#esme is spilling her heart out

[exilethegame]

ok so this was my main takeaway from the update

P.S. i loved it 💖

oop--

[corrupte3d-mindz]

Forever a Shelby

Thomas Shelby x Wife Reader

Summary: Thomas and you get married.

Wordcount: 4.2k

Warnings:

protective! Thomas, cocky! Thomas if you squint, kissing, lap sitting,

Thomas Shelby stood at the altar, the weight of his suit jacket pressing down on his broad shoulders. The church was grand, decorated with white lilies and gold ribbons, a stark contrast to the gritty streets of Birmingham that he knew so well.

Sunlight streamed through stained glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the stone floor. The pews were filled with both Shelbys and Changrettas, two families whose histories were steeped in blood and rivalry. Today, however, was meant to be a day of unity, a truce symbolized by the marriage of Thomas Shelby and the daughter of his fiercest enemy, Luca Changretta. Arthur stood beside him, a rare softness in his eyes as he glanced back at the congregation. He reached out, patting Thomas on the shoulder, his grip firm but comforting. "Nervous, Tommy?"

Thomas turned his head slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching in what could almost be considered a smile. "No, Arthur," he replied, his voice low and steady. "Nervous ain't in my nature." His accent, thick and rich, rolled off his tongue, a constant reminder of his roots.

Polly Gray sat in the front row, her dark eyes fixed on her nephew. There was a mixture of pride and apprehension in her gaze, a silent prayer for the future. Beside her, Michael leaned back, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips as he observed the gathering. Arthur's wife, Linda, looked on with a serene expression, her hand resting in her lap. John sat a few rows behind, bouncing his baby on his knee, his wife Esme smiling warmly at the scene. Ada, dressed in a striking blue dress, chatted animatedly with Finn, while Johnny Dogs and Isaiah exchanged hushed whispers, their eyes darting around the room. The tension in the air was palpable, a heady mix of anticipation and unease. Thomas felt it in his bones, the weight of expectations and the ghosts of the past pressing down on him. Marrying into the Changretta family was a strategic move, but it wasn’t a strategic move on his part, it was love. Yes, Thomas Shelby had fallen in love with a Changretta but the same could be said for her.

“Now, hush Arthur. She’ll be walking down that aisle any minute now,” Thomas murmured, his voice a low growl that carried an edge of authority. He straightened his posture, his gaze fixed on the ornate doors at the end of the aisle

Arthur looked at him again; “You sure you’re not nervous?” Thomas could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on him, waiting for his reaction. He turned his head slightly, his gaze locking onto Arthur’s for a moment before he replied.

“I said I’m not fucking nervous, Arthur,” he said, his voice low and steady, laced with a thick Birmingham accent that carried an edge of impatience. To emphasize his point, he kicked Arthur in the back of his left knee, causing his brother to stumble briefly. Thomas chuckled, a rare, genuine sound that broke the tension momentarily. He could always count on Arthur to lighten the mood, even if unintentionally.

The sound of the organ began to fill the room, a deep, resonant melody that signaled the start of the ceremony. The guests fell silent, their attention shifting to the doors that were slowly opening. Thomas took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. This was it, the moment that would seal their fate, for better or worse; who was he kidding? It was for better! As the doors opened fully, revealing her figure, Thomas felt a rush of emotions. She stood there, framed by the golden light that spilled in from the hallway, her silhouette ethereal and almost otherworldly. Her dress, a delicate creation of black lace and satin, hugged her form gracefully, the long train trailing behind her like a whisper. A veil covered her face, but even through the sheer fabric, Thomas could see the outline of her features, delicate and serene.

Her father, Luka Changretta, stood beside her, his expression a mask of pride and caution. The tension between the two men was palpable, a silent reminder of the bloody history that lay between their families. Thomas’s eyes never left her as she began her slow walk down the aisle. Each step she took seemed to echo in his mind, a steady rhythm that matched the beating of his heart. He could see the slight tremble in her hands, the way she clutched her bouquet of white roses a little too tightly. Despite the nerves, she moved with a grace and determination that he found both admirable and endearing.

Arthur leaned in slightly, his voice a whisper in Thomas’s ear. “She looks beautiful, Tommy.”

Thomas nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from her. “Aye, she does,” he replied, his voice softer now, filled with an emotion he rarely allowed himself to feel. In that moment, he felt a connection to her that went beyond their shared history, beyond the political and familial implications of their marriage. It was something deeper, a bond that he hoped would grow stronger with time. The sound of the organ began to fill the room, a deep, resonant melody that signaled the start of the ceremony. The guests fell silent, their attention shifting to the doors that were slowly opening. Thomas took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. This was it, the moment that would seal their fate, for better or worse. But it was never worse, it saw always for better. As she reached the front of the aisle, Luka placed her hand in Thomas’s, a gesture heavy with significance. Their eyes met, while under the veil; a silent understanding passing between them, He lifted the delicate veil that covered her face, their eyes meeting in a silent understanding. This was not just a marriage of convenience or strategy; it was a commitment to each other, to the future they would build together.

Jeremiah stood before them, the priest's presence both comforting and solemn. His voice, deep and resonant, filled the chapel, echoing off the ancient walls. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join together in holy matrimony Thomas Michael Shelby and _______ LaPaglia Changretta." His words carried the weight of history and expectation, binding not just two people, but two families with a fraught past.

Thomas's eyes flickered to the woman beside him. _______ LaPaglia Changretta. She was beautiful, her dark hair cascading in soft waves over her shoulders, her eyes a deep, enigmatic brown. Her dress was elegant, simple yet stunning, the black fabric contrasting sharply with her olive skin. She stood with a quiet grace, her expression serene, yet there was a fire in her eyes that spoke of strength and determination.

Jeremiah's voice cut through the silence. "Do you, Thomas Michael Shelby, take _______ LaPaglia Changretta to be your lawful wedded wife?" Thomas felt the weight of the moment pressing down on him. Every decision, every move he made was calculated, and this was no different. "I do," he said, his voice steady, firm. It was a commitment not just to her, but to the path he had chosen, the alliances he was forging.

He turned to her. "Do you, _______ LaPaglia Changretta, solemnly swear to love, honor, and obey till death do you part?" Her response was immediate, her voice clear and unwavering. "I do." There was a finality in those words, a binding promise that echoed through the chapel, sealing their fates together.

Jeremiah's proclamation was met with a collective breath, as if the entire room had been holding it in anticipation. "I now pronounce you husband and wife." The words hung in the air, a declaration that felt both momentous and surreal. Thomas turned to his new wife, his expression unreadable. He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss that sealed their union. It was a kiss that spoke of duty and obligation, but beneath it all, there was a spark, a glimmer of something more. As they turned to face their families, the applause was polite, restrained. This was no ordinary wedding, and the people gathered here understood the gravity of the situation. Arthur left the alter and walk to the pew to join his family. Their expression a mix of approval and caution. Polly Gray, ever the matriarch, watched with a keen eye, her sharp mind assessing every nuance, every subtle shift in the room.

The Changrettas were less expressive, their faces a mask of formality. Luca Changretta's presence was a dark cloud, a reminder of the delicate balance they were trying to achieve. His eyes bore into Thomas, a silent challenge that promised future confrontation. Thomas took her hand as they walked down the aisle, the weight of expectation heavy on his shoulders. Every step was a reminder of the path he had chosen, he wouldn’t ever regret it; the future he was forging. The guests rose as they passed, their eyes following the couple, whispers of speculation and curiosity filling the air. This was a union that would be talked about for years to come, a merging of two powerful families with a history of bloodshed and betrayal.

Outside the chapel, the sun shone brightly, a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere within. The reception awaited, a lavish affair that promised to be both a celebration and a test of the new alliance. As they stepped into the sunlight, Thomas felt the warmth on his face, a brief respite from the shadows that seemed to follow him wherever he went. He glanced at her, her smile a beacon of hope in the uncertainty that lay ahead.

"Welcome to the family," Thomas said, his voice low, the Birmingham accent thick and unmistakable.

The kitchen was a stark contrast to the rest of Arrow House, filled with the smell of freshly baked bread and the earthy scent of the wood burning in the hearth. Thomas stood at the head of the room, his piercing blue eyes scanning the room, ensuring he had the attention of every man present. The weight of the day was palpable; this was his wedding day, a day that marked a significant turning point in his life and the Shelby family. His dark suit was meticulously tailored, each stitch a testament to his attention to detail, and his peaked cap sat jauntily on his head, casting a shadow over his face that made his intense expression even more formidable.

"Right, boys, you're all here," he began, his voice carrying the authoritative edge that had come to define him. The men around the kitchen, his brothers Arthur, John, and Finn, along with Michael and a few trusted others, like Charlie and Johnny Dogs turned their attention to him. Each face was a study in respect and a touch of fear, for they knew Thomas was not a man to be crossed, especially not today.

"Today, this is my fucking wedding day," Thomas continued, his tone brooking no argument. His words hung in the air, heavy with the unspoken understanding that this day was sacred, not just for him, but for the entire Shelby clan. It was a rare occasion of vulnerability, where the hard-edged leader allowed a glimpse of the man beneath the armor.

John, ever the irreverent one, couldn't help but interject. "Yeah, and you said there'd be no bloody uniforms," he said, his voice tinged with a mixture of defiance and humor. The tension in the room crackled for a moment, a testament to the volatile nature of their relationships. Thomas fixed John with a steely gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Nevertheless... Nevertheless, John..." he began, his voice a low growl that seemed to reverberate off the walls. He took a step closer, his presence dominating the room. "Despite the bad blood, I'll have none of it on my carpet." His words were a command, not a request, and the message was clear: today was about unity, not division.

His gaze swept around the circle, making eye contact with each man, ensuring they understood the gravity of his words. "Now for my wife's sake, nothing will go wrong," he declared, his voice firm and unyielding. His love for his bride was a rare softness in his otherwise hardened demeanor, and he was determined to protect her from the chaos that often surrounded the Shelbys. Thomas pointed outside the kitchen, towards the bustling preparations for the wedding. "Those bastards out there are her family," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of disdain. He had little patience for those who might threaten the harmony of his wedding day, and he would go to great lengths to ensure everything went smoothly.

His hand traveled around the circle, pointing at each man in turn as he spoke. "And if you fuckers do anything to embarrass her, your kin, your cousins, your horses, your fucking kids, you do anything..." His voice trailed off as he fixed his gaze on Arthur, the eldest and most unpredictable of the brothers. There was a pause, a moment where the weight of his words seemed to settle over the room like a heavy fog.

Isaiah, leaning casually against the counter, broke the uneasy silence. "Tom..?" Thomas's gaze snapped to Isaiah, a flicker of impatience crossing his features. "To... WHAT!?" he barked, his voice low but commanding.

He hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "What about snow," he ventured, his tone cautious. John eyes narrowed, the muscles in his jaw tightening. "Yeah, their women are sports, I’ll say that.."

"No. No. No." Thomas cut him off sharply, striding towards Isaiah with purpose. He stopped inches from his face, his breath hot and laced with the smell of tobacco. "No cocaine," he said, jabbing a finger towards Isaiah's face for emphasis. "No cocaine."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable as Thomas turned his attention to John, who stood to Isaiah's right. "No sport," Thomas said, waving his hand dismissively. "No telling fortunes."

He began to pace, the soles of his polished shoes tapping rhythmically against the tiled floor. Each step seemed to echo with unspoken threats, a reminder of the consequences of disobedience. He approached Arthur, his oldest and most volatile brother, stopping just short of him. "No racing," Thomas ordered, his voice a low growl. Arthur met his gaze with a slight nod, the fire in his eyes dimmed by his brother's authority. Breaking from the circle, Thomas crossed to Finn, the youngest of the Shelby brothers. Grabbing Finn's face with his left hand, he forced him to look into his eyes. "No fucking sucking petrol," he snarled, his grip tightening. He delivered a light slap to Finn's cheek, a reminder of the discipline he expected. "Out of their fucking cars."

Satisfied, Thomas released Finn and turned to Charlie, who had been lingering on the edge of the group. "And, you, Charlie," he said, his voice softer but no less intense. "Stop spinning yards about me, eh?" Charlie, taken aback, spoke up as Thomas turned his back. "I'm just trying to sell you to them, Tom," he defended.

Thomas took a deep drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling around his face as he exhaled. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, a rare sign of the stress he carried. Returning to the center of the circle, he spun slowly, addressing them all. "But the main thing is, you bunch of fuckers," he began, his voice rising with intensity. "Despite the provocation from her family, no fighting."

He turned his head slightly, locking eyes with Isaiah. The room seemed to hold its breath as Thomas slowly made his way toward him, the echo of his footsteps on the wooden floor punctuating the silence. As he reached Isaiah, Thomas lifted his chin with a firm but controlled hand, forcing Isaiah to meet his gaze. His eyes were cold, yet there was a flicker of something deeper—an unspoken understanding, perhaps. “Oi,” Thomas began, his voice a low growl that resonated with authority. He pointed a finger at Isaiah, his expression unwavering. “No fighting.”

With a swift, deliberate movement, Thomas shifted to his right, positioning himself in front of John. He didn’t waste a moment, his finger darting out to point at John with the same intensity. “No fucking fighting,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. John's smirk faltered under Thomas's glare, replaced by a nod of compliance.

Thomas moved again, this time to Arthur. Their eyes met, and an unspoken tension filled the air. Arthur, ever the wild card, was the one Thomas needed to keep in check the most. Pointing at his older brother, Thomas's voice was a commandment. “No fighting.” Arthur, his usual bravado momentarily subdued, nodded with a grunt, understanding the gravity of the order. Next, Thomas’s eyes fell on Michael, who was leaning against the wall with a nonchalant air. Without a word, Thomas pointed at him. Michael straightened up, his casual demeanor replaced by a look of acknowledgement. The silent exchange spoke volumes—Michael knew exactly what was expected of him.

Finally, Thomas turned towards Finn’s direction, his youngest brother, “No,” he said, his voice slicing through the tension. He then swung his gaze back to Arthur’s direction. “Fucking.” And finally, his eyes landed on Charlie's direction. “Fighting.”

The room fell silent once more, the weight of Thomas’s words hanging heavily in the air. Each man understood the simplicity of the command. In this room, defying Thomas Shelby was not an option. Thomas took a drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing brightly in the dim light, and exhaled a plume of smoke. He walked towards his coat, which was draped over a chair between Michael and Arthur. “Good,” he muttered, his satisfaction evident in the single word. With his back turned slightly, Thomas didn’t see the butler approaching. The man, new to the household and unfamiliar with the Shelby way, hesitated for a moment too long. The collision was inevitable. The impact was sudden, and Thomas spun around, his face a mask of fury. “Get the fuck off me!” he snarled, shoving the butler to the ground. The bottle of wine the butler had been holding shattered on the floor, red liquid spreading like blood across the wood.

Arthur, ever the enforcer, hurled his glass at the butler, the sound of shattering glass echoing through the room. The butler scrambled to his feet, fear written all over his face as he hurried out of the kitchen, leaving behind a mess of broken glass and spilled wine. Thomas exhaled one last plume of smoke before stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray. He adjusted his coat, smoothing out the fabric as he straightened up. “Right,” he said, his voice breaking the silence. “Let’s get this done.” He turned on his heel and strode out of the kitchen, his family and comrades falling into step behind him. The sound of their footsteps echoed through the hallway as they made their way towards the main event. Thomas’s mind was already racing ahead, planning, strategizing, ensuring that everything would go smoothly. But the words he had spoken in the kitchen lingered in the air, a solemn vow that no matter what happened, there would be no fighting. Not today.

As Thomas Shelby sat at the head of the table during his wedding dinner, the room was alive with the clinking of cutlery and the murmur of conversation. He raised the crystal glass to his lips, savoring the last drops of whiskey that burned pleasantly down his throat. Setting the glass down with a soft clink, his eyes swept across the room, taking in the faces of his family and the guests. His gaze lingered for a moment on his wife her beauty striking even in the dim candlelight. She was radiant, her smile lighting up the room. But as his eyes drifted to her father, he noticed the man's steely gaze fixed upon him. Thomas arched an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"You look absolutely stunning today, luv," Thomas remarked, his voice low and tinged with admiration. "Hard to keep me eyes off of you." He reached out to gently squeeze her hand, a small, affectionate gesture amidst the formality of the occasion.

"I can say the same for you, Mr. Shelby," she replied, her smile radiant as she returned his gaze, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

Thomas smiled, a rare, genuine expression that softened his features. His attention then shifted to her father, a man of stature and presence, seated a bit farther down to her. "Well, you're not the only one whose eyes are on me, eh?" he quipped, a hint of playful charm in his voice.

"Luv," he murmured, leaning towards his wife, "would you mind telling your father to stop staring me down, eh?" His tone was light, teasing, but there was a hint of challenge in his eyes.

His bride glanced nervously at her father, then back at Thomas. "Tommy, I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice tinged with apprehension, "but that's just how he is."

Thomas nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering. "I see," he replied, his voice low and measured. He leaned back in his chair, his mind working quickly. He was used to dealing with difficult situations, but this was his wedding day, a day that should have been free of such tensions.

There was a moment of hesitation, a flicker of doubt in Thomas's eyes as he considered the weight of his actions. But then, with a determined glint in his eye, he reached out and gently cupped her face in his hand. She looked at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears, and he knew that this was where he belonged. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to hers in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, a silent declaration of his love and commitment. The room erupted into applause and cheers, the sound echoing off the walls as Thomas and Luka's families celebrated their union.

