#as an additional note i think tommy (shelby) and arthur could do with their own cathartic brotherly mma fight

[dandelionfool]

completed one of my regular warrior (2011) rewatches last week

[allthewriteplaces]

A Magnolia In May ~ Chapter Twenty-Two

Author's Note: It's been a while since I've posted anything about our beloved Shelby clan, but hopefully this funny filler chapter will make up for the absence. Also, there won't be a chapter next week because I'm going on a trip to a cottage with the family!! Chapter Summary: There might be a new addition to the Shelby family in the coming months.

Chapter Warnings: None, just overall chaos.

Word Count: 2369

Chapter Twenty-Two

Minutes turned into hours and before we knew it, it was past nine o’clock, past some of the kids’ bedtimes. It was arranged that for tonight, everyone could stay here and then leave in the morning, since even in an area as safe as this, it wasn’t ideal to go travelling at night. 

It was evident the kids wouldn’t be going to sleep anytime soon, what with all the excitement that was going on, therefore, Arthur proposed that the best and most reasonable approach to this little dilemma was to let them all stay up as late as they wanted to in hopes that they’d eventually tire themselves out. The only rule that was set, was that they play nicely and quietly. 

Most of the time was spent catching up with one another. 

Lizzie did end up announcing that she was seeing someone else, much to everyone’s surprise and delight, including Thomas’ and from what she told us, he seemed like a good and honest man and Polly insisted on meeting him immediately, to which Lizzie jokingly responded that she doesn’t want to scare him away. In a more serious tone, she added, 

“That’s also why I don’t want him to meet Ruby and Charlie yet. It’s not that I don’t think he’ll love them. I have mentioned them multiple times in conversation, but the last thing I want to do is confuse them. You know, they already have a dad, and adding a new person to the mix, they might not know what to call them.” 

“When John and I married,” Esme said, “his kids just called me Esme. I didn’t ask them to call me ‘mum’ until they were ready to do so, even though he kept insisting that they do. I knew it wasn’t easy for them, losing their mother, so I didn’t want to rush them. Sure, our situations are different, but you get what I mean.” 

“I do,” Lizzie answered. 

I sat there a minute, minding my own business, but then I turned to her. 

“You know, I thought the same thing when Thomas and I first got together; the children already have a mother --” I gestured to her “-- and the last thing I want is to take that away  from you and make you feel like you’re being replaced.” 

“Hardly,” she said with a laugh. “Perhaps if you were Miss Carleton or Tatiana, I wouldn’t have gone down so easily. I would have done whatever it took to keep my children as far away from your influence as possible, but you’re different from them, I would be a fool not to see it. You’re not just with Tommy because of his status or to stay off his bad side, you love him. With every fibre of your being.” 

“I do,” I answered with a nod. 

“You’re as much a Shelby now as the rest of us,” said Arthur. 

“Speaking of Miss Carleton, we do have a meeting on Friday,” Thomas put in. 

“Goodie,” Lizzie groaned sarcastically, which made him laugh. “And who’s we?” 

“I don’t mean it literally, I mean as in myself,” he corrected himself. 

“Well then, why didn’t you just say I have a meeting?” she countered. 

“You know what I meant,” he said, rolling his eyes and sipping his whiskey. 

“This is what you have to look forward to,” said Polly, shaking her head and gesturing to Thomas and Lizzie as they bickered, much like children would and I had to purse my lips together to keep from smiling. 

“What on Earth is there to talk about anyway? I thought you quit betting on horses after the last time. You said it went horribly and the horse ended up--” 

“One, he was already sick,” he answered, his voice deepening with controlled irritation at Lizzie having brought up a sore spot in Thomas’ past. “Two, she is here to see one of our horses in the stables. She hasn’t been herself these past few weeks and since she has owned horses before, she might be able to determine what’s wrong with her and if not, I will phone a doctor to come and check on her.” 

“Her?” Aunt Eliza raised an eyebrow. 

“Yes,” he answered. “Grace’s Secret is a girl horse.” 

“Hmm…” she nodded. 

We all noticed how she trailed off and Thomas tilted his head to one side. 

“Hmm?” I asked, repeating her response. 

“You don’t think she could be…” she continued slowly. 

“Could be what?” he asked. 

She hesitated. “Is there a chance she could be pregnant?” 

Thomas’ glass nearly slipped from his hand and landed on the floor, shattering into a million pieces and staining the ground with the alcohol inside of it. 

I thought back to when I’d gone to clean out the stables while the children were in the schoolroom and I’d seen her and another horse together and it looked to me that things had gotten very intimate. 

I mentioned it to Thomas later on that day as I washed and dried the dishes but we didn’t think much of it, considering there was little chance it would happen. Now all of her symptoms made sense: She’d been grazing a lot more these past couple of weeks and she tired more easily, she kept looking at her abdomen and holding her tail up. 

“It happened once with our mare. We thought she’d gotten into some bad grass and was sick, but no, our stablehand told us she was expecting. Albert and I were shocked. We had no idea how to care for a pregnant horse, but he was with us every step of the way, showed us what to do and when the foal arrived, she was a happy, healthy little thing.” 

“I remember that,” I said, “You both woke us up just before the sun came up and we saw it all happen. Alice cried because she thought it was gross, seeing all the blood.” 

She laughed. “Poor thing. She wouldn’t come out of her room for hours.” 

Ada smiled. “At least we don’t have to do it standing up.” 

“True,” said Lizzie, “I thought I was going to pass out having Ruby, and I was laying down in a comfortable bed the whole time.” 

“Try having twins,” said Eliza, “Sure, I had some time in between to rest, but still, it took a lot of energy out of me.” 

“They still do,” I laughed, to which she had to laugh as well. 

“They do,” she nodded, “but it’s worth every minute I get to spend with them.” 

Uncle Albert put his arm around her and held her close. 

“Cheers, Tommy,” said Ada, “You’re going to be a grandfather.” 

“I’m not sure that’s how it works,” Esme replied. 

“Sure it is, he raised her, and now she’s having a child.” 

“True, but he’s a human,” said Linda, “she’s a horse, in order for her to be his child, he would have to be a horse as well, and so would Ruby and Charlie and so would all of us and not to mention, Jessie and Tommy wouldn’t be able to--” 

“Great, Now you put the image of us with horse bodies in my head!” 

“You’re welcome,” Linda grinned. 

“I was being sarcastic.” 

“Well, so was I.” 

“Really, I didn’t notice.” 

“I don’t want to picture it, either,” said Lizzie, rubbing her temples. 

“No one asked for your opinion, Nancy,” Linda snapped. 

“It’s Lizzie and you know it!” she said, pointing at her. 

“Wouldn’t our top half be human and bottom half be horse?” said Ada. 

“It’s still uncanny,” said Lizzie. 

“I don’t have a single clue what’s going on anymore,” Ben said, confused. 

Aberama looked around awkwardly as the ladies continued to argue, fixing his hat to give himself something to do.  “I stopped listening after food was mentioned.” 

“No one said anything about food,”  said Arthur. 

“Exactly.” 

Thomas. cleared his throat, clearly not finding a single part of this discussion amusing even though the rest of us were trying hard not to laugh too loudly as to rouse suspicion. “I’m going to need more whiskey for this conversation.” 

“Make it a double!” Ben called as he walked away. 

For once, Thomas Shelby, who always had an answer to everything, who would outlive the Good Lord, Himself trying to have the last word, was rendered speechless. 

I watched him get off the couch and go into the cellar to retrieve another bottle. 

“Who knew something like that would rattle him,” Arthur observed. 

“I’ve seen him get pretty worked up over things like this,” said Polly, “he just needs some time to calm down, get his head on straight, then he’ll know what to do.” 

He came back and then sat down next to me, looking calmer, but still dazed by the shock of the news that was just dropped at his feet. 

“Tommy, a pregnant horse is not the end of the world,” she continued once he’d taken a drink from his new glass of whiskey. “Call a doctor, have him come take a look at her and then from there we can figure out what to do. There’s no sense worrying about it until we know for sure.” 

Thomas considered his aunt’s words. I wasn’t surprised that she was once again the voice of reason in the family, the one to pull them back when they got a little rowdy, then he set his glass down on the table and nodded. 

“You’re right, Pol,” he said softly. “I just worry about her, you know? She’s been with the family since Charlie was a baby and it’s the only part of Grace I have left.” 

Everyone was quiet and Polly leaned forward. 

“That’s not exactly true,” she began. “You still have memories of when the two of you were together, don’t you? Sure, not all of them may have been pleasant, but no matter how bad things got, the love was always there. And you two shared some very happy moments, like the first time you took her dancing, and your wedding day, and the birth of your son.” 

She paused for a moment and said in a much lower, more reassuring voice,

“No one can take those happy memories away from you.” 

He met her gaze and I thought for one second, his eyes gleamed with tears. It made me want to reach out and comfort him, to put an arm around his shoulder, to hold him and tell him it was all going to be alright. 

But I didn’t. I could tell this was one of those moments where he didn’t necessarily want physical affection, and he said later on that my silent presence was more than enough to keep him grounded. 

He seemed to be thinking about something for a long while, but he came back down to Earth a few seconds later and smiled one of those rare Thomas Shelby smiles before saying, “Why’re there so many sad faces here, eh? This is a party. We should be celebrating.” 

“Actually,” said Esme, standing up, her long, stunning curls falling in front of her face as she did so. “I think I’ll be heading off to bed. We have a long journey ahead of us and if I’m going to survive the drive in the carriage with the kids, I’m going to need all the sleep I can get.” 

She went upstairs and I didn’t miss the wink she threw my way. 

I wondered what she meant by it, but I didn’t have much time to ponder it because Aberama and Polly also rose from their places, stating that they, too, were going to be heading back home right after breakfast. 

“Make sure this one gets some sleep,” she told me while looking at Thomas, who tilted his head to one side innocently. 

“I will,” I reassured her. 

“Good girl,” she answered and the three of them went upstairs. 

The rest of us stayed down for a little while longer. It was almost midnight by the time we all went to bed. Even by midnight, the children were all asleep, including my cousins, who had been known to stay up past their bedtime when there was just too much excitement. 

For tonight, I elected to stay in my own room so as not to rouse suspicion and to not tempt Thomas into staying up late. 

“But it’s my birthday,” he protested, his voice whiny like a child. 

“No buts, Mister Shelby. I promised your aunt I would make sure you get some rest, and you can make those puppy dog eyes at me all you want, it’s not going to work.” 

“How do you know it won’t work?” 

“Because I have cared for more than enough children to know how this whole thing works and I can be quite strict when it comes to following the rules of the household, yours included.” 

“I can’t sleep without you, though,” he pleaded. 

It was clear he would try every trick in the book to make me give in, but while his tactics were well thought out and carefully planned, so were mine. 

Still, we could compromise, that was something that worked in the children’s and their parents’ favours in the past, and maybe it would work for us as well. 

“Fine. If you promise to go right to sleep, no funny business, I will stay in your room with you.” 

He pretended to think it over, tapping his finger against his chin. 

“Very well,” he said after a few seconds. “No funny business.” 

“Good,” I said and then after I changed into my nightgown, I went down the hallway and went into his room, closing the door softly behind me.  

He was grinning like he’d just won a gambling match by the time I slid into the bed next to him. I playfully rolled my eyes and turned onto my side facing away from him. His arm wrapped around my middle to hold me in one spot, he kissed my shoulder and my neck once. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. “This was the best birthday I’ve had.” 

I smiled to myself, snuggling up closer to him. 

Then shortly afterwards, I heard him snore softly.

To Be Continued. Taglist: @cillmequick @zablife @sherbitdibdab @runnning-outof-time @izabesworld

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Hi! First off I want to say how incredible ur Peaky imagines are, I love them! I’m new to your blog but it’s sooo good! And could I possibly request a Finn Shelby x reader imagine where the reader works for the blinders and one day comes into work with a hickey or two on her neck and everyone (accept Finn of course😂) is very confused as to who gave it to her. When they figure out it’s Finn they’re all really confused as to how they didn’t suspect anything was going on between them, and maybe John or Arthur are like “no way did our Finn do that” or “I thought Finn was still a virgin” and just like making them blush and stuff. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I understand. Just take your time and take care of urself! Keep up the incredible work❤️

This was such a sweet request and message! Welcome to the blog! I'm so happy you are enjoying my stuff!

Thank you for being so patient!!!! I know this is a Finn x reader but a lot of it is from Tommy's POV, hope that's okay.

Warnings: None but they originally think she has been sexually assaulted so they approach it in a heavy way. Sorta angsty. Light and fluffy ending plus some head canons! Lots of dad Tommy vibes because I can't help myself.

Thomas didn’t have the time to notice everything. There were complex layers to how the business ran and keeping the darker layers off of everyone else around him took more hours than the sun provided. Things that were not life or death often had to be placed on the back burner regardless of the personal consequences. 

Walking in the door to his office he said good morning to the girls in the office as he always did. Lizzy gave a curt nod, and his receptionist prattled on about any notable news. Then as every morning she told him a horrible joke, big eyes watching for a reaction, and as always he nodded and moved into his office. Everything felt ordinary as he moved into his office. Tommy made a mental note to buy her a nicer scarf, the one wrapped around her neck was oddly familiar and horrible.. 

Sitting down in his chair he wished that there was a cure for the tiredness seeping into his bones. 

As always, he heard John before he saw him. Sounded like he was giving the girl a hard time, something that was out of character for him. He didn't like the way his anger flared, and how his hands fisted at the volume of John’s voice. He heard Lizzy snap at him and things quieted down.

 The family had sort of half adopted the girl,  something that amazed him. All he heard about was how awful he was, how cursed the family is, why would they drag someone as sweet and gentle as her into a mess like this. He just didn't understand. 

She was a nice girl, and under other circumstances she would have been an addition to a family anyone would be immensely proud of, unfortunately he was unable to see her as anything more than another person to worry about. She seemed to have different feelings towards him, something he assumed had to do with an absent father. The more he pushed her away the more jokes, silly notes, and cups of tea. So he just remained neutral, more for her safety than for anything else. 

“Tommy!” John swung the door open and shut it rather loudly before walking through the dark office. 

“John?” He answered lamely, he didn't have time for this. 

“It’s one of those Changretta boys. M’sure of it. Hear them talking at the bar ‘bout her and Lizzy.” 

“What exactly is the problem eh?” He looked at John with his eyebrows raised. Men talk all the time, and often too loud for their own good. If it was deserving, John's reaction made him feel like it was, it could be handled easily enough with a beating. 

“The marks on her bloody neck! Looks like she fought off a fucking ocopus. Fuck sakes Tommy wake up and look around every now and again, it wont kill ya.” John took a deep breath. Tommy thought back to the horrible scarf. She was a part of the outer-inner circle of the family. Under his care, willing or not, people woulndt be laying their hands on her like that. 

“Alright, calm down. Lot’s on me mind right now.” He ran his hands through his hair at the thought of going in there to ask her about it. That was a fathers job, and despite the way she looked up at him,  he was most certainly not her father. He picked up the phone. 

“Who are you calling? Call Moss and have them arrested!”  Tommy fought the urge to laugh. He was going to call in an order for the whole changretta family to be arrested, it would give him the rare flicter of amusement. But that’s not how you play the long game and win these types of situations. Not to mention he doubted she would want to be swarmed by police for the rest of the day. 

Tommy stood up and moved to look through the glass on either side of his door. Whatever John had said to her made her look physically deflated, and he didn't miss the way her hand shook as she wrote. Fuck. 

The line connected. 

“Pol, can you come down to the office?” He hoped this was going to be easy. But nothing between them was ever easy. 

