#arthur shelby one shot

[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

[peakyltd]

Unexpected Friendship

Arthur Shelby x Reader

A/N: I wrote this for @raincoffeeandfandoms 2.7k followers celebration! My apologies Flor that it took me so long but I hope you'll like it nonetheless! 💓

Warnings: None

Words: 955

Days had turned colder and the leaves were trading their fresh green colors for multiple brown and orange tinted ones. Puddles formed on the pavement from the rain that had poured down in the morning.

The sun decided to bring some warmth and light later that day, in favor of Arthur who had decided to walk home after doing some work in The Garrison. He hoped (Y/N) would be home already so they could spend some well deserved time together.

As Arthur crossed the street, dodging a few puddles here and there, he noticed he was being followed.

He turned around to see who it was. “Oi, it’s you.” He spoke up as he looked down at the calico cat who was rubbing his head against Arthur’s legs. He crouched down to pet the curious animal. “Are ye following me home again?”

As he got a purred in response, Arthur got up again. “Lets go then.” The cat, who's colors matched the season, eagerly followed Arthur back to his house.

“You wait here, yeah?” He mumbled as he unlocked the door. The cat sat down in front of the door, waiting for Arthur to return. Not much longer he appeared with a bowl filled with milk and put it down in front of the waiting animal.

Arthur sat down next to him, watching as he drank his milk. “If ye stay a little longer, ye can meet my girlfriend. She’ll be home soon.” He explained as he stroked the fur.

When the cat finished his milk, he started to curiously investigate the area of the house. Arthur watched him, a smile tugged on his lips and a soft chuckle escaped his mouth as the animal tried to enter the house. "You like it 'ere, eh?"

The cat meowed and came back outside, rubbing his head against Arthur's leg.

"Arthur?" A surprised voice made him look up. "Ah. Hello, love." He smiled as he got up, pressing a gentle kiss on his (Y/N)'s lips. "Hi." She smiled at him. "You're early today."

"Ah well, yeah. Couldn't wait to see ye." He confessed as he eyed her. "You look stunning."

Her smile grew by his comment. "Well thank you. I-" She stopped mid sentence as she was distracted by a meow. "Hey, who are you?" She crouched down, the cat approached her immediately.

"My new friend. I told him to wait so he could meet you." Arthur chuckled. "He's cute." (Y/N) said as she pet the curious cat who was enjoying all the attention.

"He has been following me for weeks. I think it's a stray." Arthur explained as he watched the two. "Weeks?" Her eyes fell on the empty bowl. "Wait, is that why we're out of milk so quickly all the time?" She questioned as she looked up at Arthur. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Maybe."

She chuckled as she got up, endeared by the fact Arthur was taking care of the small animal. "Y'know, I was thinking... maybe we could keep him?" Arthur questioned.

"Are you sure it's a stray?" She asked him. "I guess, yeah. He's been following me for weeks." His eyes wandered to animal who was now laying on his back, asking for more attention.

"Well, if you say so." She smiled, while she looked at the cat. "Yeah?"

(Y/N) nodded her head. "Yes. Can't leave him outside in this weather, right?" Arthur shook his head. "That would make us terrible people."

"Lets get him inside then." She chuckled as she kissed his cheek.

The three of them made their way inside and got themselves comfortable. Arthur lit the fireplace and turned on the gramophone while (Y/N) lit the candles and served their tea, acompanied with a piece of her fresh baked cake.

Her and Arthur sat down on their seats in front of the fireplace, enjoying their refreshments. Their new little roommate wandered around the living room.

"We should think of a name." (Y/N) suggested.

"Hm, yeah." Arthur mumbled as he leaned back in his chair, getting a bit drowsy from the warmth and the piece of cake he just had. "Let me think."

They both let their creativity flow to think of a fitting name for the newcomer who had found his new spot on Arthur's lap in the meantime. Already comfortable enough to fall asleep right away.

Arthur's fingers touched the soft fur, making him feel more relaxed and just like his friend, he doze off as well. (Y/N) couldn't help but smile at the sight in front of her. His new friend was already a great addition to the family.

After a while she got up to get a book from the bookcase, accidentally bumping into the sidetable. The sound of the cups coming in contact with their saucers woke Arthur. "Oh, I'm so sorry darling." (Y/N) apologized.

"It's okay, love." He murmered as he looked at the cat on his lap who was still sound asleep. "Well, would you look at him." (Y/N) giggled, amused by the sight in front of her.

"I might be jealous." Arthur chuckled, as he looked up at her. "I think I have a name." (Y/N) raised her eyebrows, excited to hear what he came up with. "You do?"

He nodded his head. "Boots." His answer caused her to smile. "Boots?"

"For all the miles he walked with me, following mine." Arthur chuckled, amused by his own sense of creativity. A giggle escaped her mouth. "I think I actually love it. It does fit him."

Boots stretched himself before curling up into Arthur's lap again. Arthur couldn't help but think that his movements were adorable before moving his gaze back to (Y/N)'s. "I think he likes his name too."

[hello-there]

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[toms-cherry-trees]

Withered || Arthur Shelby x Reader

Summary: You have given all the love you have, but love needs to be cared for to bloom

Word Count: 3390

Warnings: Angst, mentions of murder, blood, drug usage and alcoholism

Author’s note: My submission for K’s lovely celebration “Tales From The Flower Garden” with the prompt “You thought I was a savable man” Again CONGRATULATIONS MY SWEET MUNCHKIN K FOR YOUR MILESTONE YOU DESERVE THEM ALL and I put up so much of me for this to makeup for my failure for your last celebration that I even put together some pics to make it more in theme. Love ya lots darling!

The loose petals heaped around your feet upon the wooden floors. Pink, peach, pure white and cream. You had been toiling over that floral arrangement for hours, but your tenseness and your wandering thoughts had robbed you of your concentration, jittering hands having reduced the soft buds to denuded and wilted stems. Behind you, the antique grandfather clock’s bells chimed, taunting you with the unforgiving pass of time, which seemed to move twice as fast that night. The black carved hands marked midnight on the golden clock face. Arthur had promised to be home in time for dinner.

The table remained set in the dining room, the fine silverware and dishware all laid out, perfectly polished, awaiting for those who would not sit at the table that night. The candles had melted halfway through before you had the heart to blow them out. A crystal vase held a marvellous bouquet of your best roses, red and white in full bloom. A red petal had come loose and laid over the white tablecloth like a blotch of spilled blood. 

The housekeeper came to you at least five times, inquiring how much longer the cook should wait to warm up the plates and prepare the rest of the dishes. You kept dragging on what you already knew until a quarter past ten, when you instructed her to bring you a cup of tea and some biscuits only, and to have the staff dine on everything that had been prepared already. At least the food would not go to waste.

You continued to fiddle unceasingly with the weakened stems, hoping that arranging them in a certain way would hide the ruin of the flowers, perfection on the outside to hide the ruin behind. But it was a hopeless cause, and no amount of skill or attention could undo the disaster. 

In a rapture of frustration you smacked the vase violently, as if that piece of green tinted porcelain had become the source of all your discontent. The ornament crashed down obstreperously, sending sharp shards and greenery in every direction of your sitting room. The fury morphed into panic, and you quickly swept the evidence of your riotous act behind the drapes; much like you swept your woes under the carpet to be hidden until you forcibly stumbled upon them again, having blissfully forgotten their existence when not faced with them. 

That fleeting but fierce outburst helped decompress your anger like steam escaping from a teapot, leaving you empty and strangely deflated. All energies left you abruptly, and your legs threatened to buckle under the weight of your body and your worries. You slumped backwards, half sitting, half crashing into a nearby armchair. Your tired eyes went over the spilled water staining the floorboards white, the astray pieces of vase and leaves you had not picked up, and the dent left in the wood by the crashing porcelain. Slowly, gradually like a withering carnation, your body began to slouch, until your elbows rested on your knees and your chin buried in your chest, face hidden in your trembling hands, muffling a saddening mixture of sobs and heavy sighs. 

The clock in the corner chimed again. 

You did not move until a familiar sound snapped you out of your trance. Wheels on the gravel of the driveway, and the steady rumbling of a car engine. The mess of your hair, the wrinkles in your dress, your sweaty neck and the painful stiffness of your joints were compelling proof that you had fallen asleep in the chair. The sky outside had faded from a pitch black to a dark and stormy grey, uncommon but not impossible in those early days of spring. Birds chirped outside, the chickens and roosters cackled in their pens behind the house, and the dogs howled and jumped about to welcome your husband home. A house full of life, while you felt just like a hollow carcass. 

The front door creaked open. Normally you would be quick on your feet to greet Arthur home with a kiss on the cheek, while he would circle your waist with his slender arm and pepper your face with kisses, tickling you with his brush moustache and making you giggle like a schoolgirl in love for the first time. You’d take his coat and cap while he asked about your day, and you would fill him in with small talk about the farm, your painting and drawing and the latest tales from your two young children, William and Helene, with a third one due to join the family in the summer. Arthur would compliment the beauty and the aroma of the new floral arrangements you had crafted to decorate the various rooms of your home, even though he did not understand one bit what he talked about, but he knew how much the simple praises filled your heart. And all would be well.

But things had changed and so had you.

Arthur tried to enter the house silently, as if by making no noise he would just easily slip by and you would miraculously forget yet another broken promise. You peered around the corner in time to see him tiptoeing around the creaking boards, shoes in hand and drenched in what you presumed to be blood from head to toe. Perhaps you should have been worried, and in another time you would have been anyway, but you knew better; that blood belonged to others. Others he had slain with his own hand in the night he promised to be home early for dinner. 

Soon his eyes found you, standing in the foyer all dishevelled, eyes dulled by exhaustion and the corners of your lips downturned by disappointment. Your silent presence surprised him enough for him to drop his shoes, back straightening tight like a low rank soldier facing his war general. He wrung his cap in his hands nervously, his moustache quivering with the anxious flitter of his lips as he mumbled a hundred different apologies so fast and so quietly that it sounded like a low humming, words tumbling over each other as he tried to find the right thing to say to excuse the inexcusable. At last he fell silent, head dropped low, ears braced and heart clenched in anticipation of the impending arrival of your wrath upon him, raining like hellfire, a penance he knew he deserved for his transgression.

But the words never came.

The seconds passed and silence reigned the scene, broken only by the ticking of the clock and the whistle of the breeze entering through the ajar door. After an unbearable pause, Arthur looked up just enough to examine your expression, almost expecting you to be branding a fire poker, arm raised to strike. But the scene before him turned out to be much worse, and he wished he had not looked.

You looked so broken. So defeated. Your shoulders slumped, eyes reddened, aged decades in hours by worry and anger and sadness. Arthur hated your unhappiness more than anything in this world, yet he continues to be the source of all your grievances, then become racked by guilt, apologise and make half hearted promises of improvement that inevitably end broken, only to repeat the cycle over and over again.

Your husband stepped tentatively, forward, a hand raised as if to touch you, but halfway deciding not to push his luck and letting it fall to his side “Poppy” He murmurs, using his favourite pet name for you in honour of your favourite flower. You can hear the edge of regret in his voice, matched by the sorrowful expression upon his face. But you cannot swallow your rightful feelings to coddle his own.

“Save it” You waved your hand in exasperation, moving past him and out the door, not allowing him a chance to stop you.

Your wandering steps took you to your flower garden. In the first months of your marriage, when the future looked rose tinted and joyful and every day felt like a new honeymoon, Arthur had the best gardeners and flower experts come to your newly purchased estate to plant it for you and teach you how to care best for each individual breed, all of that just to celebrate your first month of union. Roses, poppies, carnations, lilies of the valley and forget-me-nots composed the rows of fragrant flower beds, their perfume mixing in the air with the scent of damp earth and grass. 

In the warmer months the garden filled with life, bees and butterflies fluttering about the vibrant buds, drinking the sweet nectar while your children admired them with wide eyed wonder. You loved to have picnics there, all the family lounging in an old blanket with a basket prepared by your loving hands with everyone’s favourite snacks. Arthur loved to lay his head in your lap during your pregnancies, his cheek pressed against the rounded bump and whispering hushed promises to the baby against your skin, never letting you in on the details of those secret conversations. The world looked so vibrant and lively, all filled with brightness and hopefulness and happiness; sheer, untrammelled happiness. 

But now grey skies hovered above you, the insects had hidden and the joy had passed. The world felt veiled in grey, dull and lifeless; even your cherished flowers having lost their shine. You walked through the rows of greenery, pulling your cardigan closer to your frame. A gelid drizzle began to fall, but you felt such cold from within that the droplets on your skin went unnoticed. The breeze grew stronger, loosened flower petals drifting across the ground and being swept away, some weakened flower stems snapping and falling at your feet. If left to the elements and not nurtured properly, the flowers withered and died. 

Just like love.

On one of the bushes, a flower stood out to you. A perfect pearly white rose in full bloom, rows upon rows of soft petals spread open and exuding a sweet aroma. The beads of water gathering on the folds gave it a special shimmer, as if dotted by little crystals. You reached to pluck it, but a thorn dug into your thumb, drawing a gasp from your lips. When you raised your hand to inspect the damage, a blood drop fell on the flower, the pureness of the white ruined by the crimson liquid. The contrast between your blood and the flower gave you a strange feeling, like an unexplainable tightening in your heart.

