself into and he told me nothing! 

“I didn’t get Luca, but I got three. All right?” He walks over and leans down to pick Charlie up. “Come here, you.”

Johnny Doggs holds up a glass. “I thought you’d gone soft. I drink to you, Tom.”

“So you got three?” Uncle Charlie asks.

Thomas nods. “I got three.”

“Well, I drink to you, Tom.”

Charlie looks back and forth in confusion. “Dad, you got three what?”

Thomas laughs and pokes his chest. “I got three shillings for a two-shilling horse.” I guess that’s one way to put it. “Now, my boy, you come with us, eh?”

Charlie giggles and gives me a wave goodbye. Arthur lets out a laugh and ruffles the boy’s hair.

“Been playing with Aunt Verena, eh Charlie?”

Suddenly Thomas’ gaze hardens. “No, Arthur.”

“Why not? She’s basically a sister.”

Yes. Why not? I should think that I deserve aunt status at this point. And why is Polly looking at Thomas like that? Almost like she knows something…

The Romanian woman catches me looking and busies herself by grabbing her coat. “I’m picking up Michael from the hospital tomorrow. Then I'm dropping him off to Mr. Gold on the outskirts.”

I stifle a laugh. “Michael? In the woods? He’s going to hate it.”

Polly rolls her eyes. “He’s going to deal with it.”

Once she walks out, Thomas sticks his head back in, with Charlie still clinging to his neck.

“We’re going out for a drink. When I bring Charlie back for his nap, will you watch him ‘til I get back tonight?”

I put my hands on my hips and give him a cheeky glare. “I suppose Charlie can spend more time with his non-aunt.” My teasing fades. “You’re not staying?”

Thomas notices my disappointment and tilts my chin up. “I've got some paperwork but I’ll be back. I promise.”

Thomas does fulfill his promise… eventually. He brings Charlie back just as it starts to turn dark, tucking the yawning child into bed. But he walks back out again, no doubt off to overwork himself. Thomas seemed eager to come back but does not return until the early hours of the morning. I don’t know what kept him but when I hear the door open I put down the dishes I’m washing and head straight for him.

“You’re back late. Charlie’s- Thomas? What is it?”

His face. All hints of conquering and happiness from earlier are gone. Replaced by a sad stare. He looks as if someone just slapped him.

Thomas’ mouth opens and closes while he tries to think of what to say. He pinches the bridge of his nose and removes his hat.

“Did Polly tell you?”

Tell me what? In case he hasn’t noticed yet, I’ve been kept in the dark with many important bulletins as of late. 

“I take that as a no.” Thomas lets out a deep breath. “Lizzie, she’s… pregnant.”

Tug! My body goes still and I grip the dish towel even harder. The blood drains from my face. My heartbeat screams in my ears. I lean against the wall, keeping my shocked, distraught face hidden away. All this time…

“Th-That’s wonderful, Thomas,” I manage to say through my shreiking thoughts. “Another baby is another blessing.”

I feel Thomas put his warm hand on my tense shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Alright? Alright?! Is he fucking joking?!

“Yes, just tired.” I pull away and fling the towel onto the counter, changing to a colder persona. “Is there anything else, Mr. Shelby?”

My heartless tone hits Thomas square in the chest. A sorrowful look freezes over his face. Good.

“No.”

“Congratulations again. I’m sure Charlie will be happy to have a sibling.”

I rush back to my room and fight the urge to slam the door right off its hinges. It’s happening all over again. They have a baby, he marries her, I’m pushed away again. Sticks and stones, best wishes to them both. At least Grace brought a sense of peace to Thomas. Lizzie only seems to bring out the rough side of him.

Lizzie Stark? Lizzie fucking Stark. Back to his old ways. He will kiss any woman but me. Always another woman. Just when he starts to open up, he uses someone else. Is my love invisible to him? There he goes again, back to Lizzie while I’m taunted for being single. 

Thud! That was the front door.

Yes. Go, Thomas. That’s one fucking context clue you pick up on! I want to be alone.

I’m just another whore to you, Thomas Shelby. You’ve said it yourself. We’re all whores, we just sell different parts of ourselves. I’ve sold you my time. Each year I saved my time for you and your family, your Shelby Company Limited. And for what? 

Ring! Ring!

If that’s Lizzie Stark I’m going to rip the phone clear from the wall! I roughly pick up the receiver. On the other end I hear the distinct chatter of two people.

“Verena?”

No. No. No. I do not need a talk full of pity.

“Please, Finn… Not now. You too, Ada.”

I hear Ada sigh. “He told you?”

I choke back a sob and wipe the pooling tears from my eyes. “Yes. God smiles on us again.”

“Verena-”

“PLEASE!” I shriek and cover my mouth to keep myself from breathing too fast. “Just- Just leave me be.”

I hang up before they can argue. That does it. I’m not playing this game anymore. As soon as this bloody fight is over I’m packing my bags for home! Company employee or not, I will not stick around to work in these harassing conditions. Despite my lingering love for that klootzak, it’s not enough to win me over to stay anymore. No more moral obligation. My debt is finally paid.

Maybe I will be too cold, Thomas. Too empty and numb. But I’ve followed you around too long, hoping you might love me back. If this is what it takes to earn love, it’s a cost I’m not willing to pay.

And yet even if I’m leaving for good, my heart will never be free from you.

@meadows5

[runnning-outof-time]

@call-sign-shark Happy 1K Followers, Shark!! I love your celebration idea!! Thanks so much for allowing me to write something with a reader - I just knew that I had to write something for Arthur for you! I used the angst prompt ‘swear it to me’ … hopefully it makes sense! The moodboard doesn’t really match the fic…I was just thinking of Arthur’s angel and went went it. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Swear It To Me

Arthur Shelby x Reader

Warnings: language, mentions of a killing, season 3 spoilers

Word Count: 1080

Summary: Arthur needs some extra reassurance from (Y/N) after a day of rather unsettling events.

All of the lights in the house were off when (Y/N) entered it. An amber glow was shining through the archway that led to the living room, telling her that the fire was lit. She hoped that someone was occupying the room. Those hopes were answered just by standing in the archway.

The top of Arthur’s head was visible over the chair he was slumped down in. (Y/N) now hoped that he wasn’t drunk. She took a few steps into the room. The sound of her feet scuffing off of the hardwood made Arthur sit up straight, his head snapping in her direction.

“Hmm…it’s just you, sweetheart,” he mumbled upon recognizing who’d entered the room. He reassumed his relaxed position as she made her way to the couch that was positioned to the right of his chair.

“It’s just me,” (Y/N) affirmed as she situated herself on the couch so that she was turned to face him.

Silence filled the room then as Arthur stared straight ahead and (Y/N) kept her eyes focused on him. She wanted to know why he’d chose to sit in the dark here, but at the same time she didn’t want to open a can of worms that didn’t need opening.

After some time, Arthur finally spoke. “We saw Tommy today,” he started off, his voice soft in nature.

“You did? How is he handling things?” (Y/N) asked, a hopeful look in her eyes as her husband spoke about his grieving brother.

“He’s, ah…he’s still closed off. Sayin’ he’s back but he really isn’t. You know how Tommy is,” he answered, his words making all of (Y/N)’s hope flush out of her system within seconds, a frown forming on her face. “Anyway…he gave John and I some things to do…” he trailed off, looking down at his hands as he wrung them together.

(Y/N) sent him a knowing look. She already had an inkling of what those ‘things’ could have been. But she didn’t push him to share. At this point, she knew that pushing would make him shut down.

“He wanted us to go get Mr. Changretta from the docks and bring him to a warehouse. Mr. Changretta’s wife was traveling with him…they were going to New York,” he started off.

“She was our teacher,” (Y/N) recalled the lovely woman, smiling softly at the memory of her.

“She was,” Arthur nodded, “and Tommy wanted us to shoot her on site…take the husband and shoot her.”

The blood ran from (Y/N)’s face as she heard the added detail. “You, you didn’t…” she whispered out.

“We couldn’t,” Arthur shook his head, hanging it slightly. “We went against Tommy’s orders and let her go. Just took the old man instead,” he explained how he and his brother had handled things. “We took him to the warehouse, like Tommy wanted. And Tommy wasn’t himself there…said he was gonna keep him alive all night and wait for the birds to sing. I didn’t let him get that far. I, uh…” he paused, choking on his words and then clearing his throat in hopes that (Y/N) wouldn’t notice the fact that he was getting emotional. She noticed. “I shot the old man in the head…told Tommy I heard the birds. We’re bad men, but we’re…we’re not that.” he finished his statement by letting out a shaky breath. He shook his head once more before dropping it, his eyes focused on his lap.

“Oh Arthur…” (Y/N) trailed off as she moved from the couch to kneel beside his chair. She took his hands in hers and squeezed them, showing him that she was there.

“She remembered me you know,” he started, his eyes finding her again, “Mrs Changretta. She remembered me; remembered my smile and how she used to look the other way. And I…I killed her husband.” It was easy to hear how upset with himself he sounded. “I shoulda looked the other way too.”