“What do you need now?” She said absently. 

“Y/n has been assaulted by a fucking changretta!” John called into the voice box. 

“WHAT THE FUCKING - ” She started shouting, his head started pound. He realized that taking the girl aside and talking to her himself was the best way forward. 

“Look I’m just going to ask her myself to be sure but if she’s not right can I’ll send her to yours” He hung the phone up desperately wanting this whole thing to end. 

“Go and find Arthur. I’ll talk to her about what happened.” John nodded and strode out of the room. 

Tommy called her into the office and he watched her move into the room slowly. Normally she walked with an assertiveness that he found amusing, now she walked like she was unsure if the floor would swallow her whole. He motioned for her to take a seat and she gave him a little nod. The whole time she carefully avoided making eye contact. 

She’d been shot once, shot many others, thrown men twice her size out of the office. She was young, but fierce, and to see her sit down looking defeated and nervous made his stomach twist. 

“Not sure what John said to you, but I apologize for his behavior.” He said calmly. She gave him another little nod, eyes transfixed with the pattern on the carpet. He didn't know how to get the rest of the words out of his mouth. How do you ask about something like that, she seemed completely fine before John got there.

“You don't have to tell me about what you do in your private life. But - erm” Suddenly the room was too hot, and his throat was slightly tight. “Your neck, did uh, that was something you wanted to happen?” This was ridiculous. 

“Yes, got a bit carried away” She said softly. 

“So the changretta family eh?”

“What about them?” Her eyebrows knitted together and she finally looked up at him. Seeing her eyes round with fear and confusion made him wish that she hadn't. She knew what families and gangs to avoid, Tommy knew by the way she looked at him that it wasn’t anyone she shouldn't have been messing around with. 

“They didn't give you a hard time?” 

“No” She shook her head, understanding the previous question. 

“So you weren't assaulted, and no rival gangs are bothering you?” 

“No” She looked at him and he believed her. But it was obvious there was still something weighing heavily on her. 

“And you would come to me if they were, right?” It was a simple enough question, but her eyes started to get watery and she took in a jagged breath. 

______

Finn knew something was wrong when John and Arthur piled into the Garrison. They had that look on their faces, someone was going to die, and with the way they were walking over to him ment he was going to have to help. He fucking hated being apart of their team, they always got stuck with the wost stuff. 

Arthur leaned down landing his heavy hand on his shoulder. Finn hated the way his mustache tickled his cheek. 

“Y/N’s been messed around by a Changretta. Were on the move” Finn’s stomach dropped. He’d had to kill people, seen things he really wished he hadn't, but nothing compared to the fear he felt in that moment. 

“WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE?” He boomed. Arthur cuffed the back of his head painfully, but he didnt care what Tommy wanted, she was hurting and it was his job to protect her. He needed to get to her now. 

____________

“That means a lot to me.” She whispered. 

“Something is eatin’ at you, so just tell me. I’ll help.” Was it a boyfriend? Something was wrong and he hated how much he wanted to make it right. 

“I - well I went on a date and then a few more dates, but I don't really know what the rules are - I love my job - love all of you - and I feel like I could get in trouble but i’m not sure - but asking means I could lose everything. And I wanted to be sure about the relationship before I did anything” She was almost hyperventilating. 

“Just breathe, I won’t fire you over a relationship, unless it was with a rival family.” 

“No, God, I wouldn't do something like that” Again he could tell she was telling the truth, but who else would be making her feel this guilty? “ I went out with your brother” Her face scrunched up like the words cut her to say them. 

Tommy’s head was spinning at a rate uncharted, rage found its way back to the pit of his stomach. Fucking Arthur. He was sweet to her brought coffee and treats every now and again but not more than the rest of the family did. His hands started to shake. She was much, much, much too young, and undeserving of the demons that plagued him. 

“See it’s bad isn't it, but I love him and I didn’t know how to tell any of you. God, you're mad at me!” 

“I’m not mad at you! I’m -” Be began when Polly blew the door open with Esme on her heels, but his temper had risen to a breaking point. 

“OUT!” He shouted pointing at them without taking his eyes off of her. To his surprise they backed out of the room and shut the door. She was crying properly now and Tommy got on his knees in front of her. 

“Look at me” he said calmly. She reached out and grabbed his hand.

“I’m sorry.” 

“Enough of that.” He squeezed her hand. “Arthur is a tricky man to be around, he should know better than to be putting his hands -” The door flew open again and he was about ready to pull his gun out when he saw it was Finn. His face was red and it looked like he’d ran here. Before he could tell the boy off  - his hands were on her.

“Where are you hurt?! What happened?!” His hands ran over her, and his face was set in a way that Tommy had never seen before. Finally everything clicked into place. 

The horrible familiar scarf was his mothers scarf. Finn was pulling her against his chest, crushing the poor girl in his arms.

She was going steady with Finn. 

He actually laughed. Thank fucking christ. 

 “Why are you laughin? Nothing funny bout this?!” Finn roared which only made him want to laugh harder. 

“It’s fine.” He finally said “Everything is fucking fine.” He looked down at her red face and she smiled at him. 

He left the room to give them some space. Shutting the door he looked around at the family, John and Arthur running into the room. 

“It’s just Finn. She’s going out with Finn.” 

“Finn?!” John said incredulously. “Marked up her neck like that?” 

“Can’t be our Finn, he’s barely tying his shoes.” Arthur said laughing. 

“That explains why he pissed himself in the pub” The boys started to crack jokes and Polly moved close to his side. 

“So nothing’s wrong, she's fine?” Polly said, looking at him sharply. “She’s fine. I made sure that everything is right” Tommy answered with a nod. Polly let out a breath and he hated himself for worrying her. She looked so frail when she was worried like that. 

“How did he score her in the first place? We sure he’s not black mailing her into it?” Isaha was there, joining in on it now. Tommy looked into his office and saw Finn kneeling in front of her as she caught him up on everything that happened. 

He was intent, eyes fixed on her like she was the sun.

“Let’s take this to the pub eh?” Tommy announced trying to give them some space. There would be plenty of time to embarrass him later. 

____ 

Later at the pub, Finn stormed in, placing a firm blow on the side of John's face. Tommy and Arthur stood up immediately. 

John only looked at him with wide eyes. Finn whispered something and John nodded pulling him into a firm hug. They were laughing so everyone else settled down. Y/n strode into the bar missing the incident completely, smiling brightly as Polly and Esme pulled her towards a booth to question her.

____

 Some head cannons

When he punched John he told him not to speak to her like that ever again. Despite the fact that he’d helped kill people and do things for the family, that was the first time John saw him as a man. 

John apologized to her for losing his temper, said he was beside himself after hearing the Changretta’s talk shit the night before. 

Finn and her messing around and the next morning they notice that he marked up her neck. Both of them start to panic as she works a job where she is in the public eye. Plus she’s going to have to keep it away from Tommy. So Finn just rummages through his drawers that morning and finds the scarf he kept that was his mums. He doesn't want to give it to her because it’s the only thing he really has left that was his mums. But she’s freaking out so he gives it to her and feels happy to see her wear it. 

At some point Tommy just accepts his role in her life and takes on a more brotherly / father like role. He finds out more about her childhood from Finn after making a rude comment about how he’s ended up fathering her. Tommy feels horrible when he finds out that her dad died when she was small and her many step fathers were pretty horrible to her. He doesn't laugh at her jokes in the morning, but he brings her coffee & a muffin to make sure she eats breakfast and spends more time checking on her and giving her advice when she needs it. 

Lizzy watches all of this happen and feels happy that he finally stopped shutting her down and pushing her away. Both of them sort of work together to help her with -some kind of problems - then realize that they are kind of good at working together…..

When her and Finn get married Tommy just assumes that he’s going to walk her down the aisle. She didn't know how to ask him so she doesn't and plans on walking down herself. But when she gets there he’s waiting for her and they have to pause the wedding because she starts crying super hard.

[zodiyack]

Phantom Of The Opera

Requested by anon: Just wanna say that you're my favorite writer on Tumblr! ❤️ I have a strange request. Could you make one Thomas ShelbyxReader based on The Phantom of the Opera? The reader performs in a fancy theater and a man, the theater's ghost, is obsessed with her. And the Peaky Blinders have to wait for the performance to catch him 'cause he's a freaking ghost (Point of No Return scene) I don't know if you ever watched The Phantom of the Opera, but I can send you another message with more info if you want

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x reader

Warnings: Swearing, mention of stalking, smoking and alcohol, fluff, angst, mention of murder(?), slightly straying? idk man

Note: I’ve never seen the movie, so I’m not gonna be completely accurate, but it’s not supposed to be EXACTLY the movie, so I guess that’s okay? I hope you guys like it! Also.. don’t mind the singing parts... 😅 

so basically, it’s like the movie but there are MAJOR differences... oops

Special addition to the note!: I had some help!! Thank you so much @jenepleurepasbaby​ for the ideas as well as information from the movie, I can’t thank you enough!

Word count: 3,000+

Taglist: @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @stydia-4-ever, @matth1w, @redspaceace, @jenepleurepasbaby, @simonsbluee

masterlist | peaky blinders masterlist

She adjusted her hair as the director dismissed everyone. Their practice was now cut short, dark coming closer and closer. Arthur was her ride, yet he lie asleep, and possibly drunk, in one of the seats. Y/n sighed, grabbing bunches of her large white dress. Her friends bid her goodnight as they walked out of the building, leaving Y/n and her lover’s unconscious brother alone and in silence.

Y/n was unsure of her part. Although they just practiced, she felt the need to go over a bit more. Arthur managed to sleep through the entire rehearsal, so who’s to say he wouldn’t sleep through her singing? She would need to wake him up anyway. So she sang, went over her parts, fell into the melody.

That was, until she heard it.

Until she heard him.

The rough organ, the voice. They clicked into her brain, her voice slipping and dropping silent. It took her by surprise. Though she stopped, the voice kept singing. He sounded beautiful, elegant, more perfect for the singing role of her on stage lover than the singing partner selected for said role was.

“Sir?” No response came to Y/n, but the man continued singing. She looked around, checking on Arthur in his intoxicated yet peaceful state, and then starting her mission. She wished to find the voice, so she followed it.

The louder it got, the bigger the pit in her stomach grew. It was a pit of nothing but fear and worry. She didn’t have Tommy with her, and Arthur was asleep, she knew she would need to be careful. Her hand wandered down to her side. Under the thick fabric of her gown, holster from Polly made specifically to hide on her garter clips, was a small gun.

A breath she didn’t realize she was holding released itself from her mouth, relief at the feeling of the cold metal. She hoped she would have no need to use it, but it was good to be cautious.

His singing was now echoing through the hall, signing his presence. Y/n turned and gasped slightly out of shock. She let her eyes study the figure in front of her, the white mask that donned the side of his face, his slicked back hair, the way his voice sounded...

It was almost like his voice was magic. Her eyes gleamed with an entranced look, like she wasn’t fully there.

His free hand reached for hers and before she could top herself, she slipped her palm into his. He stopped singing, leading her through the theater to wherever he was to take her. She couldn’t stop herself, it was hard enough to even thinking in her own voice with his angelic voice.

Now that she heard him in person, she realized she’d heard him many times before. She’d heard him in her dreams, the same voice haunting her, no matter it’s beauty. He called for her, summoning her to a place she had no knowledge of. 

The stories of the theater dubbed him the Phantom of the Opera, the ghost who would kill those who refused to do his bidding. 

“Reminds me of a certain family.” She remembered telling the story to Tommy and the other Peaky Blinders, referencing their work with teasing smile.

His voice summoned her ever since the first performance she’d ever done at this very theater, a man standing on the rafters and observing her rather intensely. However, she was not the one to spot him that time, instead a backstage worker. He pointed out the man, but Arthur assumed he was just drunk and told Y/n to just ignore it.

Oh how wrong he was.

The half-masked man seemed to have such a power, casting a spell on her and removing logic from her mind. Her face lit up by the torch in his hand as he led her down a staircase. A horse waited down

“Sing once again with me, our strange duet. My power over you, grows stronger yet.” He lifted her onto the horse and guided the dark steed down a ramp-like walkway. “And though you turn from me, to glance behind, the Phantom of the Opera, is there inside your mind.”

He helped Y/n off the horse, held her hand as he helped her into the small row boat. He rowed through the water, closer and closer to his lair. She didn’t know why, but she felt the urge to join in. Was it his spell? Making her feel this way?

“Those who have seen your face, draw back in fear.” It was definitely him. She couldn’t think of a time she’d ever sing something like this, aside from her performances. “I am the mask you wear,”

“It’s my voice they hear.” He continued to sing as she transferred to the operatic vocalizing. The masked Phantom encouraged her, stopping his song and listening to her breathtaking voice. “Sing, my angel of music!”

“Sing my angel...Sing for me!” She grew louder the closer they got, the grate lifting and allowing them entry to his underground lair. “Sing my angel! Sing for me!!” Y/n hit her final high note, cutting herself off as they came to a stop. The candles, which had risen from the foggy waters, were just now being processed with mild confusion. The events prior to her arrival in his hideaway were catching up to her, equally as mysterious.

“Listen my dear. Can you hear that?”

“Hear what?” The Phantom held her hand, helping her out of the boat.

“The organ, of course. I’ve played it for you, in hopes that you’d listen and find your way to me. And that, you did.”

“You were... playing it... for me?” Y/n raised her eyebrows curiously. He nodded, walking over and playing a few notes to the song she had been rehearsing before she wounded up in his secret home. “W-Why?”

“What better way to prove my love for you?”

Her mind gave itself a slap to the face, returning herself to full consciousness, the hypnotic state the Phantom had her in was nowhere to be found. “Excuse me?”

“Is there a problem? I’m simply stating my admiration for you. My undying heart, it beats only for you, and your marvelous voice. That man, the one who sent the other with you, he has no love for you. His heart holds no care nor affection for you. Alas, that is one thing he and I do not have in common.” The Phantom’s lips curled into a smile, a child-like innocence that could’ve tricked Y/n’s back into her trance.

But it didn’t. She pushed him away from her, making sure to not be too rough. “Why!? Why would you say such a thing!? You trick me into following you, just to reveal you wanted to rid me of my lover?”

“No, not just that-”

“Have you lost your mind?! I’m sorry, I can’t. It was a pleasure meeting you, dear Phantom, but I’m afraid I simply cannot except any offers you have. Your love is flattering, but my heart belongs to the one who actually does love me back.” Her hands gripped her dress again, pulling it up enough for her to move back to the row boat.

However, she couldn’t make it to the small boat on time. He grabbed her arm and yanked her towards him, forcing her to face him. “Please, Y/n, just let me prov-”

“How do you know my name?” A silence split between the two. He didn’t answer her question. She looked up at him slowly, curiosity overtaking her. He was distracted, unaware, it as the perfect time to strike. She reached for his mask, snatching it, but being pushed to the ground before she could see his face.

He growled, covering the side with his hand, screaming insults at her as she remained on the ground with wide eyes. She was too shocked to move. The push managed to take the breath from her lungs, resulting in small coughs when she tried to stand up.

“I- I’m sorry.” She reached for his cheek, the action startling him. He stumbled backwards, he reached forwards slowly when she held out his mask, ripping it from her hands. “Please, could you take me back to the theater?”

He didn’t respond. His own way of saying no.

“I’ll... um... I’ll be going then.”

He didn’t stop her. He wanted to, but he didn’t. Besides, she had a performance coming up, did she not?

. . .

“Y/n has called a family meeting!” Arthur stomped over to his chair, sitting and crossing his arms as he waited for the rest of his family.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“No, Pol, I’m fine...”