A pair of slender hands brushed down your shoulders, sliding over them a thick coat and pulling it close to your frame. It smelled of Arthur’s cologne, and you instinctively snuggled on it, feeling the softness of the fabric against your cheek.

“I hope this is not the blood soaked one you came home in” Your murmured, not turning to face him, instead focused on the bloodied rose.

“No…I grabbed one from the closet in the entrance” You heard the hesitance in his voice “You should go back inside… it’s getting cold and the baby…maybe get to bed with some tea and…” Even without seeing, you knew he was rubbing the back of his head, his face tense in concentration as he tried to read your temper and avoid screwing it up further. But things had already hit rock bottom on your side, so he could only go lower by bringing a shovel.

“I’m fine here” You snapped, arms crossed over your chest, your hands tucked under your armpits to warm your stiffened fingers “I need to be alone”

“Love, think of the baby” Arthur tried to gently guide you away from the flowers, but that gentle and caring touch of his riled you up like a bull before the red cloth. You turned around with such violence he stumbled backwards, appalled by the outburst of his usually sweet and amenable wife.

“I said I want to be alone. I need to be alone to think. Think of why I keep giving you second chances, over and over and over again, when I know you will stomp on them!” Your voice rose several octaves, your outraged words booming throughout the gardens and above the rustle of the wind “One night. Just one night I needed you to stay true to your word. But of course I am met with only disappointment. I always come in second place. We are always an afterthought”

His eyebrows knitted together in a furrow as he stepped forward, his gloved hands cupping your cheeks. You didn’t push away, but your eyes never met his “That is not true. It is not. You are my life, the kids and you are all I have, but Tommy…”

Tommy. Of course. What else could be the reason? Tommy never liked you much, thinking you did nothing more than lead Arthur astray from the family, keeping him tamed and calm when he needed him volatile and angry. But again, Tommy rarely liked anyone other than himself, so you never took the aversion to heart.

“You placed your brother on a pedestal so high that he stands even above the stars, and in your adoration for him you have become blind to the world around you. You would dig out the very Earth and catch rain with your hands for him, but would you do the same for me? Would you break a promise to Tommy to honour one made to me?” You did not need a reply, but you needed your husband to question himself on that. And the silence that followed gave you the answer you needed. 

“Do you know what day it was yesterday?” The tone in your voice had changed. The words held not only anger, but hurt. The bitter kind of hurt of a person with no tears left to cry, but with their heart still tightened in a painful coil. A tired pain which has been drawn out too long, which no longer burns but a sting remains everlasting, always nagging in the back and unable to be soothed.

“Friday?” He asked sheepishly

“It was our fifth wedding anniversary. Five years in which you’ve carried that golden band on your finger. In which I’ve given you my heart, my body, all have and I am. I have given you two children and another on the way. And you couldn’t give me one day of your life to celebrate with me”

A gelid silence lingered between you two. You saw the gears slowly turning in Arthur’s brain, his face drooping and eyes widening as the realisation slowly began to sink in. You noticed him silently counting with his fingers, going back and forth on months and days; but truth be told, you doubted he could even recall the year of the wedding had you not reminded him of the pass of time.

“Poppy” He attempted again, hands in your elbows to pull you close to him “I am so sorry, my love. I thought it was today and-”

“Oh please Arthur! After five years you should know me better than to think I would swallow such a lie” An humourless laugh escaped your lips “But again, what more can I expect from you?”

You saw how your jabs hurt him, and deep down you wanted him to be hurt. You wanted him to feel even a fraction of the grief you carried perpetually upon your soul. To understand what it felt when the person who held your heart dropped it and stomped on it with their heel until only dust remained.

You turned away from him, noticing how the breeze had become howling wind, and the gentle drizzle had thickened into a spring rain, the water droplets slipping past the wide collar of the coat and running down the curve of your spine. You crossed your arms over your chest, hands resting upon your shoulders. One might think it a simple gesture to keep yourself warm, but you actually just tried to keep yourself whole.

“You used to buy me flowers” Your eyes closed, evocating in your mind sweet memories of better times to help you steady your heart “You would come home with these massive bouquets and I could barely see your face behind it. They were so colourful and vibrant, and I would take so much care in arranging them in that Japanese vase we got for our wedding. And every time a petal fell off I would press it to dry and then store it. I have the first roses you gave me in a crystal pyx in my vanity. I had the flowers from my bridal bouquet dry pressed and framed. All little mementos of the happiest days of my life” The longing was palpable in your voice, your head tilted to lay on your shoulder as you saw those memories playing behind your eyelids like a movie

But soon those flashbacks faded, and the sweetness turned to bitter bile in your throat “I thought things would be alright. I thought that together, things would improve. You always said you wanted to be a better man, and I hoped I could turn you into one. For some months I thought I did” Your throat tightened and you swallowed the lump down to continue “But every time things seemed better, they ended worse than before. It is always one step forward and three back with you” You dabbed at your hot tears furiously, but they kept mixing on your skin with the freezing rain.

“When I married you, I never thought I would find myself dragging you to the bathtub to wash you clean of your own vomit and spilled gin. That I would have to learn every trick in the book to get blood off your shirts so the maids wouldn’t see them. That I could not let my own children run free around their home until I have made sure you didn’t left your guns or your fucking cocaine laying around”

You heard a thud behind you. Arthur had dropped to his knees, clinging to your skirts like a repentant sinner faced with the Doomsday.

“I can change. I will. This is the last time I fail you” Long fingers tugged on your clothes, like a scared child seeking comfort in his mother. Every fibre of your being urged you to pull him to his feet and embrace him, cradle him into you and promise him that everything would be well in the end. But you couldn’t, because not even you knew if things would ever be well again. Or if you wanted them to.

He noticed the little effect his words had on you, and redoubled his efforts “I-I…I will throw away the whiskey, and the snow and the opium and everything. I will never kill again, never carry a gun with me” His grip on you tightened, arms around your hips with his forehead pressed to your lower back. You felt his sobs against your body, the way he snuggled into you for warmth. In another time, the action would have moved you. But your heart had frozen, immune to hollow words and feeble promises.

“No, Arthur” The impassiveness of your tone caught him off guard, his grip faltering on you “I have given you all I had. I have bled myself dry to keep you afloat. But I can’t anymore. I cannot go on like this for the rest of my days” Your eyes fluttered open, teardrops beading in your lashes like crystals. “I used to think you could be saved”

“You thought I was a savable man” He fell back on the ground, his hold loosening until his arms fell limp at his sides. Your body felt cold without his touch, but even colder with it.

“Yes” You breathed out quietly

“But you don’t think I am no more”

Your eyes fixed again on the bloodied rose. The crimson had dried on the petal, leaving a stain that the pouring failed to wash off. The weight of the water forced the petals down, until they began to split and reveal the very centre of the flower, leaving it exposed to the elements. Some petals drifted in the wind, one by one, disappearing into the storm, until only the red one remained. But that one, too, eventually fell off at your feet, and then the rose was no more.

“No”

[lostgirlfandom]

Peaky Blinders Masterlist

Thomas Shelby

Affection

Shorty

Unrequited

Unrequited Part II

John Shelby

Arthur Shelby

Alfie Solomons

[peakyltd]

This was incredible! I love how you used the lyrics trough out the story.

I feel so bad for her. She knows that she needs to leave him in order to survive but in the end she loves him too much to do so. I think that makes her a victim of his but also her own love.

My heart broke for her when he made empty promises once again. Knowing he’ll fall back in his old ways as soon as he gets the chance. 😔

I loved reading it! Your writing is amazing! 🥰

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

“He hit me and it felt like a kiss..”

Plssss lmao the way this works so well

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

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

Ultraviolence || Dark!Arthur Shelby x Reader

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

Words: 1k

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

The door opened, your soul wept.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not going anywhere, love.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pain rain down on you,

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence.

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

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

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

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

But you could not forgive him again and again.

Could you?

He would be the death of you.

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

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

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

But you had to go.

To go.

But you stayed.

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

Please I can’t. It’s never enough.

Give me all of that ultraviolence.

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

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

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

“Of course I’ll do.”

Arthur smiled.

You did too.

But Angels cried,

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

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

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

[pherelesytsia]

Who did this to you? - 8

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x female/Reader

Summary: Bruised and broken, Y/N, trapped in a loveless marriage, arrives at her best friend's house, desperately hoping someone will help her, aware she cannot return to the estate of her husband.

Warning: fear, anxiety, Angst, swearing 

Word Count: 2.3k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part6 Part 7 Part 9

The clouds wandered on, a lonely wanderer travelling across oceans and meadows, hills and rugged mountains painted in snow. White greyed, darkened and blackened, turned into pure doom, darker than black. The wind howled, screamed and screeched and the branches, crooked fingers, waltzed in all directions.

Silence blanketed the car driving down the path bordered by fields and trees, but it was not unpleasant, cruel, forcing nonsense to fall to shatter it. Shocked, Y/N noticed with widened eyes they had arrived at the open gates of the estate she called her home. At a rapid pace, the car drove on and on, past other parked cars and parked between them in different shades of the deep ocean. The motor wasn't roaring, turned off and the chanting of the birds sitting in one line on the lowest branch invaded the car smelling of alcohol, petrol and leather. The wind knocked on the automobile. Polly gulped, turned and rested her hand graced by a golden ring cautiously, almost shyly, on Y/N´s lap, but the shivering and shaking woman painted in blue and red, lightened by streaks of purple, did not flinch nor speak her mind. Carefully Polly´s fingers slid across Y/N´s calf and pulled the thick fabric higher to hide the exposed skin. Polly pronounced her name and pulled Y/N out of the dark and dreary thoughts, summoning goosebumps all over her flesh.

            "Thomas is fine. He knows what he's doing. Nothing will happen to him." Polly assured calmly, guessing the reason for the fear in the widened eyes and sweaty palms.

Faintly Y/N smiled.

            "I know, but I'm worried about him. About Poppy. There was blood, too much blood. I thought it was the new wallpaper she had told me about. They, she and her mother, redecorated the house. The pattern, it looked like flowers, large and smaller dots." she replied.

Exhaling, Y/N closed her eyes veiled by tears once fixed on the distance, watching the sun, the rays breaking through the travelling clouds heralding a day full of terror.

            "I'm sure your friend is fine, too. Thomas will take care of her." the woman continued with a gentle, encouraging smile on her features, kissed by the orange rays.

Polly cleared her throat. The smile fainted, and the wrinkles deepened. She didn't need to search for the right words, had already pictured during the ride what she would say to Y/N if their paths should cross, but all Polly wanted to say had dissolved, had lost its meaning.

            "We're home Y/N/N. Ada is waiting, but before we go inside, I want you to know that we are sorry. We have not been good to you, to put it nicely. Please forgive us and I speak on behalf of the whole family. John was the one who opened the door for your friend. After we realised what had happened, we were looking for you. I hope you will give us a second chance even if we don't deserve one. We will understand if you want to leave. We won't hate you for your decision." Polly continued and squeezed Y/N´s hand.

Y/N turned, ignoring the nearly unignorable pain trying to elicit a hiss from her, and turned to face Polly. She wanted to start a sentence; lips parted, but no tone escaped the sore throat. Y/N stared past Polly towards the door, flying back and forth in the fresh morning breeze. Ada ran towards the car as if chased by a ghost, had left the door wide open, ran on tiptoes and hissed and cursed like a witch as the stones dug deep into the soles of her reddening feet. The hem of the dress danced in the breeze. Gasping for air, Ada spread the large checked blanket, usually resting on the floor next to the sofa. The wind painted her cheeks vibrant red, lighter than her evening gown.

            "Come, Y/N/N, we will protect you." Polly assured in a calm, slightly quivering voice, but Y/N heard no falseness, no lie in it.

Y/N could not utter a reply. The air, hinting of winter, invaded the car. The women shivered and balled the hands into fists. Ada hushed a greeting, spread the blanket, glanced at the wounds gracing Y/N´s body, down on the battered feet and the shivering limbs. The pain in her chest deepened at the sight of the shadow of a woman, read in her eyes what she had been through. The lip was chapped. The traces of a fight were evident on her cheek and throat. Ada tossed the blanket over her shoulder, noticing Y/N was covered in one. Wordlessly Ada helped Y/N out of the car. Soft curses blurred with whimpers. Whispering soothing words, Ada pulled Y/N away, closer to the house, kicking the door of the automobile shut and gesturing for Polly to pursue. 

            "I've prepared a bath for you. I'll help you upstairs. If you don't want to bathe, I can put a bucket of water next to the sofa. You can at least warm your feet." Ada said.

With every step, every slight movement Y/N made, the once brilliant white material slipped and revealed more wounds, swellings, and darkening spots not fading in the golden tide of the sun's rays, but grew even darker. Blue turned to green, lit by purple flashes and red veins carrying blue blood. Patiently Ada waited, and stared back at Polly, walking hastily after the women.

            "Thank you. I think the bucket will do. Maybe I'll get in the tub later." Y/N replied meekly, as if speaking to her mother, fearing the answer would enrage her, but none of what she expected happened.