“You did though,” (Y/N) was quick to point out. “Tommy wanted her dead. You and John spared her.”

“I still did the work of the fuckin’ devil,” he spoke in a dejected tone, removing one of his hands from her hold so that he could press his fingers into his eyes.

“You still have good in your heart,” she reminded him, “all that work you did on yourself…it isn’t for nothing. It hasn’t gone now that this has happened.” Her words were soft, and her heart broke as she heard him let out a choked sob.

“Swear it to me, angel.”

“What’s that?” (Y/N) asked. His voice was so soft that she wasn’t sure if she’d heard him properly.

“I need you to swear it to me…swear it to me that you’ll stay by my side; that even though I’ve done this, you won’t give up on me,” he expanded on his original sentence, finally dropping his hand from his face. (Y/N)’s heart broke at the sight of his red eyes and even from far away, she could see the tears brimming in them.

“I won’t, Arthur,” her answer was immediate. “I know the good you have in your heart,” she accentuated her words by squeezing his hands. “I know it better than anyone else, and I know that it’ll always be there.”

Arthur brought his hand up to run through his hair as he took a deep breath. He let it out slowly before he reached out and ran his hand down (Y/N)’s cheek. She smiled at the soft touch, letting her eyes flutter shut as he traced the line of her jaw before gently taking hold of her chin. Her eyes reopened when she felt him brush his thumb across her bottom lip, and her smile widened at the sight above her.

“I love you, angel,” he breathed, his words, and eyes, filled with love.

“I love you, Arthur,” she repeated the phrase back to him, her eyes not once straying from his.

The hurt in his heart was still present, but each second that her eyes stayed locked with his was making the pain feel more and more distant. He knew he’d have to continue to do the work of the devil, but he was thankful that he’d still have this angel by his side, and that she’d help him through it.

Tagged: @the-anxious-youth @mystcldydrms @look-at-the-soul @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @stevie75 @dark-academia-slut @zablife @cillmequick @letal-y-poetica @depxiety @shelundeadxxxx @areyenotfondofmelobster @padfootdaredmetoo @crabat-the-queen @sebastianstangirl01 @everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @papichulo120627 @brummiereader @adaydreamaway08 @kissforvoid @raincoffeeandfandoms @peakyltd @johannelis2302nely @just-a-blackhole @anotherblinder @christinasyellowflowers @insanitybyanothername @daisyblinder @wotcherpeak @call-sign-shark

MASTERLIST

[corrupte3d-mindz]

About Me:

I’m a 16 year old who loves writing about my favorite characters that live in my head rent free. I’m currently ending my sophomore year and moving to junior year; I found out that I’ll be 17 as a senior which is kinda weird. I speak English as a first language but I have a bit of dyslexia so I tend to add a word that didn’t need to be there or I forgot a word. If you notice it and I haven’t just hit me up and I’ll fix it along with that kind gesture I’ll also ask for you to give me a prompt/idea that you may want me to write, I love hearing other’s ideas and helping them to put it to paper. I tend to be very step by step writer because I like to give a very good visual representation of what’s going down but I tend to do it badly but it’s in the process of becoming more refined and better.

MASTERLIST BELOW

Warnings:

Some of these series have very sensitive topics like rape, drug abuse, gore, and death. If you do not like those topics then please stay away from them, I don’t want to deal with complaining. Half of my stuff will be dark, depraved, and depressing. Reading this and choosing to go further is all up to you. If you need to step away from one of my posts because you are struggling to make it through then drop it entirely, it will only get worse from there.

Any dark and depraved depictions of certain characters who are not like that normally will most likely happen in my blog , but for the ones that do have it, it’ll be worse. The ones that don’t normally have it I do not see them in that light. I just write them in that light.

For the depraved people like myself, you may continue on and please enjoy my work that I love to do. Thank you and have a wonderful day/night.

Codes:

𑁍 — Fluff

𖥻 — Humor

𖤐 — Angst

☹︎ — Dark

♧ — Smut

♔ — Headcanons

〇 — One-Shots

⧉ — Potential Series

꩜ — Series

Color Codes:

Red: Extreme non-con elements or just extremely dark themes

Orange: Some dark elements mentioned or conveyed.

Blue: Barely any dark themes at all; probably just the mention of alcohol, drugs, or blood. It’s the bare fucking bones.

Pink: Either it’s mainly smut or a shitty plot with smut..

Green: Nothing bad at all, it’s just fluff and kind things happening around here.

White: Either I haven’t written it yet, in the process or just have no clue what I want to put it under as yet.

Who I write for:

Celebrities

Cillian Murphy

Series:

Cost of Fame Part 2 ꩜,♧,𖤐,𑁍

One-shots:

On My Dime 〇,𑁍

Lavish Love 〇,♧,𑁍

My fucking baby! 〇,𑁍

Red Carpet Rush 〇,♧,𑁍

Ageless Beauty 〇,♧,𖥻,𑁍

Falling on deaf ears 〇,𑁍

BTS of Peaky Blinders 〇,𑁍

Lights, Camera, Cillian 〇,𑁍

Behind Closed Doors 〇,☹︎,𖤐,♧

Headcanons:

Tom Hardy

Series:

One-shots:

Headcanons:

Venom

Eddie Brock

Serious:

One-shots:

Headcanons:

Peaky Blinders

Thomas Shelby

Series:

Wild & Free ꩜,♧,𖤐,𑁍

Bloodlines ꩜,♧,𖤐,𑁍

Nocturnal Allies ꩜,♧,𖤐,𑁍

A Deal with the Devil ꩜,☹︎,𖤐,♧,𑁍

One-Shots:

His Angel 〇,𑁍

Silent Vows 〇,𑁍,♧

Blood Brothers 〇,☹︎,𖤐

Sleepless Nights 〇,𑁍

Burning Embers 〇,𖤐,𑁍

Little White Lies 〇,𖤐

Needle & Thread 〇,⧉,𑁍

Forever a Shelby 〇,𑁍,𖥻

The Ghost of You 〇,𖤐,𑁍

Uncharted Territory ⧉,𑁍

Veil of Deception 〇,𑁍,♧

Shadows of Ambition

Tangled Memories

Headcanons:

John Shelby

Series:

The Crimson Crown ꩜,♧,𖤐,𑁍

One-Shots:

Blood and Whiskey

Headcanons:

Finn Shelby

Series:

One-Shots:

To The Bone 〇

Headcanons:

Micheal Gray

Series:

One-Shots:

The Unseen Enemy 〇

Blood and Business 〇

The Cost of Loyalty 〇

Whiskey and Secrets 〇

Whispers in the Night 〇

Gray Days & Dark Nights 〇

Headcanons:

Luka Changretta

Series:

Sins in the Shadows ꩜,♧,𖤐,𑁍

One-shots:

Silent Threat 〇,𖤐,♧

Headcanons:

Alfie Solomons

Series:

Old Wounds ꩜,♧,𖤐,𑁍

One-Shots:

The Last Toast ⧉,𖤐,♧,𑁍

A King Among Men 〇,𖤐,♧,𑁍

A Pint and a Promise 〇,𖤐,♧,𑁍

Headcanons:

Sir Oswald Mosley

Series:

The Enemy Within ꩜,𖤐,♧,𑁍

One-Shots:

Daddy’s Girl 〇,𖤐,♧,𑁍

Pillow Princess 〇,𖤐,♧,𑁍

Echoes in the Alley ⧉,𖤐,♧,𑁍

Tempting the Tyrant ⧉,𖤐,♧,☹︎,𑁍

Headcanons:

The Dark Knight Trilogy or The Batman Trilogy

Dr. Jonathan Crane

Series:

Nightmare in Gotham ꩜,☹︎,𖤐,♧,𑁍

In Your Shadow part 2 ꩜,☹︎,𖤐,♧,𑁍

One-Shots:

Headcanons:

A Quiet Place Part ||

Emmett Abbott

Series:

One-Shots:

Headcanons:

Watching the Detectives

Neil Lewis

Series:

One-Shots:

Headcanons:

Inception

Robert Fischer

Series:

The Siren Files 2 ꩜,𖤐,♧,𑁍

One-Shots:

Hell on Wheels 〇,𖥻,𑁍

Actually Burning 〇,𖥻,𑁍

The Illusion of Control 〇,𖤐,♧,𑁍

Headcanons:

Red Eye

Jackson Rippner

Series:

Unmasked ꩜,☹︎,𖤐,♧,𑁍

One-Shots:

Headcanons:

This master-list will be updated once I have a couple of stories out to the public then this message will disappear.

[tommygrace]

Yep, this is why I don't like this character and I don't understand her. Here she is admitting that everything she did was to get to that moment, living in luxury, in a mansion, married to the man she is obsessed with, Tommy.

And she says it proudly, that is, she feels proud for using Grace's death, because that's what she did, and starting the war with the Changrettas, using Angel, using John, humiliating the women, May and Jessee Eden, who want the same thing as her, to fuck Tommy.