Hours had slipped by like fleeting ghosts since Thomas had exchanged vows, and now, in the quiet intimacy of their bedroom, he sat with his new wife perched gently on his lap. The flickering light from the bedside lamp cast a warm glow, accentuating the soft features of her face and the delicate curves of her figure. He gazed at her, his eyes tracing every line, every contour, as if committing her beauty to memory.

"You're absolutely gorgeous, Mrs. Shelby," he murmured, his voice a low, husky rasp that betrayed a hint of awe. His hands, calloused yet gentle, cradled her waist, fingers tracing idle patterns on the fabric of her dress. The weight of her presence on his lap was a comfort, grounding him in the reality of this new chapter of his life.

"I like when you call me Mrs. Shelby," she said softly, her voice a soothing melody in the quiet room. Her words were like a balm to his weary soul, a reminder of the new life they were beginning together.

Thomas wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him. He rested his chin on her shoulder, breathing in the scent of her hair. It was a moment of peace amidst the chaos that always seemed to follow him.

"I like it too," he replied, his voice low and gravelly. "It suits you, Mrs. Shelby."

"You're fuckin' perfect for me... y'know that?" Thomas's voice was low, almost a whisper, but filled with sincerity. His hand reached up to cup her face, his thumb brushing gently against her cheek. There was a gentleness in his touch, a rare vulnerability that he showed only to her.

Their lips met in a tender kiss, a silent affirmation of their love and commitment to each other. It was a moment of pure intimacy, a shared connection that transcended words. Her hands roamed freely, exploring his body with a familiarity that spoke of countless nights spent together. Thomas pulled her closer, his other hand wrapping around her waist, holding her as if afraid she might slip away. Their kiss deepened, a silent communication of their love and desire for each other. It was a dance they knew well, a rhythm that was uniquely theirs. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss even further. His hair, usually so meticulously styled, was now a tousled mess, a testament to the passion between them. She loved the way his hair felt between her fingers, the way it seemed to have a life of its own.

They broke the kiss, but remained intertwined, her head resting against his chest, his chin on her shoulder. They sat in comfortable silence, the weight of the day's events slowly settling on their shoulders. The gravity of their new union was not lost on Thomas; he knew the responsibilities that came with it, the need to protect and provide for his new family. His mind drifted to the future, a future now entwined with hers. He thought of the challenges they would face, the dangers that lurked in the shadows of their world. But he also thought of the moments of joy, the simple pleasures they would share.

Author’s Notes:

Y’all, I fucking love this oneshot..it’s so cute I finally did my own rendition of the wedding scene..ahhhhhhhh I feel like I got it just right y’all..ahh it’s fucking cute!!!

Deadass I should have written smut but nah, I don’t feel like it

[hllywdwhre]

Long Time Coming

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

Summary: When each of the family members noticed you and Tommy falling for each other

Warnings: arranged marriage, mentions of heroin (talks about how Tommy used it and the Chinese selling it - nothing graphic, only mentions), let me know if I missed any!

Word Count: 1.7K

Notes: THANK YOU for all the love on Revenge! After many comments and requests asking for more of the pairing, I decided to delve deeper into the development of Tommy and her’s relationship. Up next is moments reader and Tommy fell for each other!

Can technically be read as a stand-alone, but is meant to pair with this Tommy fic I wrote.

Polly

Polly was the second to catch on. She knows her nephew far too well to not notice the small changes. Grace’s death changed something deep inside of Tommy and she didn’t think she’d ever see the day when Tommy, not only fell in love but allowed himself to love again.

Then you came along.

He started smiling more and drinking less. You got him to stop using dope to self-medicate. He also didn’t look nearly as tired.

She always said Tommy had his mother’s smile when he truly smiled, and it had been a long time since Polly had seen her sister’s smile on his face. You made a sarcastic comment in the private booth at The Garrison once though and there it was.

She noticed you falling for him when you came to her with way too much anxiety over an innocent, and adorable, request.

You were picking at your nails as you sat on her sofa while she lit a candle in her living room,

“Tommy mentioned you were the only one who had ever been able to replicate his mother’s raspberry tart recipe. I was wondering if there was any way you could teach me to make them?”

Polly froze for a moment, surprised at the request given your anxious state. It was then that she realized why you were so nervous. Even if you hadn’t realized it, you were falling for Tommy.

You two spent the rest of the day in her kitchen perfecting the recipe.

Arthur

Arthur, bless him, can be pretty blind when it comes to romance. Like. Really blind. Lust? He can spot it a mile away. Hell, he was the first to notice that you and Tommy were sleeping together. But love? Gods help him.

It took until you killed Sabini for him to notice the two of you were in love.

The next day neither you nor Tommy wanted to leave your bed, but an emergency family meeting with the Shelbys and your father had been called because of your actions.

When you told everyone what you had done, Arthur was the first to break the shocked silence.

“Why the bloody ‘ell would you ‘ave done that?” He’d shouted in a mix of shock and anger.

“He’s been intimidating my father and me for over a year now, and then yesterday I learned what he had done to you lot… My anger got the best of me and I was tired of him,” you’d replied with a deep crimson blush spreading across your face.

The rest of the family and your father wore knowing smirks at your explanation, but you could see the moment it all clicked in Arthur’s eyes. His smirk spread across his face and his tone went from shocked and angry, to proud.

“Well, love, remind me not to piss you off.”

John

Since he’d had an arranged marriage of his own, John knew better than most what you and Tommy were going through. In a rare moment of vulnerability, Tommy had actually come to John for advice before the wedding on how to help things go more smoothly and make sure that you were comfortable.

After a couple of months of being married, John had gotten Tommy alone and checked in on how he and you were doing. It was when Tommy had seemed surprised that things were going so well that John noticed his brother was becoming fond of you. He didn’t question Tommy on how he felt, he knew better than to think his brother would spill his heart to him, but he could see that Tommy felt something for you.

Esme & Ada

Once again, since Esme’s own marriage into the Shelby family was an arranged one, she went out of her way to make you feel included and make sure you knew that she was an open, non-judgmental, and private ear you could turn to.

Ada walked in on you and Esme having a more vulnerable conversation when you were first married and you and Esme both immediately changed the topic. When Ada later asked Esme in private what the two of you had been discussing, Esme answered as honestly as she could without giving away details.

”I know what she’s going through, to an extent. I got lucky with how quickly I was accepted since John and I immediately clicked. Not to mention the way I saw every inch of you on our wedding night,” Esme said, both her and Ada laughing lightly at the memory of Esme not seeing her own husband naked on their wedding night, but instead his sister as she gave birth to Karl.

After that, Ada made sure to include you in any shopping trips she went on and opened her house in London to you in case you ever needed to get away.

”I know how my brother is. He can be a right twat when he wants to be. Just let me know if you ever need an escape. We’ll call it a girl’s night.”

The two women noticed you falling for Tommy when you were included in one of the shopping trips and they asked how things were going. You’d tried to brush the question off far too quickly, and when they couldn’t pry out of you that anything bad had happened, they quickly pieced together that you were catching feelings.

Michael

Michael noticed as Tommy’s jealousy and protectiveness over you grew. The Shelby family knew you were capable of handling your own, but that didn’t mean Tommy wasn’t going to be protective. Especially after Grace.

Michael watched the way Tommy went from simply glaring at any men who tried flirting with you, to approaching the men and wrapping his arm around you while questioning whatever unfortunate man had angered him if "he had spotted the ring on your finger and was simply stupid, or if he was blind."

Jealousy was what gave it away for Michael.

Finn

Finn noticed after a particularly dangerous job involving you didn’t go according to plan. You and Finn were the only two who wouldn’t be immediately recognized, so it was up to you two to find out if the Chinese had been selling heroin even after Tommy had threatened them with a bomb.

The two of you had been separated and you hadn’t returned yet when Finn made his way to the betting shop where everyone was waiting.

Tommy’s rage when Finn dared show up without you was something Finn never wanted to be on the receiving end of again.

Charlie

Charlie was the first to notice. Granted he didn’t realize what he was seeing, but he had noticed.

You had convinced Tommy to build a stable at The Arrow House. He, Charlie, and you all loved horses, and it would be a fun way for you and Charlie to bond.

Tommy was away on business and you and Charlie had decided to take the horses for a ride. Charlie sat in front of you and you were letting him guide the horse as he hammered you with various questions about the world.

“Why do horses eat grass? Where do horses come from? Why can’t they eat human food?”

It was during this conversation that he pointed out that Tommy liked you.

“When will Daddy be back?” Charlie asked you.

“In two more days. He’s handling some business in London,” you answered easily.

“I miss him,” he said wistfully.

“I’m sure he misses you, too,” you reassured, “but he has to work so we can have our house and horses,” you told him, hoping to comfort the child some more.

“Do you miss him?” Charlie questioned, turning his head to look up at you.

“I do,” you answered easily. It wasn’t a lie.

By this point, you had grown to care for Tommy. You thought it was only as a friend and nothing more, but Charlie seemed to notice it was something different. You and Tommy didn’t feel the need to explain to Charlie what an arranged marriage was. The two of you had talked about how you were going to explain your marriage to Charlie, and you had both come up with a way to explain it to him without potentially causing any insecurities in the child or exposing him to what an arranged marriage was. It was a delicate balance of lies and truth, but neither of you wanted to tell Charlie “Well, sometimes marriage isn’t love, it’s business.” He was going to deal with enough at the truth of his mother’s death, and neither of you felt it was necessary to add a potential insecurity about whether the new mother figure in his life actually cared for him.

“He misses you, too,” Charlie said, breaking you out of your thoughts.

Your eyebrows furrowed together and you looked down at him,

“I’d hope so since we’re married, but what makes you say that?” You were still walking that delicate line of truth and lies, but his comment had piqued your interest.

“He watches you a lot and smiles a lot.”

His simple explanation could easily be explained away and you explained it away internally, but Charlie had noticed what you and Tommy hadn’t noticed yet.

Alfie

Alfie and you had always had a cheeky and joking relationship. You got on like old school friends more than sometimes-ally-sometimes-pain-in-the-ass.

However, when Tommy and you came to him to see if you could rally his support in the inevitable war that was going to break out with Sabini’s men, he noticed the dynamic had changed. Typically meetings with Alfie were tense with the atmosphere only broken by your sarcastic comments and Alfie’s borderline flirting with you.

Alfie was taken aback when you shot down his flirting and Tommy sent a glare his way.

He recovered quickly though and soon went on to teasing the two of you about your “newfound happiness”.

”Was wondering when the two of you were going to pull your heads out of your asses and smell the roses.”

[zapreportsblog]

Carlisle and Esme meeting underweight reader?

❝the doctor knows best❞

✭ pairing : Carlisle Cullen x reader x Esme Cullen

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : (y/n) has always been on the underweight side and over time she begin to feel self conscious so she seeks help from her local doctor and even gets a bit of inside help along the way

✭ twilight masterlist 2

(Y/N) had always struggled with her weight. It seemed like an endless battle she couldn't win, no matter how hard she tried. She had always been on the underweight side, her slender frame a source of both frustration and concern. Her friends would envy her seemingly effortless ability to eat without gaining, but they didn't see the other side of the coin - the constant anxiety, the unhealthy habits, and the feeling of helplessness that came with it.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the small town of Forks, (Y/N) couldn't ignore the nagging feeling in her stomach any longer. She knew she needed help, but admitting it to herself was a struggle in its own right. She'd spent years keeping this hidden from everyone, even her family.

Gathering her courage, she decided it was time to seek professional advice. With a heavy heart and trembling hands, she dialed the number for the local hospital and scheduled an appointment. It was a step into the unknown, but she couldn't continue like this.

The following week, (Y/N) found herself sitting in the sterile waiting room of the Forks Hospital, her anxiety building with each passing second. Her heart raced, and she clutched her purse tightly, feeling more vulnerable than ever.

"Ms. (Y/L/N)?" a soft voice called from the doorway. Startled, she looked up to see a kind, blond-haired man in a white lab coat. "I'm Dr. Carlisle Cullen. Please, come with me."

Carlisle's warm smile immediately put (Y/N) at ease. She followed him down a long corridor to an examination room, where he motioned for her to take a seat on the examination table.

"Tell me, (Y/N), what brings you here today?" Carlisle asked, his blue eyes filled with genuine concern.

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment, but the pain and frustration she had carried for so long finally spilled out. She confessed her struggles with maintaining a healthy weight, the constant fear of gaining, and the cycle of binging and purging that had dominated her life. Tears welled up in her eyes as she spoke, and Carlisle listened attentively, never once judging her.

After a thoughtful pause, Carlisle said, "Thank you for sharing this with me, (Y/N). It's essential that you've taken this step to seek help. I'm here to support you in your journey to a healthier life. First, I'd like to run some tests to assess your overall health, and then we can discuss a plan to help you gain weight in a safe and sustainable way."

Relief washed over (Y/N) as she realized that she had found someone who understood her struggle and was willing to help. She nodded, her gratitude shining through her teary eyes.

Carlisle smiled reassuringly. "We'll take this one step at a time, (Y/N). I promise you won't be alone in this. Let's schedule another appointment after your tests, and by then, I should have a personalized meal plan tailored to your needs."

As (Y/N) left the hospital that day, she felt a glimmer of hope she hadn't felt in years. With Dr. Carlisle Cullen's guidance, she was ready to embark on a new journey toward a healthier and happier life, leaving her old burdens behind and embracing the promise of a brighter future.

As Carlisle stepped through the door of their stately home in Forks, the warm embrace of familiarity enveloped him. Esme, his beloved wife, was there to greet him as she always was. Her golden eyes sparkled with affection as she looked at him.

"Look at you, my hard at work doctor," Esme purred, her arms encircling Carlisle as she pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

Carlisle returned the kiss, savoring the tenderness of their connection. "Work was challenging, but fulfilling, my dear," he replied, his fingers gently caressing her cheek.

Esme's curiosity was piqued. She always enjoyed hearing about Carlisle's day, knowing how dedicated he was to his profession. "Tell me, love, how was work today?"

Carlisle smiled and led Esme to the cozy living room, where they settled on the plush couch. He began recounting his day, sharing the various cases and medical challenges he had encountered at the hospital.

"And then," Carlisle continued, "I met a young woman who's been struggling with being underweight for most of her life. She came seeking help to gain weight in a healthy way."

Esme's interest was instantly piqued. She had always been a nurturing soul, and the idea of helping someone regain their health struck a chord with her. "That sounds like a noble cause," she mused. "Do you have a plan in mind for her?"

Carlisle nodded. "I'll be in my office working on a personalized meal plan for her. It's essential that we help her find a balance and improve her overall well-being."

Esme's eyes sparkled with eagerness. She knew how much Carlisle enjoyed his work, but she also knew how much he valued her assistance in certain matters. "May I be of help, my love?"

Carlisle's gaze softened as he looked at his beautiful wife. He knew how much joy she found in the art of cooking, and her expertise in the kitchen was unparalleled. "Perhaps you can, my love," he said with a gentle smile. "Your culinary skills might be just what she needs to make this journey more enjoyable and successful."

Esme's heart swelled with affection for her husband. She knew that together, they could make a real difference in this young woman's life. "Then let's work together to create a meal plan that will not only nourish her body but also warm her heart."

As the evening unfolded, Carlisle and Esme sat side by side in his office, poring over nutrition guidelines and designing a meal plan that would be both effective and delicious. In their united efforts, they found a deeper connection and a shared sense of purpose, ready to help their new patient on the path to a healthier and happier life.

The next day, as the sun cast its soft morning rays over Forks, Carlisle was filled with a renewed sense of purpose as he prepared for his appointment with (Y/N). He had spent the previous evening with Esme, meticulously crafting a meal plan that would address (Y/N)'s nutritional needs and gradually help her gain the weight she so desperately sought.

As he entered the hospital's examination room, he found (Y/N) sitting there, a mix of apprehension and hope in her eyes. He couldn't help but smile warmly as he greeted her. "Good morning, (Y/N). I hope you're feeling well today."

(Y/N) offered a small but genuine smile in return. "Good morning, Dr. Cullen. Thank you for seeing me again."

Carlisle took a seat across from her, his expression reassuring. "Of course, (Y/N). I've taken some time to put together a meal plan that I believe will help you achieve your goals in a healthy and sustainable way." He slid a neatly printed sheet of paper across the table toward her.

(Y/N) eagerly picked up the meal plan, her eyes scanning the contents. It was clear that Carlisle had put a lot of thought and care into it. Her apprehension began to melt away as she saw the balanced meals and the variety of foods.

"I should mention," Carlisle said with a warm smile, "that my wife, Esme, helped me create this meal plan. She's an exceptional cook and has a real knack for making nutritious food taste delicious. We thought her expertise might make this journey a bit more enjoyable for you."

(Y/N)'s eyes lit up with gratitude. "That's so kind of both of you, Dr. Cullen. Please thank your wife for me. I truly appreciate all the help."

Carlisle nodded, pleased to see (Y/N) looking hopeful. "You're very welcome, (Y/N). Remember, you're not alone in this. We're here to support you every step of the way. If you have any questions or concerns, don't hesitate to reach out."

As (Y/N) left the hospital that day, clutching the meal plan in her hand, she felt a newfound sense of optimism. With the guidance of Dr. Carlisle Cullen and the support of his caring wife, Esme, she believed that she could finally overcome the weight struggles that had haunted her for so long. It was a small but significant step on her journey to a healthier and happier life, and for the first time in a long while, (Y/N) had hope.

It had been a month since (Y/N) had started following the meal plan that Dr. Carlisle Cullen and his wife, Esme, had designed for her. In that short time, she had begun to notice changes in her body. Her clothes fit a little snugger, her energy levels were up, and most importantly, she felt less self-conscious about her weight. It was a promising start to her journey toward a healthier self.