The chilly breeze blew through Y/N´s hair one last time. The door slammed shut, and the keys jingled, chanted a song that faded quickly. All doors were closed and locked. Curtains touched. The first aid box, not battered, holey neither with a worn handle nor dented corners, rested open on the table. Scissors, and spotless bandages lay next to bottles of high-proof alcohol, freshly washed not dried glasses, cigarettes and silver needles drowning in alcohol. Blankets covered the sofa, to which Ada led Y/N and a down pillow. The white porcelain bowl graced by blue vines and flowers was in the middle of the crowded table. Smoke rose from the cup, sweet lavender, and banished the unmistakable stench of blood and gore.

            "May I offer you some soup?" the question was unnecessary, asked out of politeness.

Y/N turned into a tree, rooted deep into the ground, not moving. Her arms swayed forward. Questioningly, the two Shelby's exchanged glances, searching for the reason for the fear in Y/N´s eyes, unable to find it, but then, after a moment that seemed not to pass, Ada took a step forward, let go of Y/N, took the polished pistol and hid it under the table, still handy but out of Y/N´s sight. Polly placed her hands down on Y/N's shoulders, trying not to cause her any more pain, let the blanket slide to the floor and carefully pressed the young woman down on the sofa. Ada wriggled back towards them, took the blanket still hanging over her shoulder and laid it down on Y/N's legs, covering them, reached for the pair of fluffy socks, wiped away the dirt, small stones, dust and dried mud, and put the socks on Y/N´s feet.

            "It's okay." Ada breathed before Y/N could protest.

Smiling, Ada looked up, wiped her hands on her long dress, picked up the bowl filled with soup and placed it carefully in Y/N's lap, handing her the silver spoon.

            "Here, Y/N/N, eat. I'll fill you a bucket with warm water in the meantime. Polly will keep you company. If you need anything, if you feel sick, all you have to do is tell us and we will help you. You are still in shock." Ada said in a calm voice.

Gulping, Ada crouched next to Y/N.

            "We should have taken you into our family. I am sorry, we are all very sorry. It's understandable that you don't want to see us, you have enough reasons to hate us. The only thing I can do is to promise that we will do better. If you need time, I have a friend. She owns a small cottage a few miles away from town. There is a pond and a small forest. It's lovely. I could arrange that you could spend a few days or weeks there." Ada continued.

Y/N merely nodded, unsure of what to say, not knowing how to respond, and kept on smiling. The two women watched Ada as she rose from the ground like a phoenix from the ashes and strode away. Polly leaned closer to Y/N, tidied the blanket and hinted that she should eat, that it would do her good. A soft thanks escaped Y/N, smiled at the women who wordlessly indicated that she should finally start eating and so Y/N did, dipping the silver cutlery into the depths of the bowl whose end she could not see, watching the thinly chopped vegetables slip from the spoon and as the warm liquid flowed down her throat, Y/N realised how hungry she was and ate greedily.

Time had lost its meaning. Y/N had emptied the contents of the bowl. The last piece of sliced carrots had disappeared, yet she did not place it on the table, continued to warm her fingers on the ceramic bowl.

Heels clicked against the dark wood, had put shoes a hue darker than the evening dress. Cautiously, Ada continued walking with her eyes fixed on the troubled waters, fearing the warm liquid was about to spill over the golden rim. A towel, white with a few washed-out stains, hung over her right shoulder, the towel she always used when a brother standing on the edge of the world was carried inside the house. The floorboards groaned, and Ada stopped and noticed Y/N had finished the soup she had cooked for her.

Out of the corner of her eye Polly noticed how Y/N´s eyes were growing heavy and she leaned forward, took the bowl and placed it on the table. The young woman wanted to protest as Polly told her to rest, to say that she had to stay awake, that she wanted to wait for the return of the brothers and her husband.

            "No, Y/N, lay down. You can stay with us or you can go to the bedroom. We will keep watch and if you need anything, you can call us.", "Polly, we should take care of Y/N's wounds first." Ada interjected.

            "That won't be necessary. That can wait. Alfie has taken care of her wounds it's just dirt and scratches. The wounds are not life threatening. Y/N rest, close your eyes. I promise I will wake you up if Thomas is home." she replied.

Carefully Polly pushed Y/N backwards. Her heavy, throbbing head sunk into the pillow. Closing her eyes, Y/N sighed in relief, exhaled as the blanket fell down on her body. Birds chirped, the howling ceased and lulled her to sleep.

            Polly leaned forward happily and noticed Y/N had fallen asleep.

            "Thomas told me that Alfie has taken care of Y/N. No deep wounds or else I would have taken her to the hospital. We can take care of it later." Polly reported.

Ada rose, set the bowl aside on the table, sighed deeply, nodded, listened to the woman and turned to the fireplace, the blazing flames feasting on the wood and fed by the howling air hinting of winter.

            "She was beaten up. I didn't see any bullet wounds. Did Thomas tell you what happened or who is to blame?", "He has a guess, but he couldn't tell me anything specific. It all happened too fast. The gang has Y/N's girlfriend in their grip. At least that's what he thinks. The house was trashed, destroyed, and I think I saw bloodstains on the floor." she breathed softly.

Her eyes kept sliding to the slumbering figure, kept glancing at her right side and noticing with relief that Y/N was still asleep, her eyelids neither twitching nor her lips twisting into a pained grimace.

            "Alfie's going to show up any minute. Thomas called him. He fears someone might pay us a visit." Polly whispered in Ada's direction.

Ada perked up, grinned, felt the weight of her weapon at her side, settled down in front of the blazing flames, gnawing on wood and fed by air on the armchair, threw the pillow to the floor on her side and crossed her arms in front of her body.

            “We don’t need someone to protect us.” Ada stopped.

A soft knock silenced Ada. The women exchanged glances. The rustling, and shuffling of shoes and feet, softly uttered words, the closing of the door and the jingling of keys followed by low grumbles couldn’t awake Y/N from her deep slumber, lying on the sofa, a princess in the shadow of the vigilant dragons.

TagList:

witchymoonbabe secretdreamlandmentality mysticalpandora kittiowolf210 muhahaha303 dreamy-caramel elinalfrida violet-19999 niyah834 watersquirtpewpewboomm piceous21 elliaze heidimoreton literishdegree99 globetrotter28 thecrazytealady regulusblacksimpsblog torresbarnes nightgirl250 sweet-angely05 allthenamestakenwtd

hellomyweirdos mysticalbouquetwolf-posts batmanbiersack02-blog fulla02 regulusblacksimpsblog  smile-sugar calsjack starry-night-reid chlorrox regulusblacksimpsblog 100percentlazybonez kenny-0909 diabolusdevia stuckinmylittlebubble  hobothejuggalo camomiletangeringe v7nt7

kiara-rose-blackthorn rangerelik abaker74 madsothree kittiowolf210 lucyandersons-world marigold-morelli meyocoko angelicwolfyqueen iwanttohitmyself pennywisesstuff batgurl42 sleepymadmess lolcaca yolobloggers lor-16 randomgirlwriting rs-fanfiction-2001 bohemian-lavender-girl woofgocows evilangel1324 mrkdvidal1989 nervousmumbling camomiletangeringe tommystargirl toxicenough deadunicorn159 nnercreationflower liar-or-lawyer optimisticsandwichgladiator comfortzonequeen nctma15 banksmars twistxdx inloveppp answer-the-sirens justanotherficreader nunya7394 lovemissyhoneybee lostgirl219 yourbloodyqueen

[multifandomwriter56]

As It Was

A/N: Hello! I know I've been MIA for a long time. Life has been crazy and going back to college while having a full time job has taken a lot of my time. But I'm hoping to get back to writing on this blog. I've missed it and I have missed everyone so much. I make no promises but I'm going to try.

Summary: Arthur and Y/n have always been super close; but when the boys get back from the war, things have change.

Characters: Arthur Shelby, Tommy Shelby, Sister!Reader

Warnings: language, mentions Arthur's attempt at suicide

Word Count: 2,698

*gif is not mine*

The rumor about the men who came back from the war are not the same men that left; It’s true. No one came back the same after the war. Not a single soul.

But it wasn’t just the soldiers who changed. Those who were stuck at home, waiting for their loved ones to return. They changed too.

Y/n couldn’t pinpoint exactly when she changed. She just remembers one day realizing she’s not the little girl who loved to draw rainbows, horses, and flowers anymore. Or the little girl who taught Finn how to aim at a moving rat, even though their Aunt Polly despised them touching guns. Not even the little girl who would take walks with her favorite brother, Arthur.

Y/n would never say she has a favorite brother aloud, but she knows her family sees how close the oldest brother and youngest sister are. There may be eighteen years difference between them, but they would sometimes act like twins.

Y/n enjoys John’s company and loves his jokes. Finn, she will always protect and care for. Ada, well they clash on fashion and boys, but they would kill for one another. And Tommy, well, the two siblings have never been able to get along. Tommy had big dreams that didn’t include his baby sister. Greta wanted to change the world and wanted Tommy to help her. Y/n wanted Tommy to help take care of the family instead of spending all his time at the docks waiting for the young woman to show up.

Even at a young age, Y/n knew it would always be Tommy who would provide for the family; be their leader. She loves Arthur, but he’s more of a follower than a leader. Tommy has always had ideas and Y/n knew those ideas would help them rise in Small Heath.

So with the boys off fighting in the war, Y/n made sure to follow her brother’s orders on how to run the shop.

Polly was the only one Y/n would let stray from Tommy’s list.

“You’re ten years old, Y/n. You are not the boss and know nothing about bets.” Her aunt admonishes.

“I know enough, Polly. I have Tommy’s list and Arthur’s notes.”

“So now you’re an expert at running betting shops?”

“I wasn’t saying that.” The ten year mumbles.

“Then you’ll do your best to remember who is in charge of the business.”

Y/n knows when to stop when it comes to her aunt. “Yes, ma’am.”

Y/n will admit, she learnt a lot from her aunt; not just business, but women’s business.

But now that the war is over, Y/n’s noticed how more involved Tommy is; how he keeps adding to the business.

Arthur is less present when it comes to his baby sister. They don’t go on walks anymore.

The fourteen year old moved into Arthur’s home when they came back. She wanted away from her very controlling brother and closer to the brother she knows best.

Except now, it seems that she understands Tommy more than she does Arthur.

The war may have changed all of her brothers, but something broke in Arthur. His nightmares keep her up at night and the one time she tried to wake him up, he almost choked her to death.

After that, she would either lay in her bed, listening to his screams or she would get John if the screams lasted longer than ten minutes.

“You shouldn’t be at Arthur’s alone.” Tommy tells his sister as he lit a cigarette.

“I’m not alone. Arthur is there.”

“You know what I mean, Y/n. Arthur is struggling and you being around isn’t helping.”

Y/n scoffs. “Actually, I think I help Arthur more than you can ever imagine trying to help him. You just hate that I’m not under your roof and you can’t boss me around.”

Tommy points his lit cigarette at her, his eyebrows raised in warning. “You will do as you're told or I will turn you over my knee.”

Y/n once again scoffs. Tommy has never disciplined her, he wasn’t ever around to take her in hand. That dirty task was left to their aunt. “Not only am I fourteen years old, but you have never raised a hand to me. Why start now?”

“Don’t push me, Y/n.”

Yeah, he’s bluffing, Y/n thinks. She stands to her feet. “Yes sir, Sergeant Major. If that’s all, Sergeant, I would like to finish my studies. Wouldn’t want to show up to school without my work now would we?”

Tommy pinches the bridge of his nose, resisting the urge to keep arguing with his sister. He, instead, waves his hand in a dismissive gesture without even glancing up.

The day Y/n dreaded came. Arthur had tried to commit suicide by hanging himself after he fell for their father’s con. She had found him at their home, raging and destroying the room. She skillfully dodged his swings and shouted at him.

“Arthur! It’s me! It’s Y/n!” She ducks when he throws an ashtray at her head. “It’s Y/n, brother!”

“Y/n?”

The broken voice has Y/n on the verge of tears. “Yes.” She nods her head. “It’s Y/n. I’m here.” She makes her way to her brother as his knees buckle and he lands on the floor. She holds him close, his chin digging into her shoulder as he sobs.

Y/n doesn’t know how long they stay in this position but she loses feeling in her left shoulder and feet.

When Arthur finally is able to compose himself, he stands to his feet, rubbing a shaking hand through his hair.

“Arthur, what happened to your neck?”

The older man covers the deep bruise around his neck. “Nothing.”

Y/n starts to shake her head, the pieces falling together. “No, no. You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t leave me here.” She stops talking but her head is still moving side to side; not wanting to accept that her brother, her hero, tried to kill himself.

“Y/n, I’m sorry, I-”

“No!” She sharply cuts him off. “Don’t apologize. I just need a moment to process.” She sits in a chair that he hadn’t flipped yet. “I need to figure out what to do. I need- no you need some of Polly’s ointment, and a drink… yeah, yeah.” She stands to her feet, ignoring the concerned look coming from her brother. “Sit down, Arthur. I’ll pour you some whiskey and get some ointment to help with the bruising.

“Y/n, I don’t- fuck.” Arthur curses when she completely ignores him and heads for the kitchen.

Only a few minutes pass until Y/n comes back. She hands the glass of whiskey to him and starts applying the ointment.

Y/n stayed with her brother until he decided to go to bed. She heads up to her room. In the morning, she’ll tell Polly. Fuck knows what Tommy will say if he hears about this. She never knows if he will help Arthur or make it worse.