Arthur groaned and rolled his eyes. “Yesterday. Theater. Stalker. Tell them, Y/n.”

The family’s eyes shifted from Y/n to Arthur, then back to Y/n after he finished his sentence. “Fine. There was...a man... Um... Remember the ‘drunken man’ from my first performance?”

Everyone nodded. Esme stepped in, receiving a short glance from John, “What happened? Did your stalker try to kill you or something?”

“No no no, he wouldn’t do that.” The calmed family turned to Y/n with concern and confusion. Y/n looked at each one of them, anticipating their reactions. More specifically, Tommy’s. Jealousy and anger surged throughout his body, and somehow, everyone could tell. Jumping out of her chair, she walked over to him and pecked his lips reassuringly, “No, I’m not in love with him, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Alright alright, Tommy, stop being jealous, Y/n, we must be getting back to the point. Please explain what this meeting is for?”

“Ah yes,” She sat back down. “He um... well he took me somewhere. It was like..under the theater? I sang with him... he called me his ‘angel of music’, and he said my name...”

“What else did he do?” Tommy’s jaw clenched.

“He wouldn’t take me back, so I went back myself. He um... well he did do um.. something...”

Arthur slammed his cup onto the table, standing up quickly, ignoring the wide eyed glares from Linda and Polly. “Oh get bloody on with it! It’s not like you slept with him or something!”

“Damn it Arthur! Could you please just give her some fucking time!?”

“T-thank you, Pol... but Arthur’s right. The man... he... confessed.”

Lizzie was the one to react first this time. She seemed mentally absent from the conversation until the confession had been mentioned, her jaw dropping and eyes popping. “Confessed what?”

“His love. For- for me. I left at that point. He tried to tell me Tommy didn’t love me, but no words from anyone could ever make me believe that. It felt like he put me into some from of trance until then, which I snapped myself out of once he brought up love.”

Tommy started for the door, gun in hand, but was stopped by Y/n. “Please, just... just leave this be... let the coppers handle it, it’ll be alright.”

“Alright? Alright? All-fucking-right?” the blue eyed man pointed to the door, the veins in his hands were bulging. “Out there is a man who is stalking you, obsessing over you, and possibly targeting me so he can take you. And you’re gonna tell me it’ll be ‘alright’?”

“Tom... to be fair, you are being a little ov-”

“Ada, don’t you dare finish that fucking sentence. Tommy’s right.” If looks could kill, Arthur would be long gone by now. “When it first happened, she asked us to wait until it happened more, then it did. But she still didn’t want us to do anything. This time she had an in-person encounter with the creep, and she wants us to wait for coppers?”

He turned to Y/n, “Arthur’s correct. We waited, just as you asked, and now, it’s extreme. Please...” He returned his gun to it’s holster, taking her face in his hands, “let us deal with this.”

“I-” Her e/c orbs glanced around the room, zooming from person to person before giving in and locking eyes with the man in front of her and relaxing into his touch. “Okay... just, don’t hurt him. He seemed so... alone.”

“We can’t promise anything, but we’ll try our best. We’ll all come to the show, and we’ll be your protection, alright?” She nodded and kissed him back as he pressed his lips to hers softly. “Now, let’s get home.”

“Thank you everyone... I’m sorry about-”

“No.” Y/n’s head snapped up, quirking an eyebrow to Polly’s interruption. “Don’t be sorry. It’s gonna be okay. Get some rest, you have quite a performance to prepare for.” With that, she winked and smiled, waving goodbye to Y/n and Tommy as they exited the Betting Shop. She was right. They had a big day tomorrow, and there was no time for messing around.

. . .

As she sang, her eyes were focused on the audience, darting around in search for her lover and his family. The Peaky Blinders weren’t that hard to miss, but they soon became so when The Phantom entered onto the stage where her partner should’ve. She noticed quite quickly, the difference in vocal ranges, the height and figure differences. She would be lying if she were to say she didn’t feel even the slightest bit of fear.

Their voices danced together, the trance returning to her, her body and mind betraying her. The Phantom walked closer, lust filled his eyes, the trance-like-state forcing the same into hers. Tommy, in his seat, gripped his gun. Patience escaped him, replaced with burning jealousy and rage.

“When will the blood begin to race, the sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames at last, consume us?”

They began towards each other. Arthur nudged Tommy’s shoulder, gesturing to some of the cast peaking from behind the curtain, obviously puzzled with Y/n’s singing partner. All the proof they needed that he was the man they were watching for.

Their voices joined, “Past the point of no return! The final threshold!” Tommy’s hold on his weapon grew tighter as Y/n and The Phantom closed the distance between their bodies. The stranger spun Y/n around and wrapped his arms around her stomach, his hands over hers. “The bridge is crossed, so stand, and watch it burn...”

Like a bull to a red flag, the sight of The Phantom’s wandering right hand traveling up Y/n’s chest and to her neck brought darkness to his eyes. “We've passed the point, of no return...”

Although the song was due to end there, The Phantom had other plans.

Y/n’s eyes opened as The Phantom’s voice continued. She was waking herself up, realizing her state and snapping out of it.

“Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime... Lead me, save me, from my solitude... Say you want me with you, here beside you, anywhere you go, let me go too -  Y/n, That's all I ask of-”

He was interrupted by the screams of the audience. Y/n did what she needed to do. She had pulled the black mask free of his face, revealing to the audience just who he really was. Thomas took the screams as his cue and pulled his gun from it’s holster. He didn’t move, instead, he waited for a sign that would tell him that it was necessary. He preferred Y/n get out of this alive.

She looked to the Phantom with sorry emotion, genuine sympathy and hurt in her e/c orbs. The Phantom returned her reaction. He couldn’t be mad at her, but that wouldn’t stop him from having her.

Out of his peripheral vision, he noticed the coppers racing to the stage, pushing past people. He immediately grabbed hold of Y/n’s waist, as tight as he could, and cut the string to the enormous chandelier.

Tommy jumped up, alerting his family, directing each person to move out of the way. He froze, watching Y/n and The Phantom fall from the bridge, and into the ground. Tommy surged forward, leaning over the railing and screaming in agony, forced to watch the stalker escape through a hole in the ground with the love of his life. Polly, Michael, and Arthur grabbed Tommy, trying to pull him back. Even Pol had tears in her eyes.

It was never meant to go this way.

When did everything go so wrong?

What did they mess up?

. . .

The three brothers found their way through waters, ending up in The Phantom’s lair. Tommy’s eyes widened. Y/n, face covered in tears, mouth shivering, frozen in fear, stood there, next to The Phantom, in a wedding dress. She looked gorgeous, but Tommy couldn’t let that distract him.

“What the f-”

Arthur slapped a hand over John’s mouth, quieting him before they could be caught by the pair. He looked over to his other brother, scanning the look of worry on his face. His other hand rubbed his brother’s arm comfortingly.

“Pity comes too late,” The Phantom placed a veil on Y/n’s head, “turn around and face your fate! And eternity of this!-” he pointed to the scared side of his face, “before your eyes...” He calmed himself by looking into her eyes. Erik, the Phantom, placed a ring into Y/n’s hand.

Y/n walked to a covered mirror, taking off the veil as she walked. “This haunted face,” She tore down the cover, turning to Erik. It was clear that they were no longer strangers. “Holds no horror for me now. It’s in your soul; that the true distortion lies...”

John snorted a little, finding humor in the fact that they were still singing, but quickly shut up when Erik turned his head towards the noise. It was too late, far far far too late. He smirked mischievously.

“Wait, my dear, I think we have some guests!” He switched from singing to talking.

Her eyes followed his gaze, spotting Tommy, John, and Arthur. “Tommy!” She moved forward. Tommy mirrored her and pressed himself against the portcullis.

“Sir. Or shall I say, sirs. This is indeed, an unparalleled delight! I had rather hoped that you,” he made eye contact with Tommy, “that you would come!” Erik walked down the steps, next to Y/n. “And now, my wish comes true.” He pulled Y/n into her side. Tommy flinched upon hearing and seeing Y/n’s panic caused by Erik’s actions. “You have truly made my night.”

“Let me go-”

Everything broke from Tommy’s head. It was purely in the moment. For once he was acting with his heart, rather than his brain. “Free her!” Y/n stopped and looked to him with confusion, opposite to Erik’s looks of amusement. “Do to me whatever you would like, but please! Free her!”

“Your lover makes a passionate plea.”

“Please- Tommy... it’s useless...”

“Tom! She’s right, we can’t do anything with this stupid thing in the way.” Arthur grumbled.

“I love her!” He was speaking to everyone. From the heart. “Does that mean nothing? I love her! Show some compassion-”

“The world showed no compassion to me!” The brothers and Y/n faced Erik, small signs of empathy for the red and ruined side of his face.

“Y/n. Y/n, let me see her. Let me fucking see her!” Tommy kicked the portcullis harshly, showing his demand was not to be taken as a joke.

“Be my guest, sir.” Erik smirked wider and walked to a lever. He pulled it and the portcullis began moving upwards. Before he could say more, Tommy fired random shots. He could careless if he hit The Phantom or missed, his mission was to get Y/n and then skedaddle the fuck out of there.

John and Arthur exchanged glances and nods, joining Tommy in open fire towards the man.

Tommy reached Y/n, pausing and pressing a kiss to her soft lips, closing his eyes and melting into their short kiss. After the separated, he picked her up, one arm under her knees and the other somewhere above her waist. He nodded to her. Her arms wrapped around his neck.

“John! Arthur! Cease fire! I repeat! Cease fire!”

Erik chuckled madly, “Aren’t you going to finish me?” He looked at Arthur, then his gun. “Kill me!”

Arthur raised his gun. Aimed. Inhaled.

“Stop! Don’t kill him! Let him be... please...” Y/n faced Tommy with watery eyes, “let me down for a second, please.” Thomas hesitated, but followed the orders of his significant other. She kissed him once more, then walked to Erik and shooed the brothers away from him.

“W-what’re you doing!? Y/n! T-Tom, she’s gonna get hers-”

“Leave it Arthur. Y/n knows what she’s doing. I hope.” Tommy mumbled the last sentence under his breath.

They watched as Y/n caressed the cheek of the scared side to Erik’s face, her face scrunching with visible focus. She pulled him down to her, rested her forehead against his and whispered to him.

“Angel of music... thank you for this journey... Alas, twasn’t I that was destined to join you on it.” John shouted for her to hurry, the sound of the coppers growing near. “Run, dear Phantom, run and don’t ever look back. One day the world will except you...you just can’t force it.” 

Y/n reached for his hand, opening it and placing his ring in it, then folding it shut, just as he did to her hand. He smiled at her. He finally surrendered.

Tommy walked up to them, causing Erik to move back a bit. Tom stopped in front of the man and handed him a large amount of money, smiling with a heart full of sympathy. “Run, Phantom. As far as the coppers know, you’re dead. My uncle will have a boat, board it if you’d like. Start a new life.” 

The Phantom nodded, taking the money. But. He paused. “Go. Be free, my Angel of Music. You’ve shown me nothing but kindness and care, and I thank you for that.” The unfamiliar voices neared. Erik’s eyes widened, “Hurry! Leave! Go!”

Tommy grabbed Y/n, pulling her with him as they headed into the water and tried to ran through it. Y/n turned her head, giving Erik one last look, giving him one last nod, and smiling to him for the last time. They ran out the burning theater, Moss interviewed her, writers for news companies chased after her, but everyone was shooed away by her family.

At home, Tommy cradled Y/n’s cheeks, looking deeply into her eyes. “I thought I lost you...”

“Well I’m here, aren’t I?” She leaned forward, mumbling against his lips, “I missed you... I love you so much Tommy.”

Tommy closed the cap between them, staying for a few minutes. Peaceful. Quiet. Still in his suit and her in the wedding gown she was forced into. “I love you too, Y/n. Very much... Maybe this dress could do some use for us. Eh?”

[angelaiswriting]

Children (3 of 4) | Michael Gray x reader

[original picture: probably pixabay but i honestly forgot]

✏️ Pairing: Michael Gray x wife!reader

✏️ Summary: Michael and his wife have been invited to Polly’s for a family dinner and have a bomb to drop: they’re expecting their fifth child. (Requested by Anonymous)

✏️ A/N: the prompt I was given was “Could you stop getting her pregnant? Or I’m going to have to get a bigger table for family dinner”. I tweaked it a little to fit the conversation, hope you don’t mind. I’m posting this earlier than my usual posting time because I might have to go visit my aunt soon.

✏️ IMPORTANT NOTE: do NOT send me spoilers about season 5, and do NOT strike up a convo about S5 with me bc only God knows when it’ll be availabe in Italy. Don’t tell me anything about S5, please and thank you 💛

✏️ Warnings: just fluff (and probably more kids than Polly is willing to look after right now)

✏️ Word-count: 2,511

<< part one: children <<  |  << part two: anna and john <<  |  PART THREE: A BIGGER TABLE  |  >> part four: warhorse >>

There is something indescribably peaceful in the sight of his pregnant wife, even when she’s not showing much yet – or, at least, this is what Michael Gray thinks as he helps his daughter anna with her brand-new red polish shoes. He helps his daughter but his eyes are trained on his wife as she secures the twins in their tiny navy blue coats.

His mother has invited them over for another one of her family dinners and has caught the occasion with both hands to celebrate Anna’s fourth birthday one more time – it doesn’t matter that they’ve thrown a party last week, because if Polly Gray decides to take it upon herself to spoil her only granddaughter rotten, then there’s no stopping her.

Michael, on his part, is not complaining, either, not when his mother has so kindly – for Shelby standards, that is – proposed to keep the children over for the night. It’s a blessing, if he has to be honest, and it’s not because he doesn’t love his children, but rather because he’s in desperate need of a peaceful night of sleep. This is the one thing he hasn’t been able to get in a while and despite the fact that the twins have turned two just the months before, they’re already following in on their brother John’s path.

“Daddy?”

He picks Anna up in his arms when he’s done tying the laces of her shoes and he pecks the tip of her nose as he hums in answer.

The girl’s arms are wrapped tightly around his neck before he has the chance to tell her to hold on tight and the second later, she’s pressing a light kiss to his cheek.

“Think Nana will let me sleep in her bed tonight?” she asks and the look she gives him makes him chuckle.

He doesn’t know where this trait of hers comes from, whether from the Gray or the Shelby half of the family; all he knows is that his princess is able to use it to her advance. All she needs is the right look in her eyes and a slight pout on her lips and even the fucking King would do what she says. If she ever ends up working for the family business – he reasons as he puts her down on the ground after the couple of minutes spent sitting on the table of the big room –, she will be a great addition to the team. Clever eyes, even smarter and sharper tongue already at this age, he’s sure there’s nothing she won’t be able to achieve if she sets her mind on it. She had the unyielding stubbornness of the Grays and the blind courage of the Shelbys, and both traits are paired to his wife’s wit and kindness and that’s all Anna will need to succeed in life – or to fall, but Michael is not thinking about it now nor will he think about it later on in life.

“You give her this look,” he simply suggests with a chuckle, “and I’m sure she will. Now go call John, it’s time to leave.”

After that, two-year-old Henry is in his arms while Paul is in his wife’s. It’s always so beautifully weird, to look at his two youngest sons and see them one the carbon copy of the other. They have his green eyes and his wife’s hair and when they laugh, they have his cousin John’s chuckle.

“Michael?”

Y/N is looking at him with the brightest smile on her face when he turns to the side to glance at her.