And then she complains about this life she chose, and wants Tommy to change and be a normal man. Why did she do everything if she knew that Tommy is not normal, but someone traumatized by the war and Grace's death?

I will never understand her or what the point of Tommy and Lizzie's story is.

[starlight045]

The Price of Revenge

| Chapter One |

| Luca Changretta X OC!

| Summarry: When Luca Changretta comes seeking revenge in the form of a Vendetta out for the Shelby family Elizabeth Shelby is forced to pick between two options. She can marry the man who has killed her brother or refuse and let the bloodshed continue. People get hurt, secrets are revealed and Elizabeth makes the unlikely decision. (This is set in 1925 during season 4 of the show Peaky Blinders.)

| I hope you guys like this story! And perusual feedback is encouraged. :)

Chapter One

1925, Birmingham, England

The rain came down steadily on the cobblestone streets in Birmingham. Luca Changretta stood in his hotel room looking out the window when Matteo came in. His sleeves were rolled up and his top buttons were undone.

“Luca,” Matteo said, taking his hat off. Luca stayed facing the window, turning his head over his shoulder to look at the man. He had his toothpick hanging out of his mouth.

“Matteo…dimmi.” he said, turning to look at him. Both Matteo and him had been close. Friends since infancy practically. Now they work together. Matteo helped him but sometimes Luca would lose his temper.

“John Shelby è morto. Abbiamo colpito Michael Grey ma pensiamo che sia sopravvissuto.” Luca nodded his head and walked up to the shorter Italian.

“Sì…sì, è grandioso. Perché quel fottuto Michael Grey è ancora vivo?” He asked, gritting his teeth.

“Someone managed to get him to the hospital on time I guess. I believe it was John’s wife.”

Luca shook his head and sighed.

“You can go Matteo.

____________________________________________________________

Angel Changretta who was Luca’s oldest brother and the eldest son of Vicente and Audrey Changretta was killed a year ago. It all started a year ago or so when the Shelby family found out Angel was the love interest of Lizzie Stark. So after Angel’s restaurant is burnt down Vicente goes to confront Arthur and John. But when both brothers threaten Angel the problem is made worse.

Vicente threatens the Shelby brothers and John gets into a fight with Angel beating him up and slashing his eyes. As a form of revenge, Vicente calls a hitman to kill Thomas Shelby but they end up killing his wife instead by mistake and later that week Angel is killed. This isn’t where the story ends as Vicente is ordered to be assassinated along with his wife Audrey but Audrey is spared and Arthur had shot Vicente.

With both his father and oldest brother dead Luca Changretta came from New York seeking revenge. The Changrettas were a family that belonged to a Mafia that dealt with liquor in New York. Luca was determined to avenge both his brother and father.

The Shelby family had all received black hands in their mail and were terrified. Everyone except for Elizabeth Shelby, the third oldest Shelby sibling.

When she received a call in her small neighborhood away from small heath she was surprised to hear the news. She came on the next train bags in hand as her family ushered her inside. “What’s going on? I got the call.” She asked setting her stuff down as Tommy and the whole family stood in the room together.

“Luca Changretta’s father and brother were killed by John and Arthur. Now he’s here from New York seeking revenge. It’s called a vendetta.” *He said, handing Elizabeth the card they all received.* __________________________________ And now here they were with John dead and Micheal in the hospital. Elizabeth hated staying in small heath; she promised herself she would never come back. She always hated what her brothers had been doing too. The killing, the illegal things, the never-ending wars.

But yet here she was and her younger brother was dead. He was killed by the men hired by an old flame. But her family didn’t know and she didn’t dare tell them.

Besides, it shouldn’t have mattered much. It happened when they were teenagers and Luca was just staying for a month as his father needed to clean up business.

He was different back then. Young, carefree, sweet, and caring. He was a doll. But now all Elizabeth heard was about how he had killed people or what he was doing in New York and that he had aged and grown cold. She knew a different Luca Changretta. And he knew a different Elizabeth Shelby.

____

The night was late and Polly Gray walked into a club wearing her red dress and fur shoulder wrap. She went to sit at the bar ordering champagne. As she sat a grey fedora was slowly placed next to her on the table.

The man’s tattoos were peaking out from under his sleeve, a black hand on his upper wrist, and a small cross on his middle finger. He stood letting the barman pour him a drink before sitting down next to her.

“This, is public enough, no?” he asked before taking a sip of the whiskey.

“yes.”

“So?” Luca asked in return.

“The boy in the hospital is out of bounds. And I’ll ask you to spare Finn and Arthur.” Polly said.

“In return for what?”

“Tommy Shelby.”

“And why should I trust you?” Luca asked before turning to look at Polly.

“Because you know our history. You know what happened between us.”

“You have an unlikely Cassius,” he said before drinking again. “You know…my mother. My mother knew your mother. She taught her how to read.” Luca said.

“Did she tell you that John and Arthur spared her life? When Tommy wanted her dead.” Polly asked not looking him in the eyes.

“Yeah and now she’s giving me the information about you people. So Tommy Shelby was right. his ruthlessness was justified. You should have killed her when you had the chance.” Luca told her.

“John was a good boy. Arthur tries. Tommy’s different. You take Tommy spare the rest.” Polly asked the man not once looking at him.

“But…What if it isn’t Tommy Shelby I want.” Luca asked which made Polly stop putting her dink down. “Years ago…I met this wonderful breathtaking girl. She was beautiful. Very polite in her mannerisms and all. I thought we’d get married one day.” Polly froze. He could only be talking about one person. “That is what I want. I want her.”

“Elizabeth is not a part of the deal.”

“Well, she is now. I marry her, we can end it.” Luca said as Polly sat there in disbelief not knowing what to do in this situation.

Polly didn’t look at Luca. She kept her eyes trained on anything but him.

“You know my mother used to say this about you. She said that ‘Polly Gray’ that child could never let go of a grievance.” Luca started making Polly look at him. “And she loves to dance. What do you say hm? Wanna dance?” Luca asked.

“I don’t dance, anymore,” Polly said as she stood up and pulled her fur shoulder wrap over her body before leaving.

“Yeah, that’s a shame. Cause you’re dancing with me.” Luca said as she walked off finishing his drink.

And Polly with this new news went to go tell Tommy that night. both she and him agreed that they wouldn’t settle with Luca’s new terms. There was no way they could marry off Liza who had never even picked up a gun in her life. It would kill her being married to an Italian mob boss.

A Week Later

It was a cold morning and tired of being cooped up in Small Health Elizabeth dressed up and went out. She was quite the painter and always had been. So as soon as she split from the chaos that was the peaky blinders she sold her art in upper Birmingham and even made it to a museum or two. She had planned on doing a few landscape portraits but couldn’t find the right tools at any of the nearby shops or vendors. So despite Tommy’s orders and wishes she went out in the outer parts of Birmingham and looked for what she needed.

It was at the fifth store of the day when she was looking at the different shades of blue when she felt the presence of someone standing behind her. Not thinking much of it she didn’t pay attention until it spoke up.

“That’s a nice shade.” He said and Elizabeth froze where she was at.

There was no way. It couldn’t be him. How did he find her if it was? Turning around Elizabeth’s suspicions were confirmed. It was Luca Changretta with his toothpick leaning against another shelf.

“Oh don’t tell me you don’t recognize me.” He smirked, taking his toothpick out and twisting it in his fingers.

Everyone was right. He did look older. He had a scar or two on his face and his eyes held more to them. As if he had seen the world and horrible things.

And of course, he was way taller and wore fine leather shoes along with tailored suits.

“Luca,” Elizabeth said softly.

“Elizabeth.” He said with a smirk.

“Are you here to kill me?” Elizabeth asked nervously.

“Because if you are just…just do it now.”

Luca just continued to smirk and he shook his head.

“No dolce I’m not here to kill you. Why would I do that?”

“Well because you killed my brother! You sent a black hand to my whole family except for me.”

“There’s a good reason for that Dolce. Besides it’s called a vendetta your brothers killed my brother and father.” And at that word, Elizabeth made a face.

“I just want to talk. Simple as that.” Luca shrugged putting his toothpick back between his lips.

“Fine,” Elizabeth muttered before going to buy her paints but Luca stopped her trying to buy them for her. “I can buy my own. I do make money Luca.”

“Let me be a gentleman, Liza,” he said putting the money down as Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

After the pair walked out Elizabeth was immediately met with the sight of Luca’s black Rolls Royce his men standing next to the car their pistols on their carriers.

Luca nodded to them before putting his hand on the small of Elizabeth’s back and walking down the street with him. She immediately swatted his hand away

With a spark of fear ready to ignite in her chest, she looked up at the tall mobster. “So Luca…if you’re not going to kill me. What the fuck do you want?”

“I met with your aunt, last night. She offered me a promising deal. To spare two of your brothers. and your cousin, for your brother Tommy.” Elizabeth’s head immediately snapped up to him her jaw dropped.