In the morning. Y/n told her aunt and she should have known her aunt would tell their fearless leader. So she wasn’t surprised to see him walk in as she hands Arthur a cup of tea.

The look Tommy sends her is clear.

She smiles softly at her eldest brother. “I will be up in my room if you need me.” She tells him, her invitation not extending to the other brother.

She heads upstairs but does not go into her room. She sits on the top step, listening as Tommy belittles their brother. She rolls her eyes. She should’ve known Tommy would never express real feelings.

“Just use a fucking gun, man.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Y/n shouts as she storms down the stairs. “That’s all you have? Next time, use a gun?”

“Leave it be, Y/n.”

Y/n glares at Arthur. “No, Arthur, I can’t just leave it be.” She turns her glare back at the brother she is upset with. “I know it’s hard for you to express feelings now, but I would rather you not say anything at all than talk to our brother that way. He deserves better.”

“Y/n, that’s enough.”

“Fuck off, Thomas!” She shouts as she steps in his space. “You only care about having Arthur around so he can beat and kill people who piss you off. That’s all that matters to the all powerful Tommy Shelby.”

The slap echoes throughout the whole house, each sibling frozen in their place.

Y/n holds a hand over her now stinging cheek, staring at the man who has never raised a hand to her. Her and Tommy may not get along but she never thought he would physically harm her. Never.

She turns to Arthur, wondering how he will react. To her surprise he’s staring at her in disappointment.

“You shouldn’t have spoken to Tommy like that, Y/n. You were out of line.”

“I was out of line?” She snaps. “What am I supposed to do, Arthur, eh? Am I supposed to stand at attention and wait for the sergeant to bark orders? Huh?”

“Enough.” He doesn’t shout, but his voice still booms, causing his baby sister to flinch, preparing for another blow.

The guilt had already come, but seeing her flinch made Tommy feel sick to his stomach. “Y/n, I-” He reaches out to comfort her but stops when she steps back.

“Don’t you fucking touch me. I hate you.” She looks at Arthur. “I hate you both.”

“Let her go, Arthur.” Tommy orders when the eldest Shelby stands to follow Y/n who ran out of the house.

***

For a month, Y/n stays with John and his kids; but as much as she loves her nieces and nephews, she refuses to stay there another night.

Lizzie Stark, who’s been helping her brother with the kids, tells her to go back home, to work it out with Arthur.

“And Tommy?” The fourteen year old asks the older woman.

Lizzie smirks. “Tell him to fuck off.”

Y/n smiles at that. She hopes her brother doesn’t wait too long to give Lizzie the ring he’s been hiding.

Knowing exactly where her brother will be, Y/n heads to the Garrison. Taking a deep breath, she knocks on the locked door.

“We’re closed.” Is the muffled response from the barmaid.

“It’s Y/n Shelby.” She knows that’s all she has to say for the doors to open. Grace has been kind to her since she’s started working at the pub, and Y/n appreciates that, but she doesn’t trust the barmaid. She’s not sure why, but she has a hard time believing this Irish woman just decided to move to Birmingham without a real reason.

When the door opens, she smiles politely at Grace before squeezing past her. She heads straight to the back room, knowing her eldest brother will be attempting to balance the books.

She comes to halt mere centimeters from the entrance, her heart racing. What if he really is on Tommy’s side? What if he thinks she really did deserve to be slapped? What if she’s completely lost the only person to ever love her for her?

“Gracie, is that you? You ready to help me with these numbers yet?”

Y/n laughs quietly through the breath she was holding. Who is she kidding? Arthur is one of the kindest, loving people she knows. How could he hate her… right?

“It’s me, Arthur.” She barely gets that short sentence out above a whisper.

“Y/n?”

She steps fully into the room, her arms behind her back. “Hi.”

Arthur just stares at his baby sister, the anger, the pain of not seeing her for days, and the guilt… the guilt that has literally eaten him alive, rises to the surface. His loyalty to his brother clouded his love for his sister and he will hate himself for the rest of his life.

Being a Shelby makes it hard for them to express their emotions through words. No matter the emotion, the words usually fail to spit out, but actions, they’ve never been a problem for a Shelby.

So instead of saying the words, “I’m sorry” Arthur jumps to his feet and pulls the young girl into his arms, holding as tight as he can.

And since Y/n is not only a Shelby but also able to read her brother like a book, Y/n returns the hug and her anger disappears.

“You’re coming back home, ain’t ya?”

Y/n smiles, glad she was right. “My bag is already back in my room.”

Arthur squeezes her one more time, dropping a wet kiss on top of her head before releasing her. “Good.”

Y/n goes to ask him about how he’s been but a familiar voice stops her.

“Arthur, Tommy told me to get you. Family meeting in ten.” Finn turns to his sister, hope in his eyes. “Are you back?”

Y/n had kept in touch with Finn, having him fill her in on everything that was happening while she was gone. Finn didn’t know much, but she was able to fill in the gaps on most of what he told her.

“Yes, I’m back.”

Finn smiles. “Good. Arthur’s been too emotional and Tommy’s about to shoot him if he hears him complain one more time about you not being at the family meetings.”

Y/n laughs at Finn’s blunt statement; laughing harder when Arthur spouts profanities as he takes off after the youngest Shelby. She follows the duo, figuring it’s time for her to show her faceto the rest of the family.

Her smile stays in place as they make their way to Watery Lane, listening to her brother banter back and forth about what to tell and what to keep to yourself. So far, Finn’s winning the argument.

She can feel her smile start to get smaller the closer they get to her old home; and the smile completely disappears when Arthur opens the door for her. She comes to a halt at the threshold of the betting shop, her eyes immediately on the Peaky Blinders leader.

She’s thankful he hasn’t noticed her yet, but that little comfort quickly disappears when her aunt tells him to shut up as she makes her way to her niece.

Y/n easily accepts the hug from her aunt, the woman who practically raised her, but winces when she gets a clip to her ear.

“A month is too damn long, girl.”

“I’m sorry.” She whispers as Polly releases her; a small smile appears when her aunt gently caresses her cheek.

Knowing she needs to face the elephant in the room, or more commonly known as Thomas Shelby, Y/n peels her eyes off her aunt and stares straight into her brother’s eyes, hoping he can’t see the fear in them.

Compared to the other family members, Tommy is a mute when it comes to emotions. The only time words and emotions are mixed together is when he’s angry. He doesn’t say “I love you”, “I need you”, or anything that is remotely tied to emotions.

That said, the man is a master at showing his emotions through actions. One look can tell you so much about the gang leader. You just have to know how to read them; and Y/n is a master at this skill. She’s almost as good as their aunt.

So when she sees the barely noticeable nod of approval, and watches as Tommy pulls out a chair; she knows she has been welcomed back by their fearless leader.

And after she sits, he gently kisses her cheek, the same cheek he hurt a month ago, and she knows he’s asking for forgiveness.

She grasps his hand before he can pull away, giving it one good squeeze, so he knows he’s been forgiven.

They will never have a relationship like her and Arthur, or like him and Ada; but they can coexist together in their family; and that’s enough for them both.

Peaky Blinders: @psychkunox @theshelbyclan @lilymurphy03 @findinghisredrighthand

Forevers: @desiredposion @theseakrakence @simonsbluee

[borgialucrezia]

peaky blinders — 4x03 'blackbird' created by steven knight

[zapreportsblog]

↳ strong woman ↲

✭ pairing : arthur shelby x reader

✭ fandom : peaks blinders

✭ summary : arthur shelby finds himself a good woman, she’s got her own job and her family adores him, and she can hold her own. What more can a man ask for ?!

✭ authors note : oh wow this is my first peaky blinders fic. I’ll make a masterlist for this too at some point if it becomes a hit or if requests for them begin flowing in but for now sit back and enjoy the show :)

✭ peaky blinders masterlist

The air inside The Rusty Nail was thick with the pungent aroma of stale beer and the raucous symphony of clinking glasses and hearty laughter. Dimly lit by the feeble glow of flickering bulbs, the bar seemed like a haven for those seeking refuge from the hardships of life. Amidst the haze of cigarette smoke, Arthur Shelby sat perched atop a barstool, nursing his umpteenth drink of the night.

The creak of the wooden floorboards signaled the entrance of a group of rowdy patrons, their faces flushed from a combination of liquor and bravado. As Arthur took a casual sip from his glass, his eyes locked onto a man with a sneer that suggested trouble. The tension in the air grew palpable as harsh words were exchanged, and before anyone could react, the first punch was thrown.

The bar fight erupted like a storm, tables overturned and chairs clattering to the floor. Fists flew and curses echoed in the confined space, drowning out the hum of conversations. Arthur, never one to back down, found himself amidst the chaos. The clang of punches landing and the grunts of pain melded together in a discordant rhythm.

Arthur's instincts kicked in, his senses honed by years of living on the edge. He bobbed and weaved, delivering calculated blows that found their mark. A swing and a swift jab sent his adversary stumbling backward, crashing into a table and knocking over a tower of glasses. The crowd roared with approval as Arthur stood victorious, his chest heaving and his knuckles smeared with blood.

As the dust settled and the brawl subsided, Arthur's adrenaline-fueled courage began to wane, replaced by the effects of the alcohol he had consumed earlier. His steps grew unsteady, and he stumbled towards the exit. The world outside was a blur of shapes and colors, and he leaned against the doorframe for support, struggling to maintain his balance.

Suddenly, a warm voice cut through the haze, like a lighthouse guiding him through the fog. "Are you alright, son?" a kindly older gentleman inquired, concern etched into his features. Arthur's words slurred as he attempted to respond, a mixture of incoherent mumbles and drunken laughter.

The older man's eyes twinkled with understanding, and he gently placed a steadying hand on Arthur's shoulder. "You've had a bit too much, I reckon. How about I take you back to my home? You can rest up until morning."

Arthur nodded, his gratitude evident despite his intoxicated state. With the stranger's support, he navigated the uneven pavement and stumbled into the night, leaving behind the tumultuous scene of the bar. As they walked, the city lights flickered like stars in the sky, and Arthur felt an odd sense of camaraderie with the man who had extended his helping hand.

Guided by the older man's steady arm, Arthur stumbled along the sidewalk, his world swirling in a haze of alcohol and exhaustion. The crisp night air cut through his stupor, offering a faint semblance of clarity. Finally, they arrived at a modest home, its windows glowing with warm light against the darkness.

As they stepped through the door, a woman's voice called out from the living room. "Darling, dinner's gone cold. You know how forgetful I am with the oven timer." The older man led Arthur forward, and the woman's gaze shifted from the untouched dinner to Arthur's disheveled state. "Oh my," she exclaimed, her hand instinctively covering her mouth in surprise.

Her voice carried through the house, and before long, the soft patter of footsteps echoed down the stairs. A young woman, her hair tousled and eyes bleary from sleep, appeared in the doorway. "What's going on, Mom?" she asked, her voice a mixture of curiosity and concern.

The older man offered a reassuring smile to his wife before turning his attention to their unexpected guest. "This young man needs a bit of help. Looks like he had a bit too much to drink."

The young woman, (Y/N), stepped forward with a mix of sympathy and determination in her eyes. She wore a simple nightgown, her presence both soothing and vibrant against the backdrop of the late hour. "Let's get him settled," she said, her voice calm and soothing. Together, the three of them carefully maneuvered Arthur towards a spare room at the end of the hallway.

With gentle hands and steady guidance, they eased Arthur onto the bed. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a lamp casting a warm ambiance. Arthur's eyes struggled to focus, but the kindness in (Y/N)'s eyes was unmistakable.

"He'll be fine in here," the older man said, his voice laden with concern. "Rest up, young man. We'll make sure you're alright come morning."

As Arthur settled into the bed, his thoughts began to blur into incoherence. The world around him faded into the periphery as he succumbed to the pull of sleep. Through the fog of his drowsiness, he faintly heard the rustling of blankets and the hushed murmurs of (Y/N) and her parents as they ensured his comfort.

And so, in a stranger's home, Arthur Shelby found a refuge from the tumult of the night.

The morning sun painted the room in a warm glow as Arthur Shelby stirred awake. He blinked against the light, slowly piecing together his surroundings. Memories of the previous night trickled back, and he realized he was in a stranger's home. Pushing himself up from the bed, he rubbed his temples, the remnants of a headache still lingering.

As he made his way downstairs, the aroma of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee filled the air. The scene that greeted him was a picture of domestic tranquility. The older man stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with a practiced hand, while his wife set the table with a collection of mismatched plates and silverware.

"Morning," Arthur croaked, his voice rough from the previous night's revelry. The older man turned, a welcoming smile on his lips.

"Morning, son," he replied. "Slept alright?"

"Much better than I deserved," Arthur admitted, gratitude evident in his eyes.

The older man chuckled. "No need to worry about that. My name's Robert, by the way. And this is my wife, Eleanor." The woman offered a warm smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Arthur," he replied, a flicker of uncertainty passing through his mind. Would they recognize the name? He was, after all, a Shelby, a name that carried weight in certain circles.

Eleanor chimed in, her voice friendly. "Nice to meet you, Arthur. Our daughter, (Y/N), helped us get you settled last night." At the mention of her name, (Y/N) entered the room, her presence as radiant as the morning sun.

"Morning again," she said with a soft smile. "Did you sleep alright?"

"Better than expected," Arthur replied, his gaze briefly meeting (Y/N)'s before he looked away, hiding a hint of surprise that his name didn't elicit any recognition.