She’s fucking glowing – he wants to tell her this much. Wants to tell her she’s his fucking star, the light of his life. And he knows it’s her usual pregnancy glow, but she’s so fucking beautiful, so fucking perfect his knees always wobble a little when his gaze lands on her. And he wonders what he’s done to deserve someone like her – to have the chance to fall in love and have a family of his own with her.

“You shouldn’t encourage her.” She’s chuckling, his wife, and all he wants to do is close the distance between them, cradle her face as he holds his son to his chest and kiss her – fucking take her breath away and make her weak in the knees as he pours all he feels for her into the kiss.

“She doesn’t need my encouragement,” he shrugs.

And it’s the truth – whether he tells Anna to use her doe eyes and pleading pout on the next unfortunate soul or nor, his daughter would always do what she thinks is best to reach her goals. At that, she’s a young Polly Gray at heart and Michael often thinks this is the reason why his mother has decided to spoil her, to bend the knee and give her what she wants. She is probably the one truly encouraging her in her antics, seeing more potential in her than she does in her nephews.

Y/N answers with an amused shake of her head and a smile, and Michael knows she agrees with him.

Then, before she has the time to speak, Anna is dashing down the stairs with John at her heels and they’re both laughing. It’s that kind of laughter that fills your belly and your heart even if you’re not the one currently laughing and it still – and always, without the shadow of a doubt – makes you smile. It brings you back to a childhood forever gone and it reminds you of the weight that has settled on your shoulders growing up. And while that weight is still there and always will be, it’s suddenly lighter, not that heavy to carry as you end up chuckling.

“Children!” His wife doesn’t need for her voice to boom in the hall of their mansion, for their children always listen to her. They just know it’s better to listen to their Mummy rather than to displease her. “John, take your sister’s hand,” she says, shifting Paul on her other hip. “And Ann, you can play hide-and-seek with your brother and your cousins when we get to Nana’s house, yeah? Not before.”

Unsurprisingly, the siblings listen and as Michael watches John take his sister’s hand in his hold, there’s pure, scorching pride bubbling up in his heart. He looks at them and the only thought – the only prayer – in his mind is: please, don’t grow up.

All he wants to do is stop time and enjoy his children’s childhood – their laughter, their games, even their cries in the middle of the night because they’ve just woken up from some unpleasant dream. He wants for John and Anna and Paul and Henry – and even his fifth unborn child – to remain young forever, to not know the shadows that lurk in the daylight, to not feel unsafe because Daddy and his family have made themselves moronic enemies.

Sometimes he thinks of Esme when this wish comes up and he wonders where she and the kids might be. He wonders whether they’re safe, alive, happy as both Shelbys and Grays are still stuck in sticky quicksands.

*

Polly’s house is a bedlam, even though a much quieter one now that the children have been fed and are full, playing in the living room as the adults still sit at the dining table.

It’s quiet and the smoke of his cigarette seems to tickle Michael’s skin as he inhales it. The cigarette is light between his fingers, but it’s also an anchoring weight that keeps him tied to this world as he floats in his own, private bubble of fatherhood happiness.

Anyone that looks at him sees his glow just like he can see his wife’s. He’s not as heavied-down as he used to be once. His step is lighter, his smile is brighter and there’s a contagious twinkle in his eyes that just wasn’t there before John’s birth. It just gets bigger and brighter the more children he has and right now…

Right now he wants to scream from the rooftops that another one is in the oven, slowly baking, and that he loves his wife so much that he’d have ten more children with her. Boys, girls, twins – it doesn’t matter, it never does. He just wants to give her the gift of motherhood one more time – and then, one more time – and to be given that of fatherhood again and again and again.

He lives for his children. Sometimes, he truly does. He wakes up in the morning and they’re his first thought and when he has to leave for work early in the morning, when the house is still floating in slumber, he presses a kiss to each of his children’s forehead and he looks at them for a second or two with a dreamy smile on his lips. And he knows – he just does – that his day is going to be okay.

They’re also his main concern – as it rightfully should be. And he wants to give them the best life he can afford. And if they asked, he would give them the moon because he’s just so utterly theirs that his heart aches and warms him up from the inside.

And when he looks at his family – at Tommy, finally smiling; at Finn and his lovely girlfriend; at Arthur, finally happy with Linda at his side, and then at his mum, glowing as bright as the sun as she sits there, with the people he loves like her children –, he feels at peace. There are no enemies here, no dangers, just a bunch of probably dysfunctional but nonetheless still happy people drinking and smoking because fuck, it’s so good to have a family these days.

And it leaves his lips before he realizes the words are there, pressing behind his teeth.

“Y/N and I are having another kid.”

His voice is soft and faint, and his heart is even lighter. He almost feels high – almost – and it’s the warm ecstasy of something far better than cocaine. And despite the confession not being loud, all conversations stop and hang in the air as all eyes turn to look at him.

The silent is buzzing and in the background, playing in another room, everyone can hear the children laugh and talk together as Anna – the only girl – tries to organize some game where she is the only commander.

“Is this a plan or…” Arthur’s question fades into silence as his cousins and sister-in-law and mother process what Michael has just said.

That Y/N and I are having another kid feels almost like a bomb dropped when nobody was expecting it and the deflagration confuses the ground for a moment before life starts breathing again.

“The doctor says I’m eight or nine weeks in,” his wife answers.

Michael takes his cigarette from his lips with his left hand and shifts his right on the table to take his wife’s hand in his. He loves her – he looks at her and that’s his only thought. Love bubbles up beneath his skin, love buzzes through his veins, love fills his belly and his heart alike and he feels light, peaceful, at ease.

It takes Polly a while to talk, to form words in her mind first and in her mouth later. And when she eventually breaks the trance enough, Tommy has already stood up to wrap his cousin into a hug.

“Another one?” There’s clear shock and surprise in his mother’s voice as she looks up at him from her chair, eyes wide and mouth agape.

Michael shrugs and his wife chuckles as she stands up to let the men kiss her cheeks in their usual congratulatory manner.

“Are you… Are you two competing with John, by any means?”

John is still a sore and delicate button, one no one ever pushes, but today’s different. Today John’s death isn’t as painful, and his blood on his pristine shirt isn’t as crimson. It’s a throbbing pain in the back of their mind, sure, but it’s not the mind-shattering, heart-stopping memory it’s used to be for a while.

“The more of us out there, the fewer problems we’ll have, right?” Michael jokes, pulling his wife into his side and planting a sloppy kiss on her lips.

Y/N beams, eyes closed and smile wide as she melts in his arms and he can’t wait to be back home. He can’t wait to be back home alone with her and show his wife how much he loves her all over again – how much he loves her and their children and their slowly-growing (or quickly-growing, as Polly would insist) family. How much he loves his domestic life and his warm wife and the rascals he has for kids.

What damage could one more bring?

They all chat away happily as they take their seats and Polly is the only one who’s silent. No one pays her any attention for a minute or two, but when the take her silence in, all chatter stops.

“Don’t you think it’s time to… take a step back for a while?” His mother is downing her drink when Michael looks at her. “You know, take a break, enjoy peace for a while before going for another?”

He’s surprised. And sort of scared. He never thought his own mother would be against him becoming a father one more time, but now that she’s talking like this… His blood slowly turns cold, the grip he has on his wife’s hand turns tighter and he’s suddenly too terrified to move a muscle.

It’s like his happy bubble bursts – it flies too close to a thorn and the second after, there are only minuscule droplets of water raining down.

Polly grins then, though, and she chuckles and when she does, the blood starts flowing again in his veins. Relief washes over him and it all happens in a fraction of a second: one moment he’s tensing up like a violin’s string, the next his back is relaxing against the chair and he turns to glance at his wife with a look in his eyes that can only mean oh, thank God!

There’s a third moment to that quick metamorphosis of events: Polly pulls him up to his feet and has his face in her hands in a second before she kisses his cheeks. And he’s never seen her this happy.

“For fuck’s sake, Michael!” She’s laughing and nothing has ever felt sweeter than the sound of his mother’s laughter in this moment. “Stop getting Y/N pregnant or I’ll need a bigger table for family dinners!”

They all join in on her laughter when Arthur adds a “Or a bigger house” and the happiness is contagious and scalding and for once they all laugh like Michael’s children when they play with each other.

Michael and his wife are planning to have one more kid, though. Don’t tell Pol and the Shelbys!

Feedback and PB requests are welcome! ❤️

TAGS (to be added to or to be removed from any list, shoot me an ask)

Everything: @idhrenniel @saibh29 @fuckthatfeeling @aya-fay @pebblesz892  @mblaqgi

Peaky Blinders: @whimsylavender @thethyri @friendleyneighbourhoodvillain  @flowers-in-your-hayr @oddsnendsfanfics @medievalfangirl

People that might be interested: @sweetvengeancee @kellydixon01

[sleepypeaky]

Butterflies- finnsiah

wc: 972

finn shelby x isiah jesus

summary: finn is jealous that isiah and michael are friends, but for a reason

note about the ages: cannonically i think isiah and michael are the same age but i made him younger so it wouldnt be creepy, so michael was born in 1904 (18) isiah 1906 (16)  finn 1908 (14)

Finn sat in misery between his brothers.

Sitting between two drunk brothers who refuse to speak openly in front of you is bad enough. But in addition, everyone’s new best friend michael was out with isiah.

No one payed him any attention anyway, but now there was a new and better option to look at. So Finn felt even more snubbed than usual. 

But michael and isiah got to him deeper than the others. Even as much as finn pretended it was just a wish to be involved, he knew it was more than that.

But he also knew isiah must prefer michael. Not some family runt.

“Oi finn cheer up!” John slapped the boy on the back and handed him his beer.

“john not the booze again, ‘ez only a kid.” Arthur grunted.

Finn rolled his eyes and passed the nearly empty glass back to john.

The door to the private room opened and in walked a very ruffed up looking Michael and isiah. Finn felt his small breath catch as he saw the blood on isiahs hands and a cut on his face.

Upon arthurs questioning, they discovered the cause of the situation was some bastards wouldnt let isiah drink with michael.

A hot pool of anger grew inside of finn. 

“oi, which pub?” Arthur demanded.

“The marquis of lorne”

“Righ’ then.” Arthur and john got to their feet, finn followed suit only to be pushed back down.

He wanted to do something just this once, but it was in vain, theyd never let him.

Through his muddled thoughts Finn heard isiah sigh ‘shame, it was a good pub.’ So at least the pub would get what it deserved, finn thought.

--

A short while later, finn kicked the pebbles of the street as he walked home, not that he had to go home, no one was there.

Up ahead Michael and isiah were chatting as they walked. Finn stared longingly at the pair. 

“Fuck this.” he muttered.

He kicked a large stone and ran down the street home. This both used some of the anger he felt and took the pair away from his immediate sightline.

---

Michael watched in confusion as his cousin darted past them and into his house. Isiah had a similar expression of bewilderment.

“Wha...?” Michael started.

Isiah shook his head,

“No idea. Ill check on him later.”

Isiah brought Michael to his door and thanked him for helping fight at the pub. Then he doubled back to the shelby residence. 

The door was open as usual, and isiah let himself inside.

“Finn?” He called.

“He’s upstairs isiah.” A woman’s voice (probably esme) yelled back.

So he took the stairs up to the second floor and made his way down a fightfully dark hallway to finns room. There was light coming through the nearly closed door. He entered to find finn sitting on his bed, scowling.

“Oi wha’s the matter with you then?”

Finn turned his head away,

“Nuthin’s the matter, no’ that you’d care.”

Isiah got closer and sat down heavily next to finn on the bed, causing him to scoot away out of spite.

“Wait, are you upset ‘cause of me an’ michael?”

Finn turned his head back and glared into isiahs eyes.

“well everyone seems to care about ‘im more than me. Just thought you were different.”

Isiah took his hat off.

“Finn, tha’s not true and you know it. Me and michael are jus’ mates. He’s new here and needs someone to hang with. 

“Im just sick of being left behind! and by you of all people!” he was yelling now, and he could feel a prickle in his eyes as angry tears formed.

Isiah looked confused,

“Finn we’re pals, ill always be your mate.”

Finn wrung his hands, his emotions were reaching a breaking point.

“No its just-“ He stopped yelling. 

In an act of boyish courage he leaned down to the seated isiah and kissed him. 

Almost immediately finn realized the grave mistake he made.

He quickly pulled himself back and cowered into the corner.

“Oh god im sorry , oh god please....that didnt happen....”

He shook, frightened tears starting to dribble from his eyes, and went to run out the door when isiah stood and grabbed his arm. One swift tug brought Finn close to him and he, now the taller, kissed finn back.

Finn felt new tears mix with his own and butterflies, thousands of them, erupted in his entire body. It felt like warm wind was stirring through his body. It was euphoria, love, happiness; all overriding the fear he felt just moments before.

When their lips parted, Finn couldnt find the words to speak. Everything came out all jumbled.

“I... How long.... i never thought-”

His ramblings were silenced by a shhh from isiah as he pulled him into an embrace.

--

“Wha’ do we do now?” Finn whispered

He now lay beside isiah with his head on isiah’s chest.

“I dont know. i really dont know.”

Finn sighed,

“We could move ta london, i know ada is ok with people like us.”

Isiah nodded.

“Th’ would be nice, but i think we can make it here, im a blinder and you’re a shelby afterall.”

Finn looked up to him and smirked,

“quite the duo huh.”

--

Ada knew, tommy knew, john and esme knew, polly,... no word yet on arthur. his skull’s too thick. 

But by far their gretest champion was Michael.

He became the unofficial defender of isiah and finn, both because of their youger age, and also because he knew people wouldnt mess with all three of them.

No one dared speak or gossip about them alone, but when michael was there. No one even looked in their direction.

and all was as well as it could be

and they were happy

--

as always i suck at endings, hope you liked! Im also ready to write for any established!finnsiah things so i thought this would be a good beginning point

[lady-wallace]

Ko-Fi Commission Update!

Hey guys! I just added several more fandoms that I am accepting commissions for! If anyone would like to buy a commission it would really help me out right now, or if you can just share this around, that’s awesome too!

Current Fandoms I’m accepting commissions for:

Supernatural

Good Omens

BBC Musketeers

Merlin

Peaky Blinders

The Hobbit

Starsky & Hutch

Character Preferences:

(SPN) I would prefer Team Free Will centric (along with typical additions like Crowley, Rowena, Jack, Gabriel, Bobby, Mary, etc.) Mainly what I mean is like, I probably wouldn’t be inclined to write a story with just Rowena, or just Jody or whatever, I just find certain characters easier to write for, and I want to be able to provide the best story I can for your prompt ^_^

(Good Omens) I’m only doing Crowley and Aziraphale centric stories. Other characters can show up, but I’m not going to do like a Gabriel or Hastur centric story.

( Musketeers) Just stories focused on the Inseparables and their close attachments. Same rules as Team Free Will. (Also, I have never seen Milady as a sympathetic character, so please do not request redemption arcs for her. Writing her as the baddie is fine XD)

(Merlin) Pretty much anything goes here. Anything with Merlin and the knights is cool.

(Peaky Blinders) Only Shelby Family centric stories, and I would prefer mostly gen though I will write Tommy/Grace.

(The Hobbit) Can do book verse but prefer movie verse. Most of my stories are based around the Company (specifically During family and Bilbo) but I will also pre-movie/book as well.

(Starsky & Hutch) Only Starsky and Hutch centric stories, same as Good Omens.