“Polly wouldn’t do that,” she said as Luca huffed out a laugh. “I didn’t think so either. She said uh, their history is why she’s doing it.” And Elizabeth thought about the story Ada had told her recently. how everyone was almost hung at the noose and Tommy saved them in the nick of time. Ironically it was also his fault.

“But I told her, Tommy isn’t the one I want,” Luca said looking down at Elizabeth. and Elizabeth felt the spark in her chest. Maybe he was there to kill her. Maybe he also grew into a liar. He was a mob boss now.

“I offered a deal. Marriage or vendetta?” which made her stop walking and Luca turned to look at her.

“You want to marry me.”

“I need a wife. I’ve got everything but one. Besides I liked what we had when we were young. I missed you.”

“Why would I marry you? You killed my brother. Almost killed my cousin. And you think things should be like when we were kids?” Elizabeth said getting bothered and upset.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Luca said gently grabbing her arm not wanting to draw attention.

“Get off of me,” she said yanking her arm off.

“I think you’d marry me, to stop this whole Vendetta. My mother told me about you now Elizabeth Shelby. You hate what your brothers do. You’ve never touched a gun. You hate your brothers for being like this. I hear you’re a great artist too. You already lost John. What about Arthur? or Finn? I know you’re close with Micheal at least. Wouldn’t be hard to kill that one. OR what about Ada hm? Your little sister.” Luca said as Elizabeth’s hands shook in fear and her eyes became wet.

Sure she wasn’t as bothered by Luca. But he unsettled her to her core. She knew she was no longer dealing with the sweet boy she once knew. She was now dealing with a grown man she didn’t know with the same eyes. They were essentially strangers. But strangers with memories.

“You choose, Liza. Vendetta…or marriage?” Luca told her. “You let me know soon amore,” he said pointing to her before Elizabeth turned around and walked away her legs wobbly. She couldn’t believe what had just happened.

____________________________________________________

[bearsinpotatosacks]

Anyone ever think about how if Lizzie didn't invite Angel Changretta as her date to Tommy’s wedding, none of the rest of the show would’ve happened? No meeting with the Changrettas, John doesn't kill Angel, no one goes after Tommy but kills Grace instead, Tommy doesn't have to grieve her so he doesn't hallucinate her later on, there's no Vendetta so John's alive. I'm not sure how the end of s3 would go? Tommy doesn't have a reason to kill Alfie for selling him out, Aberama Golde doesn't come into it as protection, not sure if Tommy would still go into politics but I'm thinking he would. Would season 5 go the same? Would Tommy even get involved with Moseley? Season 6 would be radically different, he’s not married to Lizzie, so no Ruby.

[call-sign-shark]

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

Summary:  Danger lurks in every corner of Small Heath now, a place in which you're forced to stay. A place where Changretta and Section D are ready to get you. As you're trying to work things out with Arthur following your violent argument, Polly tells you something that will definitely complicate your role in the Vendetta.

Words: 6.8k

TW: Angst, mention of drug use, canonical violence, mention of murder, mention of self-harm, co-dependent relationship, grieving.

Notes:

✞ This is chapter 13 of the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes. Each chapter can be read as stand-alone but reading the whole series will make the experience far more intense and better.

✞ Quite a long chapter I admit, certainly the longer. The future chapters won't be as long I swear -- it's just that there was a lot of small "plot twists".

✞ Lucy is @emotionalcadaver's OC.

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The thick fog of the night danced in front of the car’s headlights, swirling at the wind’s discretion. The driver, keeping an eagle eye on your dainty silhouette, had started the engine as soon as he saw you storming out of your house, disheveled and crying.  He only waited five seconds before driving at a very slow pace, scanning the misty streets of foul-smelling Small Heath to find you. For a short while, he was convinced you had managed to escape from his watch and, admittedly, the persistent fog only complicated the task further. “Fucking bitch”, he pestered, turning left on the next street as the car’s wheels squealed against the wet concrete of the road but you didn’t hear, far too deafened by the unremitting drumming of your own heart. You stopped your race near a field, and sat on a small wall, feeling your body wear out now that the adrenaline's effects were dispersing. Once settled, you buried your face in your cold palms and squeezed your eyes shut. Where should you go? What should you do? Were all of Arthur's promises empty? What will happen to your marriage now? Will Tommy keep ruining your life? All these questions played on repeat in your skull, like the unsettling loop of a broken record echoing in a murky abandoned house. And along the haunting tune resonated your and Arthur's voice, from a not-so-far memory.

"I'll marry you one day."

"You're already married, Arthur."

"I don't bloody care, it's you I want ay. Fook Linda, fook the family, fook the rest of the world. It's you. It has always been you."

A shiver ran down your spine as your mind went back to the night you had this conversation. You could almost feel the warm sensation of his naked skin against yours, as he cradled you to his chest, legs entangled, and his cologne all over your bedsheet. The first time you made love.

"Listen, I know you're scared and I know I’ve got a bad reputation. But if you give me the chance to be your man, I swear to God you'll be the only one for me. Look at ya. How could I want another woman? They can all die. I'll never, fucking never, cheat on you."

"But with Linda--"

"It ain't the same. We're talking about you. My sweet angel. My soul mate. My saving grace. The other part of me broken self."

"... Alright. Promise it then."

"Cross me heart and hope to die."

"No drugs either? Like, a bit of snow occasionally never killed anyone but apart from this, no relapse okay?"

"No drugs but..." He paused, gently taking your hand in his, and kissed all your fingers one by one "But in exchange I want ye to stop hurting yourself. I saw the inside of your thighs so please, no more cuts ay?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die." You smiled, interlocking your little fingers together in a sweet pinky promise.

You pressed one trembling hand against your mouth at the bittersweet memory, tears tingling your eyes and blurring your vision. A muffled sob escaped from your plumped lips, then a second, and finally tears came in waterfalls. It's been a long time since you really cried, and here you were. Weeping like a lost kid.

Despite the darkness of the night and the patchy coat of the fog, the stalker caught sight of the long crimson streaks that ran down one of your frail arms. He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue as his hand reached for the gun hidden in the glove box. Finally, he thought, he was a short moment away from a very sweet vengeance he had spent years carefully planning. A little excited sigh escaped from his mouth while his fingers caressed the cold barrel of the gun, already aroused at the idea of pointing the canon against your head the moment he would force you to get in his car. Even if he knew that the wisest thing to do after your capture was to drive you to them, he thought about going on a little stroll with you. Maybe he'll bring you to an isolated land to shove you on the muddy ground, and make you regret the day you decided to murder his brother in the small mountainous town of Haute-Falaise. Only after he had ruined you enough, stealing every ounce of your dignity, he would drive you to Section D's headquarters. With a bit of luck, he could keep hurting you a little bit more before they decide to pull the trigger and repaint the walls with the contents of your brain.

The roots of his hatred had started the day he realized that each time he closed his lids, his brother's eyes haunted him. Or at least, the two hollow and dark holes on his face since his eyes had been gouged out. There was also the blood, running from his mouth, ears, nose, and even streaming down his cheeks in crimson tears. Maybe he should have listened to the local police when they told him not to look at the corpse, but he had to do it. To his questions, even the forensic pathologist couldn’t answer. The only certainty the experts agreed on was that Christian’s lungs and heart had been smashed to a pulp from the inside and that he had stab wounds all over his body just like the other four corpses found. Five corpses and nothing else. The murderer was nowhere to be seen: no one had witnessed something, not even heard the slightest muffled scream. It was as if Death came, struck them with his scythe, and left without a trace.

Closer. A little bit closer...

You jumped at the sudden and unexpected sensation of a man’s hand squeezing your frail shoulder. As nimble as a cat and as quick as a lightning bolt, you jumped from the wall and unsheathed the dagger you kept hidden in your right lace garter, “Who the fuck are you?!” You hissed, voice burning with fury and frozen eyes darting at the stranger. You had been so quick to react that the man, vaguely confused by what just happened, found himself in quite a poor situation. Indeed, he didn’t expect a young woman to press the tip of a sharp blade against his carotid artery, ready to slit it.  God knew he was a fearless fighter, but you had been too unpredictable, even for him. And yet, he didn’t move nor particularly react despite the unpleasant surprise.

“Heaven Shelby?” He asked.

You snarled and bared your teeth at this unfamiliar voice calling you by your name. If marrying Arthur Shelby had taught you what real love was, you had also learned how to become even more deadly than you already were. Seemed like the Shelby's wariness had turned you feral.

“Make one more step and I’ll bleed you like a fucking pig.” You warned. The cold wind of the night blew in your hair, making your long white locks dance behind you like the ghostly veil of a dead bride. He frowned, unsettled by its uncommon color. What disturbed him the most though was maybe the pale and haunting color of your eyes, whose shade reminded him of two cursed aquamarine stones.