As they gathered around the table, the conversation flowed effortlessly, like old friends catching up. They spoke of simple things—weather, life in the city, and shared anecdotes. Arthur found himself easing into the rhythm of their chatter, his guard lowering with each passing moment.

The breakfast table became a temporary haven, a place where a man known for his hard exterior found himself welcomed without judgment or suspicion. And as the meal drew to a close, Robert extended an invitation that warmed Arthur's heart.

"You're welcome to stay as long as you need, Arthur," Robert said, his words genuine. "We're glad to have you."

Arthur's gratitude was palpable as he nodded. "Thank you, Robert. I appreciate it."

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, Arthur realized that sometimes, even in the most unexpected places, people could surprise you with their kindness. He had stumbled into this family's life under unlikely circumstances, and in doing so, had found a haven of acceptance that he hadn't anticipated.

Weeks turned into months, and Arthur Shelby found himself drawn to the haven of warmth and comfort that was Robert's home. Whenever he wasn't immersed in the world of the Peaky Blinders, he sought solace in the company of the kind-hearted family. The days he spent there became a reprieve from the relentless demands of his other life.

His family began to notice his frequent absences, and questions began to arise. "Where are you off to, Arthur?" Tommy asked one evening as they sat in their dimly lit headquarters.

Arthur shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "Just passing time, Tommy. Nothin' special."

Tommy cast a scrutinizing look his way, his eyes narrowing. "Passing time, huh? You've been disappearing quite a bit lately."

Arthur's jaw tightened, but he kept his tone even. "Like I said, Tommy, just keepin' busy."

Tommy's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before he turned his attention back to the task at hand, leaving Arthur with a sense of relief mingled with apprehension.

One day, as the sun cast dappled shadows through the trees, Arthur found himself wandering towards the small business that Robert's family owned. The scent of freshly baked goods filled the air, and the sight of (Y/N) and her mother working side by side in the kitchen brought a soft smile to his lips.

Seeing him, (Y/N) grinned and wiped her hands on her apron. "Arthur, you're just in time. We could use an extra pair of hands today."

Without hesitation, he rolled up his sleeves and joined them in their culinary pursuits. The rhythmic kneading of dough, the careful measuring of ingredients, and the banter that flowed between them made the hours fly by. Arthur discovered a surprising talent for baking, finding satisfaction in creating something with his hands that brought joy to others.

As they worked, (Y/N) and her mother shared stories of their business and their hopes for the future. They spoke of dreams and aspirations, of simple pleasures and the bonds that held their family together. Arthur found himself opening up as well, sharing fragments of his own life that he had rarely revealed to anyone.

Days turned into weeks, and the bakery became a haven where Arthur's burdens seemed to lessen. The simple act of kneading dough and watching pastries rise in the oven brought a sense of accomplishment that was different from the violence and power struggles of his other life.

As Arthur walked back to his own world, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. He had found solace and acceptance with Robert's family, a stark contrast to the life he led with the Shelby gang. The bakery had become more than just a place to escape—it was a reminder that there was goodness in the world, and that he could be a part of it, even if only for a few stolen moments.

As the days turned into weeks, Arthur found himself captivated by (Y/N)'s genuine sweetness and the way her eyes lit up with kindness. He admired her for her resilience, her ability to see the good in people even in a world that often seemed so harsh. He couldn't help but notice the gentle curve of her smile and the way her laughter seemed to chase away the shadows.

Summoning his courage, Arthur decided to take a step forward. He approached Robert and Eleanor one evening, his heart pounding as he broached the subject. "I was wondering if it would be alright if I took (Y/N) out for a date," he began, his voice steady but tinged with nervousness. "I know there's an age difference, but I respect her and I promise to treat her right."

Robert exchanged a look with his wife, a twinkle in his eyes. Eleanor smiled warmly. "We couldn't be happier, Arthur. You've shown us your good heart, and we trust you."

Arthur's relief was palpable, and he offered a genuine smile in return. "Thank you."

On the night of their date, Arthur arrived at (Y/N)'s doorstep, his heart racing as he knocked on the door. She opened it, a hint of surprise dancing in her eyes. "Arthur? Is everything alright?"

He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling a bit awkward. "I was wondering if you'd like to go out tonight. Maybe catch a movie and have dinner."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened for a moment before a warm smile spread across her lips. "I'd love to."

As they made their way to the town over, laughter and easy conversation flowed between them. The movie was entertaining, but what stuck with Arthur were stolen glances and the sense of comfort he felt in her presence.

After the movie, as they walked down the street, the atmosphere shifted. A group of rowdy men began catcalling (Y/N), their comments lewd and disrespectful. Before Arthur could react, (Y/N) had turned to face them, her stance unwavering.

"Is this how you think it's okay to treat women?" (Y/N)'s voice was firm, her eyes flashing with a fire that took Arthur by surprise. And then, in a sudden flurry of movement, her fists were flying, her punches landing with precision.

Arthur stood frozen, watching in awe as (Y/N) held her own, her punches landing with impressive force. By the time the confrontation ended, the men were nursing their injuries and retreating, chastened by the encounter.

Arthur's jaw hung open, his admiration for (Y/N) growing even stronger. She turned to him, her cheeks flushed and her expression fierce. "Sorry you had to see that, Arthur."

"Sorry?" Arthur managed, a mix of astonishment and awe in his voice. "That was... impressive."

(Y/N)'s fierce expression softened into a sheepish grin. "Well, thanks. I just can't stand that kind of behavior."

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head in amazement. "I'll keep that in mind. Remind me never to cross you."

As they continued their evening, Arthur realized that his admiration for (Y/N) had only deepened. She was more than just sweet and kind; she was strong and unafraid, a force to be reckoned with. And as he walked her back to her doorstep, he couldn't help but think that he had found something truly special in her, something that had the potential to change his life in ways he hadn't expected.

[novashelby]

"Just Like My Father": Arthur & Evie

Pairing: Arthur Shelby & Evelyn Shelby

Word Count: 1.3K

Summary: On a random winter night, Linda calls and Evie answers the phone. Her Uncle Arthur has lost himself again. Despite her father's warnings, she just wants to make things better. She visits him and has some interesting choice words.

Warnings: Mention of abuse, childhood abuse, and violence.

Please enjoy, comment, and reblog!

Linda had called the house from a family member’s home. Evie could tell the call was meant for Tommy, probably to give him her ‘final piece of her mind’, but when Evie answered, she simply sobbed about Arthur’s outburst. According to her, he was fine one moment and then the next they were lashing it out over an incident that happened months ago. Evie couldn’t understand fully through the sobs and chokes. “He punched the wall and…oh, Evie, I shouldn’t be telling you all this! Your uncle is a fuckin-”

“It’s alright, Aunty,” Evie said, looking around her father’s office for any sign of him. It was nearly two am. “How’s Billy?” There was a long pause on the line, and Evie quickly said, “Aunty Linda?”

“I-I’m here-h-he’s fine,” she said, but there was uncertainty in her voice. Linda took a moment to blow her nose and wipe her face with the sleeve of her blouse. 

“A-and you?” Evie stuttered out. “Are you okay?”

Linda had been sitting on a guest bed, facing the mirror. She could manage to tell Evie that she was okay, but the marks on her face told a different story. “He’s not fine,” she said instead, meaning her uncle. 

Evie took a deep breath, closing her eyes. “Aunty, take care of you and Billy, alright? Let Arthur cool down. He’s…Aunty, I think you should do what’s best for you. Uncle Arthur…” She stopped talking at the sound of a floorboard creaking. Tommy slipped in, narrowing his eyes. She covered the microphone portion of the phone and said, “Martha-”

“At two in the morning? Evelyn, get to bed, eh…hang up that phone!” 

She swallowed and uncovered the mouth piece before saying, “I have to go to sleep, Martha…alright, daddy, I’m hanging up.” Evie dropped the phone on its hook and slid from his office chair. Tommy hung by the door, waiting for her to do as he expected. She slowly walked by him and he grabbed her shoulder, turning her to look at him. He wasn’t a very tall man, but he looked down at Evie in a way that made her breath hitch. “I-I’m going to bed-”

“Evelyn,” he said in a warning tone. “Who was on the phone?”

Evie could read through him. He already knew, and she suspected that he was hanging by the door longer than he let known. “Aunt Linda called. Uncle’s gone off the rail-”

“What did I tell you about talkin’ to her, eh?” Tommy tapped her forehead, brows narrowing. “Hm? What she say, huh?” Evie opened her mouth, trying to get it out, stuttering. Tommy nodded. “Mmhm, uh huh…exactly, Evelyn. Aunt Linda said absolutely nothing that you need to concern your fifteen year old head with.”

“B-but Uncle Arthur-”

Tommy sighed, touching her cheek. “I know, love. You know Uncle Arthur’s got his issues, but it isn’t your problem.” He nodded to the stairs. “Get to bed.” Tommy leaned in, pacing a soft kiss to her forehead. 

She forced a smile. “Night, daddy.” She started to make her way up the stairs until he went into his office, closing the door. Quietly, she tiptoed back down the steps. It was a cool winter night-well, morning, but Evie hadn’t bothered to swing her coat on in fear it’d alert her father. In the bowl, for she’d never lose them, rested the car keys. Well, she wasn’t old enough to drive it on her own, but it was the car her and Tommy practiced in.

She opened the front door, quietly and slowly before closing it. Tip toeing to the car. She knew her father would find out as soon as she turned on the engine. But it didn’t stop her from starting to drive off to her Uncle’s house. The whole time, she shivered from nerves and the cold, unsure if she just signed her own death certificate. “He’s going to bloody fuckin kill me!” But Arthur’s home wasn’t far off and she didn’t have to navigate the city streets.

She parked and rushed up the door, going to knock, but when Linda left, she kept it open. “Uncle Arthur!” Evie called, but it didn’t take long to find him. There, slumped in the chair, bottle in his lap. Though, he didn’t look drunk…staring at the wall, contemplating. “Uncle Arthur?” She stepped in, and closed the door behind her.

He looked over then back at the wall. “Linda must have called Tommy-”

“I talked to Aunty Linda,” Evie said, walking inward and taking her place on the couch. “Said you had a rough night-”

“I’m sure she said that,” he nodded, straightening himself and putting the bottle on the side table. “Used those exact words, too, I bet.”

Evie sighed, and reached out her hand to gently touch his knee, but he flinched away. “Uncle-”

But he was stubborn to her affections. “What are you doing here, Evelyn? Hm? It’s early morning-night? I don’t fuckin’ know anymore. You’ve got school, don’t you?” She reminded him it was Saturday. “I should call your father, tell ‘em you’re here-”

“He knows! Uncle, please, just relax. Let me clean your hand. She said you punched the wall.” Evie got up to find a cloth, but settled on a discarded handkerchief. Dabbing it with some whiskey, she took his hand gently. The man was so used to pain that he hardly flinched. “There, there-”

“I’m like my father, Evie….Turned into my fuckin’ father, didn’t I?” He was talking to himself more than asking. Evie fluttered her eyes up before going back to cleaning his hand. “Beat me mum, beat us kids. Your daddy, too. Would fuck on off and fuck around, stealing shit, fucking whores. Sometimes us kids wouldn’t see him for fucking days. Then eventually it all went to fuckin’ shite, it did…. Then me mum…our mum-forget it. Tommy’ll tell ya’ one day, I guess. Explains why I’m fucked up, he’s fuck up-”

Evie frowned, and gently ran her fingers down her uncle’s cheeks. “Uncle, you went to war-”

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Evie, I was at war long before then. Now look at me! Turning into me fuckin’ daddy-”

“Then that’s what you’ll be,” she said, unsure if she should feed into the pity. Putting the cloth down, she grabbed his chin. “Then that’s what you’ll be. Your daddy. Uncle Arthur, the trauma don’t stop until you make it stop. You don’t have to be your daddy if you don’t want to-”

“Look at you, speaking that wisdom shite-”

“It’s the truth-”

“You’re fifteen! You know no fuckin’ truth!” He pushed her hand away and looked the other way. “I suggest you get on in that fuckin’ car and fuck off, eh?  Don’t wanna hit you, too-”

Evie stood, looking down at him. “I don’t know truth? Uncle Arthur, I wasn’t always a bloody fuckin’ Shelby, you know? And yes, you are just like your father, but do you know what’s worse? You know what it’s like to be Billy and you still do it-”

“Fuck off it-”

“And that is worse than your father, actually. Much worse!” Evie grabbed her keys and made her way to the door. “You are so used to being enabled by everyone around you that you forget, Uncle Arthur, you can change, but you choose no to. It sucks your brain hurts, but so doesn’t mine sometimes, but I don’t go around beating my family up. Have a good night and perhaps, for once, put down the fucking bottle and take a Goddamn walk!”

“Fuck off!” he yelled, waving his hand at her. “Go on-”

“I am.” Evie nodded, feeling her eyes water. “I am, and I’m going to go to my bedroom. I’ll sleep well. Want to know why? Because despite all of my father’s issues, I know that I’ll always feel safe in his arms. That he’ll never take it out on me. Unfortunately, Billy may not always be able to the say the same-”

“I never hit my boy,” he spoke in a warning tone.