Shipping rules: No Slash for any fandom. I would prefer gen prompts as that is what I am best at writing, but I will write Megstiel if persuaded ;) if you request a slash prompt, I will just fill it as gen. For Musketeers, I am open to Constance/d’Artagnan or Aramis/Anne but will not do Athos/Milady. For Merlin I will do Arthur/Gwen

Other guidelines:

If you guys read my stories you probably know what I write most, (like I will fill any, whumpy/fluffy/hurt/comfort prompt you could probably think of) but I would just ask not to receive any prompts that have the characters acting OOC. It’s very hard to fill prompts when the request is for the character not to be themselves. I try to keep my fan fics as true to the characters as possible. (i.e. I’ve gotten several requests in the past to write scared Cas, and this just isn’t in character to me. Canonically Traumatized Cas is fine, but you get the picture.)

I am open to AUs, but I would prefer if you would send me a message and ask me if the prompt is something I might fill before ordering a commission. Any prompts relating to my own AU verses like Katabasis, A Thing or Two About Being Human, or Raising Hell, or tags to any of my other stories, are welcome J

If you are ever not sure whether or not your prompt is something I will fill, just send me a message, or include a second prompt in case that one doesn’t work out. I promise I’m really more laid back than I sound, I just don’t like to disappoint people when I write fics for them, so specifics help ^_^

What you can Commission:

Ficlets: (1,000-2,500 Words at $10) For these please keep the prompts short and sweet (i.e. Sick Sam, Caretaker Cas set S10). Or something like that with any particular specifics you might want to see. (i.e. Hurt Aziraphale, Roman Era setting, Caring Crowley with emphasis on wing whump/care)

I will also fill short episode tags/codas for Musketeers or current or past SPN seasons (I’m usually caught up, but I will be sure to post a note if I’m not)

One Shots: (3,000-6,000 Words at $20) For these, you can either give me a short prompt like “Fevered Jack, Fatherly/Caretaker Cas” or a full-fledged story idea—as long as it can conceivably fit into a one shot XD Besides that, as long as your prompt meets the guidelines, anything goes!

[amostimprobabledream]

My thoughts on Peaky Blinders...

Now I’ve finished Season Five, I wanted to get out my thoughts/ideas/opinions regarding the show. So strap in! - So first of all, the fucking cinematopgraphy in this series is gorgeous. You could take almost any scene and it looks like a painting. The lighting, the way it’s staged, it’s all just so visually pleasing to look at. My inner film student was just sighing dreamily at the shot composition. There’s a shot of John, Arthur and Tommy walking somewhere and you could fucking frame it and put it in your wall. - CILLIAN MURPHY, CILLIAN MURPHY, CILLIAN MURPHY. I mean, I always knew he was a good actor and also a pretty one, I think the role I remember him best in is Batman Begins, but holy shit, I never realised how hot he is until like two months ago. I know he apparently hates his Tommy haircut, but good lord, he can pull it off. The cheekbones! The eyes! The eyelashes! The sexy voice! Needless to say I saw him and immediately developed the biggest fucking crush. Apparently when I talk about Tommy to people my face goes pink. Thank you so much, show, for enlightening me to this human. Tommy is such a fantastic character, and I do wonder if another actor could pull him off quite as well. So much debate over his actions, motives, mindset, etc. I could probably write essays about the complexities of Tommy, but I won’t because this is a long-ass post anyway. He’s such a boss and I would die for him. - I actually really like Arthur??? So the very first clip of PB I ever saw was accidental, when I happened to turn the TV on and the Blinders were taking over the Eden Club and Arthur was glassing a guy in the face. I thought, “Oh, he’s probably like the dangerous thug character everyone is scared of.” (I didn’t know he’s Tommy’s brother at the time.) But actually he’s kind of endearing despite being the Shelby’s pitbull? Idk, the concept of the “failure” elder brother, how Arthur is the character the verbalises PTSD the most out of everyone, how one minute he can be lashing out like a rabid bear and then sobbing like a kid the next... I’m always like, “Oh, Arthur,” because you can see he wants to be a better person, but he just...doesn’t know how. - JOOOHN. I miss him! And it’s weird because in the early parts of the Season John doesn’t DO much but tag around after Tommy and Arthur, but his marriage to Esme is actually So Good and again, he’s actually kind of a softboi under the hard gangster act. (Also his “Do THIS, John, Do THAT, John, KILL YOUR FOOKIN’ TEACHER, JOHN!” is so fucking good.) He kind of provides a lightness when contrasted to Tommy and Arthur that I really do miss, because the last two Seasons have been very grim and I think John’s absence has something to do with it. I liked Esme too, even if she’s a stroppy bitch, her love for John but resentment of her role in the family and also she’s HELLA PRETTY. I’m sad her character has gone for now, but at least she wasn’t killed off. - I also love Ada a lot - I was really shocked when I read that Sophie Rundle hasn’t been acting all that long before she got the part in PB, because honestly she’s very good! And her concept again is a fun one - the only girl in a family of violent gangster boys. (Or as Freddy puts it, “The only princess”, which she is.) Having said that, I’m not sure how I feel about Ada’s character arc over the course of the season. In One she came off as kind of childish and still sort of stuck in her Rebellious Teen phase, then she became a mother and Freddie died, then in Season Two she’s trying to distance herself from the family and go legit, then in Season Four and Five she’s helping run the business and taking money from Tommy. Idk, I wish she’d play a more major role like her brothers because her motivations seem to change based on what the screenwriter wants, not what feels natural for her. Plus it annoys me that Ada blamed Ben Younger’s death on Tommy, but Tommy gets a lot of blame for things that aren’t his fault so I guess he’s used to it. Still, Ada is still a lot of fun when she does get to play a big role and gets some great lines later on. “Tommy Shelby is going to stop a revolution with his cock.” - POLLY, MY QUEEN! Easily the best woman on the show (sorry, Ada) and such a fucking badass. She’s definitely the voice of reason within the family and conflicting loyalty is a really interesting theme that gets explored with her, between her arguing nephews and niece, between her family or whether she wants to marry again and leave, her relationship with Michael, it’s all so great. Helen McRory is such a brilliant addition to the show. Also I love that Polly kinda represents women taking over after all the men went away to war and now they’re back, but the women aren’t just going to creep back into the house - World War One changed the workplace forever for women and I think Polly being the second in command after Tommy reflects that really well. - I think overall my favourite seasons have been Seasons One, Two and Four, I tend to find I get a bit bored in Peaky Blinders whenever it gets especially heavy on politics like in Season Three and Five and I admittedly kind of miss the simplicity of the early days of the show when it was about horse-racing, but the Changretta vs Shelby feud was genuinely really gripping and Adrien Brody was also Very Good. (I mean, I couldn’t take him seriously because of Brodyquest, but I like him a lot.) - I HATE GRACE. There, I said it. And honestly I have SO MUCH to say on why I hate her and also why I think she is the epitome of bad writing that has happened on this show that I might as well save it for a whole nother post, but Tommy and Grace’s relationship always felt so unnatural and forced to me, like they are in love because the screenwriter said so - Grace is the only woman Tommy knows who isn’t related to him and also because it pisses off Campbell. Like, she was tolerable if highly irritating in Season One, but then Two came along and she just got worse and worse. She’s annoyingly convinced she’s better than everyone else, pulls off a LOT of questionable shit that NO-ONE except Polly ever pulls her up on and Tommy repeatedly pining over a woman who lied to him and betrayed him makes no goddamn sense. I wish Stephen Knight would just let him get over her, because her showing up over and over again in the show after the bitch died two Seasons ago is so infuriating I want to throw my remote at the TV. The best bit of Season Three was someone finally putting a bullet in her, honestly. /rant - On that note, I really wish that they’d use May properly. She was introduced in Season Two and honestly her chemistry with Tommy is about a thousand times more believable than anything he had with Guuuhrayce and also May doesn’t consistently talk in that annoying, breathy voice and also she doesn’t shamelessly manipulate Tommy constantly. It’s too bad Stephen Knight couldn’t get Charlotte Riley back for Season Three owing to her pregnancy, because I think the trajectory of the show would have been very different. But her scene where she spoke about her husband and tried to hide that she was crying? So good. The fucking Face Tommy gives her when she asks for a mixer in her gin? Priceless. Agh - May’s been chronically underused in the show but she keeps getting mentioned every now and then, so I’m hoping there are plans for her to come back in Season Six. I really like her and I honestly think Tommy/May has been the best relationship he’s had, because it’s the only one that’s felt A) Natural and B) Equal. - Lizzie Stark. Okay, so I have mixed feelings about Lizzie. I liked her in Seasons One and Two, because she was this down-on-her-luck woman who was treated like crap by everyone, but she wasn’t wholly without her own flaws or personality - she did lie to John and Tommy did act in his brother’s best interests to tell him the truth. The scenes she had with Tommy in Season Two when he promotes her to his secretary were honestly very cute and my heart broke for her when that solider nearly (?) raped her in Season Two and she cried in John’s arms. But over time she’s started to irritate me. I know that people feel bad for her because Tommy honestly does treat her badly at times, though other times she’s also one of the few people he’s nice to, their relationship is complicated. But truthfully I don’t see Tommy/Lizzie every working out properly because Lizzie was a whore. She’s always been Tommy’s inferior and while I do think he cares for her, she never seems to think it’s enough. He doesn’t love her enough and she’s never satisfied with it and she’s always resentful of him. But you can’t FORCE someone to love you and it’s interesting that the minute she learned she was pregnant, you could see her thinking of how to make this work. She pulled the Baby Trap on him just like Grace did and got married like she wanted, but Tommy still doesn’t truly see her as his equal. And honestly, I don’t think she’s smart enough for him. Add that to Lizzie being EXTREMELY petty to other women (including her being really rude to May and slut-shaming her - bit rich from you, isn’t it, Lizzie?), and I don’t think they have a healthy relationship. I do like little Ruby a lot (way more than Charles, who is a spoiled brat because he’s Grace’s son and has a martyred dead mummy), but honestly I don’t see Tommy/Lizzie working out. I just hope that she doesn’t leave and take Ruby, I think it’d break Tommy to have his daughter taken away from him. - Alfie Solomons. So...I have to confess I have mixed feelings about Alfie. I liked him in Season Two because he’s batshit crazy, Tom Hardy is clearly having the time of his life and it’s refreshing to have a rival to Tommy who isn’t cartoonishly evil like Billy Kimber or Sabini. He ties into Season Two very well and yeah, I can see why he’s so popular. Also he’s pretty attractive, so that always helps. But. Alfie is starting to come across a bit like a creator’s pet to me. He consistently betrays Tommy every goddamn Season and while I know the fandom love to joke about this, it’s pretty inexplicable that Tommy would bother to continue to do business with him after being burned so many times and now it turns out he’s alive. Why? Why bring Alfie back? I feel like he was brought back because he’s a fan favourite and to add another suspect to who betrayed Tommy. I don’t hate Alfie at all, but I am starting to wish he’d face actual consequences for his actions, considering every Peaky Blinders character who fucks with the Peaky Blinders tend to suffer horribly for it, but not Alfie...for some reason. - Michael. Okay so Michael’s actor is pretty damn good and I thought it was cute that he and John’s actors are actually brother irl - you can see the resemblance. And honestly bringing back Polly’s missing kids was a really clever idea because there’s a family tie, but one that isn’t so strong you can always be sure of where his loyalties lie. His subplot with Father Hughes in Season Three was both very sad and very well done - I was cheering him on the whole way. But Season Five has made my opinion of Michael take a dramatic nosedive. He’s gone from sorta-sympathetic to an entitled brat almost overnight. I get he’s probably salty about being banished to America by Tommy in Season Four, but where has this sudden desire to rule the company come from? How did he meet Gina? Is he lying about Gina being pregnant because he figured it’d win him sympathy? I don’t know. He’s changed so drastically, and when Polly gave him that slap, I think she was doing what everyone wanted to. It’s too bad they just wrote Anna off as being dead, though, Michael having a sister and Polly a daughter would have been interesting. - The music?? Is so good?? I love it! Especially the themesong, obviously, but so much of it is always ON POINT. It makes me wanna buy the entire soundtrack. - Unpopular opinion, but I think Campbell was the best antagonist of the show, mainly because he was a vile person but still believable and had the best dynamic with Tommy.  - Season Five was honestly kind of hit-and-miss for me, it seemed like a lot of people are pissed at Tommy for fairly silly reasons in the beginning and I just didn’t find the political subplot all that interesting...but I still will definitely tune into Season Six. (Also these are all just opinions, so please don’t send me hate if you don’t like something I’ve said. Ain’t nobody got time for that.)

[sympathyfortheblinderdevil]

Diversion

Esme is frustrated with John’s infidelity and subconsciously begins to punish him. 

Esme stood with her back to the door. She took short rapid breaths and tried to rub the sting out of her jaws. She squeezed her eyes shut, but all she could see was his icy stare.

She had made a glaring miscalculation in trying to talk to Tommy about taking the family on the road to France. It was a bold move, she knew, but she didn’t know that his reaction would be so fierce.

She could still feel his rough fingertips gripping her face. Her mind raced as she replayed it in her mind. The threats he made didn’t faze her.

If you ever talk about getting lost again I’ll cut you from this family.

She knew that Tommy needed her family connections, and she was able to remind him of that.

What family?

Her sweaty hands, her racing heart, and her inability to catch her breath came from somewhere else. His hands were freezing cold, but her skin burned where he touched it. Something electric passed between them while she spoke of getting lost. She hadn’t meant for it to happen—she’d never thought of him that way—but he felt it too.

Thank God the shop was empty. She wondered if he would have behaved any differently with others around. No, she decided, he wouldn’t have touched her in front of John. But, then, she wouldn’t have spoken to Tommy in that way in front of John, either. She opened her eyes and took a deep breath. She had to pull it together; she had things to do.

 ***One Year Later***

 “I’m sick to death of it Pol.”

Esme stood in the vault, slamming £100 bundles onto a shelf. She and Polly were charged with doing the count at the end of the business day and readying the shop for the next morning, while the boys sought leisure pursuits.  

“I like the work, God knows it beats moping ‘round the house all day changing nappies, but he just swans off without me every night and doesn’t come home ‘till we're all in bed.” She laid the last bundle of notes on the pile and mumbled, “Or sometimes not at all.”

Polly sympathized with her. Over the last year, she and Esme had bonded a bit, and she knew that life with a Shelby man could try the patience of a saint. She wrote the last sum in the ledger and slammed it shut with an air of finality.  From her desk drawer, she produced a bottle of port and poured a glass for them both. The conversation that they were about to have called for a drink. Polly, never one to mince words called out, “Is he going to whores?”

Esme poked her head out of the vault and scowled, “I don’t know if he’s paying them, but there are women.” The heavy steel door whined as she pulled it closed behind her, and she gratefully swallowed the drink that Polly handed to her. “I can smell them on him when he comes stumbling in.”

“Does he still want you?”

Esme scoffed, “When does he not? He acts like all I’m good for is cooking his meals and riding his cock.”

“That’s how they all are. We are expected to keep the hearth and home while they have all the fun.” She lit a cigarette and poured another tot for both of them. “It’s not fair for us. Never has been.”

They drank in silence for a few minutes, then Polly spoke, “Have you ever thought of giving him a taste of his own medicine?”

Esme’s eyes grew dark as she quietly responded, “I’m an honorable woman. I would never lie with another man.”

Pol rolled her eyes, “I’m not suggesting that you turn into the town whore.” She tilted her head back and eyed Esme, “You’re an attractive woman. Attract some attention. Make him jealous.”

“Where, the Garrison?” Esme laughed, “I wouldn’t give any of those bastards the steam off my piss.”

Dissolving in a fit of laughter, Polly conceded.