On a sunny afternoon, (Y/N) found herself at the local supermarket, browsing the aisles for the ingredients on her meal plan. She was lost in thought, comparing brands of whole-grain pasta when a familiar voice called out her name.

"(Y/N)?"

Startled, (Y/N) turned around to see a friendly woman with caramel-colored hair smiling at her. She was taken aback, not recognizing the person who had addressed her. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" she asked politely.

The woman's smile widened, and her golden eyes sparkled with recognition. "I'm Esme, Doctor Carlilse’s wife," she introduced herself.

It all clicked into place for (Y/N). The face before her was one she had seen in a photograph during her appointment with Dr. Cullen. She had to admit that Esme was even more radiant in person. "Oh, of course! You're Esme," she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with realization.

Esme's warm laughter filled the supermarket aisle. "Yes, that's me. It's wonderful to see you outside of the hospital, (Y/N). How have you been?"

"(Y/N)" couldn't help but smile. She was genuinely touched by the chance encounter. "I've been doing better, thanks to the meal plan you and Dr. Cullen created for me. I've put on some weight, and I'm starting to feel more confident."

Esme's eyes shone with happiness. "I'm so glad to hear that! You're making wonderful progress. It's a pleasure to see you thriving."

(Y/N) felt a sense of warmth and connection with Esme. She had always been grateful for the support of Dr. Cullen, but now, meeting his wife in such a casual setting, she realized that she was part of a caring and compassionate team that genuinely cared about her well-being.

As they continued shopping together, Esme offered tips on selecting the freshest produce and shared some of her favorite recipes for healthy meals. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, as if they had known each other for much longer than this chance meeting.

By the time they parted ways in the supermarket parking lot, (Y/N) felt a deep sense of gratitude. She had not only gained weight but also found new friends and support in Dr. Carlisle Cullen and his wonderful wife, Esme. This unexpected encounter was a reminder that sometimes, life had a way of bringing people together just when they needed it most.

[albertasunrise]

Seeing Things - Oops Baby

Masterlist

Summary: Being best friends with Frankie meant movie nights, drinks with the guys and a shoulder to cry on when you got your hear broken. He is head over heels for you but you don’t feel the same… yet a drunken mistake will tie your lives together forever!

Relationships: Frankie Morales x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3 I choose to give none. Read at own risk. 18+ (So... I am trying to update my other pics but the reaction I getting from this ones really giving me the motivation to continue it... so thank you and I hope you enjoy this update! ♥️ It's not a super long one but everything gonna become clear I promise!)

Series Masterlist - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

In the weeks that followed, the sightings of you only increased. You seemed to be everywhere he looked, asking him the same thing over and over again. 

Come back to me

He wished he knew what you wanted. Surely you didn't want him to leave little Esme? You would never have wanted him to hurt himself so why did you ask him to go back to him? You were dead!

"I brought you your favourites." He stated plainly as he pulled out the old bouquet of flowers Ben had brought you the week before. He poured out the stagnant water and replenished it with some from the bottle of water he'd stashed in his pack. Then, just as you had shown him on one of the many evenings you'd spent together, he arranged them carefully, sure to make sure they were just how you would have liked them. 

"I'm sorry I haven't visited sooner." He said as he got to his feet and rubbed the back of his neck nervously "Things have been busy with the baby and work... Don't want to bore you with the details but ya know... It's been hard." He let out a long sigh as he scraped his hand over his face to wipe away the traitorous tears that tracked down his cheeks "Esme's getting so big so fast." He continued "You should see her Titch, the spitting image of you! With the addition of my hair and eyes." He chuckled. 

His eyes traced over the words carved into your headstone. 

The words Here Lies carved in an elegant font followed by your first name and last name, 'Titch' at the end by request of Ben

Friend and Mother 

Forever loved

Never forgotten

Ben had selected the words. Frankie hadn't been able to bring himself to do it so the younger Miller had stepped up. Taking the 'anything I can do to help' statement he'd made to Fish when you'd died so literally. 

"Seeing you everywhere is killing me Titch." Frankie said after a short pause "Is this what you meant? Come to me, did you mean this? Because I am wracking my brains baby, trying to understand what it is you want from me." He sobbed "The guys all think I'm losing the plot but I know you're there. Just out of eyeshot or something and I know you're trying to tell me something so please... help me understand Titch." 

He paused, his eyes locked on the headstone as he let out a shaky breath before pleading one last time. 

"Please..." 

"Frankie." Your voice made him just and his head shot up, scanning the surroundings for you. 

"Frankie please..." You pleaded "Please don't leave me." 

No matter where he looked he couldn't see you. But he could hear you like you were right beside him. 

"What do you mean?" He begged, tears openly spilling down his cheeks "I'm here Titch... Baby I'm here!" 

"Please don't leave me, Frankie." You repeat, your tone breaking his heart as he desperately looked for you among the headstones "I can't do this without you." 

This statement let Frank's brows draw together. What did you mean by that? He was the one who'd been left behind. Your pleads disappeared like smoke on the wind and Frankie was left with the sound of his own breathing and the rattling of branches. He pressed his palms firmly against his eyes as he tried to slow his breathing, his pounding heart hammering against his ribs. 

"I can't do this." He whispered to no one in particular, allowing the dam to break "Fuck I can't... I can't cope with this." 

You didn't say anything else and Frankie audibly groaned before pushing himself to his feet. He didn't understand why you were doing this. Torturing him. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. 

...

"Well, ain't that better Lil' Titch?" Ben said as he finished fastening her babygrow "Uncle Ben's not so bad at this huh?" 

Esme smiled in reply, her legs kicking and arms waving in visible excitement before he scooped her into his arms and planted a big kiss on her cheek. She settled quickly on his shoulder and he smiled as she let out a little sigh and closed her eyes, falling asleep almost instantly. 

"Shit Titch... I wish you could see how perfect she is." He whispered as he placed a kiss on the infant's brow.

"Hands off... she's mine." Frank teased as he walked into the lounge, grinning as his best friend cuddled his daughter so closely.

"You gotta share the baby Fish!." Ben chuckled as he gently gingerly sat on the couch. 

“Yeah, yeah...” Frank grumbled as he waved off his friend, traipsing to the kitchen to fetch a beer. 

“How’d it go?” Ben asked when the older man reappeared, giving him a sympathetic smile as he watched him sit on the armchair across from him. 

“How’d what go?”

“Seeing Titch!” 

“Was fine.” Frankie shrugged, fooling no one once again. 

“There’s something you’re not telling me.” Ben pushed and Frankie groaned. 

“Ben…”

“You gotta talk about this shit man!” Ben pushed, pleading with his eyes for his friend to just open up to him. 

“You won’t believe me!” 

“Why would you-“

“I heard Titch again.” Frank snapped, keeping his voice low so he didn’t wake his baby. 

“What do you mean you heard her?” 

“I keep hearing her talking to me. Sometimes I see her and she always says the same thing!”

“Which is?” 

"To go back to her." Frank replied, scraping a shaky hand over his face. 

"Go back to her?"

"Yes, Ben!" He snarled "And today she was begging me not to leave her!" He choked "But she left me Ben!... I loved her and she left me all alone..." He trailed off as he broke down into tears, head in his hands. 

Ben got up and placed Esme in her Moses basket with practised ease before sitting on the arm of the chair Frank was sitting in and pulling him close. 

"I can't do this..." He sobbed and Ben sighed "I don't know what she wants from me." 

"Fish... this is just your brain's way of holding onto her." Ben sighed "We all deal with grief in different ways... Shit, I keep listening to the last voicemail she left me over and over again just so I don't forget her voice!" 

"No!" Frank all but shrieked "That's not what this is Ben! It's her I know it is!" 

"You can't seriously believe Titch is haunting you, man!" Ben sighed as he stood up to check on Esme as she started to fuss. 

"I don't know how else to explain it, Ben!" He growled "I keep seeing her everywhere and she keeps repeating the same thing over and over!" 

"Fish-" 

"But then today she said something different." Frankie interrupted " She begged me not to leave her... Told me she couldn't do this without me..." He trailed off whilst nervously pacing his lounge "What does that even mean? She can't do this without me... She can't be dead without me? Doesn't make any fucking sense!" 

"Fish... Man, you need to calm down!" Ben pleaded, noting how breathless the pilot has suddenly become "This won't be doing your heart any good man!" 

"My heart's fine!" The older man grumbled.

"You say that but this can't be good for you!" Ben warned "Just take a breath man... I believe you, okay! I believe you saw her." 

"You're just saying that." Fish scoffed, rolling his eyes when Ben frantically shook his head. 

"I'm really not okay!" The younger man pleaded "Just... Just please." 

Frankie sighed as he ran a shaky hand through his mussed hair. His eyes then drifted to Esme who was staring over at him with her large, teary eyes. His heart ached and he was quick to scoop her up into his arms and lay a soothing kiss on the crown of her head. 

"I'm sorry baby girl." He whispered as he bounced her gently in his arms "I just miss your mummy so much." 

"We all do brother." Ben said as he placed a comforting hand on Frankie's back "I'm not trying to say that I even remotely understand the pain you're feeling brother but know that I miss her so much it hurts... And that I am here! Whatever you need..." 

Frankie nodded, giving his friend a weak smile before resting his cheek on the top of Esme's head. 

"I know Ben." He said softly "Thanks." 

"Any time." Ben replied, giving his friend a friendly wink before grabbing his stuff to leave "See you tomorrow for dinner yeah?" 

"Sure." The pilot replied softly "See you then." 

...

"Why the fuck did you pick a restaurant that didn't have a parking lot asshole!" Ben grumbled as he pushed Esme's pram along the pavement, the steep hill making it a little harder. 

"It had good reviews okay!" Will grumbled, "It's not that bad!" 

"You're not the one pushing a pram up a 90-degree hill!" Ben grumbled, pulling a smirk from Frankie. 

"You offered brother!" Frank pointed out, sniggering at the groan that he received in reply "I can take her if you're struggling."

"I am not struggling!" Ben argued and Fish threw his hands up in surrender.

"We're nearly there!" Will piped up "Just across the street."

The three of them reached the crossing, breathing a small sigh of relief when the restaurant came into view. Will crossed first with Ben following closely behind him. Something had distracted Frankie, leading him to step out a few steps behind his friends but your voice calling his name stopped him in his tracks and he looked to his left, your figure illuminated by a bright white light. 

"Come back to me." You pleaded as you always did and Frankie froze. Tears sprouted as he looked at you smiling back at him as you held your hand out to him "Come back to me." 

You disappeared as quickly as you appeared, a horn sounding before Ben screamed his name. Then suddenly he was flying for a brief moment before his body connected with something solid and he rolled over it before hitting the ground with a sickening crunch. 

"FISH!!" Ben screamed as he ran to the pilot's side, hands shaking as he took in his friend's condition "Fish stay with me." He choked as he saw how bent and broken the older man looked.

Frankie winced as he turned his head, noting how Will was standing with the pram as he frantically spoke to who he assumed was the emergency service on his phone. He also noted that the driver who had hit him was nowhere to be seen. 

Hit and run. 

"Ben." He coughed after he spoke, blood filling his throat at an alarming rate. 

"Shhhh." He hushed the man and stroked his hair, desperately trying to keep himself together "Just keep breathing for my Fishsticks!" He pleaded 'Please don't leave me..."

His last statement blended into yours. He could hear you again, pleading not to leave you and he only felt more confused. He was dying... it was clear that he was so surely he was going back to you. 

Surely you should be happy?

"Please, Frankie... Please don't leave me." 

You pleaded... your voice shaky. 

"I'm coming Titch." He whispered. His eyes fell shut as darkness took him. 

"What's happening?" You sobbed as hands moved you from the room.

"He's crashing!" Stated someone in the room and you shook your head as you were pushed into the hallway, still able to see everything through the glass walls of Frankie's room. 

"Please, Frankie... Please don't leave me." You sobbed "Please..." 

Another set of hands pulled you away but not before you witnessed them shock the man you loved, desperately trying to restart the heart that was supposed to save him. You were placed in a room where you had spent more time than you cared to remember in the past month and a half. Hours sat waiting for news on whether Frankie was going to pull through. 

He'd gotten the heart he so desperately needed yet for close to two months he'd been in a coma, fighting battle after battle. This was just the latest in a long list of complications he'd suffered. 

Kidney Failure... Infection... His body had even rejected the donor heart but that was something they had managed to detect early. It seemed his body just refused to get better, even if his mind wasn't willing to let go. 

"What's happening?" Asked Ben as he stepped into the room after being directed here by a nurse, his brows tightly drawn in concern. 

"He crashed." You sobbed as you threw your head into your hands.

"What?... What caused it?" 

"I don't know." You replied, shaking your head "They dragged me in here as they tried to bring him back... I haven't heard anything yet." 

Ben nodded solemnly as he sat down beside you, handing you Esme when you held your arms out to receive her. You needed to hold your baby. 

"Why won't he get better Ben?" You sobbed as your eyes locked with his.

"He's really poorly." He replied softly "He needs time to get better." 

"But that's just it... He's not getting better!" 

"He will, Titch." Ben assured you and you sighed. 

"How do you know that?" 

"Because he's got something to fight for." He stated plainly. 

The two of you then sat in that room for what felt like hours, glad of Esme to keep you somewhat distracted from what the outcome of this latest setback might be. The doctor appeared sometime later. His expression was difficult to read. 

"How is he Doc?" Ben asked, holding your free hand tightly in his. 

"We managed to bring him back." The doctor announced, "He's weak and we have had to up his anti-rejection meds." 

"He's rejecting the heart again?" 

"He never technically stopped." The doctor stated "We have been able to keep it under control with medication. He seems to be responding well though and we're hopeful." 

You both breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief, glad that finally, something was going right. 

"There's something else though." The doctor stated and both you and Ben shared a grim glance before looking at the doctor again. 

"What is it?" You asked, your voice shaking slightly. 

"He's awake." 

Next

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

[cosmic-crybaby]

Blue Skies - Tommy Shelby

Chapter 18: 'Like Real People Do'

Warnings: Mentions of blood, childbirth, last chapter

Masterlist:

---

Months had passed since your relationship with Thomas Shelby had come to an end.

You had someone by your side with every step of the way. Now just a few weeks away from your predicted due date, Ada, Polly, and Esme were there to help you when you needed them. Even Alfie and John had stopped by a few times when you needed them to. But the Shelby women were there through it all. Esme had made an effort to be with you almost every day, even while she was expecting her first child herself.

Esme also kept Thomas' name to a minimum when it came to conversations with you, although she had wished she could gossip about the recent things he had done. Your mind had drifted back to him from time to time, wondering what he had gotten himself into now or how he was doing in that big mansion all alone. You stayed strong and refrained from reaching out to him for your own sanity.

Esme wore she would never give Tommy any kind of update on how you were doing, but Polly and Ada gave him some peace of mind after answering his burning and persistent questions.

“She’s doing just fine,” 

“Her and the baby are healthy,” 

“Yes, she’s still working,” 

But that was the extent of it all.

Tommy really had no idea how you were really doing, and even though you wanted to keep it that way, he still refrained from stopping by your bakery, or sending a peaky boy or two to keep watch on you and the kids. An extra measure to make sure you were safe. He knew you were smart, and would have spotted them right away, but again part of him wished that was the case so you could talk to him again.

But it was better this way, it kept him up at night, thinking you were all alone now. He stayed awake at night with the regret of ever hurting you and jeopardizing your relationship. The one night with Lizzie Stark caused his heart to shatter every night he went without you in his arms.

You, on the other hand, continued to care for your two children and work on your own for the most part, even if you slowed down the further you grew into your pregnancy. You eventually gave into Esme’s request to help you out when the days got busy or when you simply needed to rest. 

Tonight was Henry’s first orchestra concert. You were adamant on attending, no matter what. You sat in the front row with Elizabeth in the middle between you and her Aunt Esme. Watching him on stage along with the other kids of all ages. You gushed to Esme about how cute he looked in his suit, but went silent as they began to play. Listening to the beautiful symphony of classical music. You proudly gazed up at him on the stage as he focused on the sheet music and the movements of the bow on the strings. It was times like this where you were thankful that Thomas paid for violin lessons so he could perfect his skills on time for the show. Your smile dropped as you felt a sharp cramp to your side, inhaling quickly. Your hand quickly flew to your stomach for a moment until the pain quickly subsided. You managed to sit through the concert in uncomfortable silence, not wanting to miss a second of Henry’s performance. You shift in your seat as you take slow and deep breaths while rubbing your side to calm down. 

Once the curtains close and everyone applauds, you turn to Elizabeth. 

“Why don't you meet your brother backstage when he’s done?” You asked her. 

“Okay mum,” She nods, watching her stand from her seat and skip off to the side of the stage. Esme looked over at you, worried.

“What’s wrong, love?” She asked, moving to sit in Elizabeth's empty seat. You groan a bit, attempting to stand up but sit back down with a shocked gasp. You feel around your dress, as the clear liquid spilled down to your knees and into the floor. 

"I-I think my water just broke," 

You knew your due date was nearing quickly but you didn’t think the baby would come this early. Esme rushes to help you stand, grabbing your arm as you hissed at the aching pain in your back. 

“Come on love, not much time now,” She guides you to stand up. Just as you pass the stage, Elizabeth and Henry walk out. Henry held his violin case as he looked at you. You halt your steps. 

"Oh, you did amazing sweetheart," You smiled at him as he gave you a tight hug. 

"Thanks mum," As he let you go, you reached out for their hands. You glanced at Esme as she nods once to make a call to John.