“But you hit his mother. To a child, I’m sure that feels just the same.” Opening the door, she braced for the cold wind. “Have a better night, Uncle….”

[wonderlanddreamer]

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

Click here, by order of the Peaky Blinders.🖤

This way to the Upside Down.❤️

Find my random edits here.

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

[runnning-outof-time]

The Perfect Team | Arthur Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by @peakypolly

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x reader

Summary: Arthur's ability to reason with (Y/N)'s child has them realizing that they work rather well together.

Warnings: mentions of minor character death

Word Count: 2280

A/N: sorry this one’s a bit late. I’ve just gotten home from a play and wanted to make sure that I uploaded. This is a shorter one, but I really enjoyed writing it. I hope you will like it as well. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

(Y/N) felt like she was ready to rip her hair out. Ava, her three year old daughter, would not listen for anything today, and she felt like she was at the end of her rope. She'd only turned there four months ago, how could the 'terrible threes' settle in that fast?

Everything was a fight today. Getting her out of bed, picking out her outfit, giving her breakfast, and the list continued from there. She wanted to challenge every and anything that (Y/N) was saying.

The day dragged on because of this. (Y/N) felt like she was ready to crash the second the sun started to set. And she didn't even attempt to do a reading lesson with Ava today...that's just what kind of day it was. She didn't even want to think of how much more exhausted she'd be had she given that a try.

But now it was time for the toughest part of the day: getting Ava to bed. (Y/N) was dreading it from the second she woke her daughter up because she knew that it'd be a much more challenging task today with the mood that Ava was in.

Despite her hoping that the day would just fast forward through the hard part, bedtime came. Ava was coloring in the front sitting room (at peace for once) when (Y/N) entered from the kitchen. She almost wanted to let her be...she finally was doing what she was supposed to. But (Y/N) knew that she had to get her to go to bed.

So she approached her cautiously, wanting to smack herself for treating her three year old child like she was some wild animal. "Ava, sweetie..." she started, trying to get her daughter's attention. The girl dropped her utensil and turned around, looking at her mother with expecting eyes. (Y/N) smiled at her before she continued, "it's time for us to get ready for bed."

A sour look formed on Ava's face the second the 'b word' was mentioned. "Mumma, no," she huffed, her eyebrows scrunching together to show her anger at the situation.

(Y/N) raised her eyebrows in response to the pushback. "This is not a matter that is up for discussion, missy. It is your bedtime," she insisted, her hands falling onto her hips.

"I'm not tired!" Ava exclaimed, sticking her nose in the air and squeezing her eyes shut as she spoke. It was obvious that she wasn't going to back down without a fight.

After taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly so that she could stay composed, (Y/N) attempted another route of persuasion, "if we go to bed now, we can read two stories together." She thought that Ava might go for that suggestion because she <loved> to read stories.

But of course Ava wasn't going for any of (Y/N)'s suggestions today. "NO!" she screamed, her voice even louder now than before, "I don't wanna read stories, I wanna keep drawing!"

(Y/N) opened her mouth to speak but couldn't get a word out because the door to the house opened and shut and footsteps sounded off the hardwood shortly after.

"Arfer!" Ava exclaimed, hopping up from her spot by the coffee table to run past her mother to the archway. Usually (Y/N) would smile at her daughter's pronunciation of her partner's name, but she'd been worn down so much tonight that she couldn't muster it up.

(Y/N) turned around in time to see Arthur crouching down to give the little girl a hug. "Hey, kiddo," he greeted her, glancing up at (Y/N) to see the unhappy expression she had. He immediately knew that he couldn't go over the top in greeting the child in his arms. Things didn’t seem to be going so well. "What's goin’ on here, eh?" he asked after he ended their hug.

"I'm drawing a picture; just like you showed me how to! Come, look!" she exclaimed, a wide smile on her face as she reached up to take hold of his hand so that she could lead him over to the table she had everything set up on.

"We were getting ready to do something else, weren't we, Ava?" (Y/N) asked the child before she could get into showing Arthur her artwork.

"Mumma!" Ava exclaimed, a pout forming on her face as she slipped right back into the defiant act she was putting on before.

"Ava," (Y/N) raised her eyebrows, her voice monotone. She did not want to go back into this cycle of arguing that they'd been going in and out of all day.

Ava held the glare on her mother for a moment longer before she switched it up to a pout to show to Arthur. She was hoping that he'd be on her side in this; he always had a soft spot for her and she knew it...she often played off of it. "Can you draw with me, Arfer?" she asked him, puppy dog eyes in full display.

Arthur glanced over at (Y/N) then, silently checking if she was going to jump in and diffuse this or if he was going to be the one to mediate the situation. Her exasperated look told him everything: she needed his help. "I'd love to draw with you, kiddo, but it's your bedtime. We don't wanna go against your mum, do we?" he posed a question, crouching down to her level as he spoke.

Ava looked at Arthur for a moment before looking at her mother. (Y/N) kept her lips pursed, secretly hoping that Arthur's attempt would do the trick. She didn't think she had anymore gas left in the tank to deal with a defiant three year old.

A frown formed on the little girl's face as she realized that the situation was not going to go in her favor. She now needed to accept that it was in fact bedtime. "No, we should listen to mumma," she admitted in a defeated tone, slumping her shoulders.

"That's a good choice," Arthur agreed with what Ava said, a smile forming on his face.

"Can you read me a story, Arfer?" she asked him, a hopeful look on her face. (Y/N) was about ready to scoff at it because she was claiming that she didn't want to read stories just moments ago.

"Sure, kiddo," he nodded before continuing, "why don't you go up and let your mum get you changed and then I'll be up to read with you?" he suggested, his eyebrows raised.

"Ok!" Ava promptly agreed, a smile on her face as she bounced over to (Y/N)'s side. (Y/N) sent her a soft smile and began to walk to the steps with her. She stopped before they were able to ascend the steps, "can we read the one about the princess and the dragon?" she excitedly asked Arthur.

"Sure we can," Arthur nodded, sending a smile to (Y/N) then, who now had a relieved look on her face.

Ava made a little sound of glee before she turned and began walking up the steps with (Y/N) following close behind.

—

Ava was adamant that she only wanted Arthur to read the story to her, so (Y/N) happily stepped out of the little girl's bedroom once she was finished helping her get ready for bed. She decided to go downstairs and work on cleaning up the living room so that it would look orderly again. Once she was finished, she sat down on the couch and tipped her head back onto the cushion.

She heard Arthur's footsteps descending the stairs not long after she got comfy. "Long day?" he asked her, making her raise her head to see his crooked smile.

"Precisely," she answered, a tired smile forming on her face as he came over to the couch. She sat up and scooted over so that he could sit next to her. "Are you staying tonight?" she asked him once he was situated.

"You want me to?" Arthur raised his eyebrows as he looked over at her. It was her house after all, and even though they'd been together for just about two years now, he still didn't want it to seem like he was overstaying his welcome.

"Of course," she smiled at him, scooting over on the couch so that she could hug him. He responded to her embrace by squeezing the shoulder of the arm that she'd draped over his torso before turning his head to the side and kissing her temple. (Y/N) relaxed against his body, finally able to take a moment to herself without worrying about what Ava might need or be doing.

She was lucky to have Arthur in her life. They met just over two and a half years ago. (Y/N) was coming out from the church she belonged to and Arthur was finding his way in. She thought it was odd for him to be entering it, especially after the service had just ended. So she followed him back in and stuck around, watching from a few pews back as he slumped down on the bench and just stared at the altar. After letting him be for some time, she just had to go up and see if he was alright.

She was a kind-hearted person, and Arthur quickly realized that. He found it easy to convey his muddied thoughts to her, and she found it easy to see the man underneath all of the things he'd done. It wasn't a surprise to either of them when they found that they couldn't get the other off their mind. Arthur asked her to dinner after one of their conversations, and the rest was history.

Arthur loved (Y/N)'s daughter, Ava, as if she were his own daughter. She wasn't though. Her father, (Y/N)'s husband, died in a terrible accident only a few months after Ava was born. It hurt (Y/N)'s heart to know that Ava wouldn't be able to meet her father, but she was thankful that she now had Arthur in her life. They took to each other right away. (Y/N) won't ever forget the fact that one of Ava's first smiles came when she was in Arthur's arms. It's no secret that they've got a sweet spot for each other. Oftentimes, like this night, she didn't know what she'd do without him.

"I think I'm going to make myself some tea to have before bed," (Y/N) stated, breaking the silence as she finally let go of Arthur so that she could stand from the couch. "Do you want anything?" she turned to ask him.

"I'm fine, love. Thank you," Arthur responded, a smile gracing his lips as he looked up at her. She nodded before turning and walking to the kitchen area. "Was she defiant all day?" Arthur asked as she went about putting the kettle of water on the stove.

"Pretty much," (Y/N) responded, going about getting herself a cup, "everything was a challenge...she wanted nothing to do with what I was saying to her," she sighed, shaking her head. It was days like today where she felt like she was failing at the whole mother thing.

Silence fell in the room as she waited for the water to boil. It did after a short while, and she carefully poured it into her cup so that she could mix the tea in with it. "I'd probably still be fighting with her had you not come in," she commented with a slight scoff as she moved the kettle off of the stove and grabbed her cup.

She then turned and began walking back to the couch. When she looked up, she saw Arthur sitting with his arms draped over the back of the couch; looking at her with a closed-mouth smile on his face. "What?" she asked him, smiling as she felt warmth spread through her body under his gaze.

"Nothin'," he answered her, shaking his head slightly as his smile widened.

She knew better than that though. "You're thinking of something, Arthur...what is it?" she called him out, her one eyebrow raised as she stopped a few feet from the couch. She wasn't going to sit until she found out what was on his mind. It was silly, and she knew that, but she was stubborn in that sense...no wonder Ava was the way she was sometimes.

Arthur chuckled at her statement, finding her defiance rather adorable. He looked her over before his smile returned. "We make a pretty good team, don't you think?" he asked her then, tipping his head to the side slightly.

The warmth inside of her grew when she heard his question, and she couldn't stop the butterflies from doing their happy dance in her stomach. She didn't expect him to say something along these lines. But she knew the answer in an instant. "We do," she agreed with him before she walked the rest of the way to the couch he was on. She carefully sat down so as to not spill the tea she had. Once she was comfortable, she turned and smiled over at Arthur. "We definitely make a good team," she repeated her sentiment, a smile on her face as Arthur leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her lips.

"Wouldn't wanna be on a team with anyone else, love," he grinned at her, and in that moment all of the stresses that had been built up within her over the day faded away.

Tagged: @the-anxious-youth @mgcldydrms @look-at-the-soul @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @stevie75 @dark-academia-slut @zablife @cillmequick @letal-y-poetica @depxiety @shelundeadxxxx @cilliansangel @areyenotfondofmelobster @just-a-blackhole @anotherblinder @christinasyellowflowers @insanitybyanothername @daisyblinder @wotcherpeak

MASTERLIST

[peakyltd]

Hello, Daisy! ❤️.

May I request this prompt "I can braid your hair for you- I mean, only if you want." + Arthur? I know this man has a soft side 🥺. Maybe he's telling that to his wife/girlfriend?

Thanks in advance 😊. Have a beautiful day!

Hi Flor! Thank you so much for your request!🥰 Gosh this prompt is so fitting for Arthur, I love his soft side 🥹

A/N: Here's some pure fluff for all of you. I loved writing soft Arthur. I take no credit for the GIF! This GIF is made by @alicent-targaryen and you can find the full post here!

Warnings: None

Word count: 1532

Anything for you

(Y/N) shivered as she entered the house. She had just finished feeding the chickens after a day full of gardening. It was getting colder and although she loved to be outside in the sun, she couldn't wait to spend more time inside in front of the fireplace with Arthur.

She took her coat of and hung it on the rack, making her way to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. As she finished it, she took the cup and moved to the living room.

The fireplace had warmed the cosy space, a clear difference with the temperature outside. She sat down on the sofa and took her book from the wooden side table.

She was focused on the words in front of her when the sound of the creaking door got her attention. “Ello, love.”

(Y/N) turned around and saw Arthur standing in the room. “Hello, darling.” She smiled. “I didn’t expect you to be this early. How was your day?” She asked him as she put her book down on the sofa.

Arthur kissed the top of her head before sitting down next to her. “It took less time than I thought.” He smiled. “It was good. Busy.” He answered as he leaned back, his arms leaning on the back of the soft cushions

“Would you like a cup of tea?” “Yes.” He answered. “It’s chilly outside.” “It is.” (Y/N) agreed, getting up to get a cup of tea.

Arthur took her book from the sofa, curious what she was reading. While he inspected the book, (Y/N) walked back in. “There you go.”

He looked up at her and put the book down, taking the cup from her. She leaned down to give him a kiss. “I’m glad you’re home.” She told him while sitting back down.

Arthur smiled. “How was your day, love?” “Good, I finally finished the dress I was working on and I did some gardening today."

“Really? The green one?” “Yes!” (Y/N) excitedly answered. “I will show it to you later. It’s very pretty though I say so myself.”

Arthur took a sip of his tea, chuckling at how excited she was about her dress. “It took me ages to finish it.” She added. “Then I have to take you out sometime, don’t you think?” Arthur asked.

“Oh yes, I would love that!” She exclaimed with joy. “How about Friday night?” He questioned her. “Sounds like a plan.”