“Mrs. Shelby. I mean no harm, ‘specially not when facing such a young and delicate lady,” He started, the corner of his lips stretching in a fathomless smile despite the awe you inspired him. His small and cunning fox-like eyes squinted as he grinned. Somehow, he didn't seem to mind the blade that was still threatening him as if such a situation was casual -- and it was. If anything, he was impressed by your fierceness and the hatred that shone in your iris, which created a striking contrast with your little frame and doll face, “Well not as delicate as I’ve been told.” His smile widened at his own comment, “It’s dangerous out’here m’lady, I’ve spotted you by chance and thought I’d bring you home safe.”

“Dangerous.” You snorted, unable to hold your sarcasm. “Get the fuck away from me.” Each word from your mouth was dripping with caustic vitriol, leaving no doubt about your hostility and lethal potential. Judging by your quick and deadly reaction, you were certainly more than capable of taking care of yourself -- in truth, he could tell you wouldn't hesitate to end his life. But instead of backing up, the man carefully brought his fingertips on the shining surface of the dagger and pried it away from his throat in a slow movement without breaking eye contact with you.

“A car is following you.” He informed you.

“What?” This phrase hit you like a train, impairing the fierceness and self-confidence you’ve been showing. Surveying your surroundings quickly, you did notice the shadow of a car not so far away in the distance with its headlights shut and two glistening eyes staring at you from the driver's seat. The moment the shadow understood that you had spotted him, the car headed away from you in a loud engine roar and disappeared in the misty night. Fuck, the lad was right: someone had been following you. You sniffed, still in shock, and quickly wiped your tears with the brush of one knuckle before tricking your anxiety into focusing on your unexpected savior again. Your armed hand might be hanging loosely from your slim body, but your fingers were still firmly wrapped around the dagger’s handle. It was an expensive and deadly blade, gifted by one mysterious red-head woman whose hair reminded you of a wildfire. You had trouble remembering the name — Lucy? Something like this. What you knew though was that this troubled soul was called ‘Tommy’s little spy” by the Shelby's family, but since you couldn’t care less about your brother-in-law’s personal life you didn’t investigate further. The girl had been nice with you, that was all that mattered.

Even armed and feral, you felt vulnerable. At your big confused eyes and at the sight of mascara running down your cheeks, the man couldn’t help but feel sorry for you. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that you could pass off for his daughter or maybe because you were just a few years older than his own son? He slightly tilted his body to one side to let the weak beam of a street light disclose his face and overall appearance: long and messy gray hair, thin lips, small glistening eyes, and a mysterious and slightly disturbing grin.

“Mrs. Shelby, you should come with me.” He advised, then he extended his arm, about to lay his strong hand on your shoulder a second time when you stepped back to avoid his touch with a dissuasive hiss. He stopped, “Lemme bring you back to your husband. It’s Arthur Shelby, ‘m I right?” This time, he simply offered you his palm and waited for you to make the first step. You replied to his invitation by looking dagger at him: if your eyes could kill, this one would already be sleeping with the fishes.

“No.” You protested, as stubborn as a Shelby by birth. Your heart squeezed in your chest at the mention of Arthur, the thought of him coming back home all coked up and intoxicated was still fueling your rage like gasoline thrown at a destructive fire. The last thing you wanted at the moment was to see your husband. If someone had asked you, you’d have answer that what you sincerely wanted was John and his comforting arms. John and his beaming smile. John and his way of teasing you, his jokes, his softness, his cockiness... Yes, that was John you wanted, and you wanted him now. But the cruel truth was that John wasn’t there anymore. He was lying dead and cold in a morgue, leaving you with nothing but the insufferable pain of his loss and your head screaming. “I don’t want to see him.” You asserted and fled the man’s gaze, who soon understood the situation — with age came experience, and from experience he could recognize the aching expression of a young woman wounded by the hazards of love. These Shelby men… He thought with a certain disdain. Oh, he had not been irreproachable all his life either, but a woman’s heart was a gift he missed every day of his life since his wife’s death. The mysterious lad softly reached for your wrist and, not minding your feral nature anymore, he brought it closer to his face to examine the open gash on your porcelain skin.

“Did he hurt you?”

“I did this to myself.” You broke the physical contact right away and pressed your palm firmly on the still-bleeding wound. Adrenaline had pumped so hard through your veins that the pain had been numbed: only now your nerves were slowly wakening up,  sending unpleasant tingles where the cut was. While he observed you carefully, the man wondered why such a young and fragile thing like you would do this to herself.

“Seems like you had a harsh night, kitten.” He stated with a slight fatherly tone which surprised you before he noticed the goosebumps on your skin. The situation had been so exceptional that he completely obliterated that you were barefoot outside, in the freezing temperature of Birmingham’s night, wearing nothing but a short dress. Without further ado, the man took his long black coat off and put it over your shoulders. While you still shot him a suspicious look, the warmth in which he wrapped you felt good. Your muscles relaxed and your hand closed on the two sides you brought together near your throat to protect it from the wind. “While I get why y’don’t wanna go home, ‘specially if you fought with your man, you have to understand that being alone at night in Small Heath is not safe. Let alone currently, with Changretta’s men trying to murder you all. Maybe you’d like me to bring you to Thomas instead?”

A shiver ran down your spine at the simple mention of your brother-in-law’s name. The sensation of his lips against yours was still burning your flesh and even hours after your last encounter you couldn’t get rid of his cologne’s scent that was still lingering on your hair and skin, “I’d rather get fucked by a horse than deal with this bastard.” The man blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected you to have such a foul mouth -- that was why let out a soft chuckle, to which you replied with a very faint smile.

“Alright kitten… I get it. No Shelby men. And what about coming with me to my vardo? My son has lit a campfire and he is cooking some rabbits. Would you like that?” He suggested, one brow raised and his fox-like grin widening almost to his ears. 

“You still haven't told me who you are.”

The man took off his brown hat at your clever comment, “Ah yes. Where are my manners ay?” His dark blue eyes glistened with a cunning gleam as he slowly nodded “The name’s Aberama Gold. Nice to meet you.” 

“You bloody idiot… Sit here and don’t do anything stupid anymore.” Polly instructed her oldest nephew as soon as he had entered the room, pointing to an empty chair with her half-consumed cigarette. All alone with Ada and his aunt, who were still waiting for the other guests to come, Arthur took place and kept his head down. Polly simply took a long drag from her black cigarette and exhaled, smoke coming out of her mouth like the Devil as she quietly observed Arthur’s eyebags and bloody knuckles. Soon after your departure, she had heard the cacophony of screams and thuds coming from his house in Watery Lane. When she witnessed all the blood, destroyed furniture, and shards of glass in the living room, she had been was convinced that Arthur had murdered you out of jealousy or something. Fortunately enough, the situation wasn't that dramatic -- at least for her. After throwing herself at her nephew and forcing him to calm the fuck down, she did her best to keep the oldest Shelby brother from hurting himself more than he already did. When things got quieter, she had even scolded him as she did when he was a kid — except that all the other sermons he had been through in his childhood were nothing compared to the anger she had unleashed when he had confessed about taking drugs again.

“Is she coming to the meeting?” She finally inquired, one of her elbows resting on the wooden table and her cigarette consuming itself between her fingers.

“Don’t know Pol.” Arthur’s usual loud and gruff voice was reduced to a shy, hoarse, and saddened whisper. No matter his attempt at distracting his mind, his thoughts always came back to you. Only you. He didn’t know where you were nor if you’d come back to him and that was slowly driving him crazy. Or more than he already was. Arthur felt his fragile sanity slipping through his fingers and knew it wouldn't be long before he went berserk if it turned out you really left. Also, he was growing frustrated and agitated about sitting here in the betting shop, waiting for a useless meeting to start instead of looking for you. All he wanted was to burn this city to the ground and make it bleed until he found you and brought you back home where you belonged. That is to say by his side. Nevertheless, Polly had advised him against this decision, convinced it would only fuel your rage against him even more. She wasn’t wrong though, you needed space.

The fierce Aunt stubbed her cigarette out in the nearest ashtray and leaned toward her nephew to grab his wrist with one of her cold and sly hands. It snapped him out of his crumbling mind. “You’re insanely lucky to have a woman like her in your life, Arthur. Don’t be an ungrateful cunt by letting your addictions ruin the most precious thing you have. The bland and momentarily relief snow grants you will never hold a candle to Heaven. Understand?” She warned with the same tone she used when a young Arthur came back home all bloody after fighting at school. “Hey. Look at me.”  The gangster sniffed and raised his steel blue eyes to his Aunt, his lips trembling and dimples appearing on his cheeks as he clenched his jaws. How right she was. Even when snorting a ridiculously huge amount of snow he didn’t feel better. In fact, his high had been insipid when compared with how you made him feel, blissed out and in pure ecstasy, when his lips crashed against yours. An unpleasant surge of electricity crossed his body at this thought as he remembered how his whole being yearned for you. “She’ll come back. I know she will, and you’ll make up for your idiocy. But let me warn you, boy. Witches usually don’t believe in second chances. If she gives you one, don’t ever fuck it all up anymore, or she’ll tear your bloody heart from your chest and smash it in front of your beseeching eyes. And you’ll consider yourself lucky if she only did it figuratively. ” At these murderous words, which felt like another stab, Arthur bit the inside of his cheek until he could taste blood on his tongue.