"Okay, listen..." You paused, taking a deep breath. "We will drop you off at Aunt Adas and then we will come pick you up in the morning when-" 

"Rather than staying with their own father?" A strong voice said from behind. 

"Dad!" The two shouted happily as they ran to him and hugged him tightly. 

"Alfie?" You stood up straight with a groan. After he greeted the kids he approached you.

“No way in hell you’re gonna let my kids be watched over by a Shelby,” 

"Alfie I-”

" Right, I will be taking them for the night, I insist…" He dismissively told you. 

"You really never miss their performances," You told him quietly with a small smile. 

"Of course not, I fuckin' love my family," Even past his burley exterior, you could still see the love in his eyes.

"Mum?" Elizabeth looked up at you. You glance down at her. 

"Right! We'll get you in the morning when the baby gets here. okay?" 

Their eyes brightened up. 

"Okay mum," They said. You slightly bend down to pull them into hug them and give them quick kisses on their cheeks. 

"Stay safe, mum" Henry whispered in your ear. You nodded. 

"I love you, I will see you in the morning," You handed your children off to their father. Just then Esme had returned, rushing to your side.

"Thank you, Alfie," You smiled at him, wanting to just reach to hold his hand, but Esme grabbed your hand first after seeing the sweat beading on your forehead. 

"(Y/n)," She whispered. 

"I wish you well (Y/n), may God protect you, Love...stay safe," 

That was the first time you had seen him show real concern for you in a very long time. 

"Love, the car's here we've got to go," Esme rushed.

In the car, Esme sat in the backseat with you, helping you breathe through the sudden increase of pain as John drove like a madman back to your flat. As planned, you had arrived home and John helped you out of the car and into your bedroom. Esme was quick to call Polly and had her rushed over, since she was the only person you had trusted to help you deliver the baby and she lived only a few streets away. As you sat on the bed, hunched over and panting, John rubbed your back. Even though he had seen this many times before and witnessed the birth of his many kids and siblings, he still felt anxious for you as his hands shook.

"(Y/n) Polly is on her way but we need to get you ready," Esme hurried into the room, holding clean sheets and a large, thin night dress. She had ushered John out of the room, sending him to gather blankets, towels, and water. She helped you undress and put on your nightgown as you finally were able to catch your breath for just a minute before the cramping started up again, this time a loud cry erupting from your throat as you gripped onto the bed sheets. 

"Fucking Christ!" You shouted.

"You're doing great love just keep breathing," Esme calmed you, trying to keep your breathing regulated. She moved your hair out of your face as it stuck to your face the more you began to sweat. 

"Esme, it hurts! I can't do this!" You cried. 

"Yes you can! Just hold on, Polly's almost here," She comforted you. You whine as John entered the room, bringing the things Esme ordered. 

"She's here," 

It was like everything was a huge blur, you had no idea what was going on until Polly greeted you. Hasty, and trying to stay calm as she ordered John to get more water. 

"(Y/n), you've got a fever, you need to stay awake so we can get the baby out, okay?" She spoke clearly. You tiredly nodded. She helped you onto the bed, sitting up as she rubbed your back gently. In the midst of your next contraction you held Esme's hand tightly as Polly checked your dilatation. 

"You'll need to start pushing soon okay?" Polly asked, standing up to wash her hands and grab the pile of linens and towels.

"N-No, I can't, it hurts," You cried, your words coming out like slurs and your eyelids getting heavier. 

"Shit, John! Where is the fuckin' water?!" Polly shouted. The room began to spin as everyone in the room began shouting and yelling at each other. You couldn't comprehend what was happening. Not until you heard him call your name. 

"He just turned up, I couldn't tell him to leave, Aunt Pol he has every right to be here!" John argued. 

"I don't give a shit, he's hurt her in more ways than one and right now she needs help not a fucking reminder of the man who put her in this situation!" She argued. 

"She doesn't even want to hear your name, what makes you think she wants you here?!" Esme spit. 

"(Y/n)," He called. "I need to see her, please," He begged as he tried to push past Polly. She glared at him, refusing to let him through. 

"Only if she agrees," She noted. 

"She's delusional, she can barely speak!" Esme shouted. 

"Tommy?" You mumbled. A whimper left your throat as you looked towards the door. A moment of silence filled the room as he was let in, much to Polly and Esme's dismay. Thomas stood by you and held your hand as you looked at him with a dazed look in your eyes. Your face was pale, your pupils wide, as the sweat drips down your temples and neck.

"Hi love...I'm here now, I'm here for you," He nodded. 

"Polly-" You quickly turned away from Thomas as you called for his aunt. She walked to the bed once again, lifting the sheet to check your dilatation. With a focused face she ordered Esme to help. 

"Give her water, try to keep her cool because this baby is coming now," She hurried. Drinking the water quickly and shutting your eyes as you felt the need to push. 

"You're doing great, (Y/n) just keep breathing," Esme encouraged you as she dabbed your forehead with a damp towel. You nod once as you try to focus on your breathing. The impending pain made you open your eyes as you frantically reached for Esme's hand. Esme held you close, looking up at Thomas to step up and do the same. He was almost frozen in his place as he stared at her.

"Tommy," You called for him again, holding your hand out as he tightly squeezed. You cried out in pain

"It'll be okay, keep going," He looked at you with wide eyes. 

"Fuck!" You cursed loudly as you threw your head back. 

"Almost there (y/n) almost there! One more!" Polly affirmed. It seemed like everything had gone by within the blink of an eye. One last push and one last cry from you and it was all over. The pain became numb as your legs trembled. The warmth of the blood drenched your sheets as Polly gasps in relief. Far too exhausted to lift yourself up to get a proper look at the little bundle as Polly cleaned them up. Your vision begins to double as you sink back into the pillows. The muffled sound of Esme and Tommy calling your name was almost deafened when you heard the coos and crying of the baby. You felt your eyes get heavier and heavier as the sweat and heat began to get too much for you. And with that, you were out. The room was worried for you. Trying to wake you up but the fever, the pain, and the blood loss had all hit you at once. 

That summer, Elizabeth and Henry were sitting on an old blanket on the grassy hills under the trees. The very same spot Thomas had taken them, chasing the ducks and flying paper airplanes over a year ago. The sun was warm and bright as the birds sang and the children laughed. A basket full of food and sweets sat beside them, Henry was restraining himself from sneaking a taste of the apple dumplings. You had approached behind them, the small baby in your arms as you set the small bag of necessities for the baby on the grass before you sat down. 

"Can we take Evelyn to look at the ducks, mum?" Elizabeth asked, the baby cooed and giggled as she grasped onto your fingers. 

"Yeah, let's go before Aunt Esme arrives," You nod as you stand up, and approach the small pond. She was still small, but her chubby hands grasped at the water, giggling as the little gold fish scattered whenever she wiggled her fingers. You chuckled as Elizabeth and Henry fed bread to the ducks, screaming and laughing as the ducks quacked and chased them around if they held the bread for too long. 

"(Y/n)!" Esme had called. You stood up, looking at the top of the hill, holding your hand over your brow to shade your eyes from the sun. She waved happily, the baby in her arms bundled close to her chest. John's kids greeted Henry and Elizabeth before they gathered to run about the hill. The two of you sat on the blanket, watching the kids kick a ball around, their laughs were carried with the wind. Behind you, in the car, John stood. Smoking a cigarette. 

"You alright, brother?" John turned to his older brother. Thomas leaned against the car. You didn't know he was there, and he didn't want to be known. He held the cigarette in his mouth as his hands were shoved in his pockets. He heavily sighs. 

"Yeah..." He mumbled. He hoped to get a glimpse of your new life. You looked happy, laughing with Esme as you held the baby by the hands as she took wobbly steps. The small glance he got at her, in her bright blue eyes. She looked just like a perfect combination of the both of you. It ached him that he had to keep his distance when all he wanted was to be next to you, holding the babe in his arms just as you were now. 

"Why don't you go talk to her?" John asked. He didn't completely understand why Thomas couldn't just man up and talk to you again. But it was more complicated than that. 

"I can't John," 

"Why not? Tom, you were meant to be, just give it a try," 

The days after Evelyn was born, Thomas tried to reignite that spark in you. And as much as it saddened you, you declined.  Your heart wanted you to go back to him, but every other part of you didn’t want to get hurt again. It just wasn't going to work. The amount of times he had hurt you was just too much to overlook the times he cherished you.

"Perhaps meant to be just wasn't for us, John..." 

You picked Evelyn up, lifting her up in your arms before bringing her down to give her a kiss. She squeals as you do it again and again. 

"That's bullshit," John muttered, flicking the end of his burnt out cigarette onto the gravel road. Thomas only took his hand out of his pocket to do the same. Shaking his head, swallowing thickly as he felt the lump in his throat grow the more he watched you. 

And you smiled, maybe not at him, but after all this time you still smiled, so he smiled too. He quickly looks down, licking his lips before pushing himself off of the car. 

"Let's go," He mumbled as he got into the driver's side. He gave you one last glance. Evelyn looked at you before turning her head to Thomas. Locking eyes with him. It was like he lost his breath at just how beautiful she was. Making him think, just how could someone as cold and deadly as himself make something so warm and beautiful. 

"What are you looking at, love?" You asked Evelyn, she looked at you then back to the road. Pointing a chubby finger in that direction. Confusion washed over your face as you looked over your shoulder. You both stared at each other, doing and saying nothing until you lifted your hand to give him a small wave, as a comforting smile formed on your face. Thomas returned the gesture before driving off. Your eyes followed the car until you couldn't see it anymore. 

"You still love him, don't you?" Esme calmly asked. You looked down, swallowing a bit before silently nodding. 

"That's okay...You made the right choice," She scooted closer to you, putting a comforting hand over yours. You nod again, your breath shuttering as you look up. The golden sun casting a glow on your skin as you wiped your tears. 

"We were always made for each other, just never made to last,"

---

This was the final chapter of 'Blue Skies' I really hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I have another Tommy Shelby story in the works that will be posted soon! In the mean time if you would like a bonus chapter with Tommy x (yn) or Alfie x (yn), feel free to let me know.

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[lgbtimelords]

a fanfic i'll never write, part 2:

scenes from the future and feelings from the past

Behind knowing everything ends up okay and that one should always be hopeful, there's something else Kara knows wholeheartedly: people always leave, eventually.

People leave like her grandfather did. One day he was telling her how excited he was to see her join the science guild and the next her parents were telling her he would not be making it to the ceremony.

People leave like her parents did. Or maybe she left. Still. Someone leaves. And she ends up alone again. And then came back, again. And leave, again.

Jeremiah left. Cat left. Mon-El left. Winn left. James left. Kenny left. Lucy left. Kal never showed up to begin with. They’re all a small missing piece inside her heart she had to take away so it’d stop hurting, leaving an empty void instead.

She hates the loneliness. Hates it more than darkness and villains and kale on her food. And yet, the feeling of being alone is the one thing that never seems to leave her.

Alex’s and Kelly’s car flies away. Up and away in their happily ever after. It brings tears to her eyes again and it warms her heart, that her sister got it all- everything she wanted, everything she deserves.

It all ends rather suddenly after that. The guests start to leave one by one- Kara doesn’t even know over half of them. Winn leaves, too- something about his wife and daughter and some weird movie franchise. Brainy and Nia leave together, rushed and with a tint of red already covering their cheeks.

“Are you coming with us, auntie Kara?” Esme says, two little arms circling her waist as bright eyes look up at her.

She smiles at the girl, throws a look to Eliza- receiving an understanding nod to her silent question.

“Sorry, bud. I have a thing,” she says, running her fingers through Esme’s hair, “but you’ll have so much fun with grandma.”

And so, Esme and Eliza leave, just for today- she wonders how long it’ll be before it’s permanent.

The waiters take everything down. The tables, the flowers, the chairs. They clean up every glass and every fork. They pick up every dirty napkin and mop spilled drinks from the dancefloor. All while Kara watches from the side, sitting below a tree in the corner of the property- light blue dress already filled with dirt.

“Hey, you,” a soft voice she knows so well calls out, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Lena wastes no time before sitting down beside Kara. Her knees, still cladded in her sinful and gorgeous purple bodysuit, bump against Kara’s playfully. The action brings a small smile to her face. Knowing how much they’ve grown, how they went back to the playful and subtle touches again, the ones Kara had missed so so so much.

And somehow, something in the back of her mind, as she watches Lena’s knee move from side to side, always touching Kara’s when it moves to the left, tells her that Lena has already left, once, but Lena has always been the only one to ever come back.

“I’m tired,” she ends up confessing, even though perhaps they had already used up their emotional conversations quota of the day.

“Then let’s go home,” Lena whispers, care and warmness wrapping around Kara like a soft blanket. “I can make you some hot chocolate.”

“I mean… I’m tired of… everything. Everyone leaving”

Worry takes over Lena’s features. Kara has to look away in case it turns to pity, she doesn’t think she can deal with pity right now. “Alex isn’t gone,” she says, her hand taking Kara’s, “You know this.”

“I know. I know.” A tear rolls down her cheek anyway, “But she’s… Nevermind.”

“Hey, no, tell me,” Lena’s hand pulls, urging Kara to look into her eyes.

“It’s selfish,” she whispers.

“I don’t care,” Lena says back, “I won’t judge.”

“She’s no longer only mine,” she confesses, bites her lip in shame but she doesn’t find confusion in Lena's eyes, she doesn’t laugh at Kara’s words, she doesn’t tell her how selfish and ridiculous she’s being. She smiles sadly and squeezes her hand, asking her to keep going. “She’s no longer only my sister. She’s a wife. And a mom. And I love that, I do. But I’ve lost so much and now Alex can’t be my rock anymore, because if I drown Alex then I drown Kelly and Esme down with me, too. I can’t do that to her.”

“Just because Alex has new people to take care of, care for,” Lena says, “doesn’t mean she’ll stop taking care of you.”

“But I want her to stop taking care of me,” she exclaims, “I’ve held Alex back for so many years, Lena. So many. And I can’t be selfish enough to expect her to be there for me when she’s got so much good in her life now.”

“You are not a burden, Kara.”

“I know I’m not,” she sighs. “I know that if I ask for help, Alex will come running. But I don’t want to do that to her anymore. It’s just… It used to be us against the world. Alex was the first person I ever had since coming here. And I was the first person Alex ever truly confided in. And now that part of her has a new life, I realized… I don’t have anything that’s truly mine, now.”

She throws her head back against the tree. She wishes it could be full strength. Yet knows, full strength will break the tree in half. She plays with the ends of Lena’s fingers, tries to ground herself after letting out so many feelings.

“I understand what you mean by that,” Lena says softly. “I’ve never really had someone that’s truly mine either.”

[zablife]

Say Yes to Heaven

dark!Arthur x female reader

Summary: Your childhood friend, Arthur, is deeply upset when he convinces himself your boyfriend is mistreating you. Deciding to take matters into his own hands to "save" you, his protection soon grows into an unhealthy obsession. He knows he can give you a better life...if you would only say yes.

Author’s Note: Inspired by "Say Yes to Heaven" by Lana Del Rey.

Warnings: drinking, drug use, unreliable narrator, mention of domestic abuse, mention of blood, minor character death, yandere tendencies

France, 1917

“Arthur, stop pacing, you’re making the other lads nervous,” Tommy commanded, stamping out his cigarette.

“I can’t help it, Tom,” Arthur replied, biting his lip anxiously, taking another swig from the small bottle the doctor had prescribed.

Tommy wrenched it from his hands. “Stop it, man. You don’t need that stuff.”

Arthur clenched his jaw in frustration, turning his head away as he replied, “I do though. Need to forget I’m here when she’s back home…with him.”

Tommy shook his head in disbelief as he poured away the opium and bromide solution. Might keep Arthur from wanking about her, but it didn’t give him the readied solider he needed, he thought with a roll of his eyes.

“Nah, you don’t understand what could happen to a girl like her if I’m not there to protect her,” Arthur asserted.

“Then see to it when you get home, but don’t get yourself killed worrying about some girl who seemed happy when we left,” Tommy huffed.

Arthur’s eyes went wild at the suggestion, pushing his brother up against the trench. “You think she were happy with a piece of shit like him who don’t know how to treat her? Or have you forgot what men like that do? Like dad was with mum?” he asked, lower lip trembling.

Tommy sighed seeing there was no use arguing. “I didn’t say that, did I? I just said to make it home alive.” Then he pushed his older brother from him, watching his sibling crash to the ground, holding his aching head. Tommy knew if vengeance was what his brother wanted, he would have it. Arthur was never one to let go of a grievance. 

—————————————-

Birmingham, 1919

“Esme, I need the black star list,” Arthur said in a low voice, shifting his weight on the balls of his feet as he might before a fight, ready and eager for the first punch. She barely looked up as she pushed the slip of paper across the desk, unaware of what it meant to him. He immediately scanned the list for the name of his foe, heartbeat thundering in his chest with the anticipation of a righteous victor. However, it was not to be his day. 

When Arthur realized the name he sought was not on the list, he emitted a low growl of displeasure. “He fucking owes, I know he does,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Something wrong, Arthur?” Esme asked, looking up from her work in confusion.

Thinking for a moment he shook his head. “Tommy’s made a mistake, but I’ll make it right,” he assured her.

“What do you mean?” she asked with furrowed brow, but Arthur was already out the door.