(Y/N) was looking at herself in the mirror, satisfied with how she looked for tonight. The dress that she had worked on for so long, complimented her figure and her make up highlighted the features of her face.

She couldn’t wait to show Arthur the dress, she had kept it to herself a little longer so she could surprise him on their date.

“Arthur?” (Y/N) called out for him. “Yes, love?” A muffled voice came from downstairs. “Can you come, please?”

She heard footsteps coming up the stairs, as soon as she heard him approach the door, she opened it. There stood Arthur in his black suit, a surprised expression on his face.

“Bloody hell, (Y/N).” Arthur looked her up and down. “You look fucking gorgeous.” He breathed out, earning a giggle from her. “And you made it all by yourself?”

“I did.” She smiled. He couldn’t help but stare at her, he still couldn’t believe the beautiful woman in front of him stuck with him for such a long time and loved him for him.

“Arthur?” She giggled. “Hm?” “I asked if you found your cufflinks already.” She answered. “My- oh yes.” He lifted his arm to show her the sleeves of his dress shirt. “Right there.” He added while tapping them.

“Great. Lets see if I didn’t forget anything.” She said as she walked back to her vanity table to get her clutch. Arthur watched her, a smile on his lips.

As she made her way back to the door, she catched Arthur looking at her. “Are you ready to go?” “Almost, I just need to do this.” Arthur said before pressing a firm kiss on her lips.

Their night had been amazing. They danced and had a few drinks, their minds occupied with each other and forgetting about their daily troubles.

(Y/N) loved going out with Arthur, whether it was an event for the company, a night at the Garrison or just a simple walk, she didn’t mind as long as he was there.

The same thing went for Arthur. He enjoyed his night with her. His heart swell at the sight of her laughing about something he told her and he loved to see the smile on her face when they were dancing.

He wouldn’t admit it to her but he liked to show her off. He liked to see the faces of the men who were watching them. Showing them that they would never have a chance. Although somewhere he was scared she would suddenly change her mind someday.

Once they arrived home, (Y/N) decided to go upstairs to change. She took off her shoes and sat down on the bed, a content sigh falling from her lips.

“Did you enjoy your night?” Arthur asked her as he walked into their shared bedroom. He took of his suit jacket and sat down next to her.

“I did, I loved it.” She smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips. Arthur returned the favor. “Me too, love.”

“What if I’ll get changed and maybe we could have a drink downstairs after?” She asked him. “Can’t say no that that, eh?” He smiled at her.

(Y/N) took of her dress, with a little insisted help from Arthur. She put on her nightgown and robe and sat down at her vanity table. She took her brush and carefully brushed her hair.

Arthur watched her, the serenity of what was in front of him made him feel calm. He could watch her do the simplest things and it would make him feel at ease.

(Y/N) put down her brush and starting braiding her hair to keep it from knotting. She started the braid on the back of her head but soon enough her arms started to become tired.

She sighed as she started over. Her next attempt didn’t turn out for the better and she let her arms rest on the table for a minute.

“I can braid your hair for you.” Arthur offered. “-I mean only if you want.” (Y/N) looked at him trough the mirror. “Really?” She asked. “Yeah.”

“Well, okay.” She smiled at him. “Do you know how to braid?” She asked, not too sure about his ability. “A little bit, I’ve braided Ada’s hair before when she was little.” He told her, a smile forming on his lips.

“I didn’t know that.” “It’s my secret talent.” He joked. “Oh really? Do you have more secret talents.” She asked. “Most of them you already know, love.” He said as he got up, a small smirk played on his face.

(Y/N) chuckled, shaking her head. “I guess I’m very lucky that my man has so many talents then.” “That, my love, you are.” He agreed, brushing his fingers trough his hair, separating three strands.

Arthur carefully braided her hair, it felt soft between his fingers. These kind of moments reminded him of simpler times. Sometimes he wished he could go back and live a peaceful life together with (Y/N). On the other hand, they would never had achieved what they have now.

As Arthur was in deep thoughts, a strand of her hair got stuck between his fingers which resulted in him pulling it a bit too hard. “I’m sorry.” He immediately apologized to her. He looked in the mirror, making sure she was okay. “Don’t worry, it didn’t hurt that much.” She assured him.

He carefully continued until he finished the braid. “You’re all set.” He said, proudly looking at her braid. “I’ve still got it.” He smiled.

(Y/N) took the braid and put it over her shoulder. “It’s so pretty!” She smiled, turning sideways to look at the rest of her hair in the mirror.

“You’re amazing!” She happily exclaimed as she got up. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome, love.” Arthur replied, sneaking his arms around her waist as hers found their way around his neck.

“You do know that this won’t be the last time you’ll have to do this?” She jokingly questioned him. “I don’t mind, I’d do anything for you.” He told her as he stroked her back.

“What did I do to deserve such an amazing man like you?” She wondered as she looked into his eyes. “You mean what did I do to deserve you.” He corrected her.

“I love you so much.” “I love you too, darling.” Arthur smiled as they stared in each others eyes.

The loving gaze of the woman in front of him made him feel so many things at once but one of the best things was, that a man like him could be loved by a woman like her and he never had to worry about her changing her mind.

[dream-this-nightmare-over]

John Shelby imagine

For all my John girlies!

hi @shelundeadxxxx :))))

As always, you can find this and many more imagines in my book of imagines

How many times have you thought to yourself if only I talked less, none of this would happen. If I learnt how to keep my mouth shut, everyone would move on in their ignorance and I wouldn't have to go through ordeal all too well known and expected of being scolded reprimanded shushed for speaking my mind. Peace is fractured ice in winter that permanently teases coming of spring if you are brave enough to break through. But there is always someone waiting on surface with hammer and axe to push you back under.

It's not the truth that scares. Aftermath is foreseeable agony. No weather check needs to announce emergency alarm for storm that is hurling once unleashed. To fight injustice with scarred armor is to walk through downpour in tattered raincoat and wonder later how you caught cold.

Y/n slept counted hours filled notebooks with filthy words in flowery handwriting. There were no books here but old photo albums coughing dust and history is best to leave unbothered. In house of screaming people, even ghosts hide grateful they have somewhere to escape. Our ghosts are ashamed of ourselves. Thought brought small smiles to y/p face. John didn't believe in ghosts. He would tease you till you were both rolling on the floor, him trickling you then nuzzling his face in your neck and cuddling in tight warm embrace till it was time to part. He knew how much you needed someone to just hold you tight to feel presence of another heart close to yours to calm you down and convince yours it's alive and loved and acknowledged. You would wrap yourself in his hug and he would watch you silently as you gave yourself to calm you only ever felt when you were together, calm washing over your heart leaving demons stranded cut off for time being. but john is brave; he does what he wants and he never gets caught.

All your bravery ever brought you is running away crying yourself to sleep telling yourself to breath soothing your heart that everything will be okay. No one ever listened to you. They treated your words like child's blabbering, like you haven't went through shit to see the truth But john saw you. 'I will marry you whenever you say you are ready' And you would thousand times already if there weren't your mother's tears flowing in your memory and father's helplessness to take back words make them unsaid.

Her relationship with John and Shelby fam had nothing to do with fact that she was being held as prisoner in her grandmother's home. It was the words she spoke, the bravery to talk back. Psycho granny who cant deal with world changing, people leaving, so she inserts herself in narrative as tyrannic matriarch when irl she is nothing but nuisance. Except when she locks you up, and leaves you to starve hoping it will teach you some respect and love. Funny how people believe you can force someone to respect you. Respect is earned. As for love, most elusive force of universe, yet there are still people out there who demand it like it's another thing you can trade on market. Suppose you can. But not the real kind.

John was one person who came into y/n's life and made breathing and loving seem like easiest things in world. They were best of pals, he never asked of her anything, but to be happy. When she was sad, he would go out of his way to make her laugh again, for he knew storms are here to pass and making it to the other side is always easier with friend by your side.

His adoration with y/n was evident to everyone, besotted from head to toe, if needed he would burn down every fucker and whole world that dared spill tears down y/n's cheeks. It was his girl. No one was allowed to mess with what is most prescious to Shelbys.

Y/n tried the door knob. Ran y/p fingers between door and frame gripping on surface testing to pull it open, scratching y/p nails down the wall then running back under covers before someone came and saw what y/p has done.

Time passed no one came. It seemed the world forgot about just another child who thought too much. Did Shelby's really didn't notice their friend missing?

Sun went up and went down, marking fourth day that y/n grandma locked y/p away for having opinion. guess that's how world works. It breaks your heart and takes your dreams and stomps out your hope and then sneers in your face asking why you didnt fight harder.

y/n was exhausted and defeated. Curled on carpet y/p could feel life seeping out as y/p whole body went in hibernation state. After seventh day, Only the mind was alive. Drenched in sweat, dizzy from hunger, whole world was dancing in peripheral but no one reached out a hand. She passed out from hunger several times, not bothering anymore to get back on her feet or drag her limp exhausted body on bed.

She was drifting through motions, not sure anymore what is real and what not. john was there aparation stepping from behind curtains, galaxy of freckles spinning on celling above her, his laugh seeping from memories all around her, his soft gaze those familiar blues telling her everything will be alright just like he always did when they would roll on floor his nonchalance and deep care hiding under soft touch as he caresses her face his sunrays reaching for soul underneath battered skin. As the passing clouds snuffed out the sunlight, casting whole room in sudden darkness, his blues would get stern and serious, gangster who knows what's the price to pay for every indulgence, he would tell her to hold on just a little longer. But her tortured mind on brink of collapsing would let go and drift in darkness, falling and watching blue lights of home on surface getting smaller and on the end eventually closing up, hope dangerously tethering just out of reach as darkness closed around her.

He will come, he promised. He will notice my absence, I am more than my silence.

She went out thinking back to days they spent sneaking out of crowded Garrison to make snowmen and have snowball fights in winter of their youth. John's smile flushed cheeks, his arms around her shoulders will she ever feel home again?

Next time she woke up, it was with bang.

It was early morning, dawn has barely risen when doors splintered in parts as someone force opened them.

Too weak to jolt, vibrations glided off y/p frame, just a lump of clothes on floor.

John comes in, impatience and worry all over his face, on his heels are his brothers checking for possible threats and surprises hiding in plain sight. But there was nothing there but one body on the carpet, wrapped in itself, peering at them through glassy stare.

John is wild with furry on the way there, collecting the gang ready for fight. Arthur and Tommy knew there was no stopping him, and when they heard how dire situation really was, they were ready in no time to take arms and end it for good. y/n was family, and attack on one is attack on all.

For her, John becomes softball. He marches into room kneeling down beside her body. Checking the pulls, he takes y/n in his arms laying her on settee. Gently touching her cheek relief flooding his features as your eyes open and find his.

'what made you take so long?' y/n tries weakly, always the one ready to crack the joke in every misfortune.

he pulls her in hug as answer. Restless, on verge of breaking, he gathers her in his arms, smell of lemon and tobacco envelopes her senses 'oh y/n, my dearest y/n'

she pulls back and he takes good look at her, cursing for ever letting her out of his sight. He turns around giving Tommy and Arthur a sign to go on with the plan.

'i am getting you out and burning this whole shithole down. "

Through haze y/n watch herself reaching towards his cheek half believing her hand will pass through another ghost of dearest face.

John takes her hand from his face and planta hard kiss on her palm.

"john, thoughts of you made me survive in this room"

There was warmth where cold stale breath of hallucination hanged and was being slowly dispersed as familiar blues stirred her heart back to life.

'i am so sorry for letting this happen. I should have been there. You are always on my mind, little one. i got held back, and - gosh- y/n, you mean too much to me to ever let anyone come close to you again' And they are both lost in embrace of thousand promises that no time or adversaries will stand a chance against bond stretching between them.

John wraps you in his coat, protective arm around you, smirk and toothpick in corner of his mouth as you descend the stairs and are joined by Tommy who is lighting his cigarette. 'Brother," he says handing John the match.

Tommy ushers you out on driveway where you wait for john to catch up. Arthur smiles fatherly, dusting his sleeves. 'No worries, mfs will pay for this.' Tommy shots him look that said 'don't ruin the surprise' fixing John's now yours coat then cradling your head to his chest in embrace. 'You alright, love?' he asks. You nod eating apple your first meal in a while, that Arthur produced from inside his coat, and he takes it as cue not to push it any further.

'I got it under control' You manage to make out through clattering teeth once John comes back. He pulls you closer planting a kiss on side of your head. 'I know you did, darling. I just brought logistics for final touch'

At that moment bomb blasts behind you, taking apart in explosion of embers that house of misery. It shakes the ground but john tucks you safely beside him as you all walk away together through smoke of new beginnings.

one foot in front of other, board the train and live out rest of your lives never leaving each other side.

[mindful-of-ideas]

Hot Summer Days

Peaky Blinders One Shot

Summary: At the end of the summer, Thomas decides it's time for the family to go on a well-deserved beach vacation. While you only work for him, you wound up getting invited.

A/N: I tried to leave this open in regards to pairing, hopefully it worked but maybe it feels like everyone is flirting with you. Also, this was supposed to be an imagine but you wouldn’t believe how hard it is to find the proper gif sometimes.

It came to you as a surprise when you heard that the Shelby family was planning a trip to the beach. Sure, you knew they could use the break and deserve some time away from the city, especially Finn, but that they would acknowledge that was surprising. Almost unsettling if you were being honest.