 ***One Week Later***

 Aunt Polly sipped her tea loudly while scowling over the edge of her teacup at John. He, Tommy, and Esme were in various stages of finishing breakfast and haggling over sections of the morning newspaper. John was oblivious to the fact that Polly had been shooting daggers at him with her eyes until Tommy spoke up. “What has John done to put your nose out of joint, Pol? Come on, out with it.” “All right, I’ll come out with it. Where were you last night, John? I heard you coming up the lane at four this morning.” She spoke in a no-nonsense tone. She meant to have answers. “Polly!” Esme protested. “No, Esme, he needs to answer.” Polly shot back.  Tommy looked from Aunt Polly to John and then to Esme who uncomfortably shifted in her seat. Her face was a storm cloud, and she defiantly refused to look at anyone at the table. She sat with her arms crossed, looking at the door. “No, I’ll answer the question. I had business to attend to,” John stated, as if it was the most natural thing on Earth to attend to business until 4:00 am. Polly scoffed, “Business, eh?” Tommy tried to hazard another glance at Esme who stood up in a huff, “I have business to attend to as well. The betting shop opens in 10 bloody minutes.”

“Esme,” John started.

“Leave it, John. We’ll talk later.” Esme grumbled.

Before Esme was completely out of the room, Pol spoke up, “Better keep a close eye on that one, John.” Esme cast a glance over her shoulder to see what Polly was playing at. “There was a bloke in the shop last week who was ready to take her away.” “Who was he?” John sat up stiffly and puffed his chest out while Polly smirked behind her teacup.  Alone in the shop, Esme prepared the betting slips and cash boxes. She smiled and shook her head; she could hardly believe the balls on Polly. Lost in her own thoughts she didn’t hear Tommy creep into the room. “Who was it?” He asked, his voice still raspy with sleep. Esme looked up with surprise, “Shit, Thomas. Don’t sneak up on me like that.” Within two steps Tommy was inches from her. He was close enough for her to smell his shaving soap and the starch in his shirt. She instinctively stepped back and he followed. “I said, who was he?” “Jesus, Tommy! Polly made it up. John’s been whoring around and Polly thought it would be a good idea to make him jealous.” Tommy took a drag from his ever-present cigarette and studied Esme’s face. He cleared his throat and spoke again. “Does it bother you that John stays out?” She lifted her chin and matched his attitude with her own. “He’s my husband, isn’t he?” The corners of his mouth lifted slightly as he narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. “That’s not an answer.” He stubbed his cigarette out and left her standing there, staring at his back as he walked across the shop to his office. She didn’t breathe or blink until he closed the door.

 ***One Day Later*** Esme loved horses. That was something Tommy could understand and something that Polly reminded them about as they loaded the truck to go to the horse auction. But John stood with a puzzled look as if the very suggestion was mad. “Esme doesn’t have time for horses what with the kids and the house and the shop.” Polly patted him on the cheek. “You’re buying horses anyway. Would it be so hard to do something nice for your wife? It would cost less than a weekend on the piss and she needs something to herself. Tommy, tell him.” Tommy shrugged, “It couldn’t hurt. Call it a diversion. Something to keep her from pining away about traveling.” “Or running off,” Polly quipped. “What’s that?” John looked back at Polly, “What’s she said?” “A woman like her can only handle so much for so long, John. She’s a Lee.” When all he could do was stare at her and shift the toothpick in his mouth, Polly let out an exasperated sigh and railed at him, “For fuck’s sake! She’s a Good wife, but even good women have their limits. With all the late nights you’ve been keeping, God knows where with God knows who, a gesture such as a horse would go a long way toward keeping your wife happy.”

John gave her a cheeky grin, the kind that got him out of numerous punishments as a child. “All right, all right, Aunt Pol.” As they climbed into the truck, Tommy nodded to Polly and she knew that he’d take care of it. Day turned into night, and the truck rolled into Charlie’s yard carrying a gelding and a stallion. Curly helped Tommy unload the horses and get them into their stalls since John had gone ahead to the Garrison to meet up with Arthur. Curly went over the first horse with an expert eye, “He’s a good one. But why’d you get a gelding, Tommy? Not like you to buy a gelding.” “He’s not for me.” As Tommy answered, he saw Esme walking into the stables. She hated not being allowed to go to the auction, so Polly told her to leave the kids with her and go to see what they’d brought home. She was flushed from the long walk and flashed a rare grin when she saw the new additions standing in their stalls. “You got two!” she marveled and approached the gelding. She pulled a sugar cube from her pocket and giggled when he nuzzled her hand. Tommy couldn’t help but smile along with her. Her passion for horses matched his own. There were few things in Small Heath that could bring peace or joy to him, and seeing Esme truly happy as she bent down to kiss the horse’s muzzle did it for him. “Do you like him?”

“He’s wonderful.” “He’s yours.” She was stunned into silence. Tommy walked over to the stall where she stood and brushed the gelding’s forelocks with his fingers. The horse nickered and Tommy murmured reassuringly to him. He then turned to Esme and looked into her deep brown eyes which were rapidly filling with tears and whispered, “He’s yours, Es.” She was amazed, utterly surprised, and touched by his kindness. Before she could think about what she was doing, she threw her arms around Tommy’s neck and embraced him. Her lips met his for a split second before she pulled herself back. He gripped her shoulders as she stammered, “I...I’m...” He knew that they were playing a dangerous game, but he wanted to make this okay. He didn’t want anything to dampen the joy that she felt and the odd connection that was growing between them. But his justification didn’t quite match his demeanor. “Don’t apologize, Esme. You’ve done nothing wrong. Just sisterly affection.” His eyes were half closed, and the words dripped off of his lips like honey. He let go of her shoulders, and in a daze, she turned toward the stall. It all had happened so fast. It was a heartfelt reaction, almost a reflex. But the way that it made her feel, and the way that Tommy looked at her… Tommy may have told her that she had done nothing wrong, but the butterflies in her stomach knew otherwise.

I absolutely love John Shelby, but he broke my heart every time that he cheated on Esme. I guess this is helping me work out my feelings about that. Don’t hate me.

Diversion: Chapter 2 can be found on my masterlist because Tumblr hates links. 

[prettieparker86]

There’s A Woman…

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader (sort of), Arthur Shelby x Reader (sort of)

Warning: Mentions of loss and abuse

See below for additional chapters

Gif Credit: @peakypeaky & @kendaspntwd Thank you for letting me use your beautiful gifs for my crazy stories.

Note: Please Read – As some of you know I had a bout of insomnia last night and this is what I wrote at 4am. I debated not posting it at all. It’s just a one-shot, Imagine style. I’m not sure what this is. It’s probably garbage, but this is what happens when you can’t sleep… Just the deranged ramblings of an exhausted mind. 

I have no idea if any of this is factually accurate for the time period. Again, written in the haze of no sleep. I tried to verify my assumptions of girls getting married in their teens to avoid going into the system, I’ve heard of it happening in the US, but I couldn’t verify it for 1920′s UK. Oh and I feel like the reader is young in this, somewhere like 19-20.

If you enjoy it, like, comments, and reblogs are always appreciate.

Wrapped in your quiet cocoon, the fabric’s soft like a distant memory of better days as it envelopes you. The heat of your body held tight beneath the blanket, warming your skin from the inside out. The room is cold, the air around your face frigid as you burrow your nose deeper against the blanket. The sound of rain on the window lulls your mind as you dose in and out, unsure if it’s sleep or the whiskey that keeps pulling your under.

With a shift and creak, the heat changes around you, filling on one side, escaping from another. The chill from the wall reaches out for you back, poking and prodding at your spine as you reach for the warmth in front of you, seeking it out unconsciously. It’s warm and toasty, soft to the touch as you nuzzle your nose against it. The musky scent of whiskey and gun power winds tendrils up your nose as your lips part and you breathe it in.

“Vera,” The sound of your name fills the room, off a breath that’s low and gritty and muffled from sleep.

But you recognize it even in the haze of your own mind as the softness bleeds to subtle as he turns in towards you.

Your eyes flutter open and meet the most startling blue eyes you’ve ever gazed upon lying beside you. Even now, after years of seeing them, sometimes they can be so enchanting, so bewitching, they leave you frozen under their spell as you gaze into their mighty grip. He stares back you, barely blinking as if you’re all he can see in the dark.

“I did it again?” You whisper softly to him. No need for volume when he’s lying this close.

You squeeze your eyes tightly shut, trying to remember how you got here as Tommy’s heavy breath fills the air around you once again, only further away this time as he turns from you.

“Yeah, ya did.” He states flatly. You’re eyes shoot back open as you hear a knock on the wall above your head.

You stare at the sharp line of his jaw as Tommy stares up at the ceiling lying beside you, thinking the line of it looks as dangerous as the razors on his cap.

“Found her, Arthur!” Tommy hollers to the room over as he gives the wall one more steady knock, the sound echoing against your face as you cringe from the sheer volume of it.

Resigned to leaving your warm safe place, you kick back the blankets as the feel of cold frigid air assaults you on contact, sending gooseflesh forming against your skin, hair standing on end, your breasts tingling against the chill as a shiver runs down your spine. Your night gown offering little in the form of resistance against the brutal winter nights.

Your head still feels foggy, swaying and shifting like a boat on rocky seas. Surely, it’s the whiskey. A Shelby now, you drink often and plenty, but tonight seemed especially plentiful. You lost track after your fifth glass of whiskey.

You’re not even sure what drew you in here this time, the urge unclear and hazy in your mind. You spot a glass of water on the table beside Tommy’s bed and think perhaps you had gotten up for it only to return to the wrong spot. Poised to move and return to your bed, you place your hands unceremoniously on Tommy’s chest to balance yourself before swinging your leg over him as he lets out a groan in protest. 

You could have climbed off at the end of the bed you suppose, but this was the fastest way out, and at this time of night and whiskey on your brain, added work just seemed unnecessary. You aim to brace your knee against the mattress on the other side of Tommy as you climb off, but the bed’s smaller than you considered and he’s lying against the edge.

You’re clumsy from sleep and had far too much whiskey, and you realize your miscalculation a little too late, as your leg falls off the side of the bed, toes landing on the icy floorboard as you sink down on top of Tommy’s waist.

“Fuck sake, Vera!” Tommy growls through clenched teeth, shooting up in bed with the feel of you on top of him, but as he rises, you slip down his body and settle across his lap. 

The sudden jerk in position throws you off balance as you try to climb off him. Too quick for the whiskey to catch up with as you sway, about to topple onto the floor in a heap before Tommy snatches your waist and you quickly clutch at his shoulders trying to steady yourself and not land face first on the frigid hardwood floor.

Your eyes meet and for a second your swallowed up by endless blue. Your hearts racing though you’re not sure if it’s from the near fall or the depths of Tommy’s eyes staring into your soul. A shiver runs down your spine, but you can’t be sure whether it stirs from the chill in the air or your precarious position. 

Hands clutching at his shoulders as his arms wrap around your waist, breasts pressed against the heat of his chest, your night gown pooled high around your thighs as you teeter straddled across his lap. Stuck between the chill of the room and the heat between your bodies, holding you captive with the grip of his eyes as the steady rhythm of his breath against your lips calms your rattle.

You search his eyes boldly in the near darkness. Searching for the young man he had been before. Always laughing about something, talking on about his dream to race horses, and always getting into mischief of one kind or another. But you can’t find that young man in the eyes staring back at you, not anymore. Sliced open and bleeding after Greta, all traces ripped clean from his bones after the war. He looks at you in a way that’s hard to read. 

So guarded and trained in neutrality, he’s hard to define. But you see something in his eyes that reminds you of yourself. Of loss, anger, and transformation, from the girl before her mother passed to the one you are today. You swear you see a piece of yourself in him, like looking in a mirror. Everyone’s intimidated by Tommy these days, but not you – you know what real monsters look like. He’s like a riddle waiting to be solved, though you’re quite certain it’s not yours to unravel. And for all his sharp edges and unpredictable moods, you still trust him, even now.

The sound of a throat clearing catches both your attention as your gaze shoots to the sound, you find Arthur leaning against the doorframe watching you and Tommy silently. There’s something in his eyes, something you almost never see and it’s not aimed at you, it’s aimed squarely at Tommy, but you recognize it just the same, tangled up as you are… Men and their cocks never cease to amaze you.

“Don’ be fuckin’ ridiculous,” you scoff, pushing off Tommy to swing your other leg over and climb off him. You know what it looks like, you’re not a fucking fool, but the idea it could be anything other than a misunderstanding was absurd to you.

“Get your wife, Arthur.” Tommy insists as he practically lifts you off him. Unable to get rid of you fast enough as you nearly trip again from the momentum and whiskey, falling against Arthur’s waiting arms.

Wife – the word is always jarring when you hear it. No one in the Shelby home calls you that, but Thomas and you still haven’t figure out why. Arthur’s wife, but only in name. Anyone sensible knows that. He married you at fifteen in a hasty ceremony done only to save your life. Arthur is many things to you - hero, protector, confidant, friend, but husband still isn’t one that fits, and luckily for you, he doesn’t expect it to.

Your father died in a factory accident when you were ten. Your mother was a good friend of Polly’s, you grew about around the Shelby’s. After she passed of consumption, Polly took you under her wing. Until the parish authorities came calling shortly after the funeral, taking to you stay with the fathers until they could locate your next of kin. 

You lasted a month there, before you managed to run away. Returning to the only place you felt safe anymore. You had been frantic and desperate, you couldn’t go back. They would come for you, Polly knew they would as they had her own children, but she had no legal claim to you. So she devised the only plan she could muster on such little time, in the whirlwind of your desperation… Marriage.

If you were married they’d have no way to take you. You’d be property of your husband. While John was the closest in age, he was already married to Martha. Tommy was out of the question as he languished at Greta dying bedside. That left only Arthur. A man thirteen years your senior, he refused at first, but when confronted with what they had done, what they would continue to do, and Polly’s word they’d figure something out later, he agreed. You weren’t easily convinced either, but Polly told you it was the only way and you couldn’t go back there.

You got lucky with Arthur. He let you know right away he had no desire for you and after leaving the care of the father’s, you needed to hear that. He said he’d appreciate if you helped Polly out around the house, but he no expectation of you ever entering his bed. You never even shared a room before he left for the war, bunking with Ada instead. 

That’s how you ended up falling in love with Tommy’s bed. Having free reign of the rooms once the men left, you and Ada tried them all, and Tommy’s fit just right. It had this little divot in the old tick mattress that fit you just right. You could wrap the blankets around yourself and curl into it like a swaddled baby. You felt safe and warm there. You freely relinquished it when the men came home, but it still calls to you from time to time.

When the men came back from war, you were a woman - a young woman, but a woman just the same. And things felt different between you and the Shelby brothers. Different then the way they saw and treated the scared girl left behind. Still Arthur never pressed you, keeping his word. It was unspoken he could get his needs met anywhere he pleased as long he kept you safe and taken care of. After the war, you shared a bed, but he never touched you unless you reached for him first. 

And nearly five years married, home from the war almost six months, you had never consummated the vow. Arthur Shelby was many things to you, but husband never quite seemed like one of them. But you did love him. You loved them all, even Tommy and his unpredictable moods and antagonistic jabs. So when Arthur offered to let you go, you declined. This was your family, where you wanted to be. You think maybe one day you’d like to give him a baby. You know he wants one and he certainly deserves it, but you don’t desire any of that now. Not sure you ever will. You still feel like damaged goods. You don’t know what the future holds, but you feel certain this is where you belong.

“Easy there, I got ‘cha.” Arthur tells you, slipping an arm under your legs to scoop you up like a bride.

“I got lost. Think I had too much whiskey.” You explain to him, leaning into the warmth of his chest, your face burrowing into the curve of his neck.