——————————-

Arthur’s agitation was momentarily quelled by the sight of you walking down Watery Lane, the morning sunlight streaming through your hair. Your angelic face gave him pause, but only long enough to notice what he swore was a fresh bruise blooming just below your right elbow. His heart clenched as he noticed you wincing under the weight of the basket you carried and he was instantly transported to childhood. When you were eight and he was ten, he would rush out into the street to help you carry a bucket of ale home to your father. He knew the punishment for spilled beer and he couldn’t allow it to happen to someone so soft and delicate. Your large doe eyes urged him to treat you carefully, offering his protection whenever he could.

Approaching carefully so as not to startle you, he removed his cap to greet you. A wide smile overtook his features when you acknowledged him, a feeling of warmth radiating through his chest from a simple glance from you.

“You alright there, darlin’?” he asked with a softness reserved just for you. 

“I’m fine, thank you,” you replied brightly. As he stood twisting his cap nervously in his hands without anything more to say, you bid him goodbye and continued down the street.

“Where are you headed?” Arthur asked eagerly, nearly tripping over his own feet as he rushed after you. He was enamored with you, openly staring at your beauty, and it made you blush. Arthur had a crush on you since you were kids which you found endearing. You couldn’t understand how others could be frightened of him in the slightest, despite your friends’ constant warnings a Shelby brother was dangerous company.

“I have to return to the shop. I shouldn’t keep James waiting,” you said, thinking of how busy the morning rush could be. 

Arthur furrowed his brow, as he remembered the scorching heat of the ovens and the callouses on your hands. He hated the thought of you having to work so hard. As his shoulder bumped against yours, he felt your bone poke back against him and worry began to consume him. He wanted to ask if you’d eaten that morning or in the last week, but thought better of it.

“How’s business?” he asked instead.

“As well as can be expected when people are still recovering from the war. James was a great help after father died though,” you praised, shifting the basket to your other arm with a grunt.

“Let me help you with that. Looks heavy, love,” Arthur commented, trying to be useful.

However, by that time you were standing in front of the shop. James peered out the front window at you, raising his cane to tap against the glass. “I have to go now, Arthur, but thank you for walking with me,” you said quickly before disappearing inside. Arthur looked up and scowled at the man in the window, taking note of the object most likely used to mark your skin. “Fucking cunt…” he hissed, clenching his fists at his side.

————————————————-

“Are there any other orders of business?” Tommy asked before attempting to close the family meeting.

“Yeah, I’ve got somethin to say,” Arthur spoke up, voice coursing with urgency.

“Well, what is it?” Tommy said impatiently, squinting cautiously through the smoke from his cigarette to study his older brother.

“When do we go after James Miller, eh? It’s been six bloody months,” Arthur sniffed disgustedly.

“James Miller? He has no outstanding debts,” Lizzie said, opening a file in front of her and scrunching her nose as she followed a column of names with her finger. 

“It’s not about money. It’s about reputation, Lizzie. Ain’t that right, Tommy?” he said, looking to his brother expectantly. “The Peaky Blinders keep order round here now and James Miller ain’t playin by the bloody rules.”

Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose as he began to see where the conversation was heading. “Arthur, we’ve been through this already. Y/n hired James Miller as a legitimate employee. Who are we to tell her how to run her fucking bakery? Who gives a fuck?” he said, stamping out his cigarette and turning to grab his jacket off the chair.

Arthur stood a bit too quickly, nearly overturning his seat in his haste. “I give a fuck because he’s taken what isn’t his! Making her work night and day and taking all the profits.” He grabbed Tommy’s arm to make his brother look him in the eye as he stressed, “He’s hurtin’ her too, I know it.” 

Tommy took note of the pain in Arthur’s eyes. He was well aware that there were nights Arthur drank himself into a stupor, rambling about his love for Y/n. As far as he was concerned, she was the only woman in the world and he would fight to the death for her. If allowing him this one victory might bring Arthur’s mind back to business, Tommy decided to agree.

Tommy clamped a hand over Arthur’s and gave a short nod. “Alright, brother, if you’re certain. I’ll let you handle it the way you see fit.”

“S right. By order of the peaky fucking blinders,” Arthur said, savoring the words as he spoke them, knowing justice was forthcoming.

———————————-

“Open up, by order of the Peaky Blinders!” John called, nearly kicking the door in before James could open it. 

“Come here to harass me again have you?” James asked, face red with fury, picking up his cane and waving it at the younger Shelby brother.

“James, stop!” you shouted, rushing out to grab his arm. You placed yourself between him and the peaky blinders as you asked in a small, frightened voice, “What’s this about?” 

Arthur gulped as he saw you, hating to have caused you distress. “We don’t mean ya no harm,Y/n,” he said, holding up his hands. You studied his black gloves with suspicion, but decided to trust him based on the pleading look he now gave you. He looked genuinely sorry for the intrusion and you thought the least you could was listen. 

“Alright, come in,” you said, opening the door toward him.

Arthur shook his head gently before asking, “A word alone, Y/n?”

James gave you a dire look, but you silenced it with a hand to his shoulder and a kiss to his cheek. “It’s alright. I’ll be fine,” you promised, grabbing your shawl and heading down the steps to meet with Arthur as John stayed behind guarding the door.

“Arthur please tell me what’s happening,” you begged as you walked with him.

Arthur stopped by the alley and reached for your hand tenderly. As he did, your shawl slipped, revealing a burn on your lower arm which you quickly covered. “You don’t have to do this, Y/n. I can help ya,” Arthur offered, stroking his thumb over your knuckles. 

“Do what, Arthur?” you asked. He looked so forlorn, but you had no idea why.

Arthur’s head turned back toward your shop as his eyes flashed with sudden hatred. “Be with him!”

You took a step back to see if he were actually serious before realizing, Arthur Shelby was jealous. “Because I love him…” you exclaimed as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Look how he treats ya!” he said, jerking his chin toward your injured arm.

“That’s a burn from a hot pan, Arthur,” you explained quietly. 

“The hell it is! Why you covering for him?” he grunted. Then he softened as he took your cheek in his hand. “You can tell me, dove. Just cause he was here when your dad passed, don’t mean you have to let him take over. I know I was gone fighting a long time, but I’m home now. I want to be here for ya now…please,” he said, pouring his heart out in a way he didn’t think possible.

You listened intently, thinking of all the times he’d been two steps behind you, your fiercest protector since you were small. However, it was nothing more than a form of sisterly affection you felt for him and you realized you’d have to tell him of your feelings sooner rather than later.

“Oh, Arthur, I know you worry. You always have, but I’m not in trouble, you see. I’m in love and we’re getting married,” you said with an encouraging smile. You searched him for a response, but he remained stone faced before you.

Then suddenly something unexpected happened. Arthur’s features contorted into an expression of pain and his face and neck turned to a deep shade of red as he fixed you with a perplexed look. Unable to contain his humiliation at your rejection he shouted, “There’s no ring on your finger, Y/n. You’re lying to me!”

Your eyes grew wide at the change in him and you shook your head violently. “No, no, of course not! We haven’t the money. That's why I don't have a ring.”

Arthur’s hands snaked upward toward your wrists, restraining you with a punishing grasp as he pushed you further into the alley and up against the cool brick. “You’re lying,” he repeated, hot breath fanning over your face as he moved impossibly close. “You don’t love him,” he said as though he were trying to imprint that fact into your mind.

Tears began to well in your eyes from the shock and the pain of his hold. With quivering lip you looked into his eyes as you whispered a frightened plea. “You’re hurting me, Arthur. Please stop.”

The spark was quickly extinguished and Arthur relinquished his hold, backing away and running a hand through his hair, pulling at the roots as he shook himself. “Fook! Fook! God, I’m sorry.”

You wrapped your shawl around yourself tightly as you mumbled, “Goodbye, Arthur,” and scurried away, unsure what to make of the situation.

Arthur stood in the alley for what seemed hours, pacing and plotting, his mind never leaving you. None of what he’d heard could be right. You would come back to him, he was sure of it.

———————————-

The heat from the kitchen was dissipating slowly to mix with the chill of the late evening air. James had gone to take out the rubbish bins and you were waiting for his return as you finished the cleaning. It was another long day and you felt yourself slipping into a soporific state even as you stood cleaning. 

Willing yourself to continue, a sudden gust from the open back door blew a solid sheet of rain into your face, causing you to blink and sputter as you fumbled for the door, rain pouring across the threshold. As you grappled with the edge of the door, an unsettling crash came from the alleyway and you turned in a tight circle, looking for James. Instead of your boyfriend, you caught sight of Arthur Shelby, or at least you thought it was him, from his profile. He stood at the corner of your house, washing his hands in the run off from the eaves, scrubbing them clean of what you weren’t entirely sure.

GIF credit @peakykestrel

“Arthur?” you called out in a shaky voice.

His hands froze at the sound of your soft voice, one covering the blood which stained the other. He couldn’t let you see what he’d done, though he knew you’d find out soon enough. Dipping his head low to slough the water off his flat cap, he gazed back up at you with wild eyes like an animal caught with prey still in its jaws. 

“Y/n, what’re ya doin’ out here? Thought you’d be in bed by now,” he managed, voice rumbling low like the thunder rolling through the city. 

“I heard a noise,” you explained, eyes coming to rest on a broken piece of wood at the bottom of the stairs. It was hard to make out in the dim light, but it appeared to have the carvings of James’ cane and you felt your heart lurch. Arthur’s head tilted at a precarious angle to follow your line of sight, eyes flicking back up to yours and causing a shudder to course through your whole body. Your hands twisted nervously in your apron, feeling very small under his intense scrutiny.

Hiding his hands behind his back, Arthur slowly paced toward you in a stalking motion that made your stomach churn with dread. You shivered as he motioned for you to enter the house. “S too cold for ya out here, love,” he whispered in a voice that sounded far too placid. Then you felt his large hand at the small of your back, shooting electric sparks straight to your feet. Only then did your limbs begin to move in halted jerks with Arthur steering you into the sitting room. 

You allowed him to guide you, feeling the grip he held on your elbow as he sat you in a chair by the fireplace. He took care to light it for you before taking a seat opposite you. Then he removed his coat and hat as if to show he had further business to discuss.

Despite the warmth that surrounded you, you shook violently as you asked, “Arthur, what have you done?”

Arthur leaned forward as he removed a flask from his pocket. Taking a long swig of whisky from the silver container to fortify himself, he exhaled sharply, “What should’ve been done a long time ago. I took care of him.”

“No, no…” you begged, catching sight of his bruised knuckles and bloodied shirt fully for the first time. 

He rushed to your side to cradle you as your head fell into your hands, rocking yourself as you wondered how you would go on now. 

“Let the fear go, love. He can’t hurt you anymore. I’ve got you now,” Arthur whispered into your hair as he cradled your limp body. Running a hand over your hair with his damp hands, he felt a surge of pride course through his veins and it was intoxicating. He had you in his arms as it should always have been. 

Feeling a stir of desire, he pressed his face against your neck, kissing you with feverish passion. You recoiled from him in horror, pushing against the side of his face with the heel of your hand. Panting and heaving, you tried to shove him away, but he was much too strong. Finally he pulled away to look at you, rigid and frightened in his embrace.

“Please don’t look at me that way, love,” he begged, capturing your face between his large palms. “I did what I did for you…for us. He was hurtin’ ya. I couldn’t let that go on,” Arthur mused, staring into the fire.

“Arthur, I told you, I loved him. We were happy…,” you said through tears, now streaming down your face. You pulled his hands from you and studied the blood that still remained, trembling at the sight of it around his wrists and under his fingernails. You bit your lip harshly and closed your eyes to steady yourself from being sick at the thoughts running through your mind of how he’d killed James. 

Arthur turned to look at you, “You’re confused. He weren’t good for ya, but I am,” he said earnestly. “I can give you a good life. Treat you like a queen, I will if you’ll be my wife. Say yes,” he asked, eyes shining like two bright stars. “To everything I can give ya.”

You took in a shaky breath as you fell back into his arms broken and defeated, how long could you deny him, you wondered? He was a delusional madman and you had to find a way out. 

———————————————-

Two months later…

“Oh my God, I can’t thank you enough,” you said through tears, hugging your friend.

“Promise me you’ll go live a good life in America where that prick can never find you,” Celia said with more than a hint of malice. She’d been working tirelessly to secure passage for you by railway and steamliner as well as a new life in New York and now that everything was in order, you would be on your way the following morning, never to set foot in Small Heath ever again. 

You packed a bag and went to bed with visions of your new life dancing before your eyes. Life had never felt so peaceful, knowing you were taking charge of your terrible circumstances. 

You woke before dawn, pushing yourself out from a cold bed you’d barely slept in and hurried downstairs to collect your case and papers. However, the documents you needed were nowhere to be found. An icy chill clamped over you as you searched, knowing something wasn’t right. Had you left them with Celia in your haste? With only an hour to make it to the train station, you rushed out of the house to see her. However, you didn’t get far.

Arthur stood out front with John and Finn, papers in hand. “Going somewhere?” he asked in a conversational tone that belied his devilish intentions.

“Arthur…” you gulped. “What are you doing?”

“Could ask the same of you, love?” he said. “What’s all this, eh? Having a holiday without me?” he asked without a hint of amusement, shaking the papers he held in his hands. 

“I…I was going to tell you about that,” you lied.

“Were you now?” he asked thoughtfully, head turning from the papers to dig into his pocket for something which you quickly realized was a lighter. 

You ran toward him screaming “No!” with outstretched hand, as he set the papers ablaze before your very eyes, all hopes of a new life burning before you.

GIF credit @cinematv

“I had my eye on you since we was kids, Y/n. I said she will be mine and nothing will keep us apart,” Arthur said, crushing the papers in his gloved hand. “Nothing,” he reiterated as the ashes fell at his feet. John laughed as the embers of his cigar fell to the ground, joining the tattered remnants of your dignity. 

“We’ll have heaven here on Earth, my darling. Just need you to say yes,” Arthur proclaimed, reaching for your trembling hand. He pulled a ring from his pocket and slipped it onto your finger as you shook with fear. "Say yes to heaven," he whispered once more before you fainted.

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

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[thegamingcatmom]

I have a question! A few maybe? Depends how much I yap lol!

Okay so will we ever get a chance to see mc interact with the Cullens—including bella? I would like to see how she reacts to a completely different family of vampires, especially since she doesn’t know what they are.

And speaking of not known what they are, will she ever get a chance to find out? If so how would she react?! Im honestly so excited to see more, ever since I began reading I’ve been frothing at the mouth and checking your page daily(sorry if that sounds crazy)

I would really like to see how she would interact with each Cullen, especially Rosalie—how would Rosalie feel meeting another so called human pet:0

I also feel like her and Esme would get along perfectly, kind of like how Carmen is with mc! And Alice too, though her personality may be too much for mc?

Will mc also be inter-grated in personal affairs like family meetings and going to see the Volturi? Since im guessing mc will soon know what they are?

Also theres this tension between mc and tanya, will they ever get a chance to be romantic? If so how would that go for the first time? Since the Denali sisters are experienced with humans will it ever happen?

I think thats all for now! Cant wait to see more, this work is by far the most im invested in!

First of all: I love how lengthy your ask is! And I especially love that it´s allll about what may or may not happen in the deranged universe of The Sisters. Those are my fav kind of asks. THE SPECULATIONS, THE THEORIES. 😭

I do so love fangirling with yall. 🫶❤️‍🔥🫶

Okay so-

You´ll defo get a fat chance to see MC interacting with the Cullens - that includes Bella ofc. In fact, there´s a reason I put them in the tags of my story early on, even though their first appearance won´t be until much later.

The Cullens will play a rather big part in all of it, as MC meeting them will probs set some things in motion that may or may not impact the dynamic between her and her forced-found family (the Denalis). You´re absolutely correct that she has no idea another "variant" of whatever-they-are exists out there. A variant that she might even come to like because that variant seems somewhat sane, at least.

Their eyes are defo less haunting. That´s already a huge plus in her book...

MC will find out what they are for sure. She´s bound to, at some point. Tanya hasn´t taken her in just for shits and giggles. (Kate begs to differ.) Our coven leader very much plans on having MC stay with her them permanently, and there´s only one way to ensure that. You hearing bells too?

As for how MC´s gonna react when the bomb drops? Good question. 🤔

I will say this though: It´s not necessarily gonna be the Denalis who will spill the beans. 🫘

And can I just say I fucking LOVE that you mentioned Rosalie specifically?? Because yes, yes, yes, my girl will play a rather important part when it comes to MC and the Denalis indeed.

Yall remember THAT convo, right? Ofc you do. It´s the first "real talk" we get between Bella and Rose. It´s where Bella finds out the real reason why Rose seemingly can´t stand her. It´s because she envies her. For having the opportunity at a life she herself longs for. For having the choice.

We all know Rose thinks one´s mortality is something that should be protected at all costs. It should be valued and respected. Not carelessly thrown away like Bella plans on doing.

And you know who else thinks she´d rather stay exactly the way she is, pls and ty?

MC.

Girl wants no part of that...whatever-they-are. Those things are the reason she´s stuck in this dilemma in the first place. Why would she wanna become something she despises?

And you know who else despises what she´s become?

Rosalie.

Rose firmly believes Bella´s choosing wrong.

Well, how do you think Rose would react if someone chose right instead?

I guess the main difference between Bella and MC is that Bella's a willing human pet. 😏

My heart melts just thinking about it.

Esme is basically the (lot) less unhinged version of Carmen, so ofc she´d go full Momma on MC. Making her food (just look at that gif, I mean-), fluffing up her pillow, taking care of her when she isn´t feeling well and just-

ASFKASJFAKSDFN.

Can you imagine Carmen and Esme combined?? I don´t think our hearts could handle it (jk, they won´t have another choice cause I very much plan on combining Carmen and Esme and letting them loose on MC muahaha). It´d be a constant back and forth of-

"Are you hungry, dear?"