“I’ll do that.” He concluded, closing his hands in fists in a vain attempt to keep his temper quiet despite his spiraling thoughts. Thoughts that revolve around either you and how he would end his damn life if you ever left him. With a loud bang, a strong rope, or hell, his own razor blade, he didn’t care. Polly simply nodded and sat straight again as the other members of the clan entered the room one by one and took place, waiting for Tommy. At each footstep, Arthur raised his head with impatience, wishing it was you and internally screaming when he realized it wasn’t. HeavenHeavenHeavenHeaven… It never stopped, the thought of you compulsive and maddening. He cleared his throat and grunted nervously, his gaze glaring at an invisible dot on the wall that was facing him.

Tommy erupted in the room, a placid expression etched on his face as always, giving the impression he was in complete control of the situation. Was he? No one was truly sure about that. He stood fearlessly in front of the small crowd, far from being impressed by public speeches, and let his turquoise eyes wander on every face. Sometimes you wondered if Thomas Shelby would better drop the criminal life and start a political career. After all, he had all the required qualities: manipulative, sweet-talking, dishonest, and heartless. Tommy took one look at his brother’s face and quickly got a broad understanding of what had happened -- It wasn't particularly difficult though considering how Arthur belonged to the expressive kind. His eyes usually talked before he even opened his mouth. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder if it was his fault. If it was because of the... kiss, or his moment of confusion as he liked to call it. Yet, his sharp instincts knew that Arthur hadn’t been informed of this little event otherwise he would have certainly gone straight for his throat no matter the family blood running in their veins. Loyalty had its limits, and the limits bore your name. When he noticed your absence, Tommy discreetly clenched his sharp jaws for even if he loathed you, you had your place among the family for the meeting and the rest of them would probably not vote if you weren’t there. Nevermind, he thought. He had barely parted his lips when he heard the clicking sound of heels approaching and with the sound came your perfume. Just like Arthur, he immediately recognized the spring-like fragrances of your scent, especially now that he had buried his nose in your silvery mane.

Arthur’s heart made a leap in his tight ribcage as he saw you bathed in the warm light of the betting shop, dressed like the day you left the house except for your hair that was styled in two French braids cascading down the small of your back. He wanted to get up and embrace you, choke you in a hug, or fall on his knees to beg for forgiveness without minding the other people in the room but Polly’s strong hand squeezed his thigh to prevent him from doing so. Thus, all he did was just staring at you with pitiful and beseeching eyes. But you didn’t look at him. In truth, you didn’t look at anyone. Ignoring the burning sensation of Tommy’s turquoise iris following you, you passed by him and headed right to the free chair between Polly and Arthur. As soon as you sat next to him, he obliterated the world in favor of your heavenly presence as he usually did when you were around. The lanky gangster tried his chance and his fingers shyly searched for yours under the table. He was dying to feel your touch again, the coldness of your frosty skin being the only remedy to his troubled soul and broken mind. However, you denied him your affection by slightly shifting your hand away from him no matter how hard it was for you too. Your rejection stung him more painfully than a white-hot blade. Arthur bit the inside of his cheek harder but instead of making a scene or bursting with both rage and frustration, he tried his best to be a good boy and simply lowered his head as an unruly child who had just been scolded. His lonely hand rested on his thigh he nervously rubbed, desperately trying to chase away his sadness.

“John is dead.” Tommy exhaled loudly and made a short pause as if he was still processing the awful truth. John. Is. Dead. Your frail fingers fidgeted the fabric of your dress at Tommy’s statement, doing so only to avoid digging them into your own flesh and scratching it until you bleed. For a micro while, Tommy's self-confidence flickered, afflicted by his baby brother’s savage murder, before he regained composure and his eyes darkened again, “Esme’s back on the road with the Lees. She’s taken the kids. Michael is badly wounded, they say it’s 60/40 in his favor.”

“There’s no number, there’s no percentages” Polly cut him off, “So the hand, the hand beneath him stops his falling. Spoke to someone… My son will live.” It was more or less all you’ve heard of the conversation, for your mind soon drifted. As Tommy kept talking, your frozen eyes as glacial as Dante’s latest ring of Hell locked on your husband. Observing him with great attention, you tried to look for anything that would prove he was high. But despite a huge deal of effort, you didn’t see any grain of white powder near his nostrils. Arthur’s eyes weren’t dilated, his hands didn’t shake and his breathing was as soft as quiet. If anything, he looked awfully tired and miserable. To be honest, you could not help but think about how bad you missed him and how handsome he was in his suit even if your mood was still sour and resentful.

Arthur grunted, distracting himself from the pain by following the conversation and playing his henchman role. He took a golden bullet out of the pocket of his trousers and, holding it between his thumb and his index finger, looking at its shiny surface on which he had carved Luca’s name: “Yeah, Well… The bullet’s been written… It says Luca.” He paused, a glimpse of John’s face reflecting on the gold for half a second. “When the time comes and it will come… Me as the oldest brother —“ He swallowed again, John had disappeared, “Will put this bullet into his fucking head.” He concluded his speech by putting the said bullet on the table, the metallic sound echoed in the room and chilled you to the bones. Your eyes were still focusing on Arthur, but this time it was because you felt worried for him. Despite his rough and tough demeanor, the slight tremor in his voice and his need to take short pauses had betrayed his profound sorrow. You closed your fists on your dress because of how much you hated to see him in pain. All you wanted was to hold his arm and support him in these difficult times but you were certainly as pretty as stubborn.

“There’s been some bad blood between us.” While he had ignored you for most of his speech, Tommy’s intense gaze fell on you. Feeling the ice of his eyes burning you, you cocked an eyebrow. Was it a pathetic attempt to apologize? Or was he blaming you for it?

Bad blood… Polly scoffed. You snort. That was the least he could say.

It felt like an eternity before little King Shelby spoke again, not paying attention to his Aunt’s and your attitude. He looked at the ceiling, looking for his words then he went on, “Until this business is settled we stay together. We stay here…” To assert his claim, Tommy explained how the family would be safe as long as they stayed together, surrounded by an army of faces they already knew. His plan was simple: all the family remained together until they manage to kill Luca Changretta. Until then, no one was allowed to stray away from Small Heath. Arthur's first reaction following this suggestion was to turn his head towards you, looking with concern for far too well he knew you didn't wish to stay. A small sigh escaped from your plumped lips as you dived into his sad eyes, but you remained silent. Worst, you remained awfully placid and hated yourself for looking so much like Tommy for a short while. The rest bored you to hell and blurred into a mush of unintelligible bribes of conversation, except for the mention of Aberama Gold and Johnny Dogs’ complaints about the man. Savages he had said. The same word he had used the first time you met him. She's a freakin' savage, Arthur. An evil creature straight from the woods! Rolling your eyes, you bit your tongue to keep your mouth shut, and not scream at Dogs to tell him that Aberama Gold might be a savage but at least he took care of you these last few days better than any members of the Shelby clan did. At least not before interminable months of insults and death/suspicious stares. As the conversation went on, Polly put a glass of whisky in front of you but you pushed it away almost immediately -- you've been feeling nauseous since you left Watery Lane so drinking strong alcohol was the last thing you had in mind. Thus, you simply passed the glass to Arthur, who certainly needed it more than you.

“… Which means we have to agree to end this war between us.” Thomas Shelby might be addressing the whole family, but you knew his words were mainly aimed at you, which only made you move your foot impatiently under the table. Ending this war, of course, you thought. And what about the last two years of misery you’ve made me undergo each time we met? What about the moment you strangled me? And what about all the awful things you said after thrusting your tongue in my fucking mouth?  These would have been all the things you would have screamed at him if your legendary coldness had broken. Which, fortunately for everyone in the room, hadn’t.

Truthful to himself, Tommy asked for the family to vote.

“Peace.” Arthur finally decided, taking the glass and gulping down the amber liquid it contained in hope it would numb him. It didn’t. As surprising as it was to hear the oldest sibling choosing a non-violent approach to a conflict, you knew it was the best decision to make. So as everyone shared their opinion, you thought deeply about yours until your turn came. At first, you didn’t realize it was already your time to speak ��� only the sudden silence and the weight of a dozen eyes on you could snatch you from your mind. And among the pair of eyes, the one that burnt the fiercest was Tommy’s.  

“Now we’re asking for my opinion?” You said, sarcastic venom coating your words.

“Angel, please…” Arthur whispered, but you waved off his comment with a disdainful gesture of the hand. He currently wasn’t in the position to advise you. Not after hurting you like he did. 

“Truce.” You stated, coldly. The word left your mouth with the power of a guillotine’s blade on an inmate’s neck and surprised everyone in the room. In truth, they were all convinced you would disagree with the idea. Polly and Ada offered you a warm smile, while Tommy lowkey nodded in approval at your wise decision.