“That’s a’right. Let’s get ya back to bed, little lady.” Arthur tells you, holding you close with care. That’s what he calls you, not wife, sometimes Vera, but mostly ‘little lady’, has since you were small.

“Gotta stop doin this, Vera.” Tommy’s calls with impatience as Arthur carries you back to your bed.

“Night Tommy.” You answer, already half lost to the throws of sleep.

Once you’re gone, Tommy turns to his dresser to retrieve his pipe, unrolling it carefully. He plucks a bit of tar between his fingers, rolling and pinching until he has it just right. He burns just the outer edge of it, the sweet medicine crackling lightly under the flame, before he places it at the edge of his pipe. Drawing his lips to one end, he brings the other to the flame, letting it crackle and burn as he breathes in relief. 

Just enough to quiet the nerves and endlessness of his mind. Placing the pipe down carefully on the desk beside his bed, Tommy rolls against the mattress, his body seeking out the heated spot you left under the blanket. His face burying against the pillow that had rested beneath your head as he breathes you in deeply, letting images of you mix and dance with the opium as he closes his eyes to drift away.

Part 2 part 5

[hethrewmyheartinthecut]

Peaky Match #257: Michael Gray, May Carleton, Ada Shelby

This is a result from the Who’s Your Peaky Match? quiz. The content is under a read more to prevent spoilers for those who haven’t taken the quiz yet.

Give And Take

You have a wonderful and mutually supportive relationship with your partner. Together, you and your partner are building something that you think will last and grow in a healthy way, setting boundaries and helping each other through rough times in life. You’re not afraid of asking for what you need or getting your partner’s help with some part of your own business, whether it’s to do with crime, politics, or family. Trust and communication are ultimately the cornerstones of your relationship, and that’s why you two have been able to last for so long, despite all the drama in Birmingham.

Fuck Em All

Honestly, you’re out here fighting for yourself. You see so many people claiming to care about each other for religious, political, moral, ethnic, or other reasons, but ultimately, when a crisis occurs and true priorities are exposed, most people don’t really give a damn. At least you’re honest. You’re in it for yourself, maybe a few of your very closest friends, and your partner. You embrace your own ambitions and never let anything stop you from reaching your goals. You are someone that is absolutely to be feared, and everyone knows it! Wherever you go, the No Bullshit Zone follows.

Examples: Tatiana Petrovna, Alfie Solomons

Paper & Brain

Your greatest strengths are your ability to strategize and your analytical mind. While others may question your decisions, you are playing a long game and you’ll see it to the end. Your skills may show themselves in business, academia, or even the arts; ultimately, your talents are not confined to one specific job. If you don’t already have a good education, you make sure to get yourself one, because you want to have as many mental tools at your disposal as possible. Nobody wants to play chess with you, but everyone feels a little safer if you’re on their side.

Michael Gray

(throughout s2, s3, s4 AU)

You and Michael met at seventeen, when you were both studying accounting. Although neither of you was given to talking about your relationship much, you fell into a natural understanding, and the love letters he sent you when you moved to London were proof enough of his attachment that you weren’t surprised that he followed you there. Today, as you elbow your way to the top of the banking business, he does the same in London’s underworld. Your favorite thing about your relationship is how, in any public place, you can communicate with only a look or a raised eyebrow.

Unexpected Bonus: Michael invites you to meet his family after the two of you get engaged, and you make some strange first impressions. First, you show up in your city suit because work ran late and you didn’t have time to change, and you debate monetary policy with Tommy at his own kitchen table. Polly remarks that it’s good practice for candidate debates, and you say that if this is all a candidate needs, you might as well run. (Michael stifles a smirk.) But then the whole family heads out for a hunting trip, and you shoot fowl and gut fish along with the best of them, silently reminding them that you grew up in the countryside along with Michael. The second-most rewarding moment of the trip comes when you sneak out at night to Michael’s tent, and Polly sees you, raises an eyebrow, but lets you go. That has to be some kind of approval, right? (The most rewarding moment of the trip comes when you arrive to his tent. Michael can make an entire meal of one kiss.)

May Carleton

(after s4 AU)

May Carleton was either the biggest mistake or the greatest triumph of your life. The plan was to use her in one of your long con games, but there was such a strange and captivating mix of bold and tentative in one small woman, such a wistful beauty, you fell head over heels for her, confessed the entire plot, and proposed to her on the spot. Today, you set your devious mind to expanding her horse training and breeding business, and you’re both happy as long as you can share long rides at twilight and one big four-poster bed afterwards.

Unexpected Bonus: After her “reputation” was destroyed by her previous affair with some rancid gangster-man, May permanently lost every last fuck she had to give (and she didn’t have that many in the first place). The horse breeding, training, and racing business is full of misogynistic assholes, but it is a thing of beauty and a joy forever to see the way she deals with them. You have seen with your own two eyes the expression on the peer, politician, and Duke of Wellington, Arthur Wellesley, when May just turned around and walked away from him as he was saying something condescending to her. You will treasure that look until your dying day.

Ada Shelby

(after s4 AU: Ada never returns to America, but rather takes over much of the business when Tommy has the Golf Breakdown)

Ada sets out to run Shelby Company Limited like a proper, modern company, with a board and all, and she brings you in as a major part of the process, because of your long history with other highly profitable but somewhat shady companies. You two become absolutely inseparable, practically finishing each other sentences. On the surface, she enjoys your mordant sense of humor and you enjoy her cutting wit. Underneath, she’s the only one you confide your insecurities in, and vice versa. You’re the only ones who really understand what drives you to achieve greater and greater heights in business.

Unexpected Bonus: Although Ada is not herself a Communist anymore, she still raises Karl on some Communist and leftist literature and ideology, in keeping with her late husband’s wishes. He’s a scrappy kid, and you very much enjoy having late-night arguments with him. When he wins a debate prize at school, you take the whole family out to Italy for a well-deserved vacation and then spend half of that vacation arguing over how to deal with the rise of fascism, much to the horror of your more genteel fellow-travelers. (For the record: you think the situation could be addressed with assassinations, Karl thinks the downtrodden should rise up and demand equal rights for everyone, Ada thinks you’re both going to get sunburned, will you please come over and get some goddamn lotion?) Anyways, the ocean’s nice.

Additional Note: For those interested in knowing how good Ada’s strap-on game is: excellent. It’s fucking excellent.

To read more imagines like this, feel free to peruse the masterlist.

If you enjoyed this quiz/these imagines, I’d love it if you could send an ask, leave a comment, or reblog. I’m curious to see if you thought your matches suited you!

I’m also especially curious about what you did and didn’t like about this quiz. I’m very open to feedback. I plan on writing another quiz once season 5 is done which will match you with a season 5 character, so I’m looking to improve here.

[marisbugs]

dare you (to let me go) | part 3

Arthur Shelby x Reader

Summary: It was just a game you’d been playing for years to no end. After all, you knew each other since forever – since, as you usually said, you happened to be dumb enough not to run away when you had the chance and got stuck with the Shelby family.  playlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Timeline: season 1 – 2-ish.

Word Count: 5,274.

Warnings: Language.

It was well past midday when you found yourself engaged in the long-forgotten activities, running around the street, chasing John’s children and Finn who scattered in different directions, squeaking at the mere sight of you coming closer. They made it their life goal not to let you tag them, and they’d been doing a great job so far, moving like the swiftest horse in a stable, making you work for it, as you became short of breath gradually. Yet, you weren’t one to give up so easily.

Rapidly turning around once again to try to take them by surprise, you noticed Arthur watching you lot from the distance, with his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Even from afar, you could tell that he was smiling at you so you smiled back and waved, announcing that you needed a break. The kids gave dissatisfied cries of protest but calmed down quickly as Finn busied them with a game of pat-a-cake.

“How do you feel about helping me out?” You asked with a raise of your eyebrows once you approached him. “Someone needs to teach these kids not to mess with the most famous bulldogs of Small Heath.”

The fact that you still took great pride in that little achievement from your youth years always struck him as endearing, and he smiled broadly once again, shaking his head.

“I think I might be getting too old for this.”

“I’m having the world’s worst hangover, and I’m still in the groove,” you pointed out, crossing your arms, without a hint of false modesty. “So spare me a pity party, grandpa.”

He grunted but looked as if he may be swayed. It had been a long time since he played children’s games and it seemed even longer, but the sight had evoked fond memories of the past he didn’t mind recreating.

“Well, it’s not a kiss chase, but I guess it’ll do…”

“Oh my God,” you couldn’t help laughing at the memory which was as comical as it was embarrassing, “don’t even get me started.”

“Why? I thought you liked it.” He teased.

“You sure you’re not projecting?” You rolled your eyes. “Because I remember how you flapped when Mary from down the street tagged you. You wouldn’t shut up about it for days.”

He was glad he wasn’t eighteen or he just might have blushed. It would have been without doubt embarrassing and just what you wanted.

“Should I remind you of Eddie?” He enquired innocently, raising his eyebrows.

You stared at him blankly.

“We were dating.” Not that it ended on a particularly bright note, however, but that was beside the point.

“So? You started dating after the game.” He looked like he had caught you in some sort of a lie.

You threw your hands up in the air in mild irritation.

“It’s completely irrelevant!” Having decided to end this irksome walk down the memory lane, you hit his arm unexpectedly, shouting “tag, you’re it” before speeding off, alerting the kids on the way so that they could disperse all over the street, while Arthur did what he – among some other things he was not particularly proud of – did best and chased after you.

You had so much fun; it was like you came back in time and became those carefree children you once were, running around the streets of Small Heath, happy, your sides hurting from exercise and laughter. The little ones were on cloud nine, having not one but two adults engaged in their games, since they were usually left to entertain themselves.

“I’m sure you can catch me if you try a little harder, grandpa,” you sing-songed, grinning impishly, while briskly walking backwards, keeping a safe distance between you. The kids giggled. “Fuck!” You cursed loudly as you tripped over your own foot, falling onto a sharp stone that gouged a hole in both your stocking and your knee. Not to mention that you grazed your palms on the ground, and now it felt as if they were on fire. Just your luck. You inwardly cursed the clumsiness you seemed not to have been able to outgrow. You shot a quick glance at the stunned children who stared at you in shock; your vision was a bit blurred. “You haven’t heard auntie say anything, aye?”

They nodded obediently. Before you could muster the courage to stand up, knowing that any movement would bring additional pain, you were promptly lifted up, and a moment later you were clutching the lapels of Arthur’s jacket who had rushed towards you as soon as he saw you fall.

“There is a hole in your knee the size of a penny, and all you worry about is cursing in front of children?” He looked at you incredulously. “They’ve probably heard worse, you know.”

“Yeah, and Polly’s already whipped John’s arse for it, so I’m not eager to follow in his footsteps.” You wrinkled your nose and caught your breath when your raw skin came in contact with the fabric.

He chuckled, but his gaze remained worried and examining.

“We should take a look at those knees,” he suggested, and you nodded silent agreement.

Despite your insistence that a couple of scratches didn’t make you an invalid yet and that you could walk perfectly well, he carried you into the house and sat you on the table for better access to your injuries which now were at his eye level if he kneeled in front of you. Gingerly, he rolled down your cotton stockings, which were now irreversibly ruined with tear, dirt and blood, to inspect how much damage had been done. Just some weeks ago you were doing the same for him; now, it was only fitting that he should return the favour.

You faintly hissed, but you could tell that it probably looked worse than it really was. He, on the other hand, didn’t quite share your optimism.

“This one will scar,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows while lightly touching your knee near where a sharp bit of gravel had left a deep and uneven cut. “It needs to be cleaned and dressed. The other one looks fine.”

The news didn’t bother you. Unlike many, you didn’t mind scars. You had had your fair share of accidents to grow accustomed to them. At this point they acted as mildly annoying reminders of your general inelegance. You knew for sure that Arthur himself had quite a few. But then again, he was a man. Somehow, it made having scars more appropriate, and you wondered how strongly for whatever reason such things depended on a person’s sex.

“Do you have anything to disinfect it with?” you enquired, turning your head left and right to spot anything useful. He thought for a moment.

“I believe there should be a bottle of rum in my desk. Just give me a second.” It was going to hurt like hell, but you didn’t have much choice except bracing yourself for the inevitable.

Arthur came back with the bottle, the last few remnants of the alcohol sloshing in the bottom, and a bowl of water to clean the scrapes and the cut.

“I guess somebody must have raided my stash,” he announced peevishly, placing the bowl on the table beside you.

“It’s hardly a ‘stash’ when everyone knows where you keep it.” You smirked despite the burning in your knee. “And are you sure it wasn’t just you in your most forgetful disposition?”

“Contrary to what you might believe, I keep track of my alcohol consumption,” he deadpanned.

“Oh really?” You laughed, gesturing at the almost finished bottle with a wet piece of cloth you were washing your cuts and grazes with. “Surely looks like it. Anyway, this should be enough.”

“I reckon.” He nodded and opened the bottle. Despite a bothersome itch on your palms, you clenched onto the table top in anticipation of what was coming, and there it was a second later – an instant, sharp burn of alcohol meeting the raw flesh. You winced, panting deeply, and bit your lips bloody to prevent yourself from groaning. Not for the first time in your life, you wished you had a higher pain tolerance. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, softly blowing on the cut. He placed a calming hand to your white knuckles. “You all right?”

“Yeah.” Catching your breath, you tried to sound as nonchalant as possible and offered him a smile as a sign that you were doing just fine, given the circumstances. “I’ve had worse.”

“You’re telling me.” His lips twitched upwards at the corners as he looked up at you. “You were one fast but damn clumsy kid. Always wanted to keep up with us boys.”

“I did my best to keep your egos from overstretching.” The hint of a smile lingered on your face as you reminisced on the past memories. “Last time I got hurt playing a game, you were so damn angry,” you said then thoughtfully, furrowing your brow in slight puzzlement which came over you at the recollection.

His face clouded over as he thought back to the day you were referring to. The images in his head were still vivid as if it was yesterday.

“Because it was stupid,” was all he said. Such terseness was way more typical of a post-war Tommy and in Arthur’s case meant that something was stirring him up. He stood up and picked up the bottle, emptying the last drops on your scratched palms, which made you whimper with a twinge of pain. After that, he lowered it on the table and looked you up and down examiningly.

“It wasn’t exactly my fault,” you pointed out, bringing your hands to your mouth to blow on them to soothe the stinging feeling. “Those sacks of wool were sitting there forever.”

“Except for that day you decided to drop yourself on them.” His relaxed yet stern expression was deeply unsettling, and you felt the childish need to win the argument you had lost once already.

“As if you haven’t done anything stupid for a dare,” you grumbled, dressing the cut before pulling up the stockings. The way he had hauled you over the coals bothered you to that day even though you’d remembered it now by pure chance.

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair in an unconscious gesture.

“I do stupid things every day. It doesn’t mean you should too.”

“I thought we’d already cleared it up that you can’t tell me what to do.” It sounded way harsher than you intended, and you immediately regretted it, wishing that you had bitten your tongue. Still, you meant it; you were free to make any choice possible whether he or anybody else liked it or not.

“I’m yet to meet anyone who bloody can,” he grunted, then stared at you for several long moments, contemplating. He spoke slowly, weighing his words. “I was so fucking mad that day because it was the first time I’d come near to losing someone since mum died.” He chewed on his cheek, uncomfortable with his unplanned confession. It wasn’t something he spoke of freely: it was too much too handle and revealed more than he’d like. “I didn’t mean to lash out at you the way I did. It was just that… You didn’t even think about it. You just jumped.” He looked bewildered; he still couldn’t understand what had got into you. Granted, you were bold but never reckless. “You could have died.”