"Your feet are not too cold, are they, mi amor?"

"Do you need me to wash those, honey?"

"Leave the poor thing alone."

"She is sleeping."

As for Alice-

I mean-

She´s...wild. But not in the deranged way MC will have no choice but to become used to (courtesy of her forced-found family). She has an energy that makes you feel like you´re talking to a kid on a sugar rush, lmao. But that's an energy MC can deal with I reckon. It might even be something she welcomes after everything else she's been through.

Alice might be a lil weirdo who takes fashion much too seriously, but there's an undeniable joy to her that's kind of infectious. I imagine MC would much rather deal with a bit of weirdness (which probs includes serving as a Barbie for Alice to dress up) than a whole ton of...whatever it is that's not quite right with her kidnappers. 🙃

Tbh: I don't plan for MC to find out about vampires until much later. There's a few things I got in mind for how and when she finds out, and I did say it's not necessarily gonna be the Denalis who will tell the tale.

The Volturi will be involved in one way or another, I´m sure. My mind hasn´t made it that far yet though, because we gotta get MC settled in first. We also gotta tame Irina first before any other vampires (besides the Denalis) can be introduced to our girl. I need MC to be in a position where ALL members of the family are somewhat willing to go the extra mile to keep her with them safe. Whether that be for personal reasons or because your sister went all coven leader on you...

As for being involved in family affairs/meetings:

Hmm, I haven´t thought about that yet. I mean, they´re vampires. They could discuss matters with her in the next room and she would be none the wiser because they can speak at a volume that’s only audible to them due to their heightened hearing. If they don´t want her included in something, she won´t be.

On the other hand...

Seeing how Tanya has already signed the adoption papers (so to speak), I can also very much see her being adamant on MC being included in family matters from now on. She´s the leader, and while she accepts and welcomes her coven members´ opinions, she can be rather stubborn when she´s set her mind on something (or someone).

Much to the annoyance of Irina. Girl´s gonna hit her breaking point sooner rather than later. 💀

There´s tension alright but not nearly enough if you ask Tanya and there´s a reason for that:

Ofc she´s gonna be romantically involved with MC.

So will Kate.

So will Irina.

That´s why I put it in the tags. 😅

However, and I cannot stress this enough, it´s a slow burn. Very slow. With lots of suffering for everyone involved. Why? Cause I like em working for it. 🙃

I´ve made a similar post quite a while ago where I kinda explained the main directive of The Sisters. While falling in love is ofc part of it, it´s not the focus of my story. It´s more about staying true to yourself despite the challenges you face, and about becoming the best version of yourself. Finding love can help a great deal with that, but in the end, it´s up to you to face your demons. Where there´s a will, there´s a way.

.

As for the Denali sisters being experienced with humans:

Yes and no, lol. They´re more experienced than most of their kind for sure, seeing how sleeping around is pretty much all they've been doing for the past century. Besides feeding, ofc. Sometimes they do both at once, and there's the catch-

Getting their fill is all they care about, really. Whether that be related to feeding or...other things. There's never been a situation for them where they felt like they had to be extra careful with their victims flings, simply because they.don't.care. If they make it out alive at the end, good for them. If not, well that's that. There's more where they came from. No biggie. 🤷‍♀️

They have exceptional control over their bloodlust, it has to be said. But that doesn't mean they're gonna overexert themselves with it. Shit happens, so to speak. 🙃

...Enter MC-

.

.

.

Thanks so much for your ask and for letting me know how excited you are to read more! (Crazy is the highest form of flattery, imo. 😌)

Your ask has made me excited as well actually, lmao. With that said:

Have a great day and cya at Chapter 4! 💋

[sbk-zgvlt]

hey. hey. hey sebek zigvolt lover. pokes you. i have a scenario for you. (i want to cause you psychic damage)

for once, the neighborhood kids invite (INVITE!!!) little sebek out to play. he doesn't understand why they suddenly want to play with him, but his family can see how he's physically vibrating with the prospect and encourage him.

it's a trick.

they do play with him for a little while, all to convince him to 'play' a game that includes a large boulder that's split into a small crevice at the bottom. the littlest of the group squeezes through the rock and dares him to go next, what, isn’t he a fae? (if only he could realize the malice in her tone.) of course he can! sebek flattens himself down to his stomach and begins to pull himself through. he gets stuck. when he realizes he can't move forward or backward, the children laugh. he's not a fae. after all, his father is a human! to think he actually believed he was worth their time. their giggles fade as they run off, sebek still trapped under the rock.

nightime arrives. and it's so, so cold. he stopped wailing for anyone to come and help him hours ago, drowning in what the other kids told him. but he sees a light! bobbing! in the distance! he cries out again his desperation, voice hoarse. the voice that calls back makes his blood run cold.

..it's his father. clearly having simply thrown a jacket and armed himself with a lantern. he's the only one in the family who needs a piddly LANTERN, because he is human. he can't see in the dark like everyone else can. sebek does a total 180, shouting his heart out that he doesn't need to be saved by a HUMAN. especially not be the human who is the reason he's trapped right now. if only his father were any other man, if only he were a fae, he wouldn't even be in this situation in the first place. the comments roll off of his father, who's only priority is saving him, but he can't. he can't. he's too weak and too scared of possibly harming sebek in the process.

sebeks mother arrives soon after. she's the one to save him, even if his father was the one who located him initially. when he's freed, he clings to her, spilling his feelings about how scared he was, how cold, how mean the other children were so openly, so freely, something he would never do with his father. all his father can do is gently stroke his hair, because any further than that would close sebek off to him again.

.....after that incident, sebek rarely leaves the house again. the next time he walks out of the front door with so much excitement is with the company of his grandfather, boasting about someone special he has the privilege of meeting.

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU/pos

AUGHHH I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT TO ADD ONTO THIS THIS IS PERFECT

Sebek blaming his father for getting him into that situation because SURELY the others wouldve let him play with them, wouldve helped him out from under the rock if he didnt have his nasty human fathers blood inside of him. Surely.

And how he immediately opens up to his mother!!! Esme does her best to soothe Sebek, whose tears never seem to end, while she casts a concerned look from time to time towards Lidaeus, who looks lost even as he gently strokes Sebek's hair

Both of them mustve been worried to DEATH, and Lidaeus was horrified to find Sebek trapped under the rock, but he couldnt do anything. He was helpless. Just like right now, when he couldnt even comfort his very own son.

I wonder what its like for Lidaeus Zigvolt, to know that you've damned your child to a life where he would never be accepted to either side. Too different, too similar to the other, too much and too little.

I wonder what it's like for Lidaeus Zigvolt to know that he will never be enough for his son, the same way Sebek will never be enough to the people around him

[ghosttownwherenoonegoes]

Uncle Wayne comforts you after a nightmare (e.m. x gn!reader, Y/N thinks of Uncle Wayne as their dad)

A/N: I had a night of nightmares, the first of which left me sweaty and shaking for about an hour before I felt brave enough to try sleeping again. And then I had another nightmare. And then I had to go to work. I was writing this in my head all day until I finally got to come home and type it up. I should be studying right now but I haven't written in WEEKS and it's slowly rotting me from the inside out, so here we go.

Dedicated this fic to @badgirlforeddiemunson because she left me a note from Uncle Wayne in my inbox which was exactly what I needed, it made me cry and I wanted to leave this little dedication as a thank you to her! 🙏❤️

A massive thank you as well to @fandomohana for helping me with Uncle Wayne's characterisation in this; this fic wouldn't be what it is without you!💗😍🙏

Aaaand a big big thank you to @ilovecupcakesandtea , who stopped me from deleting this fic because I felt like I'd forgotten how to write our beloved and bestest dad Uncle Wayne buuuut it turns out I was just being mean towards myself... There's a surprise😂💀thank you for reading this for me and validating my characterisation choices!💕💕💕

Tw; nightmare (not described so it can fit any nightmare you may have had), crying (reader), reader wakes up afraid, general anxiety (not wanting to wake a sleeping Munson and then feeling guilty for doing it accidentally despite best efforts not to), Uncle Wayne and Eddie are both absolute sweethearts, as aforementioned, Y/N sees Uncle Wayne as being like a parent to them & this is explicit in the narrative (totally not me showing my own feelings👀🥺), brief allusion to marrying Eddie one day throuhg Uncle Wayne's narration.

People who asked to be tagged in this: @pandawithprobs @arianatheangel-girl @ali-r3n @sagaonpandora @digital-charlie @tracymbcm @cherrycolas-things @simping-over-boys-with-trauma @stevesmunsons @esme-viridian @eddiemunsonsgf2 @browneyes8288 @allthefandomstogether @robinsbuckleys

Word count: 4, 197 (this took TWO MONTHS of grabbing ten minutes here and there every day where I could🥺🥺🥺)

(SEEING THEM SIDE BY SIDE LIKE THIS IS KILLING MEEEE ~ OMG PLEASEEEEE😭😭😭😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔💔💔)

You awake with a start, your heart pounding in your head, nerves ablaze, body trembling. Sweat drenches your body. You feel cold, sticky. Disgusting.

The remnants of your nightmare cling to you as surely as the twisted sheets beneath you, your body writhing uncontrollably in the face of your terror.

You lay there in the dark, trying desperately to reorient yourself.

You can see Eddie’s beautiful guitar, looking like she was made for another dimension, hanging up on the mirror. You can see Eddie’s handmade Corroded Coffin banner (and you know what the secret is; that Uncle Wayne had stencilled the logo on prior to Eddie painting his band’s name on the old bedsheet - Eddie had been so excited that his hands were shaking too badly for him to do it on his own), you can see the way Eddie’s blinds never close all the way, letting the moonlight spill into the room.

You turn your head, your breathing still erratic, that lump in your throat growing more pronounced as the seconds tick past, and you see the one person in the world who fills your lungs with oxygen, your heart with rainbows, and your soul with reminders of all your reasons why.

Eddie.

Eddie.

You want so very badly to wake up the sleeping man, but you feel guilty at even the thought of doing that. Why should you disturb his sleep just because you had a nightmare? It would have been more than fine if the shoe was on the other foot, you would have wanted Eddie to wake you up so that he didn’t have to calm himself down alone, but for you to wake him up in the same situation, even knowing as you do that Eddie would want to be woken up so he could comfort you? No way, you won’t do that to him.

In the end, this thought is what breaks you: you're suffering but you're not allowing yourself Eddie because you want him to rest.

A sob rips out of your throat and you quickly muffle it with a hand, not wanting to accidentally wake him up either, stumbling out of Eddie's bed. You make your way down the narrow hall to come into the living room, eyes darting around nervously, looking for something to ground you; something to make you finally and fully realise that you're awake, you're safe, it's over. And then your eyes land on something - someone - which makes all the bad stuff not seem so scary anymore.

You see dearest Uncle Wayne asleep on the pullout bed.

And then you cry harder.

On shaky legs do you come to stand beside the bed, looking down at the human sized lump underneath the worn duvet. You bend down at the waist and lightly shake Uncle Wayne. In reality, you don't even shake him, you just half-heartedly wiggle your hand back and forth across the soft expanse of duvet. It is too gentle a movement for Uncle Wayne to be able to feel it, especially through the duvet. You don't want to wake him up, not really, but you also don't want to be alone in your fear, you want someone to comfort you.

But you don't want to wake anyone up just because you had a nightmare. You are a person grown, you can handle a nightmare without waking someone, right?

Wrong.

You wince against the tiny voice in your head, and partially give yourself what you want by sitting down on the floor beside Uncle Wayne's bed, leaning your head against what you figure is his shoulder. Your tears fall easily, your bottom lip starting to become sore with how hard you are biting down on it to keep yourself from making a sound. You are surprised that even walking into the living room hasn't woken Uncle Wayne up; he's a heavy sleeper unless one of his kids need him, unless you or Eddie need him.

"Uncle Wayne," you whisper as quietly as possible, one of your hands creeping under the duvet as you search for one of his; you know how he lays, you know roughly where his hands are basing on how he's laying, and indeed do you find one of his hands. You curl your fingers loosely around his as slowly and as carefully as you can, trying so hard not to wake him up even though you're desperately looking for comfort. "I'm really sorry. I had a nightmare and I - I need you but I don't wanna wake you up because you'll get mad at me." At this thought do you cry harder still, and the secretly awake Uncle Wayne's heart bleeds at all of the pain in your voice, barely audible even in the stillness of the room. "That's why I'm out here, I didn't even wanna wake up our Eddie but you're both all I want right now... but I can't because I'm an adult and I shouldn't be crying here over a nightmare and you're - you don't need me waking you up and - "

The only reason Uncle Wayne can still make your words out is because he knows you, he knows you, but as tears drip sore with audible plinks on the duvet and as you bend over his hand, pressing your forehead against his palm, you're practically incoherent. Uncle Wayne decides that it is time to come clean and 'wake up'.

When you start to repeat yourself, it means that your cycle of anxiety is starting, and he wants to quell it immediately. One of his kids need him, so who the fuck cares that he's just worked a twelve hour shift?

One of his kids needs him.

The hand which is pressing against your forehead twitches as Uncle Wayne splays his fingers, the pads rubbing lightly against your hairline. You start, not expecting the 'sleepy' touch of a man who has actually been awake since the moment you woke up; you had almost screamed. He knows you well enough to know that you don't ever want to bother him, and that's why you haven't woken him up this night, so he had decided to feign sleep so that he could pretend to wake up on his own; hoping to alleviate the guilt if you had woken him up. Uncle Wayne doesn't know if you know about this, but that's a conversation for when you're calmer and he is more 'awake'.

Fingers slide further across your scalp and begin to lightly smooth over your hair, the rustling of bedsheets tells you that your Uncle Wayne is rolling over, bringing himself closer to you as he gives up the game.

"Hey now, sweetpea," Uncle Wayne's voice is deeper than usual with sleep but just as gruff, and it is at perfect odds with the sheer kindness you see in his eyes, all the little night lights and lamps around the trailer creating a warm ambience in an already warm and loving home. "What monsters you been tryna' fight, darlin'?"

All at once, you feel like a small child standing at the foot of your parents’ bed. Distantly, you realise that you are, and tears drip anew down your face, faster and harder than before. You woke him up you woke him up stupid stupid you woke him up - you inhale shakily and two words rip out of your throat like they are terrified they'll be swallowed if they don't jump off the tip of your tongue right now.

Uncle Wayne always manages to make you realise how not okay you are; you fool the world easily and sometimes even Eddie has to squint at you to decide for himself, but Uncle Wayne? No wool fits over his eyes, no matter how well it's knitted.

“Nightmare. Bad.”

The hand on your hair stills at the tremble in your voice and the way your bottom lip wobbles. You bite down on it hard to keep from making a sound, feeling awful about the fact that you have woken Uncle Wayne up. The pullout bed is small but Uncle Wayne shuffles back as far as he can and pats the slim vacant space.

"C'mon, in y'get."

At your blank expression, Uncle Wayne smiles with all the patience of the world. He has been through so much and he carries daily with him a great deal of anger due to how the world has treated him his whole damn life, not to mention what it's doing to his boy, and yet he's still so kind. You never fail to be able to draw strength from the inspiration he gives you. "You really think my boy hasn't crawled into bed with me after a nightmare? He might be twenty, but he's still my baby. You don't have to, darlin', but I know that look on your face. I seen it on my boy's so many times right before he crawls in." A pause, a wry smile as if he knows how to really convince you, then, "he did it just last week, last I can remember."

Uncle Wayne sees the second he manages to coax you into it, and it makes him smile. You're careful as you ease into his bed, not wanting to get in his way or be intrusive, but Uncle Wayne makes no fuss about it and simply lays there until you're comfortable. He lets you wrap an arm around him, he lets you nuzzle into that red and blue flannel you love so well, and then he holds you too, his grip tight, firm, his hands hot on your upper arm. He wonders where his baby is, but he knows that you haven't woken him up. The chainsaw snore coming from just down the hall gives you away and you and Uncle Wayne laugh quietly together. Somewhere in the back of your mind, your brain presses record on the sound, wanting to cherish it forevermore.

"Do you think if we ripped an actual chainsaw next to his window he'd sleep through it?"

Uncle Wayne chuckles, fondness saturating his voice, "Far as I know, he still can. Did it when he was fourteen; had to cut a tree back near his window. Was worried I'd wake him, but he slept right through." A smile soaked Uncle Wayne's next words in sunshine, "My boy's grown into himself but his nature ain't changed back from when he was a kid." My Eddie's forever, he thinks.

The humour, always in the serious if one tilts their head, fades away and you're once again left with the fact that Uncle Wayne has selflessly stepped up for someone yet again. You wonder who steps up for him when the time comes. Between you and Eddie, Uncle Wayne's chances are golden.

"You never answered my question, sweetpea," Uncle Wayne dropped a kiss to your forehead. It was more like the press of facial hair to your skin than anything else, but it warmed you from the inside out all the same. "What monsters you been tryna' fight'?" Despite the way he words it, you hear the underlying message immediately:

Talk to me.

You draw in a shuddering breath but Uncle Wayne, who is secretly more of a parental figure to you than either of your parents put together, doesn't try to soothe you beyond how he already is. He lets you cry, he lets you curl into him like he's your protection from the world (he is, even when everything is okay), he lets you take your time in telling him everything, and the entire time he has you wrapped in his arms, pressed tight into his chest. When the nightmare is relived and you're still crying, he addresses his main concern.

"You wanna go back to Eddie, darlin'?" You freeze, thinking that perhaps this is Uncle Wayne's gentle attempt to get rid of you, but he shakes his head when he feels you tense up. "Easy, sweetpea, I ain't meanin' it like that," He squeezes his arms around you and drops a proper kiss to your forehead. "But my boy is gonna' be missin' you. You know he wakes up at the drop of a hat if either of us ain't there with him."