“Five for peace, two for truce.  Let’s get on with the war.” He concluded, turning around and walking out of the betting shop without one last glance at any of his family’s members: his scheming mind already focused on the next part of his plan.

As always, Tommy couldn't live without pulling the strings.

As the room cleared out and people left, you remained alone with Arthur in an uncomfortable silence. Because you had nothing to tell him, you got up from your chair and proceeded to walk to the exit without uttering a single word but the tall gangster caught you by the wrist, forcing you to stop. His long fingers closed around you a bit too bluntly than he intended though. You winced and as a result, he immediately let go of you, showing his palm open to indicate that he didn't mean to hurt you.

“Heaven, please." His gravelly voice called. "Enough with the cold treatment…  I can’t. It’s hurting me.” He said rather slowly, for putting words on his emotions was not something he was used to. Most of the time he just yelled and resorted to violence. , “I beg ye, go back home, angel.”

"You had promised me, Arthur." You articulated.

"And you had also promised me not to hurt yourself anymore." His gruff voice raised a little bit, threatening to turn into frustrated yellings because he didn’t know how to properly communicate his emotions, especially not when they were so obsessive and overwhelming. But Arthur didn’t want to scream at you so what he did was take a deep inhale to force himself not to be his usual loud and rude self. “You also promised to me, love.” He repeated in a calmer tone even if his quivering upper lip and twitching mustache showed how much he was struggling.

“So now we both understand how it feels when the other part of your soul breaks a promise. What a great step forward we’ve made.” That was mean. So mean you could barely believe that such an awful taunt came from your tantalizing mouth — but even though you instantly regretted it, you didn’t falter. No matter your mad love for Arthur and the untamable desire to throw yourself in his arms, you weren’t going to bend: things needed to be clear right now or they’ll never never be.

“I’m sorry, love. I’m fucking sorry alright?!" He growled, opening his arms as to silently ask you what he had to do for you to believe him. "I swear there isn’t a second during which I’m not regretting everything I did and said to you.” He finally admitted, long arms falling along his slim body, “I wasn’t meself even if I know this ain’t no excuse. I won't do it again. But…Please Heaven I can’t go on without you. And I don’t want to.” The only answer to his pleadings was a heavy silence combined with your frost-like gaze.

Arthur’s eyes lingered over your arm until they fell on the deep cut you had inflicted upon yourself. This is what it feels like when you take drugs. The powerlessness he had felt when he watched the blood running down your skin and soaking the fabric of your clothes was etched in his mind: he, who had promised to protect you against everything, realized he couldn’t save you from yourself if you chose to destroy you… And that powerlessness was the same you experienced when he egoistically relapsed. That was a harsh lesson, but a lesson he had learned.  “Please forgive me.” He begged and sucked in a sharp breath as if he was physically in pain, yet he still took your arm in his hand with indescribable softness and, with his free one, caressed your still swollen and red gash.

Your dainty body stood still, trying not to give in to the delightful sensation of his warm skin against yours but your heart sunk in your chest “You have to understand that you cannot act like a jerk, hurt me, treat me like shit and then come back with your puppy eyes, and beg for forgiveness. It doesn’t work like that." You said.

“So you're not coming back...” His voice broke, warm hand closing on your wound.

Your touch. I need it. It's a damn physical need.

“Don’t be stupid Arthur…” You sighed, the traits of your angelic face softening, “That’s not what I said."

"So please, love. Forgive me. I'll do whatever ye want. I'll get on my knees right now if that's what you want." His body shifted, closing the distance between the two of you until his arms wrapped around your waist. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach at the sight of his enchanting blue eyes, whose color was so different from his brothers. Slightly darker, far less colder. With your heart beating fast and your mind buzzing, you couldn't keep your fingers from gently grazing one of his cheeks. He half closed his eyelids at the sensation, the tremors of his body already calming down now that you were touching him.

"I don't want you to get on your knees. And I don't want to make a dog out of you like Linda did. All I ask for is my husband, who I know is a wonderfully strong man who doesn't need any chemicals to face the world. Not anymore." Your holy voice sounded like the purest melody in his ears like God's mercy whispered to him. Lulled by your words and strokes, Arthur would have purred if he wasn't already fighting against tears of relief.

"I've been such a fucking bastard... What the fuck is wrong with me eh? I still can't believe every mean thing I've screamed. The words I told ya, they're eating me sick brain." He gritted his teeth, "I don't fucking deserve you." Noticing that his breathing was getting faster, you wrapped his neck with your arms and lifted yourself on your tiptoes to lay a kiss on his chin.

"Stop it, Art. Don't beat yourself." You whispered in his ear, one hand lost in his perfectly slicked hair. "You want me to forgive you? Well; show me that all these promises you made weren’t empty. That our wedding can overcome everything, even the worst. Prove it to me." As you spoke, you softly rocked him from left to right, trying to calm his anxiety. A sigh escaped from your lips: you just couldn't abandon him as everyone else did. And part of you cursed him for making you feel so weak, especially when he was looking at you with his confused puppy eyes.

“I’ll show you then, angel. I’ll show you because without you birds don’t sing anymore.”  He nodded, softly rubbing his cheek against yours. You could feel his heart drumming against your bosom, crying for yours to open up to him again. “I'll show you I'm still a good husband." His lips trailed down your cheek to capture yours, but the moment he tried to kiss them you slightly turned your head to the other side to deny him access to your mouth. He clenched his jaws.

“Go find Thomas and organize the funerals with him." You simply instructed, taking a step back to free yourself from his arms. The lanky gangster nodded and left, head down and arms swinging as he walked away.

All you wished now was that he truly meant what he said.

All alone in the betting shop, you leaned against a wall and closed your eyes, needing a bit of peace to reorganize your thoughts and soothe your overwhelming emotions. Moreover, you had to come to terms with the idea of living near Tommy, here in Small Heath. It has been only weeks since you left your small house in the forest but you already missed it. Suddenly, you jumped at the feeling of two cold hands grasping you by the shoulders. When you reopened your eyelids, you were met by Polly’s motherly smile and dark gaze. Eyes so black it outmatched the bark of the most ancient trees you had ever seen. And just like these trees, they had something mystical, as if they were keeping the Earth's secrets and infinite wisdom. For sure, Elizabeth Gray was a woman of nature, born in the wilderness and raised among the soft whispers of the leaves. You even wonder if her body contained blood or if it was amber sap that was coursing through her veins.

“I’m happy you came back, white Devil.” She said with a soft smile. Since the day she heard Tommy spat the insult at your face, she decided to reverse the curse and use it as an affectionate nickname for you -- an idea you found absolutely delightful.

“I’m a Shelby now, everyone says so… So I suppose my place is here.” The melancholy of your grin betrayed your thoughts and Polly understood that only now you were starting to understand what bearing this family name truly meant. “I'm not gonna lie, Polly, I didn’t want to come. That’s Mr. Gold who convinced me I needed to. After hours of bargaining, he got me by telling me it would get under Tommy's skin.” 

“You call him Tommy now?” She teased, trying to make you smile but little she knew her remark had the opposite effect. You pursed your juicy lips and looked away.

“Something happened with him right.” The fierce Aunt frowned, observing your face as if she would be able to find an answer to her question hidden in your holy traits. Now sincerely concerned, her grip tightened on your shoulders, like benevolent roots anchoring you to reality. While she knew the difficult and rocky relationship you had with little King Shelby, she had never seen you display such a dreadful expression when his name was mentioned. 

“Something always happens with him anyway. But that’s not important.” You closed the topic, not wanting to talk about him any longer. The fucker had done enough to infect your brain, so you didn’t want to give him more space. "Do you think Johnny Dogs says the truth about the Gold? I mean, I'm not Romani but the Gold are nice to me and--"

"Heaven. Oh Lord." She cut you off, her smile swept away from her face so quickly you blinked several times.

"What's the matter, Pol?" You asked, eyebrows frowned.

Freeing your shoulders, her left hand grabbed one of your breasts to squeeze it softly while the right one felt your abdomen at different places, looking for something you didn't know. The more she touched you, the more her facial expression seemed concerned. Completely taken aback by her sudden behavior, your lips parted in surprise as you watched her.

"Does Arthur know it?!" She inquired, her dark eyes switching between you and your tummy.

“Does Arthur know what?"

“That you’re pregnant.”

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

✞ taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @bluevenus19

[zablife]

An Unexpected Family Gathering w/ John

John Shelby x female reader

A/N: Reconnecting or an Unexpected family gathering, requested by @runnning-outof-time. Details of the reader's relationship with dark!John requested by a lovely anon. Part of my Corrupt a Wish challenge.

Divider credit: @wethairjoel

Warnings: coercion, threat with a weapon, mention of poisoning Corrupt a wish reminder: If you think this story has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention. Proceed with caution!

Your infatuation with John began before the war, cautious glances at his handsome features and girlish giggles behind your hands. He paid you no attention in those early days, too infatuated with his sweetheart, Martha. However, that didn't deter you from finding other ways to grow close to him.