Your expression drastically changed into one of sorrow, and you mentally kicked yourself for not putting it together sooner. You must definitely be thick, and now you were feeling guilty as hell.

“But I didn’t,” you reminded him in a soft voice and cautiously slid off the table, trying not to bend your knee so that you wouldn’t mess up the bandage. He moved to help you, but, with a wave, you indicated that it was all right, so he just shifted in an ungainly manner and stayed where he was.

“You could have,” he repeated with conviction, probably because he didn’t quite know what else to say and not saying anything at all felt too awkward after such a rare instance of emotional honesty.

It took you several seconds longer to close the short distance between you as you were moving slower than usual, but you managed and looked up at him with a warm little smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“I know it was stupid, and I shouldn’t have done it, and Peter could have just shoved it – bold of him to assume that I would back out just because I’m a girl, by the way,” you rapidly uttered, rolling your eyes in revived annoyance. “But you know what? I was never afraid of anything when you were around.” You traced an almost healed cut under his eye with a light touch and broadened your smile as you let your hand linger on his cheek. “It hasn’t changed.”

He swallowed.

“You’re putting too much faith in me.”

He didn’t forget how helpless he felt then, the thought of you dying on his watch made his blood chill, filling him with dread he would have liked not to experience ever again but somehow seemed to be almost constantly forced to since everything went to shit both in the country and in the family. He wasn’t a feeble man by nature; he had just been feeling more and more useless lately. He didn’t see how he could possibly save anyone if he was doing such a miserable job for himself.

As he wouldn’t meet your gaze, you tilted your head a bit and lifted his chin with your free hand. He reluctantly locked his eyes with yours, and all you could see there was confusion, struggle and somewhat too much like despair.

Your heart ached.

“You have never let me down,” you said, and so did his.

He would have laughed at the bitter irony if he didn’t think that you might just punch him in the face.

“Now that most definitely can’t be the truth,” he chuckled.

“Are you accusing me of lying?” You raised your eyebrows, smiling that damned smile of yours that did unspeakable things to his stomach, with you being none the wiser.

“No.” Thinking that perhaps he wouldn’t feel as if he was being gutted if he didn’t have to see you, he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. “Maybe you don’t know me like you think you do.”

Every now and then, he toyed with the idea of what might have been if it was actually meant to be.

“Maybe I just know you better than you know you.”

As your eyes met once again, it very much felt like it was. He placed his hands on your hips both to steady you just in case and to keep you close for a while longer.

The residual buzz in your head moved down to your stomach. An infinite number of possibilities flashed right before your eyes in a split second, causing an unprompted increase in your heart rate. And you didn’t even have to do anything except to lean just a bit forward…

“No, I won’t!”

“You will.”

“No!”

Katie stuck out her tongue at her brother who looked extremely distressed by whatever she must have told him before the kids barged into the house. You took a considerable step back promptly, turning your attention to the children and away from what it shouldn’t be focused on. You felt a faint blush creep up your cheeks.

“What’s the matter?” You asked firmly, trying to hide your embarrassment. Arthur rubbed his nose briefly before digging his hands in his pockets.

Little George ran to you and clutched your leg, which made you wince in pain. Puzzled and worried, you looked between him and Katie who was now sheepishly poking the wooden floor with her toe.

“I don’t want to become a midge,” he mumbled, with his face pressed into your ankle.

“What?” Your brows furrowed, and you glanced at Arthur who just shrugged, looking mildly amused.

The child sniffed.

“I swallowed a midge, and Katie said that now I’ll turn into one.” He sounded as if he was on the verge of crying. “But I didn’t mean to! I don’t want to!”

“Oh, George, you won’t turn into a midge.”

“Really?” Detaching himself from your leg, he looked up at you for confirmation, with his eyes full of hope and unspilt tears. You smiled.

“Really,” you assured him, tousling his hair. “It’s absolutely impossible no matter what Katie says.” You sent a strict look her way, and her gaze hit the floor. “You shouldn’t fool your brother like that. It isn’t nice.”

“Yes, Aunt Y/N,” she said. Then she risked a glance at you. “How’s your knee?”

“It’s fine, thank you.” You smiled widelier, touched by the child’s concern. “Your uncle helped me great deal. Soon, it’ll be as good as new.”

Katie nodded, and then both children disappeared into the street to join the others. You let out a loud sigh, watching them go, and raised your palm to your forehead.

“I have no idea how Polly even do that.”

“Do what?” Arthur had spoken for the first time since you were interrupted.

“Raising a second generation of Shelbys. I would have long gone off the rails by now.”

“Who says she hasn’t?” He joked, getting an elbow to his ribs from you as a warning to watch it, which he just shrugged off. “Anyway, it seems like you have a magic touch.”

“Oh please,” you scoffed in disbelief, but he knew he was right. Seeing you handling John’s children left no doubt in his mind that you could manage anything thrown your way.

It also made him wonder.

△ ▽

“I can’t believe you eloped.” You shook your head, bringing a cup of freshly brewed tea to your lips. “A little heads-up would’ve been nice.”

Ada laughed at that but gave you an apologetic look, placing her hands on her already protruding belly.

She had been hesitant to let you in at first, but you persisted in knocking, not showing any signs that you were about to give it up any time soon, so she had to give in or else you would have alarmed all the neighbours. You told her that you’d got the address from Polly and swore that her brothers didn’t know where she lived now or that you were going to visit. That seemed to calm her enough to actually invite you for a cup of tea and an overdue girl’s chat.

“Sorry. Next time,” she joked, but then her face fell.

“Troubles in paradise?” You guessed.

She nodded.

“We kind of fell out,” she huffed. “And the fact that I’m getting as large as Charlie’s barge doesn’t make me feel any happier.”

“You’ll get there,” you tried to reassure her. “You love each other, don’t you?”

“Sometimes it’s hard to tell,” she grumbled. “But yeah, I believe we do.”

You smiled.

“Then you both and the baby will be just fine.”

Hugging her belly, she posed an unexpected question.

“Will you?”

“You know me.” You shrugged. “I’ll manage.”

Ada furrowed her brow in concentration and bit her lip.

“Thank you, by the way, for saying what you said to me then. At the time, it felt as if you were the only one who didn’t push me to make the decision they wanted and not the decision I needed.”

“I didn’t do anything,” you argued. “In the end, you figured it all out yourself.”

She shook her head.

“For a second there, Polly had me convinced it would be for the better.”

“Polly is a smart woman, but even she doesn’t know everything,” you said.

“I would have most likely gone with it if Freddie hadn’t shown up when he did.” Ada paused. Her bottom lip quivered, but she quickly pulled herself together. “Then I would have never been able to look him in the eye ever again.”

“So it’s Tommy who you need to thank then,” you pointed out with a small smile.

“Like hell,” she said with a snort of laughter. “He is the reason Freddie’s barely talking to me, and when he does, he calls me a fucking Shelby even though I’m a bloody Thorne now.”

“I’m sure he would be very pleased to hear that he doesn’t need to see you to get under your skin.” You laughed lightly as well. “He may be worried he’s losing his touch.”

Ada rolled her eyes.

“You’re so lucky you’re an only child you don’t even know it.”

That made you snort skeptically.

“Doesn’t actually feel like it. Since almost every man assumes your brothers will act like mybrothers and will cut them to pieces and throw them in the cut or something.” There was a time when that fact drove you up the wall, but you had long come to terms with it since then. Now you found it only slightly irritating – like an annoying itch that wouldn’t go away no matter what. “Most of the time, if I really want to have some action, I have to go to places where no one has heard of them. And nowadays, there aren’t so many here in Birmingham.”

“Now you know my pain.” She sighed, but then a smile beamed from her face. “So tell me how they are.”

You felt a smile tugging at your lips despite your will. Ada would never admit it, but she missed her family, and that was one of the reasons why you were actually here. Well, that and the fact that you missed her as well. After all, Ada was your friend too.

“Oh, same old, you know. Finn wants to be just like his brothers, which drives Pol crazy when Tommy doesn’t. John seems a bit troubled from time to time, but he lets on that everything’s all right, so it’s really hard to guess if something’s bothering him or if he’s just in low spirits. As for Tom – well, you know how he is now. Even Tommy doesn’t know what’s going on in Tommy’s head anymore.” You shrugged. Leaning forward with a mysterious smile on your lips, you dropped your voice like a conspirator sharing top secret information. “I think he may be in love.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Ada shrieked, giving you a skeptical look, but clapped her hands in excitement. “Who on earth with?”

“Grace the barmaid,” you said. “But these are only my speculations, nothing concrete there. Tommy’s hard to read, so it might just as well be what he claims it is, which is nothing.”

“But you don’t believe it,” she guessed.

“Well, he did change the topic all too swiftly when I tried to call him out the other night.” You laughed a short laugh, shaking your head a little. “You can imagine how well it went.”

Ada giggled.

“It’s about damn time,” she said. “If we’re lucky enough and he doesn’t screw this up, maybe he’ll stop being such a pain in the arse.” Then, seemingly having remembered something, she looked at you with a knowing smile. “I hear the boys have bought the Garrison, and someone’s got a generous offer.”

“Hell if I know how it happened,” you said with a laugh. “One minute I’m being scolded like a naughty child, and the next – promoted to a half-pub owner.”

“I know very well how,” she smirked. “The only surprise here is that Arthur didn’t pop the other question while he was at it.”

“Ada!” you exclaimed in amazement. You wondered if you’d ever hear the end of it.

“What?” she enquired, tilting her head in mock innocence.

You shot her a pointed stare.

“Stop it.”

“Sorry, I can’t,” she deadpanned. “I happen to have eyes and not to be a complete moron. You two, on the other hand…” She gave you a masterly eye-roll. “Helpless.” Her words had definitely irked you, and you sighed heavily, which prompted her to send you an almost pitying look. “Sometimes your total obliviousness just blows my mind.”

Dear Lord, not a repeat of your conversation with Polly.

“Okay, now that you’ve got it off your chest-” you rolled your eyes, not wishing to explore that topic any further- “Arthur’s actually been pretty much down in the mouth lately, not in the least because of your runaway wedding.”

“Oh please,” she said. “He’ll get over it.”

“Yes,” you nodded slowly, reflecting on the recent events. “I guess he’s been feeling cut-off from the family business since Tommy took over. Your wedding was just the last blow.”

The problem was that, as the oldest male, he was supposed to be in charge. Since that role had been assumed by Tommy, he felt that he had failed in fulfilling his duty in the eyes of society, his family and himself, and it took its toll on him, even though he was reluctant to admit it.

“Well, if they hadn’t been so fucking hostile to the idea from the start, things might have worked out differently,” she grumbled, lightly rubbing her temple. “Anyway, now he has the Garrison to distract himself with, so he’ll be fine in no time. He’s bloody Arthur. He always cools off before you know it.”

“Yeah,” you mused, “you’re probably right. And they don’t really have anything against Freddie, you know. I’d even say they respect him, even though every one of them would most likely die before they admit it.”

Knowing it to be true, Ada just snorted, rolling her eyes.

“The hell is she doing here?” Freddie’s voice snarled the words behind you, taking you by surprise.

You saw Ada visibly stiffen on the bed as she crossed her arms and sent such an icy stare at him that even Tommy could have envied her.

“By George, he speaks.”

Freddie paid no heed to the dangerous notes in his wife’s voice, which made you wonder whether he was very brave or just plain suicidal – provoking the infamous Shelby temper like that. After you had shaken off his startling entrance, you turned to face him.

“It’s good to see you too, Freddie,” you said casually, keeping your calm.

“Drop the pleasantries, Y/N.” He scowled. “Did Tommy send you?”

You rolled your eyes at yet one more expression of their new-found rivalry which you found quite funny, really, since you very well remembered the times when they were as thick as thieves.

“Not everything in the world revolves around fucking Tommy. Or you, for that matter.” You turned to Ada with a sort of apologetic look. “No offense.”

“None taken,” she said. If she was being fair, she agreed with you. Men tended to be blindly preoccupied with just themselves. It was bloody tiresome. “It may surprise you, Freddie, but she’s come to see me. Because that’s what bloody friends do. If you and Tommy still remember what this word even mean.” She glared daggers at him. “Don’t worry, no one knows this address except her and Pol.”

“No one? Really?” You couldn’t really blame him that he somehow found it hard to believe. In his line of work, one must always stay vigilant. You just wished the question of loyalty didn’t come between the newly-weds.

“Really. A woman’s entitled to her secrets.” He was still eyeing you suspiciously, so you threw your hands up in exasperation. “Ada, tell your husband to, please, dial down the paranoia and have a cup of tea.”

“For fuck’s sake, Freddie, just give it up.” She rolled her eyes. The pointless conversation had tired her out. “Y/N has never been anything but supportive, so there’s really no reason for you to give her shit.”

For the first time since he’d got home, Freddie really looked at his wife, and it seemed to have done wonders for his foul mood, as you watched his features soften and his posture relax. The tension eased with each passing second, and soon it felt like you were on a friendly footing once again.

“All right, all right, I’m sorry,” he conceded. “I might have overreacted.”

Ada and you exchanged looks which said what an understatement you thought it to be, but it was enough to content yourselves with.

“Who even invented families?” she wondered in mild annoyance, glancing at Freddie who busied himself with pouring the tea, and a warm smile lifted the corners of her mouth of its own accord.

He sat down on a chair beside the bed, with a cup in one hand. His other hand reached to stroke Ada’s belly.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” he said.

You watched them, with a tender feeling unfolding in your chest. And you knew that, against all the odds, they would be all right.

△ ▽

With a slight limp in your step, you were going down the street, meaning to come by the office to catch up on paperwork. Lost in thought, you weren’t really aware of your surroundings. The Thornes’ family dynamic had affected you in ways you hadn’t expected. They bickered and quarrelled, yet clearly loved each other. It was something you could strive for. Or maybe it was something that had been staring you in the face all along, but you chose to ignore it.

“It’s not safe to have your head in the clouds while crossing the street, Miss Y/L/N,” said a suave voice right behind you.

You narrowly avoided jumping out of your skin entirely for a second time that day. Turning on your heel, you, to your utmost surprise, came face to face with Inspector Campbell.

“Chief Inspector,” you breathed, looking him up and down. “I haven’t realised you had a chance to catch my name the other night at the pub.”

“Thanks to your… friend, I didn’t.” His lips twitched. “But, as you can guess, I have resources.” You nodded – mostly to yourself. You knew it was only a matter of time before he could figure out who you were; you only hoped that he wouldn’t be that interested in you since you were a woman, and women usually got dismissed and underestimated, especially by men in power. You must have really pushed his buttons then. “Going for a walk? Or maybe visiting a friend?”

You immediately tensed up at his seemingly casual enquires. Was he just poking around because you had rattled his cage or was he implying that he knew more than you wished him to?

“I’m going to work, actually,” you replied, trying to keep both your voice and expression neutral.

“In that case, I shouldn’t waste your time.” With his piercing gaze directed at you, you knew he had something else to say. “You have some dangerous friends for such a nice, young lady. Then again, taking into consideration the type of ladies they usually deal with, maybe you’re not that nice yourself.”

Internally cringing at his unsubtle remark, you squinted your eyes at him, wishing nothing more than to hit the man.

“Are you always prying into the personal affairs of people you’ve just met, or is this little chat, in fact, an interrogation?”

“My bad,” he apologized, although a derisive twist of his mouth told you another story. “Frankness and nosiness come with the job.” He doffed his hat. “Have a good day,” said he and was gone.

You waited till he was out of sight and slapped your forehead. It sickened you to think that Freddie might have been right to worry about your visit.

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