"No," your bottom lip wobbles and more tears drip down your face. Uncle Wayne's calloused thumb wipes them away gently. "I mean... I want Eddie but... Don't wanna leave you." The last four words are quieter than the rest, broken, your bottom lip and chin trembling. You feel sick at the thought of having to pull away from Uncle Wayne, even though you really want Eddie too. But you want Uncle Wayne. "Please don't make me go, please. Don't wanna leave you." You hold onto Uncle Wayne even tighter, crying harder now than you have done ever since you jolted awake, and Uncle Wayne is quick to soothe you.

"Hey, now," Uncle Wayne hushed, hugging you somehow even more securely to him so that you can feel his heart, slow and steady, thumping deep within his chest. It's in the Munson Doctrine that if Uncle Wayne isn't worrying, then everything is okay. His heart is steady, he is okay, and so shall you be. You take an instinctive deep breath and melt. "I said nothin' about leavin'. But you need Eddie, sweetheart. C'mon, I'll go too."

You shake your head again, "N-no, I woke you up. You need sleep. M'okay." Your cheeks burn as Uncle Wayne gives you The Look™️, which always brings you and Eddie to a grinding halt. This is in the Munson Doctrine too; never tell Uncle Wayne that you're fine if you're not. He knows. He always knows.

"I'm coming with you, darlin'. I ain't sleepin' 'til I know you're okay. It ain't a discussion, Y/N."

He pats your shoulder gently and you very reluctantly untangle yourself from him, the urge to cry still very much with you even as your tears start to slow. Uncle Wayne sees your face begin to crumple, ready are you to cry anew, and he stands up with an exaggerated groan, making you giggle. Only a Munson could make you smile while you're crying. Already can you feel the remnants of the nightmare beginning to dissipate and you lean into Uncle Wayne's side as he slots your hands together, walking with you through the trailer into Eddie's bedroom.

Your home away from home.

Uncle Wayne raises a hand and raps on the door three times with the knuckle of his littlest finger and there's a sleepy groan from within which is so perfectly Eddie that it makes the two of you huff laughter. "Y'decent, boy?"

A louder, slightly more exaggerated groan has Uncle Wayne's shoulders shaking with laughter as he pushes the door open, stepping into Eddie's room and pulling you along behind him. You keep your hand tight in his, eyes roaming over the bed as you try to figure out if three adults could fit comfortably onto one bed.

You do not want to let go of Uncle Wayne.

You don't know why. You don't care why. You just want him to stay.

"E-Eddie?" Your voice is thick with all the tears you have shed thus far, and all the tears you have yet to let go of. He doesn't answer you right away and you whimper, which makes both Munsons freeze.

Eddie sits upright like he's on a spring, arms already reaching for you just as Uncle Wayne walks with you across the room, making a beeline for his son and the love of your life.

"Whoa whoa, hey,"

"Hush now, darlin',"

The Munsons simultaneously speak at a level volume to each other so it's a symphony of empathy and love and it triggers a third crying spell within you.

"Get up on the bed, sweetpea, that's it," Uncle Wayne guides you through glassy vision to sit beside Eddie on the bed. Eddie is brushing sleep out of his gorgeous chocolate brown eyes with one hand and he reaches for you with the other, trying to physically wake himself up and comfort you at the same time. "You got 'em, Eddie?"

"Always."

He speaks the word like a vow and it makes you smile.

The expression on your face dies as quickly as it is born, for Uncle Wayne slides his fingers out from between yours and pats your shoulder in a parting gesture. Panic seizes your heart and you grab at him, your fingers finding purchase in the sleeve of that flannel you love so much. "No!!!!" Yet again, the noise you make causes both Munsons to freeze. "No, please don't go! Please don't leave me, Uncle Wayne. Please stay, pl - " You're incoherent in your physical exhaustion and in the remnants of your fear, as well as your physical need for Uncle Wayne.

You're wrapped up in Eddie's arms, his lips at your hairline and his hands rubbing up and down wherever he can reach but even here, you are still shaking like a leaf, one hand holding Eddie in a death grip and the other still holding onto Uncle Wayne's sleeve. When he doesn't move away, your fingers spider down to grip onto his fingers, locking your hands together like you did before. Uncle Wayne blinks hard - a gesture Eddie recognises as his trying not to cry - and something slides into place for the younger Munson.

All at once, around his horrified curiosity about what you had been dreaming about to render you into a shaking crying wreck, Eddie knows exactly what you need to get you feeling safe and secure.

"Dad." His voice is quiet, more serious than you've heard him in a long time, "Can't you stay, just for tonight?"

The thought of this makes you smile even as a few more tears slip down your cheeks, and tender blues and chocolate browns zero in on the expression.

"Is that - "

"Did you just - "

" - a smile?"

The Munson men almost speak over each other in exaggerated tones of surprise and it makes you giggle, a wet yet very welcome sound. In turn, this makes Eddie smile, and seeing both of his kids at once expressing happiness? Why, how can Uncle Wayne deny either of you anything, even when he's tired as all hell from his twelve hour shift and interrupted night of sleep? There are many things lacking in the Munson household but the one thing they have always had in abundance is love. And if what you both want right now is for him to stay with you, then who is he to say no? The fact that something as simple as his presence is enough to chase your fears away warms Uncle Wayne's heart right to its centre, and he feels deep within him that you're gonna be an official Munson one day. You're honourary for now, but he knows what's coming, and he's so excited.

"I think it is, son, clear as day after all them tears," Uncle Wayne carefully pulls his hand away from you as Eddie scoots across the bed towards the side closest to the window. "I ain't gonna say no to that."

You push up closer to Eddie as Uncle Wayne sits down and then eases himself down onto the mattress, getting comfortable. You have a playfully wriggly Munson either side of you and you know they're playing up to make you feel better, to keep you smiling, but you also see now where Eddie gets his dramatics from. All of Eddie really has come from Uncle Wayne, hasn't it?

Eddie wraps his arms around you, pulling you tight into him, and Uncle Wayne remains where he is on the side of the bed closest to the door; he doesn't move much in his sleep, his body used to the slim pull-out bed he's been sleeping on since he legally adoped Eddie well over a decade ago.

"Aren't you gonna come closer to us, dad?"

"How close is closer?" Uncle Wayne tilts his head at Eddie, who only grins and looks at you, effectively putting you on the spot as they allow you to decide what kind of cuddle you want.

You pause and listen to yourself, your eyes closing as you try to get that little voice in the back of your head to tell you what you want. One word drifts across the front of your mind and it jumps off the tip of your tongue, as if it's afraid it will be swallowed if it doesn't voice itself now.

"Sandwich." A pause and then, "wait, no. Toastie." Your words are strange but you are understood; hold me so tight that if you are bread and I am cheese, I will melt between you.

Uncle Wayne smiles and scoots closer to you and to Eddie, wrapping an arm around you. His hand rests on Eddie's wrist as the two of them surround you. "Come on, then, butter up."

His chuckle punctuates Eddie's drawn out groan; only a good pun is met with that kind of reaction. "Of all the puns available, you go with butter? Really?"

Uncle Wayne shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eyes. It makes him look younger and you melt; the Munsons have both had such difficult lives, and where Uncle Wayne is full of anger, he is only ever kind... life lessons he has imparted onto Eddie, whom makes his dad proud every single day. You had told Eddie once that he was living up to the Munson name, and before that flash of indignation and confusion turned into hurt, you had listed all the ways you see Uncle Wayne in him, and Eddie had lit up like a Christmas tree. It is one of your most treasured memories.

You take advantage of the rare moment offered to you by the world after such an awful nightmare and cuddle into Uncle Wayne, pressing your face into that red and blue flannel you love so well. He hums and presses his lips to your forehead, not exactly giving you a kiss but the sentiment is the same. Eddie rolls so that he is cuddled into your back, his nose pressed into the nape of your neck. Uncle Wayne's hand spiders across Eddie's wrist more firmly, grasping his boy to him, and Eddie tilts that same hand palm up so that he can hold his Uncle's wrist, too. The Munsons feel each other's heartbeats pounding firmly underneath skin and it soothes the both of them more than anything else in the world ever will.

You smile into the articial darkness afforded to you by Uncle Wayne's chest. "Ask your dad when I'm asleep, Eddie. Don't wanna relive a third time."

"Wh - how did - I didn't even say anything, sweetheart." Eddie's voice was bemused and you grin, somehow managing to cuddle into Uncle Wayne and pull backwards into Eddie at the same time.

"Didn't have to - I can hear you thinking over there."

"Wondered what that burning smell was," Uncle Wayne playfully wrinkles his nose and the three of you share quiet laughter, marvelling at the power of being able to laugh even when one of you is coming down from an experience of visceral terror.

You burrow down once more, nosing into Uncle Wayne's flannel to get as close to him as you physically can, and Eddie follows you across the minute space left between you so that you become the cheese toastie you have mentioned wanting to become this night and, truthfully, every night. The two people you love most of all surround you now, keep you safe from harm even and especially from your own mind, and you fall asleep to the persistent but gentle vibration of Uncle Wayne's voice through his chest as he begins to tell Eddie all about your nightmare, four arms tightly around you. The scruff of Uncle Wayne's facial hair tickles the top of your head and you feel Eddie pressed tightly against your neck, his heart pounding there. You feel Uncle Wayne's slower and steadier one against your front and you emit a sleepy sound which gives both Munsons pause, one look of fondness and one look of nothing but love on their faces as they look down at you.

Uncle Wayne finishes relaying your nightmare to Eddie and the younger Munson winces with a muttered, "jesus christ" as he presses a kiss to the top of your head, "no wonder they couldn't calm down."

"Sure as hell seems like they found peace now, son," Uncle Wayne's tone is gruff, his words, tender heart and eyes kind, "how about we join 'em?"

Eddie nods and squeezes Uncle Wayne's hand; this is not the first night the two Munsons have fallen asleep holding hands and it sure as shit won't be the last. Oceanic blues and chocolate browns blink tiredly at one another and then close as all three Munsons find comfort, safety, security and love with one another.

Just as it's meant to be; the three Munsons against the rest of the world.

POSTING THIS LINE OF TEXT BECAUSE TUMBLR KEEPS EATING ENDINGS???

[wastheheart]

❛ if you gave someone your heart and they died, did they take it with them ? ❜ — Lauden Price ( tossing Hunter dad-coded man your way. )

@platiinums (thank you!)

The question remains hanging between them like a toy in front of a disinterested cat. Of all the things to hear first, she can't say she's expecting that, not that she shouldn't expect the heaviness of such a question.

Her fingers curl around the shitty plastic cup, accidentally causing water to spill over the edges briefly before she relaxes them, allowing the water to level out again instead of swelling in her anguish at being perceived.

This is her therapist's fault. She said meeting other bereaved parents would make her feel less alone, but instead Esme just feels more frustration. Most of these kids had some genetic disorder, SIDs... no-one has an answer for Esme.

One minute she had a son, the next... she didn't.

"I wish they did," she forces out. It's her turn for her words to hang between them. "It would hurt significantly less that way."

A wry smile follows and she takes the most pathetic of sips of room temperature water. God, she doesn't want to be here.

"Instead they took half and somehow I'm expected to keep going with what remains. Does that answer your question?"

[velvetrogue]

Esme nodded at Jude’s command. “Yes, Daddy,” she murmured, holding his gaze as she spoke, the submissive glint still very much in her eyes. Content sighs, and needy whimpers began to spill from her mouth as Jude kissed along her jawline, each successive kiss making her heart skip a beat. When he slid his hand back between her legs, his fingers teasing her entrance, a particularly loud whimper came from Esme, followed by a whine. “Ye… yes, Da… Daddy…” she repeated after his subsequent statement, though her words were clearly shakier than before as a result of his touch. Esme’s cunt throbbed, and her folds were slick with her juices, more moans emerging from her when Jude slipped two fingers back inside her and began pumping them. Her legs shook, and her knees trembled, her heart racing against her chest and body arching instinctively whilst Jude worked her. When he asked what she wanted, it didn’t take Esme even a moment to cry out a succession of, “Y… you, Daddy! Want your f… fingers! Your… cock! Your… cu… cum!” 

@bluejeanbaby

Jude let out a soft sigh once she stood up in front of him. His hands moved to fall on her hips, helping to steady here as she shook. "Good girl." he whispered, pulling her in closer to him. "When I'm done with you here, I want you to wait until I tell you to clean up, okay?" he whispered, tilting his head forward to kiss along her jaw slowly. "I want to be dripping out of you while you're trying to focus on something else." he continued, nipping at her as his fingers slipped back between her legs, teasing her hole again slowly before pressing two inside of her again. As cold as his words came out, they were laced with his obsession. The longer this went on the more possessive he found himself becoming. "What do you want me to do to you, Esme? Use your words for me." he said before nipping at her again.

[huntingingoodwill]

the cigarette girl - part iii

masterlist

part i part ii

a/n: hello!! thank you so much for being so nice about part i and ii ily i was dumb and made a mistake the events of "current day" should be more in the range of 1921 not 1919... but let's just... pretend i got it right the first time. anyway thank you so much please enjoy <3

pairing: tommy shelby x reader

tw: blood, hospitals, swearing

-

You were found in the dead of night.

Lying at the top of the stairs, you looked peaceful, as though a spell had been cast. As if you had been enchanted where you stood, made to fall fast asleep on the floor, eyes closed as your eyelashes brushed your cheeks.

The blood spilled across the floorboards made it apparent this wasn’t the case.

Your landlady had come home after a night out to be greeted with the scene. A trail of blood lead from your boarding room to the spot where you lay.

You had dragged yourself out of the room. As far as you could, all the way to the steps. Until you collapsed, not having the strength to go on.

She crept up the stairs, horrified. After building up the courage, she just managed to prod at you with the toe of her shoe before anxiously hurrying back downstairs to call an ambulance.

After the sirens had faded into the night, she pushed open the door of your boarding room. She crouched down, the beads of her dress clattering in the silent night as they grazed the floor.

Amongst the many envelopes scattered across the ground, she chose the most pristine. She turned it over and read the name scrawled across it, illuminated by blue moonlight.

-

“Shit. Shit. Shit!” Esme muttered frantically, tripping over her heels as she rushed down the cobblestone streets of Small Heath.

“Es-Esme, stay calm, alri-” John shoved a man who was standing idly in their path, running past him as he tumbled to the ground. “Stay out of my fucking way you stupid cun- Esme, Esme! Just stay fucking calm, alright? Stay fucking calm!” His own panic reared its ugly head easily.

They burst through the door of Tommy’s office, slamming it open so forcefully it almost fell out of its frame.

“You two, whatever it is-” Tommy began, already exasperated.

“It’s (Y/N).”

Tommy froze. The words imprinted on the paper before him began to swirl, a mess of black type. None of his brothers had tried to broach the topic of you for months, knowing that, to him, the thought of you was akin to a wound, the soreness never subsiding. Bringing you up was twisting the knife.

It had to be something bad.

He felt the walls closing in, and he blinked, all thoughts evaporating from his mind. He had tried to push the memory of you away every day since you left, but it all came rushing back now. He felt it all, the overwhelming wave of emotion he’d try to bury, his attempts as futile as throwing handfuls of sand into the ocean. He felt like he was drowning in it. His worry for you, his regret over the things he said, his ache for you to be alright, sweeping through his mind.

“Sabini’s men got to her. It’s not good.” Esme’s words were painfully gentle, worsening the intense agony that shot through Tommy. It happened. Just like he said it would. His heart sank as he dug his fingernails into the flesh of his palm. “Her landlady sent John a telegram, said she found the return address on one of the letters we sent.”

“We’ve got to go to London. We can take your car- Lizzie! Get Arthur!” John yelled out toward the secretary’s table, noticing Lizzie’s absence from it. “Where the fuc- Lizzie!”

“Lunch break,” Tommy mumbled, voice uncharacteristically soft as his head hung low.

John swore beneath his breath, running out to fetch Arthur.

Esme swept across the room, pulling Tommy’s coat and cap off the rack. “Come on. I can pull the car around, we-” She stopped in her tracks as she watched him, stoic in his chair.

Slowly, he lifted his eyes from the desk, looking at her. The pale blue stare unnerved her, the gaze colder than ever. Her hands dropped to her side, fingers curling around his coat. Her eyebrows furrowed. “Thomas. Let’s go."

“I’m not going, Esme.”

They stood, silent, for what felt like an eternity.

Then, the anger took over.

“You bastard.” She spat. She flung his cap at him, whipping it across the room. “You stupid fucking bastard.”

“I’m not going.” He repeated as if entranced. “I won’t-”

Her open palm slammed against his cheek, and all he did was sit there, working his jaw as the burn spread across his face.

“I told her-” He started up again, voice low and dangerously calm.

“You idiotic, vile…” She wanted to scream in frustration.

He pressed the heel of his palms into his eyes. “Alright, Esme, alright-”

“No, it’s not fucking alright!” Her voice crested. “She’s really hurt, and you’re refusing to see her because of what? Your stupid pride? Because you told her so!? You’re supposed to be her friend!”

“Don’t give me that fucking line-”

“It’s the truth. Don’t you dare abandon her. Not after all she’s done for you.”

“And what did she do for me?” He exploded, voice accusatory, volatile. “She went against me, she got hurt. I’m not the one who abandoned her. She didn’t listen, she left me. She didn’t trust me. She gave up on me. And now…” He struggled to get the words out. It felt like a lie. It could have been. “I’ve given up on her.”