It was Tommy who first recognized your potential as a messenger for the family business. No matter the danger, you always accepted, hoping John would hear of your bravery. If there was one thing you possessed over Martha, it was your fearless attitude.

During the war years you continued to help the family as much as possible. You prayed with Polly each morning for the three men away fighting and later for Martha's ailing health. When the time came, you took on the care of John's young children with nothing but love and devotion in your heart.

By the time the men returned from war, you were a permanent fixture at 57 Watery Lane, waiting for the day John would make you his wife. While he hadn't returned quite the same carefree young man you remembered, his bright blue eyes still held a spark of mischievous charm which made you hopeful.

You couldn't say that of his brothers, especially Tommy who began making aggressive moves to control more and more of the city. Within a few months of assuming leadership, Tommy was waging war against the Italians in a bid for power. Ruthless attacks were carried out by his men, cuttings and beatings becoming standard procedure.

The thought of John taking someone's eyes with a razor blade made you physically ill, but nothing compared to the callous way he presented his plan to cut Angel Changretta's throat as he lie helpless in a hospital bed. That's when you knew you'd heard enough.

Small Heath was no longer the place you wished to call home and you began planning an escape from its treacherous depths. However, John was like a bloodhound when it came to sniffing out fear. He sensed the change in you immediately and took the opportunity to question your loyalty in the worst way imaginable.

"I want you to invite Mrs. Changretta for tea at your parents' on Thursday," he casually mentioned as you were getting ready for bed one night.

"Why?" you asked, trying to keep your voice from trembling.

"Cos Tommy said," he gestured vaguely as if to say, If I haven't questioned him, neither should you.

You had the sinking feeling you were luring Mrs. Changretta into blinder territory for nefarious reasons and you quickly worked to appeal to your fiance. "She was our teacher in school, John. A kind, decent woman."

"Then she'll go to heaven, yeah?" he answered, brow furrowing in irritation.

Your heart lurched as you realized the Shelbys were going to kill her. Approaching John gently, you ran a hand across his cheek in hopes of bringing back the kind boy you remembered.

"You don't have to do this. You're not like Tommy, you know. I don't see the same thing in your eyes I see in his," you uttered as you pressed your forehead to his lightly.

Pulling away from your warm embrace, John's blue eyes iced over in a way you'd never witnessed. Grabbing your wrist in a brutal hold to show his determination, he spat, "Tommy puts a bloody roof over our heads or have you forgotten?"

You shook your head slowly, words failing you.

"So you'll do as he fucking says!" John spat, tossing your hand away.

You watched him storm downstairs and grab his coat, deciding to go for a drink instead. Looking back on that moment, you wished you'd run from him when you had the chance, but you didn't have the heart to abandon his children. So you stayed, agreeing to his plan if only to secretly warn Mrs. Changretta of the impending danger.

On the day of her social call, you tucked a small note into the sleeve of your blouse, ready to slip it to her at the soonest opportunity. Your anxious hands trembled when you began to arrange the scones Polly had brought earlier in the day, hoping your nerves didn't show.

Seeing Mrs. Changretta's kind face again soothed you immeasurably. She smiled up at you with the same warmth in her eyes you remembered from your school days and suddenly the memories of your youth came flooding back to you.

Noticing your eyes fill with tears, she asked innocently, "What is it dear?"

Turning your head to swipe a tear from your cheek, you relayed the tender memory of the times she brought you sweets.

"Those were good times," she acknowledged sadly. "Before the lads fell into the hands of the devil."

You took her hands in yours, seizing the moment to place the note to her palm. "It doesn't have to be this way," you whispered, giving her a small squeeze before relinquishing the paper to her grasp. The rest of the visit was carefully monitored by Tommy's soldiers and you didn't dare reach for her again.

That night you woke with John pressing the cold barrel of a gun into your side. Fueled by his outrage and the snow Isaiah had been supplying, he demanded you wake. "I know what you did, Y/n," he whispered as he pressed the weapon just below your ribs.

You gulped as you wondered what he would do to you, his jarring laughter making you afraid to move or even breath beneath his touch.

"The old cunt fell over dead from Polly's scones," he informed you cruelly. "So you see, your little warning was useless." His lip curled into a menacing sneer as he watched your face crumble in despair.

"No!" you cried. "I didn't mean to..."

"But you did," he answered in a mocking tone, releasing the safety with a harsh click.

"John, please," you begged as he began to stroke your arm with a gentle touch that belied the venom in his serpent like hiss.

“You’re so pretty. I couldn’t shoot you.” Cold steel meeting your temple he ghosted the weapon down your jawline as he whispered, “No, I’m not gonna kill you.”

His torture seemed endless as he kept you awake into the early morning hours. Amazed that you were still alive to see the dawn, you pleaded with the man who'd promised to love you forever.

"Let me go, John. Please let me see my family," you begged.

"You will, sweetheart," he promised, knowing the punishment Tommy had devised for you. You would be reunited with your parents on the gallows soon after the arrests for the murder of Audrey Changretta.

Tag List:

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[enretrogue]

𝗔𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗟 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 𝗙𝗜𝗖 𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗦 (𝟭)

.☘︎ ݁˖ = BLACK/POC WORKS | 23' FIC REC M.LIST

MCU

BUCKY BARNES

Bumblebee Series: 1 ⎢ 2 ⎢ 3 ⎢ 4 ⎢ 5 ⎢ 6 ⎢ 7 ⎢  — @angrythingstarlight .☘︎ ݁˖

Soft!Dark!Mafia!Bucky x Runaway Bride!Reader — @angrythingstarlight .☘︎ ݁˖

Peachy Sweet: 1 ⎢ 2 ⎢ 3 ⎢ 4 ⎢ 5 ⎢ 6 — @straywords .☘︎ ݁˖

FRANK CASTLE/THE PUNISHER

Apple Bottom Jeans (+Billy Russo) — @bubuslutty

#15 w/ Frank Castle — @bits-and-babs

Bambi With Fangs ⎢ 2 ⎢ 3 — @bubuslutty

Bring Me Home — @frvnkcastles

Bakery AU — @devils-dares

Love Language (+ Billy Russo) — @bubuslutty

Imagine #1,044 (+ Shane Walsh) — @komotionlessqueenmm

Primal — @darlingshane

Instagram AU — @amhrosina

You’re Everything I Never Knew I Needed — @lemon-world1

Cowboy!Frank — @rrestrella

Really Bad Week — @chvoswxtch

“Come here…Hey! I said come. Here.” — @bullet-prooflove

Sanctuary — @glossysoap

Biting Truth — @narcolini

Soft Morning Sex w/ Frank — @amhrosina

Cutesy Blurb — @thyme-in-a-bubble

Frank w/ An Inexperienced Reader — @amhrosina

STEVE ROGERS

His Inheritance: Chapter 26 ⎢ Chapter 27 — @jtargaryen18

FRANK CASTLE + MATT MURDOCK

Spelling Out “I Love You” — @amhrosina

Baking w/ Matty and Frankie — @chvoswxtch

An Unexpected Delight — @amhrosina

TWD

GLENN RHEE

CDC — @collecting-stories

Feel Me — @nikkisheep

Never Stopped Looking — @glennrheesworld

Sex w/ Glenn — @strgrlxox

PEAKY BLINDERS

LUCA CHANGRETTA

Busted — @mlmxreader

Our Scars — @arzennn

MICHAEL GRAY

Behind On That Cute Date ⎢ Chocolate Pie — @anonymooseforever007

ALFIE SOLOMONS

Airport Snow — @there-goes-thefighter

Angel of Birmingham — @darkdevasofdestruction

Quid Pro Quo — @scorpiussage

THOMAS SHELBY

Dragon’s Den — @pherelesytsia

Afternoon Shelby Chaos ⎢The Boys ⎢Dad!Tommy ⎢Mr. Giraffe — @teenwolf-theoriginals

Mama Bear — @dlmlufics

Arthur + Cards — @dlmlufics

Big Sister Bess — @dlmlufics

Escape to Me — @daisyblinder

GEN. PEAKY BLINDERS

The Proposal (Shelby!Reader) — @anonymooseforever007

TGM

COURT GENTRY/SIERRA SIX

Take a Nap Amidst the Storm — @lloydsbitch

Home — @welcome-to-my-multiverse

SIERRA SIX + LLOYD HANSEN

Ready for Destruction (Prologue) — @holylulusworld

STRANGER THINGS

JIM HOPPER

Handcuffed — @thisfanisgonesorry

Taking Control — @call-me-little-sunshine84

Workplace Gossip — @darling-i-read-it

Batch of Cookies — @sunnylands-world

Hopper x Sleepy!Reader — @ddejavvu

DBF!Hopper — @ddejavvu

Final Essay — @keerysteacake

Plain Old Man — @ddejavvu

Out of the Woods — @mypoisonedvine

DBF!Hopper — @empresskylo