If something suspicious was looming under this trip, you had to make sure no one was going to get hurt.

Not physically, of course, but emotionally. This had slowly became your job ever since you got hired by Thomas Shelby himself. Officially, you were his secretary. Making sure papers were in order, reminding him of official and officious meetings, seeing that the boys weren’t too rowdy in the betting shop. Just your average secretary job. Things changed when it became apparent that you needed a desk and the only place available was near the entrance of the betting shop. Now, your job included greeting everyone as they came in. Slowly, you picked up on their habits. Arthur was not to be talked to before he had his coffee. Thomas would always greet you but only nod in your direction if something was on his mind. John would always take the time to talk to you. Finn would stop running up and down the shop if you took the time to ask him what he learned today. Ada only popped by when she needed something from Thomas or when she was sad and needed someone to listen to her. Esme, even if she would never admit it, always gushed over all of John's kids. Arthur takes his coffee black but with one sugar; it’s nicer on his stomach he says.

So if this trip the the beach was just a cover-up for something bigger, something nastier, you had to know. Otherwise, life could become unbearable at the betting shop.

You barely had a foot in the door when a loud voice yapped at you.

“Y/N, my office,” said Thomas sternly, “Now.”

The room had gone quiet. You quickly glanced at John but he looked as confused as you did. Could Thomas have known about what you were planning on asking him? Could he take offence to that? Maybe you got too eager, put your nose where you shouldn’t have? Could he even fire you for that? You couldn’t afford to lose this job. You couldn’t afford to get fired by the Shelbys out of all people.

You stepped into Thomas’ office shaking, your palms sweating.

“Please, sit down,” Thomas said gesturing to the chair facing him across his desk.

You did, maybe a little bit too slowly. You stared at your shoes, not daring to meet his eyes.

“Y/N, is everything okay? You look pale.”

If there was genuine worry in his voice, you couldn’t hear it over the buzzing that was now in your ears.

“I’m… I’m fine…” you finally said, “Just a bit tired I guess…”

“That’s perfect then,” he said clapping his hands together and making you jump, “Not that you are tired of course, that’s not what I meant… I…”

Now hearing his hesitation, you looked up. Thomas seemed uncomfortable. He was slowly scratching the back of his head, looking down, almost as if he was embarrassed.

“I meant… I was planning on taking everyone, the whole family, away on a vacation. To the beach as you may have heard. And I real vacation I might add. Just the sun, the waves, and… what I mean is… would you come with us?”

With his question, he looked up at you but your gaze had gone back to the floor.

“Y/N?” he asked quite firmly.

You looked up again.

“That’s better,” he said, “Now, will you come?”

But you were too stoned to say anything. Not only the vacation plan was real but you could go with them as well.

“It’s just that, you know, Finn really seems to like you,” Thomas started, “And so does Ada and Esme… it would be really nice if you could make it…“

Was he trying to convince you?

“… can get a word out of Arthur before noon. And with John, you’re just…”

“Yes!” you blurted out before he could finish, “I’ll be there!”

“Great!” he said smiling at you, “We leave tomorrow morning. Be here at 6:30 sharp.”

He gestured towards the door, inviting you to leave before getting back to his work.

As you got out of the office, you couldn’t help but smile. Yes, you were thrilled to get the time off and to go out with people you might just start calling friends, but mostly you were happy to know that your work had not gone unnoticed. But you barely had time to enjoy the moment. You could only take a few steps towards your desk before feeling a hard slap on your back. You turned around, a bit angry only to see a beaming Arthur.

“Moving up the ladder I see,” he said excitedly, “Next thing you know you’ll be part of the family! I can’t wait for tomorrow,” he added more quietly.

As soon as the day was over, you rushed home. 6:30 a.m. was early. Way too early. You still had to find clothes and your swimsuit. You hoped it still fit you. Living in Birmingham, there are not many opportunities to go to the beach. The last time you saw the ocean was probably well over ten years ago. You were still a child back then. But your mother had always told you to be ready for anything, so a few years back, after seeing that it was on sale, you bought a swimsuit. Just in case. Just in case you got invited by Thomas fucking Shelby to go to the beach with his family. In what world could something like this happen.

This one apparently. And your mother would tell you to seize the day and not look back. You grab the only bag big enough to fit all your things. Swimsuit, check. Towel, check. Sunglasses, check. Sandals, check. Hat, check. You went down your list until everything was in your bag. In the end, it was much and the bag closed easily. It was already past midnight when you finally laid on your bed and went to sleep.

At 6:30 a.m. sharp, the cars left for the ocean. You ended up squeezed between an overexcited Finn and a less-than-happy Arthur. It was way too early for him.

The ride wasn’t too long, just a little over two hours. As soon as you got out of the car, you were met with a whirling wind. Your hair danced crazily in front of your eyes. With one hand holding your bag you struggled to keep it under control.

“Here,” said Esme, “give your bag to John, I’ll help you.”

Still half blind, you lifted up your bag in front of you, hoping that this was where John was.

“Now,” said Esme raking her hands through your hair, “let me take care of this for you.”

Gently, she combed your hair back and started braiding it. A few strands from the front of your head escaped and started dancing in the wind again.

“You tell me if I hurt you,” she said. But you couldn’t hear a thing over the wind that has now picked up again.

“What!” you said hoping to be loud enough.

She leaned in closer to you.

“Tell me to stop if it hurts, okay?” she whispered gently in your ear.

You nodded slightly, not wanting to move too much and ruin your hair. A few moments later, she was done. You felt the cold wind on your neck before Esme wrapped her arm around it.

“Let’s go find the boys now!” she said before forcing you down the sandy hills and towards the beach.

When you got there, Thomas and John were already laying blankets under beach umbrellas while Arthur was still struggling to put his up. You knew asking him if he needed help was a bad idea but you had no other choice.

“Need a hand,” you asked gently.

He was struggling with keeping the umbrella at the right angle while hammering it down for it to stay in place. He grumbled something you couldn’t quite hear but took as a ‘yes’. You got to your knees and grabbed the umbrella with both hands. Arthur inclined it properly before hammering down a rock on its top. It took a few hits but it eventually was deep enough in the sand for it to hold in place.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, “You’ll wanna sit with me?”

“Sure,” you said grinning.

You placed down your towel by his before grabbing your bag again.

“Does anyone know where we can get changed?” you asked, mostly looking towards Ada and Esme.

“There’s a hut right by there,” Thomas answered first, vaguely pointing behind him towards yet more sandy hills.

“I guess I’ll have to figure it out myself,” you mumbled passing right by him.

And you did. Not far from where you had settled, there were a dozen of brightly coloured cabins all lined up neatly by a boardwalk. You quickly changed, keeping on an oversized shirt to cover your shoulder from the sun. It used to be your dad and went down to your mid-thigh. After a quick glance at yourself, you decided it was best to leave the last few buttons open. It looked better, but mostly it felt more comfortable.

You walked back down to the beach, your arms interlaced with Ada and Esme’s. Even from far away, you could see the boys running on the beach. What they were running for was however unclear.

“Are they…?” you started, not sure how to finish your question.

“Playing football?” Ada completed, “Yes! It’s been such a long time since I played with them too, come on!”

With that, she started running, dragging Esme and you behind her. Quickly, the teams were changed as you ended up facing Thomas, John and Esme. Your team was losing. Badly. Something about being too aggressive and not having enough strategy. As Ada and Arthur blocked the other team, you managed to get ahold of the ball. Without missing a beat, you ran up your makeshift field. As you were about to kick the ball, and hopefully score, John came out of nowhere, trying to steal it from you. You struggled to push him back, unknowingly drifting towards the water.

“It’s over Y/N!” roared John.

“Unless…” you started while trying to outsmart him.

You kicked the ball in between John’s legs and took a step forward trying to get control of it. But John stepped forward too, making you tumble backwards. Next thing you knew, you were in the water, John over you.

“Oh shit, sorry,” said John quickly getting up and offering you a hand.

“It’s… it’s okay,” you said between two coughs.

He pulled you up with a little bit more strength than you expected. You stumbled forward, catching yourself on John’s chest.

“Woah, easy there,” he said taking your hand and his.

“Sorry…” you said feeling the red rise to your cheeks.

“I’m messing with you, come on!” he said gently pushing the ball towards you.

Quickly, you took the ball back and sprinted towards the goal, scoring. The game went on, the score tied. As you tried to get in one last goal, you and Finn kicked the ball at the same time, sending it flying away.

“I’ll get it,” you both said at the same time, sprinting towards the ball.

The ball came to a stop in front of three tall men, all dressed in black suits.

“So sorry to have disturbed you,” you said politely, “We’ll just get the ball back…”

But one of the men put his feet on it before picking it up from the ground.

“Look, we don’t want any trouble…” you said now more quietly feeling that the situation was escaping your control.

“And what can someone as pretty as you give me in exchange for the ball?” the man asked stepping towards you.

You stepped back, but Finn stepped in front of you.

“Kid, move out the way,” the man said, pushing Finn to the side.

Finn struggled to keep his balance but came right back by your side.

“Now, come on,” the man went on, “I’m sure you can think of something.”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Finn whispered in your ear, “If they get too close, I’ll fight them off.”

You had trouble believing him after what you had just witnessed, but the thought was still comforting.

“You know what,” the man said, “Maybe I’ll just take what I want.”

He dropped the ball and made his way up to you. Finn grasped your hand and you held it as tight as you could. Before you could even will your body to run away, a loud voice snapped at the man.

“Don’t take another step,” Thomas said from behind you.

The man stopped dead in his tracks. He hesitated for a moment and then started laughing.

“Oh, come on man. I’ll let you have a turn after if that’s what you want.”

You looked over your shoulder. Thomas looked serious, dead serious, but you could tell there was a point of anger in him.

“Finn, get a move on,” he said walking towards you.

Finn went running back to his family. Thomas wrapped an arm around your shoulder, making you realize that you were shivering.

“Now,” Thomas said calmly, “you have two choices. Either you turn around and leave this beach, or you take another step forward and I make sure you, your friends and your whole family can never see the sun again.”

“Mate, come on! We were just having some fun,” the man said still smiling.

Somehow, that creeped you out even more and made you want to disappear from that man’s sight. You made yourself as small as possible against Thomas.

“Mate…” the man said now hesitating as Thomas’s face was still serious.

“Have you heard of the Peaky Blinders?” Thomas asked slowly.

But before you knew it, the men had turned away and were gone.

“You’re okay Y/N?” Thomas asked, looking down at you.

“Yeah… yeah I think I’m fine.”

“Let’s get back to the others,” he said.

“Y-yes.”

He kept his arm wrapped around your shoulders, his fingers lightly grasping your shirt sleeve.

The rest of the day went by quietly. Before you knew it, it was time to leave and go back to gloomy Birmingham.

“Can we get like ten more minutes?” Ada asked Thomas.

“No,” he answered simply.

“Five then,” she pleaded, “I promise, just five more minutes.”

“Fine,” Thomas finally agreed.

“Y/N, with me,” she ordered as she ran up the beach.

You were back by the boardwalk, but Ada made you turn away from the rainbow cabins this time. After just a few steps, you understood why she had brought you here. Ice cream.

“We’ll take two vanilla, two chocolate and one strawberry,” she said, “and it’s my treat,” she added before you could even say anything.

“Wha- well thanks,” you said slightly embarrassed.

As the vendor started handing the ice creams to her, she stuffed two in your hands.

“Yours and mine,” she said.

“Strawberry,” you said smiling, “you remembered.”

“Of course I did!” she said, “Now let’s go before they melt.

Giggling you made your way back down the hill. This truly had been the most amazing summer day.

[midnightswithdearkatytspb]

“She’ll let you into the parts of herself that’ll bring you down. She’ll let you in her heart if you got a hammer and a vise. But into her secret garden, don’t think twice. // There’ll be tenderness in the air. She’ll let you come just far enough so you know she’s really there. Then she’ll look at you and smile, and her eyes’ll say she’s got a secret garden. Where everything you want, where everything you need will always stay a million miles away...” – Bruce Springsteen • “Secret Garden”

“You saved me, Beth. Perhaps it’s time you allowed me to protect you from whatever demons you allow to darken your beautiful mind.” Arthur ran his thumb over his fiancé's cheek catching the lone tear that fell.

There was still so much Arthur and Beth didn't know about each other's past, but it had been a silent agreement the past was the past, and it should stay there behind them. They were each other's future, a hope for so much more. They guided each other out of the darkness. At least Beth did that for Arthur.

“Oh Arthur, my sweet, gentle Arthur. It seems I'm having a case of melancholia. I'll be fine, especially with you at my side. I can face anything.” Beth grabbed ahold of Arthur’s hand and placed it in her lap after kissing the tips of his fingers. Times like this Arthur wished he knew Beth’s story before the Thorne club, before she came to Birmingham, but the past was the past.

“Together, we can do anything.” Arthur kissed her soft lips before pulling Beth’s gentle body into his lap and snuggled into her neck, taking in her signature lavender scent. With Beth at his side, he could take on the world, but living with her was perfect.

I hope you enjoyed this little blurb for Arthur and Beth, my OC I made for him. She belongs in my In This Heart universe. You can make a request for both Arthur x Beth and Tommy x Estella.