“Tommy, I know you don’t mean that.” She spoke, her suffocatingly soft tone making his skin crawl.

“I don’t say things I don’t mean.” He spoke, looking away. He couldn’t look her in those eyes, full of sorrow and pity. He wanted to take it all back. He wanted things to be back to how it was, all those years ago. He felt a lump grow in his throat.

“You’re scared. You’re afraid to see her hurt. But she’ll want to see you. You want to see her too. You miss her, you love her, you loved each other. It’s the most transparent thing about you.” She barked out a pained laugh before extending her hand toward him. “Come to London, Tommy. It’s not too late to make it right.”

He didn’t turn back to look at her.

Sighing, she turned and walked out the door.

He emerged onto the street twenty minutes later, nursing a cigarette as he watched them load up the car with hastily packed suitcases. His brothers refused to look at him, as if he’d forbid them from leaving, too. But Tommy stood, silent, heart feeling hollow.

“You’ll regret this,” Esme said to him, piling into the car with the rest.

He looked up at her.

“Have a safe trip.”

The car sputtered off, and he watched it recede into the distance. Something inside of him screamed at him to run after it, to go to you, but his feet remained planted on the ground, stubborn.

He walked into his office just as Lizzie returned from her break.

“Mail for you.” She said, handing him a stack of envelopes.

He shuffled through them dismissively, heart stopping as he spotted the handwriting on one of the envelopes. “To Tommy Shelby”, each letter so familiar, looking at the ink felt like home. Like love. It was painful to see.

He ripped it open, pulling out the note that lay tucked in front of the letter.

“Dear Mr. Shelby,

I found this unmailed letter in my tenant’s room, addressed to you. Considering the circumstances, I only felt it appropriate to send it on her behalf. My best wishes to you, and to her. God knows she needs it.”

He turned around, rushing out of the door, shoes clattering against the ground. His heart pounded in his ears, a blindingly bright hope building within his chest. He could run after the car, find another way to get to London, whatever. He’d be with you, soon.

But as soon as he hit the sidewalk and saw the little black dot that the car had become, all that renewed determination dissipated, his heartbeat slowing down once more to a lethargic, depressive thump.

He couldn’t do it. It was too late to fix it, not after what he'd said to you.

He turned back inside. He just couldn’t. He wouldn’t let himself.

He sat back behind his desk, heart crushing beneath the weight of his own decision. Unearthing your letter from the envelope, he began to read.

-

You heard the shouting first.

It echoed through the hall, thunderous, the yells too much for your pounding head.

Then, it was the sunlight. It came in droves, bright and white, glaring past your eyelids even as you screwed them shut to keep it out.

And then, of course, it was the pain, a dull ache that rolled through your body, familiar as a friend.

You stretched your arms out, feeling the prickly old blanket that lay atop you. You opened your eyes slowly, your vision adjusting to the hospital room. A hospital room. You’d never been happier at the sight of one. You pulled the duvet up to your mouth, concealing your smile like a secret.

You survived.

“Sir, please, it’s not visiting hours yet-“ You heard the nurse’s shoes scuttle nervously down the hall, trailing behind more decisive footsteps.

“Fuck off!” The crude phrase uttered by Arthur’s familiar voice made you laugh.

The Shelbys appeared at the door.

“You’re awake.” He said, face softening as the family crowded around you.

“I feel like I’ve been asleep for centuries.” You chuckled.

You were so happy. You could almost ignore the sharp jabs you felt in your ribs as they each took turns giving you tight hugs, joy flooding the room like the light that flooded through the window. It had been almost a year since you left, and though it was under awful circumstances, the reunion was sweet.

As the excitement began to subside, you looked across the room, noticing the absence of one familiar face, an absence that dug a hole into your heart.

Esme knelt beside your bed, smoothing your hair away from your face as she watched you, the smiles falling off the faces of the rest as they saw you begin to catch on.

Tommy hadn’t shown up.

“Love,” Esme began, “I’m sorry, but… try to understand…he-”

“I understand.” The corners of your lips lifted into a gentle smile.

You did. You understood completely.

It was freeing, almost. You had held out hope for ages. But now, you knew. He didn’t care.

He’d given up on you, you thought. You’d do the same for him.

You survived without him, and you’d continue to do so.

But even though he wasn’t there, it felt like he was in the room, stomping on your heart, shattering it beneath his leather boots.

Still, you smiled.

"Tommy, he... he still loves you, you know-"

“I need to get out of here.” You ignored her, interrupting her with a laugh. “Staying still this long’s doing me no good.”

“You need to rest,” Esme said definitively.

“I’m feeling a million times better already.” She looked back at you, unconvinced. “Like a new woman.”

“We’ll take you back to Small Heath. We’ll take care of you.” John spoke.

Small Heath. You had always thought of it as your home.

You looked out the window, at the trees swaying softly in the breeze, the noise of the London street below filtering through the leaves.

You loved the Shelbys.

But you wouldn’t go back. You couldn’t, yet.

“John?” You spoke.

“Yeah?”

“In your letters… you wrote about Tommy doing business in London.”

“Yeah.”

“What was that man’s name, again?”

-

“Alfie Solomons!” You called out, voice booming as you strolled into his offices. You had a slight limp, but with your huge grin and confident stride, it was like the red marks and bruises that bloomed across your skin were nothing but war paint. Against all odds, it was the sheer renewed strength you felt that invigorated you, allowing you to sweep into the room like you hadn’t just rolled out of a hospital bed.

“Jesus fucking Chri-” Alfie muttered. It was too early for this bullshit.

Ollie ran up behind you, already slightly out of breath.

“Sorry. I tried to stop her but she’s… she’s fucking fast, Alfie.” He huffed.

Alfie let out a long, annoyed sigh as you pulled up a chair, sitting across from him.

“Alfie Solomons,” you flashed him a wide smile, “I crave a boon.”

He nodded contemplatively, steepling his fingers while gazing at you thoughtfully. Then, suddenly:

“Who the fuck are you?” Genuine confusion caused his eyebrows to knit together, making your smile grow bigger.

“Mr. Solomons, have you ever heard of a man by the name of Thomas Shelby?”

He exhaled sharply, drumming his fingers against his desk impatiently.

“Why is it that whenever one of you Shelbys comes into my office, you lot always look -and forgive me if this sounds rude, darling- utterly fucked up?”

“You’re forgiven.” You beamed. “And I’m not a Shelby.”

He hummed, examining you. “Well, you’re a lot prettier than Tommy, the ugly little bastard.” He chuckled. “Even while looking utterly fucked up.” He added quickly.

“I’m flattered. But I wouldn’t know anything about that. I was just an associate. I’ve never met Thomas.” You lied.

“Really?” He said, raising an eyebrow.

“Really.” You repeated defiantly. “I did the work they needed me to do and left. Besides that, I don’t even exist to them.” You said. And if the family listened to your wishes, you’d be telling the truth.

After a few nights of them insisting on watching over you at the hospital, you chased them all back to Ada’s house, telling them to get some rest.

They weren’t around that morning to stop you when you climbed out the bathroom window to escape the confines of your room, ditching the white hospital gown in the sink after changing into the new clothes they had bought you.

You weren’t cruel. You’d stopped by Ada’s house, not even a single movement within it, what with it being practically the crack of dawn. You slipped a note under the door, telling them not to bother finding you. You couldn’t go back to Small Heath and spend your whole life feeling like you were a failure, ghosting around town like Sabini had actually managed to kill you, unable to look the man you once cared for in the eye. You wouldn’t be able to bear it. They had to let you go. Tommy did. They would learn to.

After that, it was off to Camden.

“So, what does this non-Shelby want from me?” Alfie asked, leaning back into his chair. Before, his unflinching stare and large frame would have scared you. You didn’t feel an ounce of fear now.

“I’d like to work for you.”

His lips turned up into a smile of disbelief. Then, he began laughing.

“Look,” He wiped a tear away from his eye with sarcastic flair, “this has been a nice chat and all, but I’ve got work to do, here, alright.” His voice became deadly serious, the amused glint in his eye fading. “So I suggest you fuck off before I get Ollie here to throw you out on your ass.”

“He’d have to catch up to me first. I’m fast, remember?” You whispered.

“Cute,” Alfie said, tone still grave despite a quick, lopsided smile. “Run along, now.” He began to turn around, dismissing you.

“Now that we’ve discussed Mr. Shelby-”

“You’re making me lose my patience-”

“I’d like to talk about Mr. Sabini. You’re familiar, are you not?”

He slowly turned back to look at you.

“...What about him?” He asked. You’d hit a nerve.

“I’m aware he’s been encroaching on your good, rightful territory, and-”

“Alright, alright, hey.” He wagged his finger at you, rings glinting in the sun. “If we’re going to carry on, you can skip the flowery vocabulary and the kiss-assery and get to the fucking point, understood?”

“Understood.” You chuckled. You slammed your briefcase on the table. “I have everything you need to know about Sabini.” Sabini’s men had found your letters to the Shelbys by destroying your room, looking in every nook and cranny. They failed to look under your floorboards. When you went to visit your boarding house this morning, the briefcase still lay under there, tucked away like a secret treasure. It was enough to make you cry tears of joy.

Hesitantly, he reached out to it, clicking the case open. His eyes widened as he sifted through the papers on top, your comprehensive notes and files on all of Sabini’s operations, collected in the past eight months while you worked at his club. His fingers barely managed to jump back in time before you slammed the lid shut.

He cleared his throat. “So you have some old information. Who gives a fuck?”

“I think you do, Alfie. Most of it’s still valuable, but, of course, if this isn’t enough to impress you, there’s always the new updates.”

“You’ve got... new information?”

“I’ve always got new information. I’ve got cigarette girls, bartenders, people at the telegraph office, the post office, the fucking switchboard… hell, I’m a couple favours away from getting his secretary on my side. They’re all paid off. All answering to me.” You smiled. “Eight months is the perfect amount of time to form strong alliances if you know how. And do you know what the best part is, Alfie?” You didn’t wait for him to respond. You scooted forward, leaning toward him conspiratorially. “It’s gonna take him a while to catch on. He thinks I’m dead as a doornail.” You giggled.

He stared at your toothy grin, stunned.

“Well, I best not be keeping you from all your important work…” You began to stand before he raised a finger, gesturing for you to sit back down.

You did so with a smirk.

“I can do more, Mr. Solomons. Today I’m helping you with Sabini, tomorrow… I’m helping you run an empire that would make the king weep like a baby.”

“What’s your name?” He asked after a long pause.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” He repeated.

“Yes, Alfie Solomons?”

“You’re hired.”

[spaceman-earthgirl]

"I've always wondered what it would be like to kiss you" would be a cute supercorp if you're still bored/ taking kissing asks ^_____^

Thanks for the ask!

“I always wondered what it would be like to kiss you.”

---

Kara just might kill Alex as she zigzags her way across the room towards the kitchen, managing to avoid every single stupid piece of mistletoe that’s currently attached to her sister’s ceiling.

It’s awkward enough having to kiss anyone under mistletoe, let alone someone in her family. There are two couples in the room, the rest of them single, and either way, getting caught with any of them under mistletoe sounds like a nightmare.

Besides Esme that is, when she saw the little girl standing under one of the many hanging sprigs, Kara had taken a couple of quick side steps to bring herself under the plant too, scooping her niece into her arms and pressing a smacking kiss to Esme’s cheek that had the young girl giggling in her arms.

(She’s actively trying not to imagine what would happen if she got caught under mistletoe with Lena).

Alex and Kelly are the two that have been caught the most, Kara suspecting that’s the reason why there’s so much mistletoe in the first place. Winn and Brainy shared an incredibly awkward kiss and Winn and James shared a not so awkward one, which Kara makes a mental note to ask Winn about later.

So yes, she’s actively avoiding the plant at all costs, which is easier said than done when she’s walking back to the living room, more snacks in hand, and she looks up and sees Lena walking towards her. Lena smiles, one of her soft smiles that crinkles the corner of her eyes and always makes Kara’s heart skip a beat, breath getting caught in her chest.

It’s maybe a little bit her fault what happens next, because her mind focuses solely on that smile and how beautiful Lena is, and she trips, sending the plate of cookies she’d just grabbed cascading across the floor.

Her cheeks heat as she bends down to try and salvage at least some of them, pouting at the mess and waste of cookies now on the floor.

Lena helps, which only makes the blush spread down her neck when she remembers that Lena was a witness to her clumsiness.

“Thank you,” Kara says, returning the plate to the kitchen with one last sad look.

(She’s not above eating floor food, but she’s not going to let Lena know that, she’ll just eat them later).

“You-“ Lena starts, only to be cut off by a shout from Alex across the room.

Kara freezes, knowing immediately what’s happening even though Alex only called out her name. And sure enough, with a glance up, Kara sees mistletoe hanging right about her.

And not just above her, but Lena too.

“I…” Kara’s about to protest but trails off when she looks back down to find green eyes close. There’s a light blush on Lena’s cheeks and that same soft smile on her lips and Kara falls even more in love.

“I guess we have no choice but to kiss,” Lena says, tucking her hair behind her ear in what Kara recognises as a nervous gesture.

“We don’t have to,” Kara says quietly. Despite the teasing they’ll get, Kara’s not going to do something that’ll make Lena uncomfortable.

“I want to.” Lena’s throat bobs. “If you do too.”

Kara does, she really really does.

Lena’s leaning forward and then Kara is too, the pound of Lena’s heartbeat filling her ears, a similar beat to her own.

They meet in the middle, noses bumping and Lena lets out a small laugh, the sound swallowed when Kara slots their mouths together properly.

Lena sighs and Kara feels fingers tangle in her sweater.

She’s never been happier about dropping food in her life.

“I always wondered what it would be like to kiss you,” Kara says, no time to be embarrassed by the words when Lena smiles.

“So have I.”

Kara’s heart skips. “Maybe we could do it again sometime?”

Lena laughs, eyes bright. “Are you asking me out?”

Kara’s brain isn’t working right now, words spilling from her mouth without thought. “If I am, would you say yes?”

“Yes.”

Kara beams, taking two steps away from Lena, the fingers gripping her shirt causing Lena to follow. The move brings them under another bunch of mistletoe.

“Well, would you look at that.”

Lena laughs before she kisses her again.

[siderealxmelody]

Arlo tried to focus on her, on the music of her voice. On the way her tune sounded against the layers and layers of stone. He pressed his forehead into her shoulder. His body wouldn't stop shaking.

Maybe that's why he noticed the other bits of her melody. The places it frayed and scratched at him. The truama she must have endured. He wasn't blind he'd chosen Lyssa that day specifically of reputation. He hadn't meant to be played and used.

But he knew the alternative. He saw it on every damn shadowy corner in Hewn. The Dark Fae used and dugged for High Fae entertainment.

He gripped her wrist, nails digging into her skin.

"Would it be hypocritical of me to ask to take me? To take you? To consumate what we both knew from the moment we met in that room? Would -"

He dragged himself away focusing on her eyes.

"Did they do what they did to those on the corners? Did - did they make you be like them?"

Because he liked them, he saw Viren and the others as friends. But he remembered how Essme had cried. He remembered the taste of the lordling's vocal cords as he tore them out. He'd do worse, he'd throw this damn city into an orgy of violence if she let him.

She just needed to say the word and he'd do whatever he had to prove that loyalty to her. He barred his neck to her bracing himself on the counter as he moved to kneel before.

A drunken move he was sure. He doubted anyone understood what was happening. Anyone who wasn't one of them anyway.

"Tell me how to prove my loyalty to you Esme. Tell me what your bond is worth and I will deliver it to you. I will spill as much blood as you want me to. Just tell me how you want it. I'd draw a mosiac of it through these streets. I'd compose a symphony of all the vocal cords of all the people who had ever wronged you. Just give me the word and I will deliver my loyalty to you. You held my heart from the moment I heard your music. It's what drew me to this nightmarish place in the first place. You, not the subpar sounds they call music."

He didn't look away, his eyes going wide.

"I am sorry I ran from it. I wasn't ready for it. I don't think anyone ever is. But I wish to be. I wish to make up for all the ways I hurt you too. I want to help heal all the frays and tears in your music of you'd let me."

Arlo swallowed trying to reign his emotions in. He wanted to marry her, he had told her so. He had taken her to meet his parents.

"I - why didn't you tell me?"

He was thankful to every watery god that his voice didn't waver. Lyssa shrugged and continued to do her makeup.

"Because it doesn't really change anything? He's my mate but we have lovers Arlo. I mean honestlyd he'd be an idiot to think only one male could satisfy me."

She twisted to look at him, moving to cup his face.

"Did I upset you? I didn't mean to. You could bed me if you wanted to. I could let you mark me. You kind like doing that right? He is too gentle and -"

Arlo pushed her away and strode out the room. He moved blindly through Hewn reaching for the first drink he was offered. He wondered if was poisioned. Maybe he should poison it he could let this all go and -

He looked up at the double shadow. He didn't need to see to know who it was. His melody already knew who it was. He reached for her, the emotions swirling just under his skin.

"Esme I did you know? Did her brothers? Did you all know she was playing me for a fool?"

"I already thought of that, it's painful and you are normally saved before the poison takes hold." It was the first thing she said to him as she reached out to take a hold of the glass he held, pulling it away from him before he could drink himself to whatever world he believed in.

She remembered those hours, the laughing. Each memory was haunting, whether it was her body being used, or the torture she endured.

Her attention flickered back to him when he spoke, the question he asked caused her to sigh as she looked away. "She played everyone like a fool, even her brothers are blind. Once she is bored she will throw them away. Just like she did to me when I finally challenged